#you want to have your cake and eat it too. the fancy estate and the nights in the hanged man

[vigilskeep]

have a slightly stressful thing to do today so i am going to be exclusively thinking about whatever gender fhawke has going on to distract myself and oh boy is it working

[gisellelx]

Like a Raisin in the Sun

Saint Tropez, France

June 28, 2021

Despite all the trouble it caused them, all of their family liked the sun. Even Jasper, whose ruthlessly military affinity for the dark had taken decades to overcome, lay stretched out on a chaise, his eyes closed, with Alice curled up on his chest. Emmett and Rosalie were curled up on another set of chaises, Rosalie’s head on Emmett’s shoulder, his fingers stroking absently through her hair.

The estate they’d rented had a private beach, of course, and two large pools, and the main house itself was large enough that they couldn’t always hear from one side to the other. Small mercies after the beginning of the pandemic, when the nine of them had somehow managed to cram into their five bedroom cottage in Toulouse. Here at the coast, they all had plenty of room to be apart.

That turned out not to matter much, however. Except for a handful of times of day, when one couple or another would peel off into one of the suites so expansive they were large apartments unto themselves, they were together. Four pairs of chaise lounges feet from the water’s edge. Nine players around the Monopoly board Rosalie and Jasper had designed which was much more punishing and required a buy-in of two thousand euro from anyone who wanted to play to fund the “bank.” Seven in the audience around the Steinway, as Edward and Renesmee worked through the entirety of the four-handed Dolly Suite.

The water made an arrhythmic whoosh as it met sand over and over. Sometimes two waves came almost together, huge and frothy; other times it was the more gentle swish of a small, barely there swell of ocean. It was strange, beautiful, percussion-only symphony, and Edward could almost hear a melody over it, feeling his fingers begin to itch with the desire to compose.

Only one set of chaises sat empty, and as he gazed toward the horizon, he could see them: bright flashes of light between the two-foot swells. They were much farther out than would be safe for humans, having allowed the undertow to take them probably an eighth of a mile out to sea, to a sandbar where the waves crashed prematurely before building up again to come ashore. Between the waves, they stood only waist deep in water, the sun glinting off their shoulders and backs, sending shimmering rainbows across the dark sapphire of the waves.

Carlisle dove through a wave, emerging with hair dripping down his back. He ran a hand through it as he laughed and took a few strokes through the water to be closer to Esme, whose definitely-designed-to-scandalize-the-adult-children string bikini left more of her skin exposed than her husband's long swim trunks did his. Once together, a few steps further out took them both into deeper ocean where they treaded water, having a conversation Edward could not overhear.

So intent was he watching, he barely felt he hand on his shoulder as the chaise beside him became occupied, its regular owner having returned from retrieving a new book from the house. His wife settled in next to him, immediately following his gaze out to the distant sandbar. Together they listened to Esme’s giggling shriek as Carlisle picked her up and threw her full on into a large wave, followed immediately by Carlisle’s deep laughter as Esme recovered her footing and immediately picked him up and did the same. They slapped each other’s shoulders playfully, wiping water out of their eyes and shaking it out of their hair.

“They’re having so much fun out there,” Bella commented quietly.

Edward nodded, saying nothing. After several minutes more, his wife poked him in the side, making him chuckle.

“Sometimes I’d like to have your gift,” his wife said. “Know what you’re thinking.”

He laughed. “That makes two of us.”

It was their private joke, how Bella was his one silent mind. From time to time, she let him in, but it was difficult and she didn’t do it often. So he had scaled the uneasy cliff of learning to ask her to voice her thoughts, and to be more forthcoming about his own.

“I forget so often how young they are,” he answered, his voice quiet. “They should just be at the beach, splashing each other.”

“And then coming in and having mojitos,” Bella added.

Edward stared back out over the water.

“He would be just out of his M-1 year,” he muttered.

Bella laughed. “Carlisle? He’d be a rising M-3 at a minimum. You think he somehow didn’t finish college at least a year early?”

He laughed. “True.”

Bella leaned into him. “And she’d be the rising star architect at the boutique firm. Nobody can believe she has so little experience because her designs are so good.”

Edward slipped an arm over his wife’s bare shoulders. “How did they meet?”

“Mmmm.” Bella’s gaze returned to the ocean. “She designed the art museum and he went to a gala. He’d be looking at the Cezanne. And she would come up from behind him and start telling him about it.”

“Yeah and then he would compliment the architecture of the building and make her blush.”

Bella laughed. “A coincidence, or does he know who she is?”

“He knows who she is. He’s hitting on her.”

They both smiled.

“Does it work?”

Edward nodded. “She lets him buy her a glass of wine from the cash bar. And it’s generic and not very good so he offers to take her to a real wine bar after the event. And they sneak out of it a little early. He orders something way too fancy for his budget and he’s just going to put it on his credit card but—”

“—Esme sees straight through him and gets the check.”

Laughing again, Edward nodded. They both fell silent for a moment, the only sounds the breeze, the birds, and the gentle whoosh of the Mediterranean.

“How long do they wait to do it,” his wife asks mischievously.

Edward threw his hands over his eyes. “Bella!” When he opened them, he saw his wife, one eyebrow cocked, and when they spoke, it was as one:

“Third date.”

They dissolved into laughter.

“His place or hers?” This was Edward.

“His. It’s a mess. He wasn’t expecting to invite her home. His sheets aren’t clean, either.” Carlisle, for his master command of anywhere between two and ten people’s laundry, somehow almost always managed to forget the sheets even with an inhuman memory. Bella’s invocation of one of her father in-law’s few marital imperfections made Edward laugh.

“She doesn’t care,” he added.

Bella shook her head. “She’s kinda charmed, really.”

“They move in together very quickly.”

“But they don’t get married for a long time.”

Edward nodded. “Until he’s in residency.”

His wife smiled. Then she mischievously leaned into his side, putting her lips at his ear and whispered, “They pull the goalie before the wedding.”

This made Edward laugh, but it rang true. In this world of events his mother would be thirty, and worried. They would both want to get started as soon as they were sure of their commitment, and neither of them had ever been much for suffering other people’s opinions about what might be proper. He listened, smiling, as his wife went on.

“They find out the day before and everyone is gushing at the reception about how sappy in love they look. It’s not until she starts showing that they tell everyone why they were so gooey that day.”

Edward smiled shyly, sitting up, dragging his toe in the white sand.

“Boy or girl?”

“Girl,” Bella answered immediately. When he cocked his head and frowned, she smirked and added, “There is no alternate universe in which you are not Rose’s little brother.”

At this, Edward guffawed. But it was true, he knew. When he saw them, in their minds, the shadow-dream family his parents both had, he was always the youngest. Sometimes there were three children, the oldest a boy whom each of them imagined differently—Carlisle imagining caramel hair and brown eyes, and Esme imagining a softened version of Charles, usually, but sometimes a boy with Carlisle’s hair, and blue eyes the exact hue of which she didn’t know and Carlisle didn’t remember. He would have been twenty years younger than Edward, chronologically, yet somehow in all their imaginations he was the oldest—the lost child, the child she ran for, the only person in their family who had ever died.

It weighed so heavily on them. All they had lost, all the things they had won in their stead. They had been so weary a week ago in the morning, when they’d met the rest of the family on the tarmac in Castres. A pandemic year was taking its toll on them both.

The couple who splashed in the waves seemed too young to have experienced all the loss they had. They looked so unburdened, chasing the waves, laughing at each other, catching the sun. As they watched, Esme put Carlisle on her shoulders and he fought until they both fell backward and went under.

Bella squeezed his hand. “Which ones do you think are happier? The imaginary ones or the real ones?”

Edward pressed his lips together. He could see them, in his mind’s eye: the beautiful couple settling comfortably into middle age, the doctor coaching his daughter’s basketball team, the architect leading the pine car derby for her son’s scout troop.

But he could see this couple, too. The joy on their faces as they hugged each of their six children. The way their skin had glowed in the light of absolutely unnecessary birthday candles, a “1”, a “2”, and a “0” on a cake only Renesmee could eat, and in all likelihood wouldn’t. The night before, when they’d watched In the Heights, his daughter fighting sleep as she leaned on her grandfather’s shoulder. How contented Carlisle had looked as he nudged her awake, knowing she considered herself far too old to be carried to bed.

They were old and young. Happy and sad. Yin and yang, like the ancient forces: equal parts the hard amidst the easy, the pain amidst the joy.

“The real ones,” he said, and was rewarded with another squeeze of his hand as his wife smiled.

“I think so, too,” she said.

In the distance, they both watched as Carlisle and Esme disappeared again under the waves.

[stardustmorozov]

Half In Shadow Half In Moonlight Part 4: Dogs & Gingerbread

Masterlist Chapter 1: The Road To Moonacre | Previous | Next

Summary: After his father gets killed in the Ravkan Civil war, Aleksander is forced to go live with his mother in the country side, where he discovers more about his past and an old family feud that is going to destroy the valley if he doesn’t find a solution…

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Ignis ‘Iggy’ Redwood Warnings: none Word count: 1828

Tag list: @agirllovespaghetti @ramadiiiisme @miraclegrisha @blanchedelioncourt @salfira-xd

The kitchen was, to Aleksander's surprise, close to the room his mother had given him and cautiously he stuck his head around the door post, half expecting to have a kitchen utensil thrown in his direction as soon as the staff there noticed him while the dog walked right past him with a wagging tail.

The space was brightly lit by the light form the outside, despite the clouds that still hung above the estate and the colorful pots, pans and cloths that laid around everywhere gave the room a lighthearted feel that seemed to be absent in the rest of the house.

Aleksander let his fingers glide over the tiled counter as he slowly walked further into the kitchen, still expecting someone to pop up and scream at him to leave as he observed the mountain of dishes that stuck out of the sink and the seemingly exploded flour bag where someone was clearly trying to bake a cake. And now that he looked a little better, the entirety of the kitchen looked like it had exploded somewhere in someway, yet that didn't take away from the cheeriness of the room.

He was rudely pulled out of his thought when across the kitchen, a tower of pots and pans collapsed and the sound of swearing profusely erupted from next to it, making him momentarily freeze, his mind telling him to get out now that he was not yet getting yelled at and getting things thrown his way but seeing the dog walkover to whomever was swearing up a storm withheld him from it. Besides, he was still hungry.

When the swearing finally stopped, a young man dressed in the same gaudy red as some of the pans emerged from a corner Aleksander had been unable to see from his position and he was surprised to see he didn't look much older than him, though between Grisha it was always hard to tell.

"Afternoon," he greeted Aleksander, starting to pick up some of the pots and pans that had fallen over and put them in a spot he couldn't see, pointing at them as if he were scolding a child before turning back.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly, "they seem to have a mind of their own sometimes.”

His gaze followed the young man as he moved through the kitchen, mumbling as he passed one mess after the other before he finally seemed to notice the dog that had been attentively following him and with affectionate annoyance gave him a large bone which he immediately stormed off with.

"So what's your fancy?"

"Sorry?"

The man chuckled. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Yes please. If you have something available," he quickly added, "if not that is fine too."

But the man shook his head as he returned to the half finished cake batter.

"You came here because you were looking for food, no? Besides, be a shame of the cookies in the cupboard if no one ate them."

"Thanks..."

And as said, Aleksander found a tin of gingerbread cookies. The same ones he'd found by his bedside that morning, but before he could inquire about it, the young man asked him a question.

"So, what brings you to the valley? Vacation? Business?"

"Family," he answered shortly, feeling the sting he'd felt by his father's grave crop up again as he took a bite out of one of the cookies, placing the tin back in its designated spot. He glanced back at the man who now nearly had a complete cake that slid into the oven. Had he taken that long to answer or was the man just really that fast?

"Anyhow, where are my manners? I am Fedyor," he said, wiping his hands on a cloth that was still miraculously clean.

Aleksander gave Fedyor his name as he briefly looked at the door, somewhere expecting the dog to come back through to demand more snacks, which did not go unnoticed by Fedyor.

"If you're looking for Ghost, that dog won't return until he's had enough of that bone," he chuckled, grabbing something from the windowsill close to where Aleksander had taken to sit down.

"Ghost?"

"Yeah, don't ask me why. People have tried to give him a different names, but Ghost is the only one he responds to."

They continued to talk as Fedyor kept moving through the kitchen to make a dish Aleksander didn't know the name of and he found out that Fedyor was one of the few people the dog didn't seem to mind, and joked that it was most likely because he worked in the kitchen.

But the fun was interrupted by Ivan, who stuck his head around the door frame to call Aleksander.

"It's time for training. To the court yard."

"Sir yes sir," Aleksander playfully mocked him, but Ivan simply rolled his eyes, before he disappeared from the doorway.

"You know, you're always welcome here in the kitchen if you're looking for company, or snacks," Fedyor said with a wink as Aleksander almost disappeared out of the door and gave him a thankful smile before quickly making his way to the front gardens.

The air outside was still damp, but in the time he had been inside the temperature seemed to have gone up. The place Ivan had chosen to train was a simple stone circle with half overgrown flowerbeds around it.

“I suppose we'll pick up where we left off last week?” he said as he loosely held his arms up in a defensive stance and Ivan simply nodded.

"Take care with your right hook, it's predictable."

"Noted."

Without warning Ivan landed his first blow, which was quickly followed by a second, which Aleksander managed to block. The next few hits he all blocked successfully, but he couldn't find an opening in Ivan's defense to get a hit in himself.

"Aleksander, pay attention," Ivan said as he quickly jabbed the young man against his jaw, "at this rate anyone else would've beat you to pulp already."

"We both know I am far too pretty for that."

"Your attempted kidnappers seemed to have different ideas about that."

He grimaced at the implication, dodging a hook and narrowly avoided another jab that came right after.

They continued to spar with Ivan occasionally reminding Aleksander of how he should use his techniques and to keep his head in the game if he doesn't want to get beaten up.

When Fedyor called them inside for the last meal of the day, both of them were exhausted and Aleksander's mind drifted back to the mysterious book from the library.

He wonders why there are no words on the pages. If it was meant to be a picture book to tell their children their love story. Though, from what he had seen, the book contained only that of Robin and Maria. Why his mother would keep it any way was beyond him, or maybe, she'd simply forgotten the book existed.

They ate in silence and while Aleksander felt like he hadn't had a proper meal in ages, he had little appetite for the food in front of him.

When he finally dismissed himself from the table, he was surprised to see Ghost following him and he couldn't resist to scratch the dog behind its ears as he walked to his room.

As they stopped before the bedroom door Ghost gently nudged his hand with his wet nose and despite the unnatural look of his red eyes, he somehow managed to give Aleksander a pleading look.

He chuckled as he opened the door, giving way for Ghost to go first.

"Come on, get in."

The dog happily trotted into the room and made itself home before the hearth where a fire had been lit against the cold of the night. Aleksander picked up the mysterious book from his desk and let himself fall into one of the seats near the fireplace.

Opening the book where he left off, he was greeted with the sight of the two amplifiers. He knew that in order for them to work they had to wear them, yet he wondered what the function of the opal was in it all. As far as he knew the stones had no influence whatsoever over the bones they'd been laid in.

The next page showed a flurry of what he supposed was the artist's attempt at rendering shadow and sunlight dancing together. The golden reflecting of the black and the black swallowing the golden whole. It was only when he took a better look at the colors that he realized both Robin and Maria had been drawn in their opposite colors and he wondered if the amplifiers had some how switched their summoning abilities, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it popped up. Even with all that was happening in the world, that was a thought he could definitely pin on a wild fantasy.

Then the paintings switched perspective, no longer showing Robin and Maria, but instead what he assumed to be Robin's family. Despite the earlier depiction of what Aleksander assumed to be their love story, the faces of his relatives were not painted with happy expressions.

Half of the faces had no expressions at all and the ones that did looked either angry or frightened. The next one had the intertwined hands of the two lovers in the middle as the families seemed to be coming closer and closer.

More and more faces appeared angry rather than afraid and Aleksander wondered what had incited them to this as the were pictured to be separating the two lovers, closing in on Maria.

The last two pages were the only pages that contained any words and in flowy calligraphy there was written: If by the blood moon things have not been resolved, sun and shadow will be all this valley knows.

The fire danced angrily in the hearth as a particular hard gust of wind pulled over the chimney, making Ghost look at the flames and then at him, his red eyes making him look ominous as the fire reflected in them.

"What does it mean?" Aleksander wondered aloud as Ghost put his head in his lap, the weight of it comforting to him as he absentmindedly stroked the fur on its head. "I'd ask you, but you're just a dog," he chuckled, moving to get ready for the night, even if his mind was racing with all kinds of questions and sleep seemed to be the furthest thing from his mind.

Once under the covers, Ghost didn't wait for an invitation and jumped up to nestle himself at Aleksander's side, making the young man chuckle.

"Alright, alright," he said as he wrapped an arm around him, "I'll keep you company."

With his face buried into Ghost's fur, he didn't have the time to be surprised by how fast he fell asleep, dreams whisking him away as soon as he closed his eyes.

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/Rynne Hawke: Disappointment

A (VERY late) prompt fill for @talesfromthefade​​​, for @dadrunkwriting​​​ Friday! 

Set during the later end of Act II. It’s basically a drunken conversation featuring some cuteness, but even more angst, pining, and UST. 😭

~6100 words (SORRY, MY PROMPT FILLS ARE LONG). Read on AO3 instead.

************************

Fenris was sitting at the table in his mansion and struggling with a copy of Hard in Hightown when he heard a knock at the door.

It was more of a bang than a knock, really, and the sound instantly put him on alert. Before he could reach for his sword, though, he heard the laughter.

His shoulders relaxed. Hawke, he thought ruefully, and he went to open the door. 

Hawke tripped into his house with a giggle, followed closely by the scent of brandy. “Fenris!” she chirped. “I’m so glad you’re here, I was about to — hic — set up camp on your front step if you didn’t answer the door. Would you care for some wine?” She haphazardly waved a bottle of wine in his direction.

He hastily took the bottle before it could hit him in the face. “Er, thank you, but no. How much brandy have you had?”

She turned to him with wide eyes. “Brandy? Me? How did you know?”

“You smell like you were bathing in it,” he said dryly.

A beautiful grin lifted her lips. “Wouldn’t that be the dream? An entire — hic— bathtub filled with brandy, just for me. I could be persuaded to share with you, though.” She shot him a saucy wink, then began meandering toward the table. Her gait was loose and lazy with booze, yet somehow her hips were still moving with their customary alluring sway, and Fenris eyed her wistfully as he followed her to the table. 

She gasped and petted the pages of his open book. “Ooh, were you reading?” she asked brightly. 

He grunted and scratched the back of his head. “Trying to, in any case. It’s slow-going.” 

She looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “Can I help you? I can help, if you like.”

He eyed her with a touch of exasperation and placed the wine on the table. “You’re hardly in a position to be assisting with this at the moment.”

“Oh please,” she scoffed. “I’m not that plastered. I’m only a tiny bit plastered. Look, I can absolutely help you with this.” She peered at the page. “Now if only the letters would stop moving all over the place.”

Fenris huffed and pulled out a chair for her. “Sit down, Hawke. You look as though you’re about to fall over.” 

She sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. Then she promptly plopped down on the floor and started pulling off her boots. 

He shook his head, then sat in the chair he’d just pulled out. “What is the special occasion?”

She smiled blearily up at him. “Hm? Occasion?”

He gestured at her. “Is there a reason you’re this drunk?”

“Do I need a reason?” she said. “Maybe I’m just full of joie-de-vivre, as the Orlesians would say! But Orlesians would probably also spit on my taste in Rivaini brandy, so never mind that.”

Fenris frowned slightly. Her tone was as jocular as ever, but she wasn’t meeting his eye as she spoke. “Were you at the Hanged Man?” he asked.

“I was,” she said cheerfully. “Varric and Bels and I got into this fabulous darts tournament, and–”

She broke off suddenly and looked up at him in horror. “Oh fuck. Oh shit. Did you want to come? Oh Fenris, I’m sorry, I should have come to get you before going to the Hanged Man but I didn’t even think about it, I just went straight there, I’m sorry–”

He waved her off. “You went straight there from where?” he asked.

“From the Gallows,” she said, to his surprise. “I took Mother to visit Carver today, and–” She snorted. “Can I just say that it went swimmingly well? Swimmingly, splendidly well. It’s definitely something I’ll be doing again, perhaps in fifty years or so.” She broke off with a goofy giggle.

Ah, he thought. Now it made sense. Something unfortunate must have happened during her visit to the Gallows with her family. 

“Did it truly go well?” he said quietly.

She finally met his eye, and for a brief second, her smile slipped before returning to her face. “It did!” she said. “Mother was happy to see him, even though he could just visit the house when he gets his leave days. Can you pass me that wine?”

Fenris hesitated. It was probably a bad idea for Hawke to have anything more to drink. But she was a grown woman who was free to make her own (possibly poor) decisions, and who was he to tell her what to do?

He reached across the table and picked up the bottle of wine. Then he came to join her on the floor. By the time he was settled beside on the floor, she was beaming at him with so much uninhibited fondness that it made his stomach twist. 

He dropped her coppery gaze and pulled a small knife from his pocket, then pried the cork out of the bottle. But instead of offering it to her, he took three big gulps. 

She laughed. “Fenris, you boozehound! I thought you didn’t want any.”

I don’t, really, he thought. But if he didn’t drink any of it, Hawke would drink the whole bottle by herself.

“I changed my mind,” he said, and he offered her the wine. 

She beamed at him. “You beautiful thing, you. You’re joining in with me.” She took the bottle and took a long drink, then lowered it and gave him a quizzical look. “What were we talking about?”

“The Gallows,” he said. “Your mother.”

“Ah yes! Oh, Mother.” Rynne laughed and shook her head. “She said the funniest thing. There I was, talking to Carver and just, you know, needling him about the usual stuff. Asking about his love life, pointing out the irony of him becoming a Templar in the first place, the usual sort of thing. And my mother…” She snickered. “My mother jumps in and starts carrying on about how Carver was just trying to support the family while I went swanning off to the deep roads.” She snorted with laughter. “Can you believe that? ‘Swanning off to the deep roads’! Those are the words she used. As though—” She broke off with another giggle. “As though the deep roads are some fancy Orlesian spa that you and I and Varric and Anders just bloody decided to ‘go swanning off to’ for a few months.” She chuckled some more and lifted the bottle of wine to her lips, and Fenris watched with a pang as she took a few gulps. 

When she lowered the bottle, he gently took it from her hand. “Did you set her straight?” he asked. “Remind her of the reason why we were gone so long?” Namely, that Bartrand had locked them in the ancient thaig, resulting in the need to wander even deeper into the cursed bowels of the thaig before finding a way out?

“Oh Maker, no,” Hawke said. “I never told her why we were gone that long.”

He lowered the bottle and stared at her in surprise. “You didn’t? Why not?”

Hawke snorted. “Are you kidding? She’d have a fit if she knew. She’d fuss and carry on about how dangerous it was and how she never wanted me to go in the first place, even though we needed the fucking money to get the fucking Amell estate back.” She broke off and took a deep breath, then smiled at Fenris and pointed at the wine. “Can I have some of that?”

He quickly took another big drink before handing her the bottle. She took a sip, then broke off with a snort of laughter. “She thought all this time that I swanned off for months. Can you believe that? The deep roads weren’t exactly a cake walk. D’you remember those rock wraith things that were eating the lyrium down there?”

Fenris sneered. “Ah yes. And that hunger demon.” He shot her a reproving look. “I still think it was unwise for you to offer it sandwiches.”

“And I still think it was worth a shot,” she retorted. Then she sighed and offered him the bottle. “Ah well, what’s done is done. It’s just…” She huffed in amusement and shook her head. “She wanted the fucking Amell estate, so I got it back for her. Next time she wants something, maybe I should just become a Templar too.”

Her cheeky smile was still in place, but she was too drunk for the smile to fully hide her true feelings. Fenris eyed her sympathetically, but he didn’t know what to say. He had no experience with providing any kind of comfort. 

He took another sip of wine and wracked his brain for something to say. “I wasn’t aware that the Templars were accepting mages among their ranks,” he said finally. “Has Cullen found a soft spot for you that I didn’t know about?”

She grinned at him, and his heart fluttered; her smile was genuine and warm once more. “Oh Fenris, don’t be silly,” she said. “Cullen has had a soft spot for me all along. Don’t pretend you didn’t notice.”

“Hm,” he said. “I suppose all that scowling and telling you off could constitute a soft spot, according to some.”

“Exactly,” she giggled. She took another sip of wine, then gave him a pitiful look. “I know I’m barging in on you and all, but I wasn’t in the mood to go home just yet. Is it all right that I came here instead? Any safe port in a storm and all that.”

He frowned. Safe port in a storm? “Are you concerned that your mother will harm you when you return home?” he said quietly.

“No no, of course not!” she exclaimed. “It’s just a figure of speech.” She barked out a laugh. “My mother, harm anyone? Don’t be ridiculous. She couldn’t harm a wasp even if it was about to sting her.”

Fenris eyed her skeptically for a moment, then shrugged. “You can stay for a visit. I suppose it is only fair, since I…” He trailed off awkwardly. He was about to tell her that her house had become something of a safe space for him as well — a place where he felt at ease, almost at home, particularly when he and Hawke were lounging together in front of the fireplace in her study. But to admit such a thing would be veering far too close to telling her how much he still longed for her, and he didn’t dare let the conversation venture there.

It was surprising that he’d even said as much as he had, in fact. He usually did everything in his power to keep his tenderness for Hawke under wraps, for fear of letting her think there was a chance of them being together again. Why had he nearly said something now?

She offered him the bottle of wine; it was three-quarters empty. That explains it, he thought in resignation. With a small sigh, he took the bottle and drank from it once more.

Hawke stretched her legs out and leaned back on her palms. “So! What were you reading before I came bursting in to ruin your night?”

He lowered the bottle with a smirk. “You really couldn’t tell? You are that drunk?”

“I am quite spectacularly drunk, yes,” she agreed.

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were only… what was it you said? ‘A tiny bit plastered’?”

She snorted. “What is this, an interrogation in Aveline’s office?” She poked his arm. “Come on then, tell me. What were you reading up there?”

“Hard in Hightown,” he said. “Varric gave it to me. I am only on page ten or so.”

Hawke chuckled. “Of course that’s what Varric gave you to practice with. Any excuse to get more readers.” She suddenly straightened up and gasped, and Fenris recoiled slightly in surprise; her face was bright with enthusiasm. 

“I just had the most fantastic idea!” she chirped. “You should write a book!”

He wrinkled his nose. “What would I write about? And besides, I can’t write.” He didn’t tell her that he’d been secretly writing terribly-spelled letters to her since the day he’d mastered the alphabet. That was one secret that even his half-drunken mouth would never spill.

She waved one hand dismissively. “You’ll be able to write in no time, you’re brilliant. And the book should be about your life, of course!”

He frowned. “My life? Why?”

“Because you’re strong and handsome and interesting. And you lived with the fog warriors!” she exclaimed. “You probably know more about them than anyone in the whole of Thedas!”

His frown deepened. “Reflecting on that time in my life is not exactly pleasant, Hawke. It did not end well, if you recall.”

She wilted. “No, I know, I just meant… oh fuck, I put my foot in it, didn’t I?” She nervously patted her cheeks. “Maker, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think about awful things. I was hoping to make you think of nice moments when you were with them since I know you liked living with them, but… ah, I’m an idiot. Don’t listen to me.” She reached for the bottle of wine. 

He allowed her to take the bottle. “It’s all right. I already knew you were an idiot.” 

She shot him a grateful smile. They passed the bottle back and forth for another minute, and when it was empty, Fenris placed it on the floor beside him. 

“You’re not wrong. I did enjoy living with the fog warriors,” he said. “It was… unusual to spend time around people who were not afraid of me. But I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised; the fog warriors were the most courageous people I ever knew.” He draped his arms loosely around his knees and glanced at Hawke. “Even their children had no fear of me.”

She nodded and didn’t speak. Her expression was a picture of attentive focus despite the boozy flush of her cheeks, and something about her attention prompted him to go on when he usually would not.

“I remember the first time I stepped into their… settlement, for lack of a better word,” he said. “I was weak after healing from my injuries. Every step I took required a great deal of effort. But as I walked through their settlement with one of their healers at my side, a child approached me. A boy, perhaps five or six.” He grimaced. “Or maybe seven; I’m not familiar enough with children to guess their ages.”

“Five, seven, it’s all the same,” Hawke said softly. “The little boy approached you. What happened then?”

Fenris tilted his head as he remembered the moment. “He was holding a ball that looked to be made of dried branches and twine. He stopped and stared at me, and I was certain he was going to run away. Or perhaps throw the ball at me in disgust. I’ve suffered worse from children in Minrathous. But…” He slowly rubbed a hand through his hair. “He asked in Seheronese if I would play with him. The healer translated for me, and I… I didn’t believe her, and I didn’t believe the boy. I thought they were taunting me. I…” He swallowed hard. “I went back to the tent and didn’t come out again for another day. But the same boy approached me again when I emerged. He continued to approach me until I agreed.” 

Hawke’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. “You played with the fog warriors’s children?”

He shrugged. “I had little choice. They are very persistent.” He gave her a tiny smile. “All of their people are persistent. Stubborn and determined. Or… they were, at least, before I…” 

Blood. Screaming. Women and children fleeing, to no avail. The horrible images flashed through his mind, raw and undimmed by time, and Fenris dragged a hand through his hair as though that could pull the memories out. 

The only time he had ever seen fear in the fog warriors’ faces was when he had put it there.

“Hey,” Hawke said softly. “I’m glad you were happy while you lived with them. I know it ended badly—”

“I killed them all,” he snapped. “It ended badly because of me.”

“I know,” she said. “I know you feel responsible. But I’m still glad you were happy there for a time.”

He stared hard at her for a moment, but her expression was calm and steady — surprisingly steady for someone who was so drunk. 

He sighed and shifted his position on the floor. “I was happy with them; you’re right about that. The only time I could ever remember being happy, really. Before I came to Kirkwall, at least.”

Hawke perked up. “Before you came to Kirkwall? Does that mean you like living here more than being in Seheron?”

He huffed at her hopeful tone. “I don’t know that I would say that. But… this city has its charms. They may be few and far-between, but it does have them.”

“Like what?” she asked. 

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Such as… that apple pie at that one particular stand in Hightown.”

Hawke nodded. “Oh yes, that pie is fantastic. What else?”

“The music at the Hanged Man isn’t completely terrible,” he said.

“I do love the music there, it’s true,” Hawke said brightly. “Anything else?”

She looked so hopeful. Fenris gave her a chiding look. “Why do I get the sense that you’re fishing for compliments?”

Her beautiful amber eyes grew wide – suspiciously wide. “Me? I never! I never ever fish for compliments. Particularly not from broody handsome elves with the sexiest voices I’ve ever heard.”

He scoffed and rubbed his mouth. “Kaffas, Hawke. You will make me blush.”

“I’m not talking about you,” she said. “I’m talking about some other elf.” 

She clearly was not. Her smile was coy and warm, and it made his ears feel uncomfortably hot. “I see,” he said dryly. He absently rubbed the red scarf on his wrist and studied her from the corner of his eye. She was humming to herself now and gazing at her bare feet with the sort of vacant smile that made it clear how drunk she was.

Then he surprised himself by speaking again. “I suppose some of the people here are tolerable as well,” he said.

She perked up. “Oh really? Like who?”

Fenris shrugged and leaned back casually on one hand. “Sebastian is a fine man.”

Hawke snorted. “Perfect Sebastian. He doesn’t count. He makes everyone look bad. Who else?”

“Varric,” Fenris said. “He’s forgiven my gambling debts on more than one occasion.”

She let out a scintillating laugh. “Has he? Oh, Varric. He’s such a soft touch.”

Fenris smirked and gazed idly at her legs – lovely legs that were regrettably covered by trousers. Lovely legs with soft golden skin that was so smooth beneath his hands… 

Before Fenris could stop himself, his drunken mouth was opening once more. “You are good company, as well,” he said.

Her face lit up with a slow and breathtaking smile. “Am I, now?”

He shrugged and ignored his suddenly thrumming heart. “You can be. When you aren’t aggravating me.”

She raised one hand innocently. “Those were all failed attempts at flirting, I swear.”

He gave her a chiding look. “That’s hardly a comfort, Hawke.”

“It should be,” she said. “I’m usually a very good flirt.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said wryly.

Her smile widened. “Maybe I should try harder, then.”

Her cheeky voice was ripe with its usual humour, but there was something more to her tone now: something husky and heated that made Fenris’s clever retort fade away on his tongue. He studied her face carefully, and his heart jolted; only now was he realizing how close she was. She was sitting right next to him, and although they weren’t touching, they were so close that they might as well have been. Her knees were almost brushing against his thigh, and she was leaning in as though to take shelter against his chest, and he… kaffas, his shoulder was curled toward her as though he wanted her to take shelter against him. 

A rush of excitement filled his rib cage, followed by a surge of terror. I can’t, he thought. He couldn’t let her get any closer. Not because he didn’t want to; venhedis, there was nothing he wanted more. But the closer she got, the more she would see just how damaged he truly was, how unprepared he was for what she was trying to give, and he couldn’t… He couldn’t stand it. The thought of looking into her perfect amber eyes, of seeing their heat replaced with pity instead...  

She wet her lips, and Fenris was instantly distracted by her mouth: her lush raspberry-red mouth that he vividly remembered kissing, even though it had been almost a year. 

Then Hawke nibbled her lower lip, and Fenris could feel his own lips parting as though by instinct — as though the movement of her lips was a siren call, a lure drawing his own lips to react, to lean closer to her, to breathe in the wine-scented warmth of her breath…

He inhaled slowly, and his heart thudded in his ears. She smelled exactly as he remembered, of sandalwood and sweetness and a hint of sweat from dancing at the Hanged Man, and overlaid on it all was the scent of the wine she’d drunk — that they’d been drinking together. 

Then Hawke’s hand rose slowly toward his face.

His breath stuttered, but his heart burst into a galloping race. Her fingers were reaching for him, reaching for his cheek, reaching so slowly that he knew she was giving him time to stop her. But he was frozen on the floor with Hawke sitting so close to him, so damned close that he could smell her intoxicating scent, and her fingers were drawing nearer still… 

She stroked his cheek gently: so incredibly gently, with just the tips of her fingers. And with that one simple touch, the buzz of longing in his gut hit a fever pitch.

Fenris closed his eyes and turned his face toward her fingers, and her thumb brushed over his lower lip. He exhaled shakily, and he was distantly aware that his breath sounded far too much like a groan. 

“Fenris,” Hawke breathed. 

Fenris. That was all she said: just his name in her husky voice. But it was almost enough for him to come undone. His name in her voice, carried through the air on a breath of desire: fasta vass, it was too good, too evocative, too strong of a reminder of the past — of the mistake he’d callously made by going to her in a moment of anger-fuelled impulsiveness. 

A mistake he was primed to repeat right now, in a moment of impulsiveness that was fuelled by alcohol instead.

He reached up and grabbed her wrist. “I can’t,” he rasped. 

Her eyebrows tilted in a way that made his chest ache, but he forced himself to stay still, to not move, to not bridge the mere inches that separated his lips from hers. He held her wrist in a steady grip and stared steadily into her glittering amber eyes, and he forced himself to remember – to remember the way those same amber eyes had filled with tears when he’d walked away from her before. 

The memories of their night together still tortured him, along with all the attendant reasons why he couldn't let this same mistake happen again. He was an empty shell whose history had been carved away and replaced with anger and hate, and nothing about that had changed in the year or so since he and Hawke had tumbled together into her bed. He was still the same broken man, the same ex-slave with a mind as scarred as his body, and in the time that had passed since that one glorious night in Hawke’s arms, Fenris had failed to make any changes in his life. 

He hadn’t tried to find his sister. He hadn’t done anything other than take on jobs as an errand boy and follow Hawke and her friends around in their ill-advised adventures. He still sat alone in his mansion at night fuming about Danarius and Hadriana and all their misbegotten ilk. He was still just as blank and ruined as he’d always been, and he couldn’t… he didn’t dare inflict that on Hawke, not again, not even if he was drawn toward her in a way that he’d never been drawn to anyone else before. 

They sat frozen on the floor for an interminable minute, Hawke’s fingers a hairsbreadth from his cheek and her wrist entrapped by his intractable grip. Fenris stared into her eyes and ignored the plumpness of her lower lip, and he prayed for the strength to move away from her now – right now, right this second now, now before his frenzied thoughts led him away from the reasons he shouldn’t touch her and brought him back to all the selfish reasons that he should. 

And oh, the reasons he should, the reasons he wanted to fall into the crystal clear pools of her eyes and take what her slightly-parted lips were offering: those reasons were… fasta vass, they were far too close to the front of his mind. The pleasure of her body stretching beneath his own, of her needy gasps filling his ears, of her comforting hands cradling his face as she told him that there was nothing ruined about him–

“I can’t,” he snapped. He pulled her hand away from his face and turned away from her, dragging shaking fingers through his hair as he did. 

For a brief, terrible moment, Hawke was silent. Then she laughed.

“Of course!” she said brightly. “Of course, I didn’t mean to – I was just, um – I’m terribly drunk, you know, and it’s – I should go home. I’m just about ready to fall asleep right here on your floor, which probably means I should go crawling into my bed before I end up like another one of those corpses in your corners here.” She snickered and pushed herself to her feet, and Fenris watched painfully as she stumbled toward the door.

She wasn’t wearing her boots, though. Fenris hastily pushed himself upright and ignored his own slightly spinning head. “Hawke, wait,” he said. “Your boots–” 

She cut him off with a haphazard wave. “It’s okay, please, don’t say anything, it’s like it never happened.” She reached for the doorknob. 

Fenris darted forward and planted one hand on the door. “You need to put on your boots,” he said. “You can’t go out without boots.”

“Why not? You do it all the time,” she said belligerently. 

Fenris raised his eyebrows, but before he could reply, she sighed and sank down to the floor. “Ah, you’re right. My feet are terribly tender and delicate. Where are my bloody boots?”

Fenris silently brought her boots and socks, then waited with an ugly mixture of fondness and misery as she clumsily pulled them on. When she was finally shod once more, she stood up and did a dramatic curtsy. 

“On that sparkling note, Rynne Hawke takes her leave,” she announced. She giggled and opened the door, then promptly tripped on the front step. 

Fenris snatched her arm and her waist before she could hit the ground. “Fasta vass,” he complained. 

She didn’t reply; she was far too busy laughing. Fenris sighed heavily, then stepped out of his mansion and pulled the door closed behind him. “Come on, Hawke,” he said wearily, and he looped his arm around her waist to guide her home.

She hiccuped and squeezed his arm. “Did you see I—” She broke off with a giggle. “I didn’t even make it one step out the door! Oh Fenris, aren’t you pleased I came to your house tonight to entertain you?”

“Not particularly,” he muttered, but not for the reasons she thought. He hadn’t had his hands on her this much since the night they’d spent together, and her drunken state wasn’t making the curve of her waist any less appealing. And his drunken state wasn’t making it easy to maintain the barriers he’d been building to keep her at bay. 

She squeezed his arm again. “I know, I’m horrible, I’m a nuisance. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll — hic — bring you some of that apple pie that you like first thing in the morning, bright and early. You’ll be woken by the smell of fresh-baked— eek!” She tripped over a paving stone with a squeal, and Fenris scowled as he pulled her upright. 

“Quiet,” he hissed. “If you cause a disturbance, I will be the one who’s blamed.” He scooped her up into his arms and continued in the direction of her mansion at a faster pace.

She gripped the collar of his tunic and beamed at him. “You hero. You chivalrous thing. You’re making a drunken girl’s dream come true.”

“Perhaps you can return the favour and keep your voice down,” he scolded softly. He was already on Hightown’s radar as ‘that elf of Hawke’s who squats in the derelict Vint mansion’, and he didn’t want anyone to find a reason to complain to Aveline again about his presence. 

“All right, all right, I’m being quiet now,” she stage-whispered. Then, to his surprise, she actually fell silent. 

He carried her in silence for a couple of minutes. She eventually rested her head against his shoulder, and he guiltily savoured the scent of her chestnut hair. But she still didn’t speak, and eventually Fenris wondered if she’d fallen asleep. 

He glanced down at her, and his heart lurched; her eyes were closed, but her face was tinted with melancholy, and there were tears trickling down her cheeks. 

He hastily looked up at the path ahead, but his entire rib cage was aching now, as though his heart was swelling and pushing against the walls of his chest. He ought to say something – something to soothe her, like the way she was always trying to soothe him when he was angry. But he was the cause of her distress, so what was there to say? 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and didn’t speak, and they made the rest of the trip to the Amell state in silence. 

As they approached the door, Hawke finally spoke. “Don’t knock. I don’t want to wake her.”

Fenris nodded. “Where are your keys?”

“In my pouch belt,” she said. “You can put me down now. I promise I won’t disgrace myself by falling onto my own front step.” 

Her tone was cheeky and warm, and for some reason, this made his chest hurt even more. He shook his head slightly. “I’ll bring you safely inside.”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “All right. I won’t complain about being carried by Thedas’s most handsome elf.” 

He scoffed softly, then waited as she pulled out her keys and unlocked the door. But as they were moving toward the stairs, Leandra’s bedroom door opened. 

Leandra stepped out with a scowl. “Rynne, I’ve been beside myself—” She stopped short at the sight of Fenris and clutched the neckline of her dressing gown. 

“Surprise!” Rynne exclaimed, and she patted Fenris’s chest. “Two for the price of one!” 

Fenris cleared his throat. “Hawke, keep your voice down,” he mumbled.

She pulled a little face. “Right, right, people sleeping and all that,” she whispered. Then she blew a kiss to Leandra. “Hello, Mother! Go on back to bed, all right?” 

Leandra stared at them for a moment longer, then lifted her chin and went back into her bedroom. As soon as the door was shut behind her, Hawke burst into giggles.

“Maker’s balls,” she whispered. “She’s going to be furious in the morning when you’re not here. I might not be able to bring you apple pie after all. I’ll be too busy nursing the new asshole she’s going to tear me in the morning.”

Fenris grimaced at the vivid image, then headed for the stairs. When they were in Hawke’s bedroom, he set her down on the bed. 

Hawke snickered to herself as she pulled off her boots. She clumsily shucked her vest, then started pulling her shirt over her head, and Fenris hastily turned away. 

He awkwardly tugged his ear. “I’ll, er. I’ll just…” He trailed off and started shifting toward the door.

“She’s disappointed,” Hawke said.

He glanced cautiously at her. She was tucked in bed and covered up to her chest, and her lips were curled in a sad sort of smile. 

Fenris took a cautious step closer to the bed. “She will get over it soon enough.”

“No, I mean she’s disappointed that I’m not Bethany.” Hawke’s smile widened. “Honestly, so am I sometimes. She had the most perfect milkmaid skin. I bet you would have loved her too.”

His heart twisted painfully. Whatever Bethany’s virtues were, there was no doubt in his mind that she would never have found her way past his armour and burrowed beneath his tainted skin the way that Hawke had. 

But he couldn’t tell that to Hawke. Such words meant nothing if he was incapable of backing them up with the devotion that she deserved. 

He swallowed hard. “Get some sleep,” he said softly. “I will see you in the morning.” He slowly made his way to the door. 

“Fenris?”

He glanced at her. “Yes?”

“Do you want to know what I like best about living in Kirkwall?”

“Half-off Tuesdays at the Hanged Man?” he suggested weakly. 

She let out a bark of laughter. “Aw, half-off Tuesdays. That’s almost my favourite thing.”

He leaned against the door jamb. “I give up, then. What do you like best?”

“Running around this fucking place with you,” she replied. 

In the dim lantern light of her bedroom, her smile was sweet and free of guile, and Fenris felt his throat growing thick once more. He felt the same way, of course; Kirkwall would have no value if not for her. She was the reason he had decided to stay, even after the exquisite disaster of their night together. Even knowing he was no good for her, he was incapable of leaving her side. 

He gazed at her for a moment and drank in the perfect softness of her smile. It is the same for me, he thought. You are the only reason I’ve remained in this Maker-forbidden city. The confession crept close to the edge of his tongue, ready to spill into the soft and intimate atmosphere of her bedroom. 

But the walk from his house to hers had cleared the booze-induced boldness from his mind, and he was no longer at the mercy of his selfish heart. 

He bowed his head politely. “Get some sleep,” he said.

Her smile widened, and she snuggled down into her blankets and reached for the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, Fenris,” she said softly. 

“Goodnight, Hawke,” he murmured. A moment later, her bedside lamp went out.

Fenris quietly closed her bedroom door, then padded silently downstairs. Orana was awake and waiting nervously by the door to lock it behind him, and he murmured an apology to her as he left. Then he was slipping stealthily through Hightown back to his empty mansion. 

Once he was in the mansion once more, he sat at the table and stared at Hard in Hightown, but the words were meaningless on the page, unseen by his unfocused eyes.

Hawke thought she was a disappointment, but nothing was farther from the truth. Nothing about her was a disappointment — not her incessant jokes or her drunken visits to his home, not the fact that she was a mage, and the memories of her naked body bending beneath his hands… venhedis, nothing about those memories were a disappointment either. 

It didn’t bear thinking about, though. Hawke might not be a disappointment, but Fenris certainly was, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. 

With that heavy thought, he closed his copy of Hard in HIghtown and went to bed.

[kelyon]

Her Angel Chapter Four

THE THRILLING CONCLUSION!

The prompt was this giftset

Read on AO3

Her Grace, the Duchess de Trousdale, looked over the crowd of her wedding feast in a dreamy haze. Everything was beautiful. Her husband’s estate was grander than any castle in the realm but the King’s palace. A dozen chandeliers made the marble ballroom gleam like noonday, long after the sun had set. The table before her was set with gold and silver and crystal. All the guests were dressed in their finest, but no one sparkled more brightly than she did. 

Her gown was blinding white, with a thousand diamonds sewn into the fabric. The Duchess had distant memories of a wedding at her home chapel, where she had worn a golden gown. But that must have been a fantasy. She had no golden gown. And she had married Gaston at the grand cathedral here in the capitol, leagues away from the manor house she used to call home. 

She’d had so many fancies lately--strange, nonsensical thoughts that flew away at the first reminder of reality. She had memories of running away from her wedding, of plunging into a river and being rescued.

The man who had rescued her, she had seen him as an angel. When she dreamed of him, she woke up with tear stains streaking her face.  

She remembered seeking refuge with this man and his son. She remembered being stolen, being brought back to her husband screaming and bound by magic, being forced--

But that was absurd, of course. She loved her husband! She had been happy to marry him. She was happy now, seated by his side. And later tonight, when the time came for him to make her his own, then she would be happiest of all. 

And everyone was happy for her. All the guests who spoke to her wished her more happiness. But how could she have more when she was already so happy she could weep?

Her papa was not happy. He sat, sullen, at an empty table by the dance floor, his glass of wine untouched. Papa’s head was bowed, and he was looking at his hands.

She turned to Gaston. He was still holding her hand. The sweet man had barely let go of her since Papa had placed her hand in his. Managing a fork at the feast had been difficult, but she didn’t mind. She barely needed to eat, she was so full of happiness.

“My love?” the Duchess asked the Duke. “Can you bear to be parted from me for a moment while I go speak to Papa?”

“We’ll go together.” He stretched his long legs and stood up. “I can’t allow you to wander off, little wife.”

  She laughed at that. How marvelous! Her husband was such a wit. And so right too! They should never be separated. She should never do anything without his approval. She was so happy to have him by her side, to do everything he wanted her to do.

Hand in hand, the bride and groom descended from the high table to mingle with their guests. When she got to Papa, she took her hand from Gaston to tilt up her father’s chin. 

“You must be happy, Papa,” she chided him. “I am!”

Lord Maurice looked at his daughter. Belle’s eyes were very bright, and her face was flushed--too flushed. The girl looked like she had a fever, or some terrible madness. 

“Are you, bluebell?” he asked her. “Are you happy? Did you truly want to go through with this marriage?”

For just a moment, Belle looked as though the fever had broken. Without speaking, she opened her mouth. She looked as though she didn’t understand the question, but she wanted to.

Then Gaston returned to her side. “There’s my blushing bride!” He took her hand in his own and brought her fingers to his lips.

Belle looked up at him, and her smile was of the purest joy Maurice had ever seen. Everything seemed to melt away from her then--all doubts, all questions, all thoughts.

She was happy. 

“Shall we dance?” The bride looked up at her groom. He was so handsome, so strong, so wonderful. As long as they were together, she would be the happiest woman in the world.

Sweetly obliging, the Duke led her in a romantic waltz. He stepped on her feet, but she laughed every time. He squeezed her hand more tightly.

“You don’t mind if I hurt you, do you, little wife?”

She shook her head, felt the jewels in her ears swing back and forth. “Not at all, darling. You are my husband, and I am happy to be yours.”

He gave her a tight grin and pulled her close to whisper in her ear. “You just stay happy then, and I’ll never have a reason to hurt you.”

She smiled and laughed, but felt something strange in the pit of her stomach. It was almost like fear. How silly that was! She was happy! It was her wedding day! She would spend the rest of her life with this man and she couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful!

“Would you like a cake, miss?”

The dance had ended, and a little pageboy with a tray of pastries stood in front of her. She blinked at him. He was dressed in the Duke’s livery, but she didn’t recognize him. Or did she? Somehow, he looked familiar to her. He was a lively-looking child, with tousled brown hair and worried dark eyes. Why was he worried? Why was he sad? He should be happy! 

Before she could accept a cake from this sweet boy, her husband pulled her back by grabbing her hand. 

“Who is this ill-mannered whelp?” he bellowed. “Boy, this is the Duchess de Trousdale and you will call her ‘Your Grace’!”

“Oh darling!” She smiled so Gaston would smile with her. There was no need for this unhappiness. “He’s just a boy!”

“A boy who needs to learn respect.” He snarled at the child, who barely came up to the man’s waist. 

Eyes wide, lips trembling, the boy looked at the Duchess. “Belle?” he whispered. 

How did he know her name?

She opened her mouth to speak, but Gaston dismissed the boy. “Begone from here!” he ordered. “And be grateful this is my wedding day, else I would knock out your teeth for your impertinence!”

The little boy scampered off into the crowd. She had the oddest urge to follow him, to go with him wherever he was going. She wanted to be with this boy and his father.

His father?

But then her husband took her hand again and led her into another dance. And of course they should dance! Nothing made her happier than dancing! And she was with her husband, and she was so happy! 

She would always be happy with him.   

Dance after dance she shared with her husband, and she never wanted it to end. No one interrupted them, no one dared ask to cut in and dance with the bride. Everyone knew that they belonged together, and should never be apart. The musicians played waltz after waltz, until even Gaston was ready for something different. He called for a quadrille, a lively dance with much switching of partners. Though it pained her to leave her bridegroom, the Duchess contented herself with the knowledge that every separation would end in a reunion. 

And she was only happy when her husband was holding her hand. 

Still, she made her steps around the ballroom, frolicking with all the men who wished her well, who wished her every happiness in the world. She touched their hands only briefly, and did not let any of them hold her. 

Not until she started the next round of dancing with a stranger. 

She noticed the hand first. It was extended out, as a part of the dance. The hand did not grasp for her, but it was offered freely. She could take it, if she wanted to. 

But the hand was not a human hand. The outer skin was rough and scaly and brown as a forest floor. The ends of the fingers terminated in sharp, black points, like the claws of some terrible beast. The Duchess looked past the hand to see the whole of this person.    

He didn’t look like a man. At least, not like any man she had ever seen before. He had the shape of a man--he was wearing a suit of gold cloth with a white cravat at his throat. Perhaps he was a foreigner. The dark olive-green of his skin could almost be mistaken for the coloring of some far-off prince. Perhaps from the river kingdoms.    

But she had never heard of a person whose skin sparkled like gold, like the iridescent scales of a snake.

His eyes were unnatural as well--gold and dark and too large, like some kind of animal. They watched her. They saw that she was staring at him, but he did not want her to look away. The man grinned at her, and his teeth were black and broken.

The Duchess recovered herself from her moment of shock. She curtsied to her guest and they began their dance. 

“Do I know you?” she asked politely as they circled each other, not touching. 

“An excellent question.” His tone was as strange as his appearance. His first words to her were a high-pitched chirp, but then his voice lowered. “Do you know me? Dearie?”

Dearie. That word meant something. She stepped back, breaking the dance. The music faded into silence, and all the other dancers became no more substantial than ghosts. 

Her wedding. Her husband. Her happiness. None of them felt real anymore. Only the man in front of her was clear. The man and, in the corner of her vision, the young boy who had offered her a cake. The boy had known her name, when even she didn’t seem to want it. What did the man know?

“Who are you?” she whispered. 

“I am changed since you last saw me.” He took her in his arms, leading her in a dance though the music had stopped. 

Or perhaps she had only stopped hearing it.

“Do you remember the Dark One?” he asked her.

A vision flashed in her mind--an evil man cloaked in darkness, his face hidden except for a malevolent grin. He had taken her away from a place where she had wanted to stay. He had brought her to her husband, he had forced her to--

“No,” she whispered. But it wasn’t to answer the man’s question. “No, that’s not real.”

He leaned in to her. He whispered into her ear, soft and deep. “Do you remember the Dark One’s magic?”

An iron kettle that hung in the air despite her desperate attempts to bring it down. A twitch of the finger and a man with a staff was brought down to the ground in writhing agony. Magic that bound her, magic that invaded her, magic that crept into her mind and twisted everything. It made her forget, made her remember, made her happy.

“No!” 

Everything was falling apart. She broke away from this stranger, this monster who was destroying her happiness. She looked around the ballroom. Where was her husband? But all the people looked like nothing but swirls of color--dabs of paint on a canvas and she was the only thing that was real.

“No!” she screamed again, a deep, ragged cry. In the middle of the ballroom, in her diamond wedding dress, she sank to the ground and wept.

The boy came up to her and wrapped his arms around her neck. “It’s okay, Belle,” he said softly. “Papa’s going to rescue you.”

“Bae,” she whispered through her tears. “Baelfire.” He was real. She didn’t know how she knew his name, but she did. 

The boy nodded and hugged her tighter. She clung to him like a life raft. Like she was flowing down a river, and this boy and his father were the only things that could bring her back to dry land.

Belle blinked. His father…

The stranger knelt beside Baelfire and looked into her eyes. Now that he wasn’t grinning, she could see through the layers of magic. His hair was different, as were his eyes and his hands and his skin, but Belle knew him. The monster who looked like a demon had once been her angel. 

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she breathed. She wanted to smile at him. He was her friend, her savior. But everything still felt so wrong, so topsy-turvy in her mind, she could only stare at him blankly. 

“The Dark One’s magic binds you,” he explained. “And only the Dark One’s magic can free you.”

“I remember,” she whispered. “He said that, at your cottage.”

“The one who said those words is dead now,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “I killed him. I am the Dark One. And I can free you. For a price.”

Baelfire sat up, though Belle kept her hands on him. He was such a small boy, but his nearness grounded her when everything felt so uncertain. 

“Don’t be scared,” Bae said. “Papa’s going to help you. It’s just that all magic comes at a price. You have to give him something.”

Belle looked up at Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One, her angel. “What do you want from me?”

He didn’t answer at first, just looked at her in silence. The last time she had seen this poor spinner, he had already looked weighed down by the toils of a lifetime. Now that he had been transformed by magic, his burden seemed to have increased a thousandfold. And still he had come to rescue her. Had he taken on this mantle just so he could save her life a second time? Surely anything she had would be worth giving up for his sake.

“What is the price, Rumple?”

He held out his hand to her. “Come with us.”

The joining of hands was a sacred gesture. To signal her marriage, Papa had taken her hand and placed it into Gaston’s. And Gaston had refused to let go of her all night. All the happiness she had felt since the moment of her wedding had been because of a spell the Dark One had cast on her. Magic that Gaston had reinforced every time he took her hand. 

And now Rumpelstiltskin would free her, if she would just place her hand in his own. If she would come with them.

Belle had taken his hand before, when he had helped her out of the river. His hand had been warm and soft. Immediately, she had felt like she was home, like she never wanted to let go of him. And it was not the ‘happiness’ that she had felt with Gaston, crystal-bright and fragile. Her contentment with Rumpelstiltskin had been deeper than that, more substantial. The very first time she had put her hand in his, it had felt natural and right.

Only good would come of her doing it again. 

Slowly, Belle rose to her feet. Baelfire stood beside her. Rumpelstiltskin was in front of her, his hand still extended. 

“I can leave Gaston,” she said. “But in exchange, I must marry you?”

“Not must,” he said gently. “I will not save you from one marriage just to force you into another. But if you will have me, I will be yours.”

“And me too,” Bae looked up at her, his brown eyes full of hope.

Belle took the boy’s hand first, and then placed her other hand in Rumpelstiltskin’s. His hands had changed since she had first met him, but he was still the same man underneath. He had helped her, protected her, and now he had saved her.

“Yes,” she answered, looking from Rumple to Bae. “I don’t know where we’re going or what will happen next. But I know I want to be with you.” She squeezed their hands. “With both of you.”

[jovialyouthmusic]

Past Times

John ponders on the loss of his first wife. Elizabeth spends some time with her prospective mother in law, and all await the arrival of more guests.

Word Count 3417

A/N Just a short word on breakfast and the Scottish setting. I was expecting that something like a very meaty ‘Full Scottish’ would be on the menu in such a refined household, but in Regency times bread and cakes were served, along with tea and drinking chocolate. I took the liberty of adding oat cakes as a reference to the Scottish setting. I haven’t made any attempt  on the Scots dialect or accent, feeling that the upper echelons of society would have very refined accents, as Edinburgh people do to this day.

10 Settling in

John watched as Lizzy left the drawing room with her chaperone. Once he was alone, he found himself conflicted. He was captivated by his fiancée, but talking of his dear departed wife stirred up old memories and feelings he thought he had put aside. The day had been long and full of joy, but he knew he would not sleep as deeply as he might otherwise. He called Scott to fetch him the brandy bottle, and poured himself a measure, dismissing him for the night after praising his work and asking him to pass that praise on to the rest of the staff.

Outside the sun was setting on the long summer day, and he thought better of taking a stroll. Instead he took his glass to the library and stood at the window as the light faded. It looked out in the same direction as his fiancée’s, and he wondered if she too looked out over the garden, or whether she had laid her head on the snowy pillow of her lonely bed, as he would soon. Had he tried to move on from grieving for Georgiana too soon? Had he laid her ghost to rest or would she forever haunt him? He shook his head pensively, gazing down at his glass to find it empty. He decided that more alcohol was not the answer, and he should attempt to sleep. On the morrow his good friend Tom and his wife would arrive, and introductions would be made, and all would acquaint themselves and hopefully settle into a lively but harmonious party. After that there would be various dinners and balls and other amusements – some held at Laxton, and others at neighbouring estates.

Leaving his glass on the desk, he left the room and ascended the great staircase, turning right to his chambers where Lizzy would have turned left. He paused for a moment before continuing, and once in his room, disrobed and slipped between the bedsheets. He lay on his back staring at the canopy of the hangings, expecting to be awake for some time, but sleep came swiftly.

He dreamed of Georgie, barefoot and running over the sands of Portobello, wind in her hair and a soft smile on her face. He walked along the margin of the sea, the waves trickling cold water over his bare toes. She came to him, and caught at his arm, walking beside him. He did not break his stride, for her hand had little weight and no warmth.

‘You are sad, beloved’ she said quietly.

‘I thought we had a lifetime together, my darling Georgie’ he replied ‘but you are gone, and just a dream’

‘My memory will always be with you’ she replied ‘but you are free to love another. I am just a shadow, a thought. Your new love is warm and real’ The featherlight weight of her arm fell away from his, and he stopped walking to look at her. She was carrying a sleeping infant in her arms. ‘I have our sweet babe with me. I am so sorry you never met him’ she said sorrowfully ‘But you have a chance to have another – and more’

‘I have your blessing?’ he asked

‘Of course, pining for me will only make you unhappy. Let go, and think of me tending our child, You are free to love your new sweetheart.’

‘I will remember you – on the day of your death each year’

‘If you wish. I would prefer it be the day of my birth, but it is your decision’ He smiled sadly

‘I can remember you both on the day of your passing’ he replied

‘Then let it be so. Farewell John, do not weep. Take comfort in your new love, for I am sure she will understand’

John sat upright in bed, the echo of Georgie’s word in his ears. He longed to go to Elizabeth and tell her how much he loved her, but propriety dictated when and where they might meet. On the morrow he thought he would have little chance to be alone with her, so he lay back and thought of ways to tell her of his feelings.

-------

Elizabeth woke to an odd noise. She was sure she could hear someone outside her door – a soft scuffle as if of stockinged feet was followed by a quiet rustling sound, and she opened her eyes sleepily to see a piece of paper had been pushed under her door. Looking at the light starting to creep around the margin of the heavy curtains, she surmised that her maid, Jane, would be there soon and would discover the note.

She felt a thrill of excitement, sure that it was a love token from her beloved. She got up, wrapping her dressing gown around her shoulders to retrieve the note and took it back to bed with her.

My dearest Elizabeth

In case you were in any doubt, please be assured that you have made me a very happy man. My love for you is genuine and enduring, and I cannot wait to make you my wife. The days to come will be busy and challenging and we may not get a lot of time to ourselves, but I am certain that all who meet you will see what a wonderful and accomplished young woman you are. I feel myself privileged to know your true nature, and hope that I can prove myself worthy of your esteem. I shall leave a token of my love where you may find it every day of our engagement – look tonight in your bedchamber and know that you will be in my thoughts as I lay my head on my pillow and close my eyes, hoping to dream of you.

Your truest love

John

She sighed with happiness, holding the letter to her bosom, and fancied she heard more footsteps in the corridor. Swiftly she lay down and pulled the covers over her, hiding the letter under her nightgown as a soft knock announced Jane’s arrival with warm water and towel for her to wash herself with. Entering, the maid moved swiftly to the nightstand, placing the jug safely there before opening the curtains with a cheery greeting.

‘Good morning Miss Elizabeth, the weather is fine. Master John’s housekeeper bids me ask if you slept well and if there is anything she may do to make you more comfortable’ Elizabeth sat up, stretching and blinking in the light that flooded the room.

‘I slept very well, and I can think of nothing I need’ she replied ‘The room is most agreeable.’ Jane’s eyes widened

‘Why Miss – you still wear your wrap – were you cold? I will ask for more blankets’ She blushed and thought quickly.

‘I rose in the night to answer a call of nature – I must have forgotten to remove it. Please do not trouble the housekeeper, the night was warm enough’ she replied, hating to tell a falsehood, but wanting to conceal her letter. She had indeed risen to pass water in the night and return the chamber pot to its place of concealment.

‘Let me see to that right away, Miss’ Jane replied, and went to reach under the bed. ‘If you have no pressing need for it’ she added hastily.

‘Not at the moment, Jane’ she replied, and took the maid’s absence as an opportunity to hide her letter away in her trunk, concealing it in a box of letters that she took with her everywhere. She poured the warm water into the basin on the nightstand and washed herself, and when Jane returned, Elizabeth told her what outfit her mother had thought suitable for the day. She laid it out, and went to fetch Amelia so the sisters could dress together.

Some little time later, the two of them descended to the dining room for breakfast, to find John already there, and Morag sitting eating at the table. He bowed to them both, then went swiftly to Elizabeth’s side to kiss her cheek.

‘Good morning Amelia – my dear Lizzie.’ He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Mother is taking breakfast in her room this morning, and asks that you attend her when convenient.’

‘Oh!’ Elizabeth said in surprise ‘It would be my pleasure. As soon as I have eaten, I will do so. Where does she wish to see me?’

‘I suggest you take a short turn around the garden with me to settle your digestion before you go to her’ John replied ‘We can send a servant to discover the place you are to go to, for I know not what her wishes are’ At this moment, Sir James and his wife entered the room. Amelia was already helping herself to oat cakes, butter and preserves, and stopped to greet them before taking her plate to sit at the table next to Morag.

‘Sir James, Lady Charlotte’ John said ‘I hope you found your room comfortable’

‘We did, thankyou’ her mother replied ‘Though I had almost forgotten how quiet it is in the country. We have been in the town for quite some time, and there is always noise from carriages and tradespeople’

‘I know just what you mean – excepting the Cockerel’s call in the morning’ John smiled ‘You should be grateful that father could never abide peacocks, for they make the most unearthly sounds you could imagine’

‘Oh, the Beaumonts have those’ Amelia interjected ‘You would think someone was being murdered. The first time I heard one my blood ran cold, even though I was warned’ Lady Margaret shivered

‘Indeed, it is fortunate’ she replied

‘Please help yourself to food’ John said ‘If there is anything else you wish for, please ask and I’ll send word to the kitchen’

The sideboard was laden with various cakes and breads, and a servant entered the room with fresh toast, having been told that all had assembled to eat. There was yellow butter from the farm and a selection of preserves. To drink there was not only tea, but chocolate, and the family set to doing it justice. Before long Elizabeth had finished, and turned to her mother.

‘Mother, Lady Margaret wishes me to attend her this morning, but I shall take a turn around the garden first’

‘I have proposed a walk for the digestion’ John said ‘Remember, my friend Tom and his wife shall arrive today, but I think they will not arrive before luncheon. You are free to accompany us, or visit any part of the estate that you wish.’

‘Tell my John, is there a newspaper to be had?’ Sir John asked ‘If there is, I shall take it to the study, or select a book to read from the library’

‘May I take a look at the library too?’ Amelia asked

‘The paper should have been delivered already’ John replied, and summoned Scott to check ‘And of course you may take a book, Miss Amelia. You must, as I said before, treat this place as your home.’ Lady Charlotte said that she and Morag would go and look in the greenhouses and the flower garden, leaving the lovers some little time alone before Elizabeth attended John’s mother, and she sent Jane to fetch a shawl against the cool of the morning air.

The betrothed couple strolled amongst the flower beds close to the house. Elizabeth took John’s arm.

‘What might your mother want with me?’ she asked ‘Do you think I am properly dressed?’

‘I am sure she just wants to get to know you’ John smiled ‘Do not be afraid, I believe she already likes you – who could not? As to your dress, as a man I only understand that you look beautiful. The niceties and details of dress do not make a lot of sense to me’

‘Can we be observed from the house?’ she asked in a low tone as they carried on along the gravel path. John smiled.

‘If you wish for a private spot, there is an arbour but a few steps away where prying eyes will not see’ he replied ‘Though we should not linger too long.’

‘Will it afford us time for a kiss?’ she asked ‘I am hungry for your lips’ John chuckled

‘What have I awoken in you, Lizzy? I suggested this walk to calm you before you went to see Mother’

‘I will be calm afterwards, I promise. I declare that otherwise I will only be counting the moments until our lips meet again, and will be distracted’

‘Very well Lizzy, you have convinced me that it is necessary’

‘Necessary?’ she asked ‘Do you not feel the same need? It is not necessary, but essential’

‘I crave to be alone with you constantly, my dear’ he affirmed ‘But I must needs be cautious that we are not imprudent. One of us must be on their guard’ By this time they had come to a niche in the yew hedge, where the foliage had been trained to form a shelter for two persons. They stepped inside out of view of the house and he drew her to him. No sooner had he done so than she had eagerly lifted her face to his, and their lips met in a sweet lingering kiss. Reluctantly he drew away after a few moments.

I fear that is enough for now, Lizzy’ he said ‘Let us walk for a little longer, then I will send someone to tell mother you are ready’ Elizabeth sighed

‘Very well. I shall do my best to please her’

‘I do not think you will have to try hard’ John kissed her hand, and they started out along the path again.

------

It so occurred that Lady Margaret had not yet dressed for the day, and asked Elizabeth to go to her bedchamber. John took her to the threshold, where she knocked and waited to be admitted. Lady Margaret’s maid opened the door, and John blew her a silent kiss before she entered. The Duchess was sitting in bed, still attired in a nightgown and mob cap.

‘Miss Elizabeth, thankyou for indulging me’ she said. Her face was pale and she looked weary. ‘I fear I may not join your family before dinner time. I am fatigued, and company is wearisome.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that, your grace’ Elizabeth replied ‘Would your doctor not give you a tonic? Mother sometimes takes one when she is indisposed’

‘I fear my affliction is of the nerves, not of the body, my dear girl. However, I wanted to get to know the girl who has brought the spark back into John’s eye’ She beckoned ‘Come, sit and talk to me’ Elizabeth drew near, and perched at the foot of the bed. There was a silence, and she wondered what they might talk of.

‘It is a pity you are unwell. The morning is fine and clear. John took me for a walk in the garden. I like the grounds of the house very much’ Lady Margaret smiled wanly.

‘It is a lot to manage, but the secret is to have good staff, and to treat them well. John’s father and I made sure that we knew every one of the servants and their family circumstances. I hope you will follow that example, and take an interest in their wellbeing. It will serve you well’ She smiled ‘There, I have told you the secret of our success already, and you have been here but a few minutes.’

‘I will be sure to follow your advice, Lady Margaret. You are too generous’

‘I hear that you were engaged to be married before you met John’ the duchess went on. Elizabeth fought to keep her composure, but the other woman laughed softly ‘The path to true love is not an easy one. As you know, John is a widower. His wife was a sweet girl, not well born, but he was determined to take her to him. We indulged him, and sometimes I wish I had not, to save him the sorrow he has borne’

‘I do wonder what she was like, and whether I can serve in her stead’ Elizabeth confessed.

‘My son does not give his heart easily, so I think you need not fear, my dear. I am pleased he has chosen someone so refined and well bred’ She coughed weakly and waved her hand to the dresser beside the bed. ‘My throat is dry - would you pass me a glass of water, my dear? If you wish for any refreshments I can send Betsy to the kitchen’

‘Thankyou Lady Margaret, I am not hungry, but I will take some water.’ She moved to pour two glasses and handed one to her. She sat forward to drink

‘If you could rearrange my pillows – and bring over the shawl you see on the back of the screens’ she asked, and Elizabeth did so, shaking the pillows out and placing them back behind the older woman. She took the shawl, wrapping it around her shoulders and sat back with a sigh ‘Thankyou, that is much more comfortable.’

‘Are you often indisposed?’ Elizabeth asked with concern ‘I hope you have a doctor with a good reputation’

‘Doctor Foster is a dear friend as well as an excellent physician. He covers the whole of the estate, and I have great faith in his skills.’ She settled further into the pillows ‘The death of my husband has affected me much’ She fixed Elizabeth with her gaze. ‘Such is the price of finding your soulmate’ she cautioned her ‘Sometimes I wish I were with my dear Walter’

‘Please Lady Margaret, do not say such things’ Elizabeth pleaded ‘You have much still to live for. Why, I would be devastated if you were not there when John and I are joined as man and wife’ She moved closer, and took her hand ‘You have much still to teach me, and I am sure you have many stories to share of family life’ The older woman smiled.

‘Thankyou my dear. Of course you will in time have children to carry on the family name, and I wish very much to be here to see that. If you are lucky, there is much joy to be had in married life, and I hope I have brought John up to be kind and considerate at the very least’

‘Indeed, he makes me feel very special. I rejected the suit of another when I learned that he had little respect for my sex, and less regard for intelligence.’

‘So that is the reason you broke off your engagement? I was told that the young man in question gambled heavily’ Elizabeth blushed, realising she had perhaps revealed too much to her prospective mother in law.

‘My father discovered that after I had raised my objections. I think I had a lucky escape’

‘You may be sure that John has no love of gambling or drinking heavily. His father often pointed out the dangers of such vices’ She sighed ‘I have kept you away from John, and soon you will have the responsibility of greeting visitors. You may go, my dear’

‘That is very generous of you’ Elizabeth paused at a thought that came to her ‘Lady Margaret, do you read much?’ she asked

‘I do, it is one of my pleasures’

‘Would you permit me to read to you? It might lift your spirits. Perhaps sitting outside in the fresh air would also improve your health.’

‘Bless you my dear, you will soon be too busy to indulge me, but perhaps Miss Amelia might be prevailed upon to read to me?’

‘I am sure she would be happy to do so. I will ask her straight away’

‘She need not come until after lunch, but only if she can be spared. I will take a nap now, for I slept little, and your visit has been most refreshing.’

‘I will be sure to ask one of the servants to check on you after we have eaten. I hope soon that you will feel well enough to socialise with your new guests’ Lady Margaret reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand with both of hers.

‘Thankyou so much for indulging me, Elizabeth. You will make a good Mistress for Laxton estate, I am sure of that now’ Elizabeth dropped a curtsey and left the room to go and find Amelia and tell her of her plans for her sister.

@sirbeepsalot​ @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria​ @dcbbw​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @katedrakeohd​ @trappedinfandoms​ @kingliam2019​ @nomadics-stuff​ @texaskitten30​ @princess-geek​ @fluffyfirewhiskey @kimmiedoo5​

[twinkle-320]

Mommy-to-be

Pairing:  Drake x MC (Riley Nevin Walker)

A/N:  I wrote this for something fun and lighthearted.  I am currently working on a TRR AU that has me stuck and feeling sad so I needed some fluff in my life.  Baby showers are perfect for fluff.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2513

Tag list: @kingliam2019​ @batgirlassociationofgothamcity​ (If you only wanted to be tagged for mood boards, let me know.)

Rain pelted against the glass ceiling of the solarium in Valtoria, where Riley sat surrounded by her friends trying to keep up with their chatter.

“It should definitely be an apple theme,” Hana said in her usual calm, gentle tone.

“Oh please,” Olivia scoffed. “Practically every woman in Cordonia has a ridiculous apple themed baby shower. At least try to be original.”

“Well, do you have any ideas?”

“I think...”

“Don’t say knives,” Savannah interjected.

“Don’t be such a simpleton. I was going to say axes...you could make that work with apples if you must.”

“How about we ask Riley what she wants...it’s her shower,” Savannah suggested.

All eyes turned to Riley, who was staring out at the rain, lost in thought. Olivia snapped her fingers practically right in Riley’s face. “Riley...earth to Riley...are you still with us or did the baby get the last of your brain?”

“Hmm...what? I’m sorry, what were you asking?”

“Themes,” Hana said. “For your shower.”

“Yes, because that’s what good ‘friends’ do, we ask you to plan your own shower,” Olivia quipped.

“Oh, umm...well, I love Disney,” Riley said.

Olivia looked at her disgusted. “Disney? That god awful amusement park with the oversized rat and screaming demon children? Sure, that would definitely be better than axes.”

Savannah rolled her eyes at Olivia. “Disney could be cute and if Riley likes it, that’s what important.”

“Guys, I’ll be fine with any theme you want, really. My only request is that we have games.”

“You Americans and your games,” Olivia scoffed.

“Games and Disney. Don’t worry, Riley...we’ve got this. It will be perfect,” Hana assured her.

                                             —————————

As Riley inched closer and closer to her October due date, the day of her shower finally arrived. Everything had been planned with her knowledge so she could be prepared. It wouldn’t due to have a Duchess show up to her own shower in leggings and a hoodie. Select members of the press would be in attendance and a photo shoot was planned. Hana had helped Riley select an elegant, ivory lace maxi dress that perfectly hugged her bump. Her hair cascaded down her back in elegant waves and she wore rose gold flip flops to accommodate her swollen feet.

When Riley stepped into the gardens behind the estate, she was in awe. Soft pastels of pink, blue, green, and yellow accented the clean white color pallet. There was a giant balloon arch featuring all the colors set up over the dessert table. Hana had worked with a local baker on not one, but two perfect cakes. One was a two-tier cake in soft pinks and blues with Mickey and Minnie accents. The other was a nod to Riley’s favorite princess; a small replica of Cinderella’s coach also done in pink and blue. Elements of Disney were subtle and tasteful including Mickey silhouettes made of branches, vines, and flowers. Each table was named after a Disney character and featured lush centerpieces with hidden Mickey’s, lanterns with glittery rose gold Mickey heads hand-painted on the glass, and a Disney story book for those at the table to sign as a guest book. With over twenty tables, all the books would be the perfect start to a baby library. Tears sprang to her eyes as she took in the beautiful work her friends had done. All that was needed now was for the guests to arrive.

                                              —————————

Drake spent the morning working in the nursery away from the hustle and bustle of party set-up. Once her classes had wrapped for the semester, Riley finally settled on decor and gave Drake a to do list a mile long. Rustic woodland animals was the chosen theme. Riley thought it would be easy to add to after the baby arrived; floral elements if it was a girl or more woodsy elements if it was a boy. The walls were a soft ecru with an accent wall done in reclaimed barn wood. When Drake finished assembling the simple white crib Riley had chosen, he moved it into position against the wood wall and admired his efforts. In his pocket, his phone chimed, alerting him it was time to get ready for the party.

Once he was showered and changed, he headed to the gardens and found Riley standing over the dessert table. Sneaking up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and her growing belly. “Lay off the cookies, Nevin. Those are for the guests.”

Riley jumped and giggled. “Cookies weren’t my idea, Drake...Bean wants one.”

“Just like Bean wanted ice cream and s’mores last night?”

Riley turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. “This little one has a sweet tooth, what can I say.”

“Like mama, like baby,” Drake laughed. “So, this looks pretty awesome out here,” he said, turning to take in the set-up.

“Right?!?” Riley exclaimed. “It’s fucking amazing.” 

“Duchess Riley...language!”

Riley turned in the direction of the voice scolding her and wasn’t surprised to see Bertrand and Savannah approaching with their arms full of gifts.

“Holy shit guys, did you buy out the store?”

“You just can’t stop yourself, can you?” Bertrand asked.

Riley shrugged. “Nope. And no one’s here yet to hear me so stop fretting, Bertrand. Drake, don’t just stand there...help your sister,” she said, nudging him forward. Once the gifts were safely placed on the gift table, the group stood together chatting as other guests slowly started arriving.

“You and Hana did an amazing job,” Riley said to a beaming Savannah.

“I thought Liv helped too?” Drake asked. 

“She did...a little,” Savannah replied.

Riley laughed. “Should I be looking for hidden daggers in addition to the hidden Mickey’s?”

“No, we managed to keep daggers out of the decor. She had proposed a sword wielding Mickey ice sculpture but thankfully the sculptor refused for trademark reasons. We ended up putting her in charge of the food.”

“Great,” Drake groaned. “Can’t wait to see what kind of fancy crap she planned.”

Bertrand groaned and shook his head, looking like his head was about to explode. Savannah wisely took his hand and led him away to their table.

Ana de Luca quickly took their place at the happy couple’s side and ushered them deeper in to the garden for a quick photo shoot and interview before the festivities began. Riley was able to approve the digital proofs on the spot and an elegant black and white of her cradling her belly was chosen for the Trend cover.

When they arrived back at the party, nearly all the guests had arrived and things were in full swing. Drake was pleasantly surprised to see the buffet spread of comfort foods. There was a carving station with whole roasted chickens and herb crusted filet, and sides of garlic mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and steamed vegetables. Olivia’s personal touch was obvious due to the chefs wielding larger than necessary ornate knives for carving.

Hana was the perfect hostess, keeping things orderly as each table took their turn through the buffet. As guests filled their plates, she announced the first game...a Disney match game matching Disney characters to their parents. There was a print out at each place setting and guests could complete it at their leisure to turn in by the end of the meal.

Riley had taken a plate with a little bit of everything and promptly ignored it while she turned to the game with hyper focus.

“Nevin...are you gonna eat?”

“Huh...oh, yeah, I will. I just wanna get this done first.”

“Are you even allowed to play the games at your own shower?”

 “Of course I am, silly!”

When the meal was over, Hana had everyones game sheet and tallied the answers. “And the winner is...Duchess Riley,” she announced to the crowd.

 Most in attendance cheered or applauded politely but Riley heard the groans among her friends at her table.

Guests took the opportunity to mingle while Hana got set-up for baby shower bingo. Mingling was the perfect opportunity for the ongoing game of “Don’t say baby”. Each guest was given three clothes pins when they arrived. If they said the word baby at any point in a conversation, someone could steal one of their pins. Whoever had the most pins at the end would win a prize.

When Hana called for everyone to take their seats, Riley returned to her table with at least twenty-five pins clipped to the ruffle of her dress. Savannah and Maxwell sat giggling while Olivia rolled her eyes. “Really, Riley...you can’t be serious? You’re competitive nature is occasionally admirable but this is bordering on ridiculous,” Olivia sneered.

“What?” Riley said sheepishly. “People can’t help saying baby to the pregnant lady, that’s not my fault!”

“I somehow doubt it was as simple as that.”

“Well, I may have practiced saying nothing but Bean or infant for the last week but still...I won these pins fair and square.”

After everyone had a chance to fill out their bingo boards with baby items, Hana began calling out items at random. It only took seven items before Riley was on her feet, holding her belly while she jumped up and down yelling ‘bingo’. The groans that had been contained to her friends earlier now rippled through the other guests. Olivia forcefully grabbed the bingo board as Hana made her way to the table.

“Riley...I um...I think maybe you should give someone else a chance to win the game prizes,” Hana whispered hesitantly.

“But...”

“Blossom, Hana’s right,” Max said gently.

“For once, I agree with these fools,” Olivia interjected, still clutching Riley’s game board.

Riley pouted as Drake put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “You and Bean get to leave with all the presents, let the guests have the prizes, Nevin.”

“Ok, fine,” she conceded.

Hana turned back to the crowd. “Duchess Riley has graciously forfeited her win so we’ll continue with this round.”

Two items later, Liam stood and called out Bingo.

“You’re welcome,” Riley whispered as Hana handed Liam one of the bottles of whiskey Drake had selected as ‘manly’ prizes.  Liam smiled at her affectionately and laughed.

Two rounds later, Kiara and Emmeline had each won a prize and Hana announced it was time for presents.

Riley sat on a throne decorated with vines and flowers with gifts piled all around her. She took care to read each card and announce the gift giver and show her appreciation. There was everything from the simple: blankets, layettes, and plush toys; to the extravagant: tiaras, crowns, scepters, and crystal rattles. It felt endless and overwhelming in the best way possible. Riley was sure she had opened something from everyone in attendance but there was still a large pile unopened.

“These are from your family,” Hana explained. “Since they’re visiting when the baby arrives, they couldn’t make it today but they sent these over.”

Riley resisted the urge to steal one of Hana’s pins as she smiled gratefully at her. Her heart swelled with each gift she opened; her family knew her so well. There was a baby book that matched her woodland theme that had pages already filled in for her side of the family tree, complete with photos and memories about her mom, whom Bean would only know through stories. Riley felt the tears pricking at her eyes and they finally broke free when she opened a blanket that her dad had custom made out of some of her mom’s clothes. He took care to chose the softest sweaters in colors that would compliment the nursery. It was the closest Bean would come to feeling the embrace of their grandmother and it took everything in Riley not to ugly cry.

After a minute to compose herself, she moved on to the next gift. It was from Drew. The card said that he wanted to get something just for her because he knew that Bean would be getting more than enough. When Riley opened the box she began to giggle through her tears; it was just the humor that she needed.

“What is it?” Drake asked.

“I’m not sure I should show it to everyone,” Riley laughed. “There doesn’t need to be a picture of this in Trend.” 

“Just show us then, Blossom.”

Riley’s friends moved behind her and she lifted out a t-shirt with the front facing away from the guests. It was red with short sleeves and in bold white print it read ‘I’m a drop the F-bomb kind of Mom’.

There was laughter among her friends as Liam said, “Well your brother certainly seems to know you well.”

“Is that really the kind of thing you should be advertising?” Hana gasped.

“I see no problem with it,” Olivia stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s definitely funny, but Nevin’s gonna be watching her language once Bean arrives.”

Riley dropped the shirt and turned to Drake with her mouth agape. “Do you know me at all?” she exclaimed.

“Come on, Nevin. You don’t want him or her copying you.”

“Bean will just have to learn what I did growing up...do as I say, not as I do; no copying Mommy.”

“I hope its that easy, Nevin.”

“It will be,” she assured him as she pulled him down for a kiss.

With the last of the presents opened, guests were invited to enjoy the dessert table and the party began to wind down. Gladys and a few members of the staff started taking the presents in to the nursery and Riley made a beeline for the cookies she had been eyeing.

As the sun started to get low in the sky, they said their goodbyes and made their way into the estate.

“Why don’t you go up and get comfortable...I’ll make us some popcorn and we’ll watch a movie,” Drake suggested.

“Sounds perfect.”

When Drake finally got upstairs, he found Riley standing in the doorway of the nursery, clutching the blanket from her dad to her chest. “You okay, Nevin?”

Riley nodded and wiped away a stray tear. “I just can’t wait to hold our baby, Drake, and...and I hope I’m a good mom.”

“You’re gonna be a great mom, Nevin. An amazing fucking mom.”

Riley turned to him with a big smile on her face. “Ssshhhh, language Daddy.”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“I am,” she shrugged. “But you love it.”

“Damn right, I do,” he said as he pulled her into a passionate kiss and guided her to their room.

Exhaustion took over and Riley was a sleep in minutes. Drake ate the popcorn and watched Riley’s chest gently rise and fall as he rubbed her belly. “Hurry up and get here Bean, we can’t wait to meet you.”

The once grumpy commoner felt the last of his walls break down when his loving words were rewarded with a kick. Everything he never knew he wanted was right there in his arms...a family of his own to love and protect; all because he walked into her bar.

[familiaanteomnia]

(so got thinking about like timelines/better realities so i blurb) It was a nice afternoon; the club all hanging on the grass and Xav was paint splattered. From some extra time in the art classroom. However most importantly he felt like pestering his twin. Basically skipping all the stairs, jumping on the edge of the fountain to scout out the group. Seemed perfectly occupied in all their little conversations. Hopping down as readjusted his backpack. Carefully avoiding being spotted; ducking behind the tree his twin was reclined against. Gently, slowly hand holding the cardboard crown trying to sneakily set it onto his twins head. Very aware of some eyes looking towards him. Yet he managed to set it down and retract his hand before anybody alerted his twin. “What the-.” Silence; maybe he hadn’t been sold out? Before his twins head peered around the tree. “Dork.” Tongue stuck out at his twin in response which got an laugh; however Xav dodged the attempt to mess up his hair. Most everybody had settled back into their various conversations. “No touchy the hair or-.” Thinking of some dramatic statement to make. Before scooping up an twig off the ground. “Or I’ll eat this twig.” Watching the brief consideration about whether to challenge it or not. “Please, don’t.” Extended hand clearly to say hand it over. Xav sighed as dropped it into the hand. “By the way bro you’ve got paint on your face.” Prompting an hand wipe which did in fact smear the slightly wet paint further. ----

Tired out after group therapy; making his way out the doors into the afternoon yawning. Maybe call his mom for an ride, nap at the estate or on the way back to campus. When spotted Nathan, rubbing at his eyes to double check and yeah his twin was there. Approaching the truck. Getting inside the passenger side with an yawn. “Should I be concerned about your presence here in this parking lot- with an slushie?” Swiping the purple drink from the cupholder. If it was an set up for bad news, perfect ambush tactics. Instead his twin rolled his eyes. “Nah just being nice, also clearly you could use the ride.” Taking the skateboard to put it into the back behind them. “Also I put one of your awful energy drinks in that for you, you’re welcome.” “Thonk You.” Doing his seatbelt so the other could pull out the parking lot. Little grin at the groan of the weird pronunciation of the first word. Honestly had been pure sleepy mistake but owning it was just how it would have to be. Focusing on drinking the slushie after cradling it in both hands. ---- “Or here’s an idea leave me here to die.” Xav groaned pulling his comforter over his head. “I cannot be bothered to put a suit on, go to the fancy dinner at whatever restaurant.” Dramatics, however he was also feeling very heartbroken and wanted to wallow. “So don’t put on a suit, I think mom and dad would be fine with it.” Feeling weight on the bed. “Pretty sure you can order cake, I’ll get you some ice cream on the way back too- cannot lay in bed for the rest of forever man.” Attempt to pull away the comforter met with an irritated noise. Poking eyes out to stare at his twin. “Text mom to find out if it’s okay- otherwise seriously I don’t feel up to it.” Watching as Nathan pulled out his phone. Before sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. Said romance was silly how many times; made perfect sense he would get this thoroughly crushed by an crush. “I could break his nose for you.” Xav groaned with an stretch; knew it wasn’t an real offer though doing so himself was tempting. “Mom says long as you’re in decently put together clothing it is a okay.” Showing the screen which Xav pushed away because the light hurt his eyes. “Okay okay get out, give me five minutes to get ready.” “You won’t just stay in bed or graduate to the floor?” “Promise now begone.”

[theenduringsun]

day 1 - gifted child

for @enbymagicianweek day 1, about backstory and pre-plague life

magic can be both a gift and a curse. saria’s family doesn’t understand. at five years old, saria definitely doesn’t understand.

(content warnings: animal death, gore)

“Saria? What happened to Count Spada?”

The voice of their older sister, concerned and soft, fell on deaf ears. Saria was too busy staring at the lifeless form of Count Spada—the cat, not his very much alive namesake. They weren’t sure what happened; they’d simply found the poor cat lying on the floor in the foyer of their family’s estate.

“Saria? Saria, answer me!”

Tears welled up behind their eyes as Saria shook their head, unable to speak. They vaguely registered a frustrated sigh from their sister before more footsteps shuffled in behind them, accompanied by soft, surprised gasps.

“Lydia, what happened?”

“Did your sister do this?”

“She’s far too reckless. I always tell her…”

“Relax, Marta. She’s only five. How could she kill a cat?”

Saria shut their eyes tight, trying their very best to keep the tears from falling out. Their breaths became short and shallow, and their lips quivered before a full-on sob wracked their small form. 

They were only five! This wasn’t their fault! All they wanted was their cat back!

“Mother? What’s happening to Saria?!”

An array of shocked, yet composed voices forced Saria’s eyes open. Tendrils of deep purple mist snaked from their hands towards the body of Count Spada. Saria watched with rapt attention as the cat’s flesh melted away, replaced by stark white bone. The bones shook, then stood, raising their rear end in the air in a stretch. Two bright purple orbs of light took the place of the cat’s eyes, and they turned to stare at their audience with a dry, rattling “Meow.”

Saria barely registered the horrified gasps and screams behind them as they rushed forward to greet their reanimated pet.

“Count Spada! You’re back!”

---

The cafeteria of Hastings Institute for the Arcane was full of hustle and bustle as Saria deftly navigated the lines. Their work was done for the day; it had taken them a while, but after finally mastering a complex spell to speak with the dead, their mentor had given them the rest of the night off. Saria picked out a plate of pasta with a rich-looking meat sauce, then made their way out into the main eating area.

“Saria! Over here!”

They turned to see three other students, one of whom was waving at them. Ben, the waver, was a student in the elemental school, and Charles, smiling at Saria sweetly, studied regeneration. Marigold, a student of the prophecy school, also sat with them, giving a small wave to Saria as they looked at her.

Saria grinned, walking over to their table. “How’s it going, you three?”

“Pretty alright,” Ben replied, his mouth full of cake.

Marigold rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ben, don’t talk with your mouth full! Were you raised in a barn?”

“Yes, Marigold, I was,” Ben shot back. 

“And you haven’t even finished your main course!” Marigold continued, ignoring Ben’s retort. “Dessert comes after the meal, Benjamin.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Marigold. Not all of us can be fancy nobles like you.”

“You could stand to behave like one.” Marigold flipped her hair over her shoulder and scoffed before the entire table broke into laughter. These sorts of conversations were commonplace, and neither party meant anything by their insults. 

“I do wonder what it’s like, growing up in a palace,” Charles commented idly. “Did you have servants and stuff, Marigold?”

Marigold smiled. “We didn’t live in a palace, but my family’s estate was quite grand,” she explained. “We didn’t have too many servants; just a butler and a few maids. My mother insisted on doing the cooking. She grew up poor, and cooking was always a sign of love to her.”

Saria smiled, twirling a few strands of spaghetti on their fork. “That’s really sweet. She clearly loved her family a lot.”

“I can’t help but miss it,” Marigold sighed, placing her fork neatly next to her knife on her plate. “Hastings is...quite different from Firent. Good, of course, but still different.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t help being the only student from there,” Ben added. “I’m mostly lucky there’s a few other people from Milova here. We don’t really talk, but it’s still nice.”

Conversation stalled for a moment, each student either eating or taking some time to reminisce. Before long, Charles turned to Saria, an inquisitive look on his face. “Y’know, Saria, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about your family.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Saria replied. 

“Plenty!” Marigold answered. “Where you’re from, what your social class was, how many siblings you have—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll spill,” Saria interrupted, laughter accenting their remark. They put their fork down and tucked a short lock of hair behind their ear. “I’m from Vesuvia. Youngest of three, by a lot; my older sister’s 27, my brother’s 25, and here I am at 13.”

Ben whistled. “That’s a huge gap. And I thought my sister was old, but she’s only 17!”

Saria giggled. “Yeah, there are rumors that my dad, uh, cheated on my mom. Y’know, comes with the territory of being a noble’s kid.”

“Especially in Vesuvia,” Marigold added. “Not to offend you, my dear, but that city is notorious for its gossip.”

“You can say that again.” Saria took a sip from their glass of water and sighed. “I remember when Talia first got here; she openly gawked at the ‘missing daughter of the Meridans’ for a solid week.”

Charles laughed. “She tends to gawk at a lot of things.”

“That she does,” Ben interjected. “She saw me casting a flame spell and stared at me like my head was on fire!”

“Are you sure your head wasn’t on fire?” Marigold asked, taking a sip from a porcelain teacup.

“Well, it was, but I don’t see how that affects things.”

Saria laughed, and the rest of the table eventually joined them. Everyone had finished their meals, and one by one, they stood and took their plates to the drop-off. They chatted idly as they walked back to their dormitories, Ben walking backwards to address the rest of the small group.

“I still don’t get it, Saria,” Ben stated, hands in the pockets of his white and gold uniform. “You talked about who your family was, but not what they’re like. Do you not like them or something?”

Marigold scoffed. “You can’t just ask someone that, Benjamin!” 

“I can and I will!”

“It’s fine,” Saria interrupted. “To be honest, all I really remember was them being mad at me. I was sent here at five, y’know.”

Charles nodded. “That’s right. But what did they get mad at you for?”

Saria smirked. “Well, there was the whole no-gender thing and refusing to wear the pretty dresses my mother picked out, but they were mostly mad that I reanimated my cat.”

“What?!” Marigold exclaimed. “At five?!”

“Quiet down, Marigold! You’ll wake up the whole school!” Ben shouted back just as loudly.

Saria giggled. “Yeah, my family wasn’t very...appreciative of their new skeleton cat. So here I am. Youngest necromancy student in a century, so I’m told.”

Charles smiled sweetly at Saria, his eyes filled with compassion and a hint of pity. “I’m sure they love you more than you know.”

“I’m not sure,” Saria replied, “but it’s a nice thought.”

As the small group approached the dormitories, Ben and Charles said goodnight and peeled off as Marigold and Saria continued on. When they reached the girls’ dorms, Marigold placed a hand on Saria’s shoulder. “I forgot to tell you, Saria,” she said softly. “I did a divination for you this morning.”

“Oh?” Saria asked. “What did it say?”

Marigold’s smile grew, her face glowing in the light of the streetlamp. “The road ahead of you is filled with uncertainty and peril, but one thing is certain: the whole world is going to know your name someday.”

Saria blinked in surprise. “That’s quite the prophecy.”

“Indeed,” Marigold replied. “My mentor was impressed that I got something of that level out. Usually it’s just weather predictions and lottery numbers.” She squeezed Saria’s shoulder gently and nodded at her. “Take heart. It will all turn out okay in the end.” With that, she turned to enter the dormitory, giving one last wave to Saria before the door shut behind her.

Saria stood there for a moment, a little awestruck. “The whole world will know my name, huh?” they asked no one in particular, sticking their hands in their pockets. They looked up at the night sky; the moon was a slim crescent, and the stars dotted the inky blackness like freckles.

They smiled to themself, continuing on the path towards their dormitory.

“I hope they’re ready for me.”

[not-close-to-straight]

Shadowed Hearts/Winter Souls (Final Chapter)

COMPLETED MASTERLIST HERE

***************

“Patatina!” Tony stepped from the house and into the gardens, clapping his hands a few times. “Where are you, beauty?”

“Antonio!” Natalia looked up from her roses and laughed. “Do not call my daughter a potato! How is that sweet at all?”

“Hush, my Mama called me her little potato every day until I was half grown.” Tony retorted and clapped his hands again. “Morgan Alianova! Where are you?”

“Here we are.” Pietro came from behind the hedges, steps slow and purposeful, hoarse voice softer than usual, his gaze focused on the little girl holding on to two of his fingers and toddling along beside him. “Tell your Tonio that little legs walk very slowly, and calling us potato won’t bring us along any faster.”

“Pet-pet.” Morgan was Samuel’s child, but she had Natalia’s green eyes and a smile to rival Tony’s, stubbornness that reminded them every day of Ronin, Wanda’s sweet spirit, a temper that would shock even James, and ever since her arrival the previous August, the child had had Pietro wrapped right around her little finger.

“Pet-pet.” she said again and Pietro nearly melted. The words were most likely random babbling, but Pietro was sure Morgan was trying to say his name. “Up.”

Pietro picked Morgan up without hesitating, hiding the grimace from his injured arm pulling under the baby’s weight and leaned in to bump noses with Morgan. “Let’s go see your Tonio.”

“Ah, there’s my potato bug.” Tony held out his arms for Morgan and once Pietro was close enough, Tony took her cuddled her close. “Come along, tiny love. I have sweet things for you to eat before dinner.”

“Wanda?” Natalia raised her voice in clear disapproval and Wanda poked her head out of the kitchen window to smile at her. “Are you giving Morgan sweets before dinner? You will spoil her!”

“No! I would never!” Wanda denied immediately, and then amended, “Well I am making pastries and thought our patatina would enjoy a taste? Surely that’s not terrible, Talia, you are being too strict again. Antonio, hand her here so she can have some. A little sweetness will not do any harm.”

Wanda tore off a piece of fresh pastry and held it out the window, and Morgan clapped her hands in excitement as Tony held her up high enough for Wanda to pop it in her mouth.

“There has to be cuter names for a child than little potato.” Natalia sighed. “But Antonio has been calling her patatina since she was born, I suppose it’s too late to change it now.”  

Piero chuckled quietly and bent to wipe a smudge of dirt from Natalia’s forehead before settling gingerly onto a close by bench. “Tony calls her little potato because she is sweet and round. Tis no different than you calling her little kitten. So long as the words are said in love, what does it matter?”

“No one eats kittens.” Natalia retorted and Pietro countered, “But we have each said at least a thousand times that Morgan is so sweet we could eat her up...”

“Fine fine fine.” Talia relented, sitting up and stretching to relieve the twinge in her back. “But if she grows up to tell other people her name is potato I will have to have words with Antonio.”

Pietro smiled again, and held out his good arm for Morgan when Tony came back with the baby, wiping away pastry crumbs from  Morgan’s cheeks and taking her right back to the other side of the garden where they had been sitting beneath a fruit tree and plucking flowers.

“Her laugh is like sunshine.” Tony commented as Pietro disappeared with the toddler. He had a piece of pastry for himself and one for Natalia as well, and Natalia dusted her hands off before taking it. “I think the birds sing and clouds part when she smiles.”

“I think having Morgan around has made you poetic and ridiculous.” Natalia made an agreeable noise when she tasted the pastry. “But I agree. She has chased the shadows away from our life, hasn’t she?”

“Mm-hmm.” Tony broke off another piece of the sweet treat and offered it over. “Mama sent a message to say they are coming at the end of the month. She has piles of new clothes for Morgan and something for you as well. I’m glad you and Mama are so close Talia, but I can’t imagine what you have in common.”

“No.” Natalia hid a smile. “No, I don’t suppose you would imagine what we have in common. I’m sure it’s only Morgan that has brought us so close.” Tony shrugged and pushed the rest of his pastry into her hand. “No Antonio. No more sweets!” Natalia put a hand to her stomach and shook her head. “I will never be slim again if I keep eating everything Wanda bakes!”

“You are more beautiful now than you were the night I met you.” Tony said truthfully, brushing his knuckles over Natalia’s cheek and blatantly admiring the way she filled out her gown. Her collarbones didn’t stand out beneath her skin anymore and after a year and a half eating Italian fare, Natalia's curves were soft and full, and even though she no longer wore elaborate hairstyles or fancy gowns, Tony was sure Natalia had never been so lovely.

“Having Morgan erased your hard edges.” he murmured. “And now you look like an angel.”  

“I think those words would mean more if they were said by a man with a vested interest in seeing me undressed.” Natalia teased. “But thank you all the same, Antonio. What are you working on today, has Signore Beretta come along with another plea for you to work for him?”

“He has.” Tony clipped a particularly red bloom and placed it in Natalia’s basket for the house. “But I turned him away. I don’t want to work in Brescia when my family is here in Chioggia. I told him he could send me special pieces to repair but that I would not be returning to the main estate.”

“You are happy with your own work space?” Natalia inclined her head down to the storage shed Tony had converted into a shop. “Even though you don’t have much room?”

“It’s not as if we need the money.” Tony countered. “The shop is only to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied. There is no reason for me to travel for work, and I don’t like being away from you anyway.”

“A workshop in Chioggia is a far cry from being a Prince of Brescia.”

“And I am a far cry from the man I used to be.”

Natalia’s lips lifted in a smile. “And we are all so grateful.”

“I love you, Talia.” Tony kissed her cheek and stood up again. “But I do have something to finish for Signore Beretta so I have to leave you to your roses.”

“I’ll find you for supper.” Natalia promised and waved him away, going back to her gardening with a contented sigh.

The past year had been one of change and adjustment, of making room for a little one in their lives and learning to trust each other in new ways and to trust others in ways no one expected.

Howard and Maria came by often, making the journey from Brescia at least once a month and while it had been a challenge for Tony to accept his father’s newly changed personality, and a surprise for Natalia to be around so happy a family, every visit brought more and more smiles. 

Howard and Tony had began working on small projects in the workshop, spending more time together now than they had in Tony’s entire life. Tony had began opening up to his Papa, even laughing together as they worked and when they were late for supper because they were distracted by a project, neither Maria nor Natalia could manage to be upset. 

Maria’s extraordinary and mostly secret past bound her and Natalia together through shared experiences and the million quiet ways they protected their families every day. When Morgan was born, Maria moved into the house for several weeks to help with the cooking and cleaning and to trade shifts with Wanda and Natalia so they all managed to get enough sleep. Natalia’s constant worries about her baby’s safety were quieted because Wanda would never let anyone hurt Morgan, and Maria would simply kill anyone who tried, and the relief made those first weeks of motherhood much easier. 

Ana and Jarvis came around even more often than Howard and Maria. Ana taught Wanda to cook traditional Italian dishes and was more than happy to watch Morgan all day so Natalia and Wanda could take extra long baths or spend time on their sewing. Jarvis spent days working with Pietro to help the boy regain more muscle use and flexibility, accompanying him on walks and playing catch since the simple act of tossing and catching improved Pietro’s limited hand eye coordination.

When Morgan turned a year old, they held a party. Wanda made cake and both sets of Grandparents-- Ana insisted on being called Grammy if Maria was called Nonni-- spoiled the girl absolutely rotten while Tony stood at the door of the parlor and held Natalia as she cried, soothing her with gentle words, blinking back his own tears.

Natalia cried because she had never once in her entire life thought to have a moment where her baby played in a room full of family, a room full of people who loved her to heaven and back.

Tony cried because the room was so full and yet seemed so empty all at the same time. Morgan signed ‘thank you’ to Howard because Natalia had wanted her to learn a little bit of sign language, and it made Ronin’s absence all the more palpable. Jarvis laughing when Pietro insisted Morgan looked like him hurt because Morgan looked more like Samuel every day and Samuel wasn’t there to see it.

“James would love her.” Natalia whispered that day. “She has our Ma’s family name Alianova and he would love her for it.”

“James would love her for a thousand different reasons.” Tony had countered, and Natalia only cried harder.

Word had come weeks ago of the end of war in Sokovia. The Tsar had officially washed his hands of the entire mess, withdrew his soldiers and emptied the prisons of Sokovian rebels. The revolution had existed for decades, cost thousands of lives and exhausted the supplies of an empire already stretched too far, and the Tsar had finally had enough.

If Sokovia does not want to be Russian, let them fend for themselves.

“We are free.” Wanda whispered as she read the message. “It’s over. The prisoners are freed and the Tsar’s men are gone. Natalia, this means our soldiers could still come--”

“Don’t.” Natalia hadn’t wanted to hear what Wanda would say, she had even looked away from the hope in Pietro’s gaze. “No. This is our life and this is our home and we left everything behind. Don’t say-- don’t make me hope-- I can’t bear it.”

Tony had agreed and they let the topic drop, but Natalia knew Wanda and Pietro whispered about it in the kitchen and she knew Tony had taken James’s rifle from above the door of his workshop and sat with it in his hands for a long, long time.

They all hoped, even Natalia hoped right now as she pulled weeds from the base of the rose bush. She hoped and she prayed and she wanted but Natalia had lived too difficult a life and known too much loss to think there was ever actually a chance--

“Da Da Da Da Da.” Morgan chattered as she came around the hedges and Natalia wiped away her tears before the baby saw, cursing herself for letting her mind wander, angry that she’d given in and let herself think too long about who was missing from their family.

She missed Ronin and Samuel and she missed her brother and nothing about Sokovia had been safe but at least they had been together and now--

“Da Da Da Da Da.” Morgan said again and Natalia turned with a ready smile and arms outstretched to take her from Pietro.

“Morgan, come here tiny love, come to Mama.”

But Morgan wasn’t looking at her, and she wasn’t holding Pietro’s hand and this time when Morgan asked, “Da Da?” Samuel answered hoarsely, ”Yeah sweetheart, your Da Da finally made it home.”

Samuel.

“Hello, my love.” Samuel whispered, and when Natalia tried to get to her feet, Samuel fell to his knees instead, crushing her to his chest with one arm and holding onto Morgan as tight as he dared with the other. 

“Samuel.” Natalia could barely get the word out, could barely breathe. “You’re home? You-- my love, you came home, you came--you found us--"

“I’m home, Talia.” Samuel repeated over and over, smoothing his hand over Natalia’s hair and down her back. “We made it home.”

Pietro stood behind them with a hand over his mouth and tears tracking down his cheeks, but when Wanda screamed from inside the house he turned and ran as fast as he could to the kitchen, limping up the stairs and cursing that he couldn’t move any faster.

“Wanda?” He called anxiously. “Wanda are you alright? You need to come outside and see--” Pietro stopped in his tracks when he saw Ronin in the kitchen, the archer holding Wanda as she sobbed into his shoulder. “R-Ronin?”

Here. Ronin signed clumsily, holding onto Wanda and reaching out for Pietro. “Come here, son.” 

“Ronin.” Pietro stumbled forward and fell into the hug. “What--how-- you’re home? You’re home? How?”

“There’s time for questions later.” Wanda shook her head, trying and failing to check her tears. “It doesn’t matter how. I only care that we are together again.”

Natalia had barely managed to get to her feet with Samuel’s help when Ronin came out into the garden with Wanda and Pietro on either side, and she would have collapsed right there if Samuel wouldn’t have caught her.

“Ronin!”

Ronin dropped the twins hands and went running for Natalia, scooping her up into his arms and twirling her around. “Ronin, you came home--” The archer set Natalia back on the ground and covered her mouth in a long awaited kiss. “How are you home? How did you make it--” 

“Da Da?” A quiet voice, and Ronin froze, tipping his head so he could hear better. “Da Da?”

Samuel came closer holding Morgan, and Ronin looked between the baby and Natalia in shock, then down to spread his fingers over Talia’s stomach. “We-- we have a baby? 

Natalia wiped at her tears and reached for Morgan and kissed her cheek before passing her to Ronin and stepping back into Samuel’s arms. “She is just over a year old now. I learned I was pregnant just after we were all in Kiev together.” 

“She looks like me.” Samuel said in awe and Wanda giggled, “Tony tells people we leave Morgan in the sun too long, and that’s why she doesn’t look like him!” 

Samuel grinned and Ronin snuggled the baby closer, closing his eyes as Morgan’s chubby fingers touched at the scar that split his cheek. “Hello, little love. You don’t know me yet but you will. I’m your Papa.” 

“Pop.” Morgan broke into a grin and mimed the sign for father over and over. “Pop Pop Pop Pop.” and then over at Samuel. “Da Da Da Da Da.”

“I wanted her to know both of you.” Natalia kept wiping her tears away until Samuel just bent and kissed them away. “Both her Da’s, whether you were here or not.”

“Well, we’re here now.” Samuel pressed another kiss to Natalia’s forehead, then leaned over to smoosh a kiss to Morgan’s cheek as well, letting the baby grab at his finger as he went. “We’re both here, little one. Both your Da’s.”

“Oh-- oh wait.” Wanda held Pietro’s hand tight as they came down the stairs. “What about James?” 

Natalia’s eyes went very wide and very afraid, but Ronin soothed her, “James is fine, he came home with us too.” 

“Well then where is he?” 

“Exactly where he belongs.” Samuel took Morgan back so Ronin could hold Natalia again, but then he reached for Pietro as well and pulled the boy into a gentle hug. “James went to find Tony.” 

***************

Tony could not hear anything from the house in his workshop at the bottom of the hill. There were bells all around the Chioggia property in case there was an emergency and Tony was needed immediately-- Wanda had one in the kitchen, there was one at each side of the garden, another hanging in the tree by the water where Pietro sat and one hooked to the balcony of the master bedroom.

Since Morgan had been born, the bells only rang if Wanda was calling him for supper or if Tony had gotten distracted working and his parents or Ana and Jarvis had arrived for a visit. They had yet to be rang in any sort of emergency, so when the bell in the kitchen and one in the garden started ringing, clanging, over and over in a panicked rhythm, Tony about jumped out of his skin.

He hadn’t heard Wanda’s scream when Ronin had found her, nor had he heard the shouts from the garden as their little family welcomed Samuel and Ronin home again, so Tony didn’t realize anything was amiss until the air split with ringing.

His heart in his throat, Tony set aside the revolver he’d been cleaning and knocked his stool over as he scrambled to get moving, to run out the door, to check and see what the hell was happening to his family.

“I’m coming!” he shouted even though he knew they couldn’t hear him. “Talia, Wanda, I’m coming! Hold on! Hold--”

There was a man in Tony’s doorway, tall and broad, long hair and a nearly grown out beard, ice blue eyes and an empty, pinned up sleeve on the left side of his body and Tony stopped mid step and stared, whatever he was going to say falling away in a wash of disbelief.

“Dunno why you look so surprised.” The voice was deeper than Tony remembered, or maybe time and distance had twisted the memories, but it was still familiar enough to nearly send Tony to his knees right there on the workshop floor. 

And the smile, dio mio the smile was the same and the cocky tilt to his head and the way the words sounded teasing or perhaps even challenging but were full of hope and longing and love.

“-- I told you I’d cross a thousand mountains to find you.”

“James.”

His soldier smiled again, exhausted and weary and thin, but still every inch the man Tony had watched ride away on Zima’s back almost two years ago now.

“...Samuel and Ronin?”

“Prob’ly got their arms around Talia and the twins and aren’t lettin’ go anytime soon.”

“...Right.” Tony folded his arms and then unfolded them, scuffed his feet on the floor and told himself not to stare but he couldn’t stop staring. “How-- how did you find us?”

“War ended.” James kept his eyes on Tony, drinking in the long lines of his frame, the way Tony’s skin had turned golden in the summer sun, the tremulous smile tipping Tony’s mouth up at the corners. “We came home to the manor, found the safe beneath where the Falconers Lodge. You left us money, guns, directions to get us home. Nothin’ was gonna stop us from finding you all again.”

“James.” Tony’s voice finally broke, caught. “James, I--”

James muttered something harsh in Sokovian and closed the distance between them in two big steps, wrapping his good arm around Tony’s waist and hauling him in to crush their mouths together.  “I missed you, Tony, dorogoi. I missed you.”

“I can’t believe you’re home again.” Tony kissed James over and over, tasting the tears that overflowed and spilled down their faces. “You came home again.”  

“With you I am warm, as if winter has left my soul.” James said hoarsely, clutching at Tony’s waist hard enough to bruise, breaking the kiss to tuck his head to Tony’s shoulder, mouthing over the curve of Tony’s throat and shuddering through a body racking sigh. “A thousand mountains to find you, Tony. I crossed them all to find you."

****************

****************

The evening found the entire family together in the parlor like they’d done so many times at home in Sokovia.

Ronin and Pietro sat on the couch and Wanda sat on pillows at Ronin’s feet so both he and Pietro could read her lips as they talked. Samuel sat right next to Ronin and Natalia perched on his lap, burrowed into her love’s arms and reaching with one hand towards Ronin because she couldn’t stop touching either of the men.

Morgan toddled from person to person, charming her Da’s with happy smiles and waving her hands in the air in excitement whenever anyone tried to pick her up or offered her a snack from the table.

“She’s perfect, love.” Samuel kissed Natalia’s cheek. “Prettiest little girl in the world.”

Beautiful. Ronin signed and when Morgan caught the motion, she ran through her own little bit of sign language, signing father and hungry and more and please over and over until Ronin laughed and tore her off a big piece of cake, grinning in delight when Morgan signed love love love love and pop pop pop as she did another lap around the room.

James stood at the door like he always had, half in the kitchen and half out, watching over his family with sharp eyes. More often than not his gaze landed on Natalia and his heart squeezed at the sight of his sister looking so healthy, happy and content, a baby with their Ma’s name tugging at Talia’s skirts and begging for up. 

He hated that Pietro was so hurt, but he could see the resilience in the boy, could see the spark of laughter in Pietro’s uninjured eye and a hint of the familiar laugh in the smiles Ronin coaxed free.

Wanda had flourished into a beauty, maturity and wisdom in her movements and her voice and James knew without having to ask that the girl had stepped up when Talia could not, more than likely keeping the older woman settled just by her presence, by the way she was so quick to jump up and help with the baby.

Nineteen months he and Samuel and Ronin had been kept in the Tsar’s prison, nineteen months they had been hurt, starved, threatened and beaten. Six months in they’d taken James’s arm, a month after that Ronin had lost the hearing in his bad ear entirely, damaging the other side enough that he rarely spoke at all anymore. Samuel had survived it all, but the horror was etched into his eyes and into the scars on his back but right now---

--right now, Samuel and Ronin had their arms full of loved ones, right now they were playing with their daughter and kissing Natalia and laughing with the twins-

--And Tony was pressed up to James’s chest, arms set securely at James’s waist, making no attempt to hide how badly he wanted to be held, making no attempt to hide how badly he wanted to hold.

No more secrets, no more hiding.

After so many bad days, so many weeks of hell, James wanted nothing more than to stand here and hold the one he loved while his family rested safe and together in their new home, but he still had one thing to ask, one thing to know.

He picked up Tony’s hand from his waist, rubbed his thumb over the tattooed insignia on the inside of Tony’s wrist and whispered, “Lord Antonio Carbonell Stark, nobile dei marchesi di Brescia. Is your heart still mine?”

Tony spread his fingers over James’s heart and didn’t hesitate to whisper back, “Of course it is.”

“I love you.” James said then, simple and powerful and enough to take Tony’s breath away. “And I am sorry I did not tell you before we said goodbye.”

“You told me.” Tony countered with a shaky smile. “I was just afraid to hear it.”

James didn’t release Tony’s wrist for a long minute, staring down into his eyes as if searching for something he couldn’t quite find.

“What do you see?” Tony asked anxiously, “What are you looking for?”

James shook his head. “I was looking for shadows sweet thing, but I can’t find any. Nothing but gold and light in your eyes. No shadows at all.”

“I love you.” Tony breathed and James nodded, finally releasing Tony’s wrist so he could draw him into a long kiss.

“I love you too.”

***********

Epilogue

***********

The masquerade ball began at sundown and as the clock struck midnight, the orchestra’s tune changed to something livelier, a tune meant to encourage the dancers back to the floor to show off costumes and masks as they whirled around with their partner.

Pietro was mysterious and suave with a half-face mask and feathered hat tipped low over his eyes, a coat swirling around his feet and gloves on his hands as he led different partners out on to the floor. The debutantes were entranced by the way his smile was a little bit crooked and the raspiness of his voice, the older women fascinated by the mystery of a man all in black.

Wanda was simply stunning dressed in all red from the veil in her hair to the shoes that peeped out beneath the gathered and bustled gown. She was the belle of the ball and surrounded by a flock of admirers no matter which way she turned, her dance card full within a few minutes of arriving.

Natalia stole the air from the room in her peacock gown, the altered neckline just as low as had been the night she and Tony met, the jewels just as brilliant, her hairstyle just as intricate. But tonight her smile was only for her loves, Ronin in dark green as the English outlaw Robin Hood, Samuel as a falcon, feathers of black, red and brown flowing down his cape. They danced every dance together, taking turns trading Natalia between their arms and laughing simply because the woman they loved was laughing and it was wonderful. 

James was a wolf tonight, hulking and fierce with his fur cape and necklace of claws and teeth, silver painted across his face to make his eyes glow. He looked dangerous and wild and every inch the ghost that had wreaked so much havoc across the continent. 

He was a startling contrast to Tony who came as a phoenix, wrapped in brilliant colors of fire yellow and brilliant orange, bold red and rich  browns, foregoing his mask to match James with paint, lines and swirls of gold on his cheeks and up to his forehead, sweeping down to his jaw. 

Together they were light and dark, hot and cold, shadows and winter fading to sunshine and spring as they moved across the ballroom together.

Tiberius and his wife were in attendance and Tony stepped away from James only long to bring Natalia to meet them. He proudly introduced Natalia as his wife and then just as proudly turning to kiss James square on the lips as Natalia laughed out loud and let Ronin sweep her away onto the dance floor again.

It was a beautiful night, a beautiful masquerade and when James led Tony out onto the balcony and down into the gardens, Tony didn’t hesitate, didn’t hold back, didn’t try to hide when James reached for him.

“I love you.” James whispered into a kiss, the moonlight catching the silver on his face and reflecting off the blue of his eyes. “Antonio Carbonell Stark, my heart is yours.”

“My heart is yours.” Tony whispered back, and as the music spilled from the masquerade and filtered through the night air into the gardens-- “Stay with me.”

“I’m staying.” James swayed them slowly to the music, holding Tony as close as he could. “I’m finally home with you, my love.”

***************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

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@bethy-sue @shipeveryonetogether @shadowrayven @hausoffro @thereaderandwriterwithin @zerokrox-blog @zuretha-metal @tstilcr @larissaloki @blackhearted @itsallyd @megahuffledor @tabziecat @ceealaina @cwar1864 @pidgist @yukina64 @multishippinglife @susana0 @paranormalmoonlight5 @girlnic @vgurl18 @sw3etpotat0 @jade-taillia @glitternotgold73 @atomicfandombomb

[writearctic]

Shades of Blue - oneshot

⚤︎ Minhyuk & female reader

✔︎ fluff, angst with happy ending, (omo he'll turn 27 in Nov.)

⌨︎ 4.3k

hello hello !! this is my 1st angst and i kinda like it (hopefully you do too !!) i made this especially because of his newly released #vogueshow ;)

“Bye Irene!” You hollered as you left work. 

“Bye y/n! You have to let me know how he reacts,” she laughed as you walked away.

“I will!” You waved from your car and drove to your boyfriend’s apartment. Today was his 27th birthday, and you planned to surprise him. Ever since high school, you were convinced everyone needed a surprise birthday party at least once in their life. After brief conversions with Minhyuk about it, you learned he was yet to experience the thrill of someone planning out a surprise party for him. 

For the past 3 weeks, you ordered party supplies- streamers, confetti, a birthday banner- the whole shebang; you were set on making this the best surprise party for him.

06:17pm

You arrived at his apartment and started unloading the packages from the trunk of your car. You climbed the flights of stairs to his apartment door and found Changkyun eating potato chips on the now messy couch.

“Ya, Changkyun. If you want to help with decorations, there are 2 more packages to bring upstairs,” you huffed out as you piled a handful of large packages on the table.

“Hey, all I have to do is be here and text him when you’re finished,” the younger friend remarked. You and Changkyun were very close; in fact, out of the other 5 friends of Minhyuk's, you were closest with Changkyun. Partly because you were roughly the same age, and also because he and Minhyuk were roommates.

“Well, if you’d like to keep being a couch potato, that’s on you. I was merely suggesting a way to burn all those fats.”

At your comeback, Changkyun snorted. “Hon, I’m pure muscle and you know it.”

“If Mr. Muscle wants a slice of the cake I’m making for Min, I suggest you bring the remaining boxes in.” You turned to him and winked.

“Anything for cake- I mean- anything for noona!!!” He blurted as he returned the wink and raced out the door. What a dork, you thought to yourself. You took to the task of unboxing the decorations. Starting with the streamers, you hung them from the living space to the kitchen. The soft greens mixed with the darker ones as you diligently arranged them into an ombre pattern. 

The theme for Minhyuk’s birthday was the jungle. During your first year with him, you gave him the nickname 원숭이 [wonsoongi], or monkey because of his “crazy” love for you. And also because he is super pumped to be with you or do anything with you. He was your little monkey. You even bought a plush monkey as one of his presents.

You were hoping to decorate the living space of his apartment into a mini jungle with blow up, inflatable palm trees, the closest thing to big jungle trees you could find. You began blowing them up while Changkyun emerged through the door. He laughed at you- who was struggling to blow one leaf up. 

“Here. I’ll blow while you get started on this cake you were talking about.” He took the still deflated tree and blew into it.

“Awe~ it seems someone decided to be even more helpful.” You laughed as he shoved you towards the kitchen. “Thank you Changie!” 

Now, you weren’t much of a baker, but you were determined to bake the love of your life a successful cake. You followed the tutorial on YouTube cautiously with occasional help, or rather, taste tests, from Changkyun. While it was baking, you helped Changkyun with the remainder of the decor. You wrapped Minhyuk’s presents- the plush monkey, a new pair of trendy sunglasses, and a paper sketch of your favorite photo you had of Min and you. It was hard to decide between the many selfies you had of each other, but you finally chose the one you took while the both of you laid on your apartment buildings’ roof and watched the fireworks together one fourth of July.

Once the cake was finished, you set it aside to cool while you started to cook dinner. You began making the pasta when you noticed Changkyun fell asleep. Not surprising. I’ll just have to wake him up to help decorate the cake, you thought. Once the pasta was finished, you glazed the egg, pork, and noodles in the sauce. You successfully made, what was in your opinion, a fancy dinner- pasta carbonara. You placed it on the table and smiled.

You turned to look at Changkyun, who by now was drooling in his sleep, and softly wiggled his legs with your foot. “Changkyun.” No reply. “Changkyun.” You shook his legs harder now. “Ya, if you want to help frost and decorate the cake, I’m starting now…” 

He leaped off the couch and strode into the kitchen. “You just want the cake,” you giggled. 

“Well, yeah. I’m taking one, maybe two or possibly three, pieces then inviting myself to Jooheon-hyung’s room. I don’t want to be here when you two are all snuggly and lovey-dovey,” he explained. You nodded and laughed; Changkyun was so considerate to let you and Minhyuk have the evening, or maybe night, together. Despite him being the youngest of the friend group, he seemed so mature at times.

“You keep being cute and mature like that and you’ll have a girlfriend by your side in no time,” you joked.

“Me? Mature? Nah, y/n. It’s called being well-rested. My brain is wide awake and wise now that I've slept.” He smirked, and he placed some frosting on his finger and coyly licked it off.

“We haven’t even started and you’re already eating the frosting!” You screamed as you punched his arm. But to no avail. He added more to his finger and licked it off just the same.

“Noona, I can assure you it’s quite good.” He winked.

“Stop that or we won’t have enough for the cake, Changkyun” you sighed as you took the frosting away from him.

You were starting to feel tired and stressed. This had to be the best party for Minhyuk.

08:02pm

Once the frosting was done, you placed the cake lid over the platter and put it in the refrigerator. The cake turned out better than you planned. The table was perfectly set. You could not be happier with how the decorations turned out. And the food! It looked like something straight out of a chef’s magazine. 

You went to change into the fancy blouse and skirt you hauled over. You combed your hair until it was tamed. You then applied some mascara and a lip tint to your face. When you came out of the bathroom, Changkyun gave you two thumbs up.

“Alright, Changkyun. I’m ready; text him,” you said as confidence filled your tone.

“Ohhh-kay.” He reached for his phone. You heard the send button whoosh in confirmation. “Now, we just wait.”

You couldn’t lie; you were nervous. This was the first time you planned something big for Minhyuk. Of course, there were the times you arranged large social events for work, but this was different. You didn’t need the approval of the customer, your coworkers, or your boss. You need Minhyuk to not just like it but love it. You took a seat on his couch.

You hoped this was enough for him. His name was well known since his dad owned one of the biggest jewelry companies in Seoul. Minhyuk would one day replace his father. All of his friends came from wealthy families actually; the reason the boys didn't live with their families as they simply wanted a sense of freedom from the heavyweights their family title held. Jooheon’s family owned a military factory that focuses on making explosives, machinery, and defense technology for the South Korean Military; Kihyun’s family owned the entire Yoo Mall, and Changkyun was expected to become the CEO of his families’ real estate company. And here you were: a regular girl with a business degree, working at a floral shop and using your online art portfolio to sell pieces of your art. Sure, it was not the career you wanted, but you were focused on paying off your college debt before making bigger- more costly- decisions. You were now laying down on his couch reminiscing one of your favorite memories.

You met Minhyuk at a professional art exhibit you had saved up all your pennies to see. You distinctly remember admiring a blue, monotone painting of a man around your age.

It wasn’t until you took your notepad and pencil out to write down the techniques that you realized a man was standing at your side.

...

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” The stranger began.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “I really like how the brush strokes are done so diligently. I will never have the patience to make mine look so professional.” You giggled shyly.

“So, you’re an artist too?”

“Oh, yes, but I’m not-” When you turned to face the man to your left, all words fell from your mouth. “You- you’re the- you’re the man in the painting!” 

He let out a low laugh that sent shivers through your body. “Yes, that’s me. I’m Lee Minhyuk; and you are…?”

“Did you paint this?” You quickly asked. 

He smiled. “Me? Goodness no. My friend Son Hyunwoo, or I mean, he goes by Shownu in the art world, he painted this portrait of me.” His smile was so pure and genuine that you couldn’t help but admire his every feature. And the way he spoke with a care, that almost sounded careless, made your head spin. “You never answered me.”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry; I’m L/n y/n.” You gave him your hand and expected him to shake it, but instead, he gripped it gently and brought it to his lips. Oh, how soft they were.

“It’s lovely to meet you, y/n.”

...

Since then, your heart completely fell for Lee Minhyuk. When he escorted you to your car that night, he asked for your number which you so eagerly gave to him. After a month or so of daily texts and countless facetimes, he finally asked you out. It was a dream. No. It was better than a dream. It was a reality. It was real. Your love for him and his love for you- all of it was real. And now, you’ve been dating Minhyuk for over 2 years and he never failed to tell you how important you are to him.

12:26am

The front doorknob rattled. Changkyun quickly got up and raced to the door. The faint laughter outside grew louder and more familiar with every step. He flung the door open and pushed his hyungs out into the hall.

“What the f*ck?” He growled.

“Changkyun? We thought you were busy tonight,” Hyungwon said with a tongue counted in alcohol.

“I was! Where were you Minhyuk?” Changkyun glared sternly at his roommate.

“The guys surprised me; we went to Hoseok’s family club for drinks. Hyungwon texted you about it but said you were busy,” replied Minhyuk. He was curious and a bit concerned at how irritated his roommate was acting.

“I was!” yelled Changkyun. “Did you not see my texts!? I've been asking when you were going to come home!” 

“No; my phone died earlier tonight.” Minhyuk assured Changkyun that he had no intention of ignoring him.

“Why are you so peeved?” asked Jooheon.

“Yeah, chill out Changkyun.” Kihyun mumbled. “It’s Minhyuk-hyung’s birthday. Don’t you think you should calm down?” He turned his cold gaze to the birthday boy.

“It WAS his birthday until about 27 minutes ago!” Changkyun snapped. ”Haven’t you been wondering about y/n?” 

“Yeah, I was,” Minhyuk protested. “That’s why I was trying to get inside MY apartment. To charge my phone.” He waved his dead phone in front of Changkyun, shoved him out of the doorway, and unlocked the door. He opened it; the automatic hall light turned on.

And there it was. 

Your surprise. His surprise. 

He slowly walked further into his apartment not daring to turn on the rest of the lights. He could see enough. Your sleeping form was curled up on his couch. You were still dressed in your blouse and skirt. He looked at you a little while longer, watching your chest rise and fall in rhythm. Your soft lashes fluttered now and then. Your tinted lips were grazed by your tongue just once. Your silhouette was glowing from the warmth of the hall light.

“Oh, sh*t…” Hoseok whispered. Minhyuk turned his eyes to the rest of the room. The streamers that hung from his ceiling. The banner you and Changkyun hung over 5 hours ago. The palm trees. He glanced at the table and saw the ceramic plates and shiny utensils. His gaze lastly shifted to his kitchen island. Your presents sat untouched, unopened.

He walked to you. “Y/n...” he called so softly. Your eyes flashed open.

“Minhyuk! You’re back; happy birth-,” you leaped to Minhyuk. You looked at the stove clock. You turned to Changkyun and everyone else. “-day.” You hesitated. You missed it. You had missed Min’s birthday. Your eyes fell to the floor; you couldn’t look at Minhyuk. You were embarrassed, confused, and most of all, sad.

“Oh! The food!” You rushed to the table, but Changkyun gently grabbed your wrist and sighed.

“I put it away while you were sleeping.” You mouthed an “o” with your mouth. How dare you fall asleep, you mentally cursed yourself.

“Y/n… I’m so sorry.” Minhyuk walked to you and held your hands in his. “I didn’t know you were planning something for me. My phone died and Changkyun said he texted me, but I never got it.” He pleaded. “I’m so sorry, y/n.” 

“It’s ok,” you smiled while trying so hard to hide the sadness and hurt you felt as you shuffled to the front door. You began putting your shoes on. You layered your wool coat over your floral-printed blouse. 

“I should get going. Oh um, there’s cake in the refrigerator,” you faintly said as you took your keys out of your purse. You realized how worried your roommate must be. “Irene must be worried sick that I haven’t come home or texted her that I wouldn’t be.” 

“Y/n, it’s snowing outside,” Hyunwoo whispered.

“That’s right, y/n!” Minhyuk’s face lit up at the opportunity of having you stay longer. “You should spend the night here. I don’t want you to catch a cold-”

“Oh, that’s really sweet of you Minhyuk, but I drove here from work,” you replied. “I’ll get home safe without a cold.” You gave him a sad, soft smile but what broke his heart were the tears that threatened to fall from your delicate eyes.

Don't leave, y/n. Please. I'm sorry. His eyes started to water. 

“I’ll see you soon, Minhyuk,” you sniffed not wanting to let your tears fall. You quickly waved goodbye to the others and mouthed “bye-bye” to them.

The door shut.

The automatic lock locked.

“Wait, y/n-” Minhyuk needed to tell you how sorry he was, but Changkyun and Hoseok held him back. “What is wrong with you? I need to be with her.” He sobbed as trails of tears fell down his round cheeks. "I need y/n…"

“Can’t you see she needs space right now!?” Changkyun’s voice was loud as thunder and clear as lightning. 

“Go see y/n tomorrow,” Hoseok suggested. “You’re sad and angry right now, Minhyuk. I can’t imagine how y/n feels.”

“Minhyuk-hyung…” said Kihyun. All the boys turned to face him; Kihyun was facing the refrigerator with the door wide open. Minhyuk forced himself away from his friends and stomped towards Kihyun. His friend pointed to the cake tray and Minhyuk pulled it out. 

“Oh, yeah,” Changkyun crossed his arms harshly and sat on the couch. “Y/n baked that; she made dinner too.” Minhyuk placed the cake tray on the counter and slowly removed the lid. You rarely baked, and your cooking... well, let's just say, you cooking was a hit or miss situation.

Your cake was shaped into a round cylinder. It was perfectly frosted in white vanilla frosting and the sides were laced with green tufts of frosting. In the middle, you had written: "For my Minhyukie~ 🐒" followed by a drawing of a monkey.

"Minhyuk-hyung, didn't y/n say she's been here since she left the flower shop?" Hyungwon gently asked. Oh, sh*t. She's been here all evening preparing this for me. Minhyuk felt crushed.

"Yeah, y/n's been here since six o'clock," replied Changkyun.

"She didn't eat," confirmed Jooheon as he opened the plastic lid that enclosed your perfect pasta carbonara.

"Nope. She fell asleep waiting for you." Changkyun was still upset with his hyung, and the bitterness in his voice proved it.

I’m going to make it up to her, Minhyuk promised while the tears he’d been fighting earlier finally fell from his lashes as he sobbed. He could no longer hold back his breaking heart. The look on your face when you realized you missed his birthday was haunting his mind. You looked so hurt. So broken. And you were hurt because of him. He didn’t realize that you’d want to spend his birthday with him. Minhyuk was going to make this right. Because he loved you and he knew you loved him.

09:00am

You woke up covered in a cold sweat. Your eyes stung from crying, and your nose still itched from last night. You stood up to take in the clear mess you were; you stared at the full-length mirror in your bedroom. Your cheeks were red and puffy. Your mascara had stained the skin around your eyes. Oh, how you wished you had the energy to remove your makeup last night. But you came back to your apartment, changed into a tank top and shorts, and went straight to sleep. 

You walked out of your room and found Irene cooking oatmeal and toast. 

“I heard you come in last night,” she began. There was a hint of concern in her voice. “You didn’t answer my texts until 12:30. And you came inside 10 minutes after.” She placed a warm bowl of blueberry oatmeal in front of you as you sat at the table.

“I missed it,” you croaked.

“Missed what, y/n?”

“His birthday.”

“Huh? You spent your entire evening preparing for his birthday and you- you missed it?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, well, judging by the smudged mascara on your face, I’m missing something…”

“Why are surprises so important, Irene?” 

“Surprises are a part of life, y/n. They’re like an unexpected earthquake.”

“He came back after midnight. His phone died while he was out clubbing with the guys. That’s why Changkyun never got a hold of him.” Your bottom lip began to quiver as you shoved a spoonful of oats into your mouth.

Irene sat down with a fresh plate of toast and a jar of strawberry preserves in her hand.

“Y/n, you love the whole house, even the crow sitting on it.” You turned to Irene.

“Ugh, Irene. I just woke up, and I can’t really think about your riddles right now.”

“This isn’t a riddle. You love Minhyuk, the house, with every fiber in your body. I’ve seen how happy you get when he’s with you. But, loving Minhyuk also means loving everything that comes with him. His friends, his status, his imperfections, his mistakes, this. Y/n, I know he’s your everything, but can you accept everything that comes with loving him? And y/n, Minhyuk loves you so much; there’s-”

The doorbell rang.

Irene stood up and opened it. You looked out the window, not daring to look at your unexpected yet expected visitor. 

“Y/n, it’s Minhyuk,” whispered Irene as she walked back into your shared apartment to grab her coat, shoes, and keys. “I’ll go out for breakfast. Invite him in when you’re ready, y/n. We both know he’s not going to leave until he at least sees you. And there’s plenty of food here; I’m sure he hasn’t eaten.” You watched as she flung her purse over her shoulder and gripped the door handle. The air outside was bitter and cold which didn’t surprise you since snowfall covered the ground and thickened the air. I can’t leave him standing there.

You quickly rose from the table and rushed into the bathroom to wash the black smudges off your face. After drying your face, you went to the front door. You swung it open, and as expected, Minhyuk was standing nervously outside your door. 

“Hi,” he breathed, his breath visible in the harsh November air.

“Hi.” Your eyes met and looked away. “Irene made toast and oatmeal; you should come in. It’s cold here.” You gestured him inside and he followed your figure through your door. He smiled; before now, he was sure you would ignore him. But seeing how you welcomed him into your apartment told him how you wanted to fix the tension as much as him.

You placed a warm mug of coffee in his hands and sat down to resume eating. He sat down across from you. 

Y/n’s eyes are puffy, Minhyuk silently concluded as your red-shot eyes momentarily met his.

Min has bags under his eyes, you noted realizing he must not have slept well or at all last night. 

For a while, a silent tension was painted between you. You only heard the clinks of eachothers silverware against the bowls. If you could see the color, you were convinced it would be the same shades of blue you admired from his portrait on the night you met him. There were no reddish hues of anger. No purple hints of fear. Just blue; just sadness. 

He spoke first with a gentle tremble to his voice: “Y/n, I’m sorry about last night. It was selfish and rude of me to go out with the boys last night; I should have invited you. I didn’t think you were wanting to spend it with me. I assumed, and it was wrong, y/n.” He hung his head down towards his half-empty bowl of blueberry oatmeal.

“It was a mistake, Min. It’s not your fault. But, thank you for your apology. I am sorry I walked away. I was ashamed that I… well I was ashamed at my own expectations, and I didn’t want you to see how upset I was over a simple mistake. I’ve always wanted to give you a surprise party, but last nights' surprise was not the gift I was planning on giving you.” Your small laugh was followed by a sigh as you regretted the night before.

You stood up to clean your dishes expecting him to continue talking, but he also rose from his seat and followed you with his dishes in hand.

“I brought them.” You turned the faucet on and began rinsing your dishes. “I’ll dry,” he continued after handing you his used dishes and taking a rag into his hands.

“Brought what?” You placed his dishes in the sink and covered the sets of ceramics and silverware in soap.

“Your decorations, food, cake, and your presents. They’re all in my car.” His gaze was focused solely on you as you handed him a bowl to dry. So, he hasn’t slept. It took hours to set up the decor; it must have taken nearly as long to remove them all.

“Did you not like the decorations?” You murmured as your breath hitched. You didn’t want to cry, but your aggressive shove while handing him your glass didn’t go unnoticed.

“No. No, y/n,” Minhyuk’s voice wavered with worry as he took the glass. “I took them down because they kept making me cry.” His eyes shifted to the ground. “I loved your jungle theme. It reminded me of the first time you started calling me ‘monkey.’” He smiled and looked into your eyes again while removing the clean plate and mug from your hands.

“Your cake is amazing, y/n. I didn’t eat it though! I want to eat it with my lovely girlfriend. I haven’t had any of your pasta either. I want to eat it with you.” His fingers laced into yours as you turned off the water. “I haven’t opened your gifts too.” You gave him the silverware, and he obediently dried them.

“I missed your birthday though,” you cooed as your head rested on his shoulder.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate it today, baby.” The utensils chimed as he placed them down. Minhyuk’s arms wrapped around your lower back. Your breath became unsteady, and your tears trickled down your cheeks as Minhyuk held you. He nuzzled his head into your shoulder. Holding your shaking figure made his heart ache. He breathed in your scent trying to fight the urge to cry.

“Min, I’m so sorry. I- I should have planned the surprise better. I- I shouldn’t have been... so selfish thinking you’d spend your birthday only with me. I know the world... doesn’t revolve around me-.”

“No, y/n. You are my world. Without you, I’m not complete. I need you in my life more than anything or anyone. Yesterday was awful and I’m so sorry for not spending any time with you. I know how special surprise birthdays are to you-.”

“Not anymore,” you interpreted. “Not after last night.” You looked up at his watery eyes. “Surprises are unexpected. And I expected too much from surprises.” You giggled; he cupped your face in his soft hands.

“I love you so so much, y/n. You don’t have to surprise me with a party when every day with you is already a surprise.” His thumb slowly wiped every tear away from your face. 

“I love you, Minhyuckie~” You stood on your toes and reached his lips. Oh, how his lips made your heart flutter. 

"I love you, y/n."

[kittysukagasterfics]

Birthday Wishes

Note: Thank you everyone for the notes on the last fic. Seeing that makes me feel really motivated to keep writing them! Anyways, onto the fic!

Handplates belongs to @zarla-s

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: It’s the Human’s birthday! They’re very excited to celebrate it with the brothers and Gaster. While the brothers are estatic about celebrating, Gaster is a bit reluctant. Can the Human get him into the birthday spirit?

     The Human stared at their make-shift calendar in pure excitement. Down in the cells, it was difficult at times to tell night from day sometimes but even they knew what day it was today. It was their birthday! They were already in the process of making party hats for the brothers. They also considered asking Gaster to get them a cake, but knowing him, they’d probably be better off making it themselves in the kitchen if he allowed them to. The Human didn’t really mind if Gaster or the brothers didn’t get them anything seeing as they would only telling them today. Today was looking up to be a promising one!

     They were so caught up in their thoughts that the Human didn’t realize that the brothers had awoken. Subject 1 was the first to notice what they were doing. He looked a little confused and so did Subject 2 when he noticed as well.

    “what are they doing, bro?”

    “I’M NOT SURE. I’LL ASK THEM!”

     Walking over to the Human, Subject 2 could see that they were making some sort of shape with the colored paper and taping it down. After watching the Human for a bit, he decided to ask them what they were up to.

    “WHAT ARE YOU MAKING, HUMAN?”

    “*You tell him you’re making something for him and his brother.”

    “WOW, REALLY? BROTHER, THEY’RE MAKING US SOMETHING!”

    “oh! what is it? what is it?”

     The brothers continued to bombard the Human with questions, which they didn’t answer until they finally finished. Satisfied with their arts-and-crafts, the Human put the hats on top of the brothers’ heads, the hats staying on surprisingly well. The brothers look really interested in their new head accessories.

    “WOWIE! THANK YOU FOR THE GIFT, HUMAN! DO WE LOOK GOOD IN THEM?”

    “*You tell him that they both look adorable.” ‘*They seemed pleased.'

    “what are these things?”

    “*You explain that it’s a party hat.” ‘*You have their full attention now.'

    “PARTY HAT? SO IT’S ONLY WORN WHEN THERE’S A PARTY?”

    “what’s a party?”

    “*You explain that parties are held to celebrate something and that you’re celebrating your birthday with them.” ‘*Now they’re really interested.'

    “WHAT’S A BIRTHDAY? IS IT A TEST?”

     Before the Human could say anything else, Gaster appeared in front of the cell. He was currently writing something on his clipboard, not paying attention to the Subjects or the Human.

    “Alright, I need all of you to eat quickly because we have a lot to do today and-”

     Gaster continued to ramble on and on about the schedule before finally looking up, noticing that none of them were even listening to him. The brothers seemed really interested in whatever the Human was going on about. They also had some sort of hat on their heads, no doubt also the work of the Human. Clearing his throat, he gave them all a stern look.

    “Human, what are you and the Subjects up to? And don’t even think about not telling me or lying, either...”

    “*You ask Gaster if he can get you a cake.”

    “What? No, Human, I’m not getting you a cake and why do you even want one, anyway?”

    “*You enthusiastically tell Gaster it’s your birthday.” ‘*He doesn’t know what to make this statement.’

    “Well, happy birthday, Human, but I’m still not getting you a cake.”

    “*You ask him if you can make one yourself, then.”

     And that’s how Gaster got roped into celebrating the Human’s birthday. He left the Subjects in the cells and told them that they were to stay in there until he came and got them. Gaster chose to supervise the Human in kitchen just to make sure nothing caught on fire or exploded. Luckily, nothing ever did catch on fire or exploded, but the Human did make a complete mess. There were dirty bowls used for different ingredients everywhere and some even spilled out onto the counters and floor. He and the Human were also covered head to toe with flour. Gaster sighed as he thought about the time being wasted on just cleaning up the kitchen.

     He had to admit that the Human wasn’t that bad of a cook, though. Despite the messiness of the room, the kitchen was filled with the scent of freshly baked Angel Food cake and sugary frosting. Gaster was surprised when the Human decided to make their own frosting from scratch instead of using the store-bought frosting he already had. He wondered if they knew how to cook other things as well. 

     Finally, the cake was placed into the oven to be baked. The Human turned a timer on to go off in 45 minutes. Leaning against the counter, they gave a quiet sigh of content. Gaster stood there with his back against the wall and arms crossed. The room turned silent, the only noise being made by the ticks of the timer before he decided to break the silence.

    “Human, you do realize you made the kitchen very messy, right?”

    “*You jokingly tell him it’s not messy.” ‘*He’s not very amused by your joke...'

    “Clean this kitchen up immediately, Human.”

     The Human wasted no time getting started on cleaning the kitchen. Gaster went off to clean the flour off of his clothes. The Human grabbed all the dirty dishes and carried them to the sink to be washed. It took a while, but they finally had the dishes washed, dried, and put away. They then began to work on the counters and floor when they felt someone pull them back, scrubbing their face a bit roughly with what felt a washcloth. They struggled as Gaster continued to scrub the flour from their face, hair, and neck.

    “Human, hold still. You’re not going to be tracking flour all over the Lab. You also need to go wash off in the bathroom.”

    “*You ask Gaster to be more gentle, but he’s too busy lecturing you to hear.”

     Gaster finished with the rough washing and ushered the Human towards the bathroom to clean themselves off.

    “The bathroom is right down there. Just please don’t make a mess in there as well...”

     They gave a soft giggle as they walked down the hall towards the bathroom. Entering the bathroom, they walked up to the sink and washed off all the flour they could without getting their clothes wet and having to 'borrow’ one of Gaster’s sweaters. The Human finished freshening up and turned off the sink. They walked back to the kitchen to take the cake out of the oven, only to find Gaster had already taken it out and was about to cutting a slice out...without the Human even getting to decorate it.

     Quickly grabbing a wooden spoon off the counter, they gently smacked him on the wrist. He jumped away slightly in surprise before turning to look at the Human.

    “And may I ask what that was for?”

    “*>:T”

    “Don’t give me that look, Human.”

    “*You scold him by saying that’s he’s not allowed to eat any cake before you decorate it.” '*He gives you a long stare.'

    “Since when did you have any sort of authority to tell me what to do?”

    “*You tell him since he gave you permission to his kitchen.”

    “...Touche, Human. In that case, I’m going to check on the Subjects.”

    And with that, Gaster left the room allowing the Human to safely decorate the cake in peace.They first coated the cake with the sugar frosting, spreading it out over it. After that, they put the remaining frosting into a smaller bowl and mixed in some yellow food dye and mixed it together. Using a rubber spatula, the Human scooped the colored frosting into a pastry bag and began to make cute flower designs on top of the cake. No need to make anything fancy. 

     Satisfied with the designs, the Human picked up the cake and carried it to the testing room where Gaster and the brothers were waiting for them. They had already asked him to bring plates and a knife to cut the cake with since he didn’t trust them handling sharp objects when he’s not around. They entered the room to find the brothers chattering excitedly with Gaster trying to calm them down. When they spotted the Human, however, that only made them more excited. Cutting two pieces from the cake, they gave the brothers one piece each. They immediately began eating the cake.

    “Human, don’t give them too many sweets. I think one piece should be enough.”

    “how much cake can we have?”

    “*You start to say he can have as much as he wanted, but Gaster’s stern look makes you shut your mouth...”

    “The Human also thinks one piece as well.”

     The brothers found that answer somewhat acceptable and continued eating their cake. The Human cut a piece for themselves and Gaster, handing him his piece. He took it without saying a word. The Human ate their slice while humming softly with content. After they finished their piece, they started to cut themselves another slice of cake when a bony hand suddenly reached out and lightly smack their hand. The Human recoiled back in surprise, causing Gaster to give a small chuckle.

    “That was just payback from earlier, Human. Also, I think one piece is enough for you as well.”

    “*You start to protest but he cuts you off.”

    “By the way, the Subjects said they had something for you, I believe. Is that correct, you two?”

    “OH, YEA! YOU MENTIONED THAT GIFTS ARE USUALLY GIVEN ON BIRTHDAYS...”

    “yea! so, um, we got you something really special!”

     Subject 2 ran to the corner of the room where what seemed like an article of clothing laid. Picking it up, he hurried over to the Human and handed them their gift. Gaster quickly realized it was one of his sweaters. How on earth did they get it? He was about to snatch it from them but the Human had already swapped out their shirt for the sweater. The sweater was obviously way too big for them, with the sleeves riding past their hands. They seemed cozy and delighted to have it, though. Gaster will just have to remember to get it from them later.

    “*You thank the brothers for their gift.” '*They seem delighted.'

    “WE’RE GLAD YOU LIKE IT! ARE YOU PROUD OF US, HUMAN?”

    “yea, yea! are ya?”

    “*You tell them you are and pet their skulls.”

    “hehehe.”

     They would have petted them longer had Gaster not grabbed their attention by clearing his ‘throat’.

    “Human, I may not have an actual gift for you but, just for today, I will...allow you to sit with me. One condition is that you be on your best behavior, however.”

     He didn’t think he’d ever seen the Human this happy.

(Timeskip)

     Gaster sighed as he wrote up reports for Alphys. He had to stay up late just to make up half of today’s scheduled work. He looked down at the Human, who was fast asleep and resting their head on his shoulder. They were still wearing his sweater. For some reason, he didn’t feel the need to ask them to take it off. Maybe...today wasn’t a total waste.

    “Happy birthday, Human...”

Note: Thank you all for the wait while I wrote this fic. It was a lot of fun writing it as well! Thank you all for reading! Requests are always welcomed! Stay tuned for more.

[sixnna-contixllo]

Squigly's Birthday Out

When Squigly wakes up, the first thing she is treated to is a lovely handmade breakfast made by Simon and Daniel, both of whom present her the breakfast covered in a dusting of flour. The breakfast consists of fresh blueberry crepes served in a rich and delicate cream and shaved dark chocolate, served alongside a cup of Squigly’s favorite oolong tea with a careful mixture of honey and spices. On the tray is a handmade card, decorated by the little artist himself, and signed lovingly by each member of the family- Simon, Selene, Roberto, Leviathan, and Daniel. Inside the card reads.

“Happy birthday, Squigly! We hope we can make today wonderful for you! Enjoy your breakfast and get ready for what we got planned for you!”

While Squigly eats, Simon happily cuddles on his mother’s lap, the little bomb wrapping his arms around her as he snuggles into her. He loves getting to celebrate birthdays, how much fun they are, how happy they are when they celebrate together. Seeing his mother happy and smiling makes him so happy too, and when she enjoys what he and his father made makes it even better.

After breakfast, and everything is cleaned up, Daniel escorts Squigly to the bathroom, ready to give her the second treat of the day. Inside the bathroom, Daniel was gone above and beyond to make an absolutely superb bubble bath. Everything has been given plenty of attention, from the pink and white mountains of bubble foam swirling on the bubbling steaming water that give off sweet aromas of high-end perfume to the variety of candles and incense that twinkle in the dim room. Music pipes softly from the radio, a glass of relaxing red wine and a small plate of chocolates-in a heart-shaped box no less- sit aside magazines, books, and an awaiting neck pillow for Squigly to slip herself into and enjoy a nice rest.

And, as a special treat, Daniel gives Squigly what he describes as a “massage he picked up from reading a book on Eastern traditions” for a history part he wants to record. The massage involves warm oil, hot stones, and a special trick that involves sending soothing vibrations across the body to ease muscle joints. It’s nothing lewd, rather, Daniel takes his time to ensure he does everything right, from adding just the right amount of hot stones to balance soothing heat, to gently moving her arms and legs as she relaxes, making sure not to mess a single step up while his lover relaxes in her bath.

After the soothing bath, everyone gets ready to head out shopping. Selene would explain that, since it was kind of hard to pick out a single gift for her that they didn’t know if she had, they thought it would be a nice trip to take her to the shops and malls and let her pick out whatever she wishes. Daniel, however, almost mention something else but quickly stops himself before saying anything else.

At the mall, Squigly is taken through all sorts of shops and boutiques- bookstores, music shops, fashionwear of all varieties and styles, even a store that caters exclusively to retro items. Whatever she wants, be it clothes, books, a new radio, anything she desires the family makes sure she’ll receive. Money is no object for her, and whatever she wants, she will get. It’s not spoiling her, but rather letting her know that she is worthy of that type of care.

After the mall, with whatever Squigly got in bags and boxes, the Contiellos feel a bit hungry, so they decide to head to a little café and bakery just by the hotel, for a light lunch. There, among sandwiches, meats, pastas, and pastries, everyone orders a delicious lunch, enjoying some good old fashioned conversation and banter as any family would do, Simon happily drawing on the placemat with his always ready crayons as he cuddled in Daniel’s lap, to Roberto tells Daniel a story about when Squigly was younger, she once ate almost a whole cake and spent the rest of her birthday in bed, wiping icing off her face as she dealt with a stomach ache. This makes Squigly blush, and just as any woman would do, young or old, hides her face as her father relates such a story-although she can’t help but giggle at the silly thought of her at the age of 7, wiping buttercream from her cheeks as she sang Happy Birthday.

They come back to the house, and setting everything down, Leviathan reminds them that it is now 2:30, and they “must be getting ready if they’re to make it to 4:30.” At these words, everyone starts to get changed- although, Squigly doesn’t know why. Everyone starts to get showered and changed into more formal wear- suits, a formal dress, even Simon gets a little bath and polish with a little bowtie! Through all this, Squigly goes the flow, albeit a bit confused, as everyone just tells her it’s a surprise. Leviathan even answers with just a chuckle and a promise that he has be sworn to keep the secret just that- a secret, and she’ll find out soon.

At 3:45, everyone heads out, decked out in fancy formal wear. Daniel’s arm linked around Squigly’s, wearing a formal jacket that was kinda itchy in some spots but since Squigly said he looked handsome in kept it, his one arm gingerly cradling Simon, who was all bundled up in a white scarf to keep warm, Selene and Roberto behind them, with Leviathan keeping a close eye through Squigly’s head. The afternoon air was cool, kissed with the slowly setting sun to streak the endless ocean of blue above into a crimson and orange miasma. Past the crowd of people, be they those with four arms with one girl on each arm to the funky looking guys with the sunglasses and bags of money, Squigly is held close, not alone, but kept walking alongside her family, who eagerly thrill her with hints and stories of what her surprise would be. Simon draws a little picture to show her a big looking room, Selene and Roberto slyly suggest that perhaps it’ll be “much too late” to head back home, and Daniel could only blush and chuckle, kissing her cheek as she racks her brain to figure it out

Then, after hopping a train- the 4:30 Meridian Area Rapid- the Contiellos find themselves at their destination. Outside the gates of the Contiello Estate. The golden courtyard gates draped in streamers and balloons, limos and sports cars driven by flashy bachelors and old money line the circled drive leading to the massive opera house, which since restoration, has transformed into a breathing center of art, music, and celebration. The air is filled with music, swing jazz or the newest piece performed by in-house artists, laughter, cheering, the clinking of cocktail glasses. It’s a gala event- held by the Meridian Restoration Society, to display the walls and halls with memories of pre-Renoir tradition, music, songs and art.

To the Contiellos, it’s a dream from the past, molded and fixed here in plain sight. And, if you could see the look on Squigly’s face, she’d be flushed seven shades of purple how excited she was.

The evening is compromised of heading to the great hall, where tables stand lifted above a dance floor to watch couples and troupes dance to the melody of a 20-piece band. Here, the Contiellos rest, order some house wine, and enjoy the atmosphere. Roberto says this reminds him of when he first took Selene on their first date, with Leviathan playfully adding some commentary to his old master’s story, while Simon and Daniel busily tend to Squigly, delighting her with questions on how she likes it and what she wants to do first, which if they know Squigly, is enough to make her fluster like royalty.

Then, the family heads to the banquet hall, where they are served a banquet of epic proportions- lobster, steak, fresh cut roasts, exotic seafood imported from high-end shop, sushi, and poultry, as well as a dessert table of cakes, pastries, chocolates, and even a wine tasting table to taste old cultural flavors mixed with new broader flavors. The dinner hall is filled with lively conversation, even more so at the table where the Contiellos sit, where among plates of delicious food, they laugh and joke and talk, happy not to be here itself, but with those they care about.

Then, for Squigly’s final gift of the night- what would going to an opera house be without, you know, an opera? Escorted to a VIP booth looking above the stage, the Contiellos watch a show performed by some of the most up and coming actors and thespians of Canopy Kingdom. The booming orchestra fills the air, the sound of sopranos and baritones roll through the aisles, and the light flicker dramatically, as if to show the Contiellos the taste of opera they have helped to build. Daniel sits on a comfy couch with Squigly nuzzled to him, his jacket draped over her shoulder with Simon cuddled between them, Selene and Roberto on another couch, chuckling softly as they watch their family enjoy the show while nuzzling in each other’s arms.

After the thundering applause has ended, Squigly wonders what time they will be home- it is almost midnight, and do the trains even run, she wonders? But to this, Daniel smiles warmly and explains what the plan is. You see, he booked a suite here to stay a night and has sent their clothes over early in the day by courier from the opera house- thus, all they have to do is go to their suite, book in, change and relax.

And so, journeying through gilded halls and crowded rooms, the Contiellos ascend in a lift to the upper halls, to a suite waiting with their name marked on by a silver paper. In their suite, their suitcases lay neat on the bed, neon lights from the city outside pour in through the patio door, illuminating in shades of purple, white and gold a bucket of ice with fresh champagne and a small white box on the guest table. After everyone is changed to more casual attire, Simon eagerly fetches the little white box from the table and opens it for his mother to see.

Inside is a delicious, decadent, rich chocolate cake, topped with a layer of creamy white chocolate frosting, and topped with a colorful array of chocolate-dipped cherries and blueberries. In the middle of the cake, written in beautiful cursive in blue letters surrounding a small circle of candles that illuminate with a soft purple flame are the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”.

Then, just as Squigly would look over the cake, someone shuts the lights off, bathing the room in the glow of only the candles and the neon lights spilling in. Slowly, starting with Leviathan, then Roberto, then Selene, and then Daniel, everyone begins to sing to her. Even Simon, who obviously is unable to sing, happily sways and dances to the song, spinning and twirling adorably as everyone gathers in song.

“Happy Birthday to You~! Happy Birthday to You~! Happy Birthday, dear Squigly~! Happy Birthday…to You~!”

As each candle slowly flickers as they are blown out, the darkness of the room is contrasted by the sound of cheering and laughter, even without light the room is filled with warmth. When the lights are flicked back on, and everyone has finished lavishing Squigly with attention and hugs, it’s time to relax.

The TV plays an old classic movie on the late channel. The bottle of champagne is popped, Daniel cuts the cake, and everyone enjoys a delicious dessert. The fresh linens seem the most welcoming thing of all, as everyone slips comfortably under the warmth of the sheets, to fall back against the soft pillows after such a day of walking and running around. Daniel pulls the blankets up over Squigly and Simon, gingerly tucking the sheet into the bed to make it nice and cozy, before draping his arm lovingly around them as they snuggle together.

As the night goes on, and the neon lights seem to brighten as they spill into the suite, the air of drowsiness and peaceful calm washes over them. Selene and Roberto both wish their daughter, grandson, and son-in-law a wonderful night, before curling up together to fall into a deep comfortable sleep. Simon stretches his little arms and legs, nuzzling his mother and father happily when they give him his good night kisses and hugs, nestling into his little nook to fall asleep, his fuse twinkling like starlight out the window as he falls fast asleep. Leviathan bows his head, and wishes them all a good night’s rest before curling his tail around them to rest his head on his mistress’s shoulder, leaving only Squigly and Daniel awake.

Just before Daniel falls asleep, he leans over and presses his lips deeply to Squigly’s. The taste of blueberry, chocolate and champagne mingle with the scent of her perfume as their lips melt and press together. He could never tire of kissing her, of just being able to hold her like this, and he tells her this, his voice soft and warm, adoring and gentle. He says that he loves her, that he loves them more than anything in the world, and even if he didn’t love them, he would want nothing more than to love them forever. He hoped they had made today absolutely amazing for her, their undead darling, and that if they could, they would make everyday as wonderful as could be for her.

She’s their opera singer after all, the best thing to ever happen to them. And she deserves nothing less.

And, as Squigly would slowly begin to fall asleep, she would feel Daniel’s hands gingerly run through her hair, rolling through the tasseled blue curls of her done-up hair back and forth oh so slowly, his arms warm and strong, protecting her and Simon as they curl up in bed. His voice gently hums, although it’s not as spellbinding as anything the Contiellos could sing, but echoing with love and care for Squigly, humming Happy Birthday into her ear as he holds her tight, letting the blankets fall and melt over her until the singer is buried in a mixture of his arms and the linens. Just before her eyes close, Daniel whispers into her ear once more.

“Good night, Squigly~. I love you more than anything in this world~.”

As Squigly would wake up the next morning, there would be a smell of fresh Belgian waffles being made at the little kitchenette and fresh coffee being made, the opera house suite filled with the melody of music, and sunlight streaming in through the frost-tinted windows. Simon and Daniel happily work at the kitchenette, flipping waffles or carefully pouring glasses of juice, Selene and Roberto nuzzle up in their robes to listen to the radio as they enjoy a cup of cappuccinos, and Leviathan purrs comfortably, fixing Squigly’s pillow as he curls around her, smiling warmly at his host as her eyes flutter awake.

Hey, just because it’s not her birthday, doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve star treatment, right?  

[minhyuwun]

Omg. Smut 5 6 13 please with Daniel. You dont know how I have been dying DYING to read a public ehem. LOL. the riskier the better! Omg! Ilysm!

oh no i feel like i’ve been writing too much daniel smut lately lmao anyway i hope i did ur request some justice anon! i guess u could say seeing the update on instagram…helped. dsjdsjkd anyway thank u for sending this in! i hope u like it 😬

prompt: (smut #5) “Try to stay quiet, understand?” & (smut #6) “We’re in public, you know.” & (smut #13) “You’re so much fun to touch.”

You thought tonight was the right time to wear the fancy dress Daniel got you for your anniversary last year. You haven’t really opened the box yet, but seeing the name plastered on it in gold lettering gives away how much it cost him to get it.

You had no trouble opening it, and when you do, you were greeted with the most lavish black silk you have ever seen. It glimmered under your bedroom lights. You quickly whisk it away from inside the box, letting it cascade down your bed. “Oh, wow. I have got to try this on!”

The private estate’s main entrance doors open upon your arrival. It was your parents’ wedding anniversary dinner and they definitely did not hesitate splurging. Distracted from eyeing the decor, you fail to recognize that everyone’s eyes were already glued on you. Your hair put up in a loose ponytail, wanting to emphasize how the dress boldly displays just the perfect amount of skin. And of course your favourite part, the dress’ slit which stops just right above your upper thigh, that meekly hikes up whenever you walk. You were always shy of your body, but you decided tonight was going to be different. Thanks to your boyfriend, Daniel, who thought you would look good in this.

Before you could proceed to the main dining hall, a hand slithers its way around your waist. You were greeted with this strong musky scent, hinted with just a sheer drop of coconut. “I knew it would look perfect on you,” he whispers in your ear. “Too perfect.”

You let go of his grip and turn to face him, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you for wearing it, gorgeous.” He says with a smile. You grab his hand and intertwine his fingers with yours, leading him towards the dining hall.

You let your phone out and scroll on your Twitter feed, getting easily bored from all the small talk. “Bored?” Daniel asks. You nod without turning to look at him. “Let’s play a game,” he suggests. Daniel’s hand slowly glides up your thigh, easily making its way through your dress’ slit. “I knew this would come in handy,” he says. You continue to ignore Daniel, knowing how he usually loves to kid around, or you know, maybe the feeling of his hand up your thigh gives you an incredible feeling.

He continues to rub his thumb in circles on your thigh. You don’t budge. “Are you ready?” he asks in a deep voice.

Finally, you turn to face him. “We’re in public, you know.”

“Well, that’s what table cloths are for, princess.” He chuckles. “You…” His hands suddenly slip higher, close enough, but not quite. You squirm, squeezing his hand with your thighs. “Are so much fun to touch.”

“Daniel, please. My entire family–and might I add, your mother, is here.” You were practically glaring at him now. Trying not to let your whispers get too loud.

“I don’t see you restraining,” he says, cocking his eyebrow. Suddenly, you feel his hand move your underwear to the side. Exposing your already wet cunt. “In fact, I don’t feel you restraining.” Honestly, this was actually turning you on. The thought of Daniel getting impatient and wanting to feel you right then and there despite the circumstances was pretty fucking hot, you thought to yourself.

You place your hand over his, not removing it, just to make it seem like you were innocently holding hands under the table. You slowly lean your head on his shoulder, “Fuck you, Daniel.” You tell him with a smile, careful enough to only let him hear it, making sure you smile at the others around the table as well.

“Aren’t you two so sweet? Someday, we’ll be attending your anniversary just like this,” your aunt tells you. “If we are, of course, still alive.” Everybody laughs, even Daniel, but not quite at your aunt. He laughs at the feeling of your thighs quivering with every contact his thumb makes on your clit.

“Jesus, fuck,” you whisper under your breath. Cautious with every move you make, struggling to keep yourself contained in public. You jerk your head back. Wanting nothing but to scream Daniel’s name.

“Careful, sweetheart. We don’t want them to know our little secret game, do we?” Daniel looks at you with nothing but pure mischief and amusement written on his face. You know he was enjoying this game of yours. Him in control of everything you’re feeling–especially now that you’re in public. “Try to stay quiet, understand?”

“You son of a-“ your words were cut off when he quickly inserts two of his fingers inside of you. His sudden contact with your weak spot causes a loud yelp from you, “Ah!” you scream and suddenly the entire table is focused on you. “I dropped my phone!” you tell them promptly. “It’s fine, I’ll get it later,” assuring them with a smile.

You hear Daniel laugh beside you, “I told you, try to stay quiet.” He removes his fingers from you, and in less than a second he puts it back again. He repeats this motion. Again and again and again. Getting rougher with each push, and messier with each pull. Your juices were practically dripping out as his fingers continuously lap themselves inside of you.

“Oh dear god,” you tell him in a whisper. “Fuck.”

Slices of cake were now being distributed around your table. “(y/n) sweetie, these are your favourite!” your mother tells you.

Without hesitation, you grab a bite of the cake. What a perfect moment to release an audible moan, “Mmm… these are so…so good,” you tell her with your eyes closed. “Let me have more of it.”

Daniel laughs at the way you look, moaning with each bite of the cake. Knowing damn well it wasn’t the cake making you moan that loud in public–but hey, that was your own little secret.

Daniel begins to fasten his fingers’ pace inside your dripping cunt. Which both of you were sure was probably leaking through the clothed chair by now. You struggle to keep yourself in place, badly preventing yourself from grinding on his thick and bony fingers that hit all the right spots inside of you.

You, of course, weren’t backing down from a game. “I dare you to make me fucking cum right now,” you whisper to his ear. “Make me cum, Kang Daniel.”

He smirks, “Well, a game is a game, princess.” His fingers were now going in and out of you faster than before. The sensation building up inside you. God, every single time the tip of his fingers hit that spot, you can’t help but let out a breathy moan. You quickly drink water, trying so hard to mask your impending orgasm right in front of everyone, drinking slowly enough to make sure you don’t choke. 

“And we’ve been playing long enough. You’re right, I think it’s time we finish this,” he whispers in your ear, close enough that his lips meet your skin. This feeling causes you to shudder, further heightening your senses. You were now fully subjected under Daniel’s touch, about to reach your high any moment. Losing focus of the situation right in front of you.

He never lets go of the fast pace of his fingers, aggressively pushing themselves in and out of you easily with the amount of wetness your pussy has been releasing. 

And with one final push, you cum all over Daniel’s fingers–“Fuck!” you scream, everyone’s heads turn to you once again. “This cake! Is so fucking good!”

“Stop sounding like you just had an orgasm every time you eat something good!” your mother tells you from across the table. “Also, language, young lady.” Then everyone shifts their focus from you and turns to laugh at what your mother has just said. Right now, you couldn’t care less about how much your mother has embarrassed you. You were too busy getting off on your high, panting for air, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. Thank god your mother said that or else you wouldn’t even find time to breathe.

“That was fun,” Daniel says beside you. He finally removes his hand from under the table, then quickly dips his fingers onto the cake’s frosting. You watch as the glisten from Daniel’s wet fingers get covered in chocolate. He slowly licks his fingers, coated in the sweetness of your cunt mixed with chocolate. “Fucking delicious,” he turns to look at you with a full-on smirk and a raised eyebrow to match. “Wanna taste?”

“You jerk,” you slap him on his arm. “You’ll get more than just that from me later.”

“Sounds kinky to me,” he says. Taking another excruciatingly slow lick of his fingers–the sight of it all easily making you wet once again. “How about we bring some cake too?”

[yearlyreflection]

February 24, 2010 - Wednesday 3:14pm

    Hey, So, I am getting a little bit more familiar with the feeling of what it’s like to be moving out and the idea of leaving a home I’ve lived for 21 years in. It is starting to become a little less scary. It is still weird though. My room is too bare. The last time it was this empty I had moved everything out in order to paint my walls. It’s just weird for there to be so much space in here. I’m just trying to focus on how much fun it’s going to be to pick where I want everything in the apartment. I think this is so weird because I’ve never really felt like an adult & in my mind, moving out and having your own place is one of the things in my head that says beyond a shadow of a doubt “you’re now ‘grown-up’”. No more parents It’s weird. I miss them already. As much as they annoy me, I am going to miss them. Like, who they are. I am going to miss their energy & their being an everyday part of my life. They are my family. I’ve always had them there all the time and now I won’t have that anymore. I’ve never thought about it that way and now I really don’t know how to process this. I really don’t know why this is such a huge deal for me. Everyone else seemed fine when they moved out. And they keep saying how much I am going to love it and how awesome it is going to be *sigh* I probably am making this so much more than it is. Probably when I am older I will read this and laugh at myself for how young I was. I swear I am so sheltered.

    Stu and I finally bought a couch. This one is big & a mossy green color and it has a matching chair. It’s so huge and soft and comfortable. I love it all. I can’t wait to sit on it! Ree!

    Today was a good day for me. I have been struggling internally lately. It feels like there is a war going on inside my head. I am just going through a lot of shit and it is showing up in my physical appearance. I have been doing all this yoga and my body is toning and slimming down and is starting to look really good but then I get this urge to eat a whole bunch of shit. Candy, cake, chocolate , cookies, crap and then i wake up the next morning feeling like shit. It’s like my over-eating is me punishing myself because I don’t feel worthy enough to be achieving what I am achieving - like, I don’t deserve the body & the health that I want to achieve. It feels like there’s this little girl inside of me that doesn’t feel loved or worth anything & I can’t get better & move forward in my life until she is healed. I am working on healing her& opening her eyes to the truth but it isn’t instantaneous. These things take time & love & I am working on it. I am learning to breathe through it. When I notice those self destructive feelings & negative self-thoughts I just notice them, take a deep breath, make space for them, breathe out & let them go with my breath. It is actually really helpful. It has made this less of a struggle & more of a constructive learning & growing process. All I think I am doing is being more conscious in my life. By being really present - really living in & appreciating this moment for everything it is. I think if people were more present & conscious in their daily lives this world would heal itself. If people held themselves responsible for their own actions this world would know world peace. People say world peace is unreal & they are right as long as we stay in this same mindset. If we never change our way of thinking then, yes, peace is a unobtainable myth. The physical sciences, that we put so much stock in determining how we view our world, cannot prove a God or anything spiritual. Those things have to be felt & experienced. The only reason to be ‘good’ is because all you have in this life is a culmination of your actions. Your actions are what really define you in this life. You are not your job. You are not the house you live in. You are not the car you drive. Those things have nothing to do with your soul - your essence. Your physical appearance isn’t even a part of who is intrinsically you - yourSELF. Your body is on loan from the universe. When you die, you won’t hold your job - you won’t have your house or your car. These things are transitory tools but they are all impermanent. You’ll change jobs. You’ll sell your house & move. Your car will break down and you’ll be forced into something new. Now, if we are basing our self-worth on jobs, real-estate & automobiles, then who are we without those things!? We are letting our egos run our lives & our egos are fragile. Everything that arises, ceases. We are making ourselves more vulnerable than we need to be when our self-worth is based on these impermanent, transitory material things.

    They say that what is created cannot be destroyed & this is more true with the soul. The soul is eternity. Your soul is a life force that vibrates with the universe. That never goes away. It is always there - from life to life.

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I find it funny that this entry starts out by essentially saying “yes, hello, I am an inexperienced 21 year old baby doll that is moving out of her childhood home for the first time ever” and finishes the entry by spouting this wannabe-enlightened spiritual high-horse rant. I still believe a lot of these things (albeit less dogmatically) but the tone of the entry feels as if I am yelling. What am I trying to prove? And to whom!? 

I will say though, that the aforementioned mossy-colored couch and matching chair were hella dope and I still think about them sometimes. Stu and I end up splitting up (spoiler alert) & he got the mossy-colored pair when we ended our relationship and actually still has them. They were from fancy designer and we got a great deal on them via craigslist and actually paid for most of them with a bag of change (like some early 20s assholes) 

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

the ultimate citation list for Schneider of ODAAT, volume 1

A reference collection of quotes and details, organized chronologically, for the first 26 episodes of One Day At A Time. Used to create this character guide.

“Can you believe it's only been 10 months since you moved in? I remember 'cause I got my five year sober chip and your mom baked me that cake. I enjoyed watching you guys eat it." 1x01

"You're 40 and you look stupid." “I'll have you know, I was invited to several Pride parades." 1x01

Uses a “very expensive” Damascus steel hammer. 1x01

"I've been doing some outreach down at the rec center, talking to at-risk youth. You guys wanna start takin' bets? Actually, scratch that. I'm addicted to gambling.” 1x01

"Love isn't even real. It's just something your nanny says sometimes to your dad." 1x02

"Hey, I may have money in the bank and two living parents, and four living stepmothers but there is a hole in here. We never had family meals. I ate alone in front of the TV. Oh, don't get me wrong. It was a massive TV. Sometimes my nanny would join me, but only if I agreed to watch telenovelas. This one time, Rosa got jealous of the housekeeper 'cause she was makin' a move on her man, so she threatened to throw live scorpions on her while she slept. Rosa was my nanny. Ex-nanny. Now, stepmother." 1x03

[Lydia and Pen fighting] “It's startin' to feel kinda like home in here.” 1x03

Schneider cooks fancy hipster food. "Nutted quinoa, wilted broccolini with radish micro-greens, and venison carpaccio on a bed of nettles. Grab a cedar plank and dig in." 1x04

"Always interesting to be the sober one at a dinner party." 1x05

"I immigrated here illegally. I'm a Canadian. But yeah, born in the 'Couve, overstayed my student visa, forced to live in the shadows of Pepperdine University. Anyway, it's fine now. My lawyers made it all okay." 1x05

Uses sheet masks, knows about chauffeurs, butlers, estates. 1x06

“The kids barely touched my black olive tapenade.” “Thanks for helping out, but maybe next time pick a food a kid would wanna eat or has heard of.” “Yeah, and maybe next time, don't hand out masks with my face on them.” 1x07  

"The members of my college band have finally put aside our differences and we're reuniting to play at the fair this afternoon. My band, Full Sail, plays yacht rock. These guys were like family. I used to show up at their dorm rooms unannounced and just hang out for hours and hours and hours." 1x07

"We were setting up for the show and our keytarist threw a decorative anchor at me. This is why Full Sail broke up in the first place. Too many passionate personalities." 1x07

Has a magnifying glass in his costume trunk. 1x07

"I know nothing about my grandparents and I never will. And they live in Pasadena!" (but he goes to 'the depot' in Pasadena) 1x09

"I have never seen such un-professionalism. This is why I don't work!" 1x09

"I need to find a new place to get my eyebrows threaded." 1x10

Has a safe. 1x10

"Well, Father believed it's best to have this kinda discussion in a car because you don't have to make eye contact. Plus, you're traveling in the same direction, which fosters intimacy. So we're in the Bentley with our chauffeur, Paco. Father said it's time to have the talk. We came to the next stoplight. He hopped out, Paco told me everything." 1x10

"I didn't get the period talk till I was 12. Paco just called it 'Shark Week.'" 1x10

"When I was a kid, there was an adult section in the back of the video store. Behind the beads. I'd always chicken out and just rent a Jane Fonda workout tape. Still worked. Still works." 1x10

"You'd be surprised how many of my hookups started with 'Ugh!' ...When I was 15, I told Father I wanted to be a professional tap dancer. He laughed. It was that lack of support that contributed to my drinking and drug problem. Oh, do you find that amusing? Because 15-year-old Schneider's drinking peach schnapps out of an unused tap shoe right now." 1x11

"You have a girl over here and you were offering to have sex with me?" - "Yes, Penelope. That's the kind of friend I am." 1x11

"My dad never came to my games. All he ever did was put me through rehab six times and buy me this building." 2x01

"Maroon 5 is the best." 2x01

"Okay, I decided to take a break from dating. See, I realized that women were just another one of my addictions, like alcohol, drugs, gambling, cigarettes, snow globes. The point is, I've broken the cycle of addiction with spinning. Five hours a day, every single day. I have to do it! Plus, it's the perfect substitute for dating, 'cause it burns a lot of energy and also numbs my junk!" 2x02

“Snow globes? Is this one of our family?” 2x02

"I come over, tell him to do stuff to me, he does it, I go home. You should get one." "I think what Nikki was kinda dancing around is that you don't always have to have a relationship with a capital "R." Sometimes all you need is what the great poets of the Renaissance called a junk buddy." "Exactly. You don't even have to like them." 2x03

"See, the great thing about having a green card is you get to live here without having to do all the stuff Americans have to, like vote or serve jury duty or become obese."

"Okay, but at least you vote in Canadian elections." "Mmm. No. Even in Canada, nothing ever changes. Clean air, sensible gun control, free health care. The system's rigged." 2x04

Can picture himself “doing it” with Elizabeth Warren, was Stephen Hawking for Halloween. 2x04

"You have to pay taxes with a green card? I just texted my accountant, and he said 'cause I'm in the highest income bracket, I don't have to pay taxes." 2x04

Keeps on hand: panic room, gas mask, water purification pills, MREs, enough cash to get to Cape Verde by boat. Followed Max on Instagram. Would be honored to be Penelope's maid of honor. 2x05

"I'm very patriotic. Look in that basket. There's a bald eagle thong." 2x06

All Elena's video game equipment belongs to him. 2x06

"Penelope, tell my third stepmother I loved her! Not the second one, though. She was kind of a jerk." 2x06

"Hummer limo's downstairs. My third stepmother used to take me to the racetrack to spy on Father. For the longest time, I thought she was saying, 'Your father is with Rebecca, that horse!' It's like I'm back at the racetrack with my stepmom. What's next? Throw a mint julep in his face?” 2x07

"I love Cuba! I've been there four times. Property manager, job's just temporary. My father owns the building. I'm really a musician. Play a lot of rap-rock-ska. I'm like a male Gwen Stefani. When you're hiring a nanny, make sure she's not too hot. That's how I met my fifth mom. I had four nannies and look at the results." 2x08

Did not speak a word of Spanish when he first met them, is interested in single moms. 2x08

"If you joined an adult kickball team after saying you were too busy to join mine, you are on a long road to forgiveness." 2x09

"Your idea of stress is when your chest-waxer goes out of town." "Roberto is the only one who doesn't make it sting!" 2x09

"I shouldn't have to need these either, but I do. To see. So it's Fourth of July, 2011. I'd been sober for a while, so I thought I'd celebrate with a beer. Woke up three days later in an alley. Then the bowling ball hit me. I was in the gutter for a long time. It's really slippery without the shoes. That was the day I truly accepted that I can't have alcohol or drugs, ever. Not a beer, not a glass of wine, not even six hits of acid at a Grateful Dead show, no matter how well it makes me dance. I kinda get where you're coming from. There's something I want that I can't have for the rest of my life." 2x09

He and Pen are best friends. Also considers Max his bestie. Wants to Netflix and chill with them both, together. 2x09

"My abuelita used to put Vicodin in her coffee. And her lemonade and her sandwiches. Maybe she had a problem. As my father said to me on my ninth birthday, 'You don't need me anymore.' I use my garage for pickling and sea horse breeding." 2x10

Loves puns. "This is Elena Alvarez, my handyman mentee. Or handy-manatee." "The toilet is a cruel mistress. She is flush with complications." 2x10

"Herb and Sherb McGurb. Her real name is Sheryl, but she gets a kick out of Sherb." 2x10

"Bonsai's for dorks. This is penjing. The gentle Chinese art of tray scenery. Now that you're working for me, I finally have some leisure time." "Oh, look, there's little people. Wait, is that my family?" "Could be any Cuban family." 2x10

"I may only look two or three years older than you, but I have the wisdom of that ancient bonsai!" 2x10

"Always take the lemonade. That's Handyman 101! So you watched Jeopardy with them and then what? Well, now we know what your problem is! You fixed their toilet, but you didn't fix their souls. Elena, growing up, I had everything. But I was always alone. I don't want my tenants to feel that way, so I do more than just fix stuff. Apartment 306, macrame with Mrs. Watson. 201, lose at chess to Mr. Roth. 402, listen to all their Cuban nonsense. That's the job. That's what takes four hours. That's the difference between being a handyman and a super." 2x10

Has heard 'you're fired' a lot. 2x10

"After a grueling 30 minutes of thought, Nikki, will you be my starter wife? You're on the rebound. That's the best time to get married. You don't have time to think. So you were never thinking about me? My emotions? My feelings? You used me, Nikki, Finn's mom! And not in the way I like! And that's not all, Sister Barbara. We knew each other. Biblically. And while we were doing it, she took the Lord's name in vain. A lot!" 2x11

"Last night, I was testing the pH of the water in my seahorse ranch and, as I looked at those vomiting little guys, I realized I suck at tests. All tests. Drug, sobriety, vision, IQ, smog. You name it, I fail it!" 2x12

"Have you ever been arrested?” “Does public nudity at a hockey game count?” “There is, uh, no mention of a public nudity charge in your file.” “Oh, you just go to YouTube and type in 'Zam-boner.'" 2x12

"Yeah, they didn't specifically ask if I got drunk and tried to ride a moose, so after that I was golden." 2x12

"How important is having kids to you?" "Never really thought about it." 2x12

"I'll have you know I babysat my babysitter's kids while she was babysitting my dad, so, yeah, I got a little experience under my belt. Oh, it's my cousin Gordy. He still thinks I'm full-on Canadian. All right, good news is Gordo bought it. Bad news is I'm judging a poutine festival in Saskatoon next week." 2x12

"You're the single greatest mother I know." "Thank you. That means a lot coming from a guy with five moms." 2x12

"Fuzzy Afghan she likes, picture of the Pope, picture of a different Pope, picture of your dad, picture of the family, picture of me with the family, picture of me by a waterfall. I'm just gonna keep talking 'cause I'm not good in crisis situations." 2x13

"It's so crazy how we're both immigrants. I mean, I would never compare my story to yours, but the parallels are spooky. You were 18, I was 18. You left your family behind. I left four step-families, a maid, a butler, a chauffeur, and a horse groomer who really got me. But Father was expanding his business to the US and so I had to go. I remember, at the airport, I was crying. But Father put his arm around me and he said, 'Son, only losers cry.' So that was a long flight. You don't know how dirty a dirty look can get until you're crying for a whole plane ride and you're not a baby. I really didn't wanna be in America. So I drank. And I recreated the snowy plains of Canada with cocaine. I'm told I attended classes at Pepperdine University, but I will have to take that on faith. So, I'm in a detox center in El Segundo. This was my fourth rehab. My re-re-re-rehab. I thought I'd been doing a kickass job keeping my drug stuff a secret from all the tenants and then you showed up in my room at that clinic. You brought me sopa de pollo and said it's Cuban penicillin. You told me, 'You eat this, you get some sleep, and tomorrow, you try again.' And then you tucked me in and kissed me good night on my forehead. Forehead kisses are wildly underrated. Just something really comforting about 'em. Then again, it might just be you. Dad never did that. Or my horse groomer. After I got out of rehab, I started hanging around your apartment a lot more, 'cause it helped. Back then, it must have felt like you had this annoying, intrusive guy over. Not like now. 'Cause now you're my family. Don't worry. I haven't legally changed my last name to Alvarez. My lawyer said it was a whole thing, so... Anyway, Pen said no crying, so I'm not gonna. Actually, for once, I agree with Father. Only losers cry. And we're not losing anybody today. Let's hit that oath ceremony soon, okay?" 2x13