#because right at the top of the pile were OR's birth announcement with their full name
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NaClYoHo day ?? - 14:
Actual progress at last:
- swept and mopped the staircase
- cleaned off the dining table
- cleaned off the coffee table
- cleaned off the kitchen island
- cleaned off the cabinet and chair in the hallway
- tidied up my desk:
Oh and LG mowed the lawn and moved the empty suitcase and travelling bag from our honeymoon back up to the attic.
#9thbutterfly life#NaClYoHo#keeping it clean#i had to take the before picture twice#because right at the top of the pile were OR's birth announcement with their full name#and a neighbour's death announcement with their address#i might not be hard to track down but let's not make it quite so easy#although considering the modest quality of my phone camera#you probably wouldn't be able to read it anyway
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Young Royals Fanfic Recommendations
Here is a list of some of my favourite fics:
Post-canon / futur fic:
Wilhelm & Simon: An Interview with Sweden’s Young Royal Couples
Summary: On the heels of Queen Kristina's announcement that she will be stepping down as monarch once her son and heir turns 35, Crown Prince Wilhelm and his longtime partner, Simon Eriksson, sit down with SVT's Signe Karlsson, for the first time since the future King publicly came out as queer and confirmed their relationship, to discuss their future and dispel any lingering misconceptions about their romance. Or: Eat your heart out, Harry and Meghan.
His Royal Fucking Highness Prince Simon of Sweden (he will take none of your shit) (the whole series)
Summary: It had taken him years – literally years – to make peace with eventually having to shoulder the fucking title of fucking prince. Because Wille was worth it. And now they had suddenly thrown him a curveball and said, 'Our bad, so sorry you spent so many years ripping your hair out, but you actually have a choice in the matter. You’re welcome.' Fuck that, honestly. Couldn’t they have told him that from the start? Maybe six years ago? Three? Right after the engagement? Simon had gone through most stages of grief over the past two days since that meeting, and his head would split open if he didn't sit down with his family and friends to let it out. He should be jumping at the opportunity to refuse the titles, so why was he so conflicted?
Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart
Summary: that time that Simon gets a serious head injury and it might be the last straw for Wilhelm to gather the courage to blackmail his mother.
Start a riot
Summary: On his first day back to school after the Christmas break, Simon is informed that he's been suspended for two weeks because of his involvement in the video making the rounds on the internet. Now it's up to Wille and his few allies to recruit as many out of the entire population of entitled rich kids at Hillerska as they can to go full Greta to try and pressure the school to reverse this decision before it ruins Simon's future.
Alternate universe:
Knock on my wall, tell me I’m yours
Summary: ”Oh shit, watch out!” Simon does not watch out. How could he when he can't see anything over the pile of cardboard boxes stacked in his arms on his way up the staircase. The next thing he knows he's lying on the ground, looking into the soft brown eyes of an objectively very cute boy sprawled on top of him. Oh shit indeed.
Oh Christmas tree
Summary: There are many ways in which Simon had imagined himself meeting Prince Wilhelm. This was most definitely not one of them.
Princessa
Summary: Wille holds up a hand as he contemplates the nickname. Shocking as it is, he doesn't entirely hate it. If it were anyone but Simon, he'd probably be a little upset, but he knows Simon sees him as he is, beyond the crown. Besides, no one but a few queer news sites have referred to them as a princess since they came out and said they were okay with feminine terminology. It's not like the word prince, which has been hanging over their head since birth. "Say it again. In a sentence."
Only fools remain sane
Summary: AU where Wille convinces Simon that they should fake date to see if the Crown's recent announcement of accepting same-sex relationships is legit or just for show.
Like a lock clicking into place
Summary: Wilhelm is a single father to his five-year old daughter, Freja. After her mother left them, the two of them are nearly all each other have, and Wilhelm loves his daughter more than anything. When he enrolls her in preschool, things start to change for the both of them. Freja opens up far more than she has in recent years, and Wilhelm- well, he's slowly but surely finding himself head over heels for his daughter's kind, funny, unfairly attractive teacher Simon.
Less than two hours to fall in love with you
Summary: Wille's a prince doing charity work. Simon's a snarky cancer patient with a sad lack of entertainment. They meet.
#we don’t mention the fact that most fics come from the same authors#(they deserve it tho they are good)#to be updated as I read more#yr fanfic#fanfic rec#young royals#yr fanfic recommendations#yr fanfic masterlist
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Hello, could you do a Misfits Nathan X Fem reader one shot where Nathan and reader open their Christmas presents, and Reader surprises Nathan with a positive pregnancy test, and he is shocked, but happy, and then they go to Nathans mum's house for Christmas dinner and announce the news. His Mum then talks about how Cute Nathan was as a baby, and embarrasses him, and reader laughs and smiles at hearing stories of baby Nathan. (sorry this request is long) Merry Christmas and a happy new year.
Baby’s First Christmas
A/N: This is a request based prompt, one of the Christmas ones. I’m not sure if the other will get out by Christmas, but I’ll try my best. A lovely and fluffy Nathan x reader one. This is a double request, so I answered the request to this one, but they contain the same material. Makes it much easier for me lol.
Warnings: none really, very fluffy, but breastfeeding, food, small mention of coitus
Cheeky Tag List: @misskittysmagicportal, @robertsheehanownsmyass, @joz-stankovich, @badsext, @super-unpredictable98, @the-freckled-luba, @wasabimia, @iamsexytrash, @midnightseance, @the-novel-on-the-left
“Good morning love.” Nathan said, holding Lily above you, where she stared at you, a bit deftly, but you know it was because she didn’t really know what to expect. Either way, you smiled and sat up, letting her into your arms.
“Good morning to you too. How’s she been today?” you ask, cheek brushing against Lily’s head, curls tickling you.
“Very good. When I walked into her nursery, she was already awake and just gawking at me, y’know like babies do. She’s been very sweet though.” Nathan said, averting his eyes as you lowered your shirt, Lily latching herself immediately.
Even though it’d been months since Lily’s birth, Nathan still looked away when you breastfed. It’s a natural thing, but his response was always “Yeah, but I feel like I’m being disrespectful if I think about sucking on ‘em too.” You chuckle as you think about it, and suddenly remember that Christmas was upon the two of you. You moved from out of bed, and slowly walked to the living room, where Nathan lay by the tree, striking a pose. Multiple gifts were piled under the large pine tree, and Lily broke away from her feeding to look at the tree, eyes full of wonder.
“Aw, bless. Look at her little hands!” Nathan said, walking up to you two, kissing the top of Lily head once more, making her let out a very cute giggle.
Her hands were reaching out to try to touch the lights, but you two knew better. Lily had the tendency to pull at things, like any other baby, and it would end in disaster. He smiled at his daughter, and you sat on the floor as Nathan brought you presents, Lily happily tearing at some of the wrapping paper. Both of your parents, (even Nathan’s dad) were very supportive of the pregnancy, as shown through seeing them in-person, as well as the gifts you two received. Lily received a new pacifier, as well as a couple pairs of clothes from each side of the family, and she squealed upon seeing the tassels lined upon one of the shirts. Whenever either of you wore anything with string on an outfit, Lily could and would spend HOURS picking at the string and giggling at it. You were amazed at how much time she could spend playing with it. Neither of you could leave your hair down, or else it would be at the hands of Lily Young, who would pull at it, and never let go.
“Okay, time for coffee and breakfast, huh Nathan?” you asked, smiling up at him. There were still presents under the tree, but as per the household rule, if you got hungry, you’d eat, even if it’s time for presents.
Nathan cooked a simple breakfast, eggs and bacon, and the two of you happily ate, and as Lily grabbed at the two of you, you remembered the Christmas of last year, which was much more different than this one’s.
“Merry Christmas babe! I got you a pre-tree present to open right in bed!” you yelled, wakingNathan up from his sleep. He smiled upon seeing you, smiling at him, as the past few weeks you’d been a tad bit ill.
“Ah, Merry Christmas day to ye’ too. What’ve you got for me, huh?” he said, reaching for the gift. His chest peeked out from the top of the sheets, and you couldn’t help but reach your hand out and rub it, him smiling at the gesture.
You’d had a bit of a guess that you’d been pregnant for a couple weeks, as your period was a month late, which hadn’t happened in almost 10 years. You’d also been sick for weeks on end, and it was pure torture for you to experience. Nathan had even noticed, and when he noticed you were having a particularly rough day, he’d make you a light dinner, and rub your back and feet. He’d picked up a small job, and was trying to make ends meet for your minimal apartment. So, when you thought about pregnancy, and how many times Nathan was just too horny for protection, the dots started to connect. So, you got a pregnancy test, as well as an ultrasound, and wham bam, shanglang (and a shalalalala), you’re pregnant with Nathan’s kid. You accepted it, and the two of you had been talking about kids for a while. You decided to tell him in a way he could accept better. Instead of a more serious talk, it was a gift.
“This a tampon or something?” Nathan asks, holding the test in his face, looking at you. You shook your head and laughed, and pointed at the plus sign. Nathan glanced at what you were pointing at, and it took a moment for another emotion to fall upon his face. It was joy, and he went forward to hug you.
“You could've told me you were pregnant love.” Nathan muttered into your neck, and hugged you a bit tighter, satisfying your senses. You smiled at his reaction, and as his lips moved to your stomach, where he began talking to your baby, and a few tears slipped from your face. He moved back up to kiss your lips, and the two of you stayed in bed for a bit of celebration before moving downstairs to look at the rest of your presents.
Your brain took you back to the present, and Nathan had Lily in his arms, and she was reaching towards his chest, and you both laughed. She had a tendency to grab toward people’s chest, it was her favorite place to cuddle, and if you two had to go in public with her, strollers would have to be forgotten. It kept her from fussing, and kept everything calm.
“Alright, we need to get ready to go to me mam’s, alrighty?” Nathan said, after cleaning breakfast up and heading upstairs.
“Fine, you can get Lily cleaned and dressed while I shower, then we can swap after I’m done, alright?” you say, grabbing your clothes from the closet. Nathan nods his head, and you kiss Lily’s forehead before heading to the bathroom, taking your time to get ready.
It’d been a very busy few months with a new baby, and learning to adjust to her in your lives. You and Nathan used to go out for weekly dates and enjoy each other’s company, but you couldn’t even remember the last time you two went out together. It was ages ago. Even if it was to your family, you were grateful to get out of the house and see other people. A few minutes later, you waltzed out of the bathroom, fresh as a rose, and Nathan eyed you up and down, smirking at your form.
“You are very beautiful and I have the very strong desire to bang you, but I promise. When Lily’s being tended to by family, that ass is mine.” Nathan whispers, kissing your neck before handing Lily over to you, who was drifting off to sleep.
Your job was going to be very easy until you two had to drive to Nathan’s mum’s house, which might cause unwanted chaos with Lily. If she woke up in a car, she could either A. fall back asleep. B. immediately start crying, scaring both you and Nathan, or C. stay calm and be her usual, bubbly self. Either way, you were happy to be out of the house. Once Nathan emerged from the restroom, dapped out in his grey suit, you two gathered your baby bag, keys, and adult snacks (bc Nathan accidentally ate baby snacks and he wasn't happy about it) and walked out of the door with time to spare. The ride was very calm, and as he drove, you sat in the back of the car and your thoughts drifted back to last year’s Christmas.
“Come on baby, can’t be late!” you yelled through the door to Nathan, who was taking his sweet time in the bathroom.
“I gotta perfect my hair, my mum can’t know we’ve been shagging as a reason for the season!” he yelled back, and you heard the water run once more.
You rolled your eyes with affection, and went to the living room, and got a glass of water to help cool yourself down. You were nervous about telling Nathan’s mom, as anyone would be, but you just couldn’t shake the anxiety off. Nathan eventually emerged from the bathroom, and you two rushed down the steps of the apartment, trying not to be too terribly late to the Christmas dinner his mom has prepared for you two. You rarely ever saw her, but goodness, could that woman cook up a storm. You always left her place stuffed and ready to crash into bed due to a food coma.
Upon arrival, you shivered in your seat, and got ready to tell Nathan’s mom the big news as soon as you entered, but every time you felt good about it, your anxiety shut you down. She offered you a glass of wine, but you had to turn her down, and she just blamed it on the fact that you were driving, and Nathan loved himself a pint. When dinner arrived, your stomach turned itself into knots, and all you wanted to do was scream. When she began carving the turkey, your brain farted, and all of a sudden you blurted out.
“Ms. Young, I’m pregnant so….that’s why I didn’t really want any wine, I’m sorry, I’ve just not been feeling up to it lately.” and a small tear fell from your eye.
“Aw, love, don’t feel bad, that’s wonderful news. Never expected Nathan to be one for children, but I’m very happy about this. I’ve got some lovely stories and pictures from when he was a little babby.” she replied, putting your hand over yours.
You giggled and thanked her, Nathan coming from behind to kiss the top of your head, but preparing for the stories about to be told. His mom showed you pictures of Nathan with mall Santa, as well as the Easter bunny. He was cringing at the thought of himself doing anything even remotely cute. She showed you pictures of him chasing after the family dog, and even one of him with an academic achievement award, one for reading.
“I didn’t know you were literate Nathan. Now I know to get you books for your birthday, you twat.” you say, teasing Nathan, much to his dismay.
“Oh, he really likes reading, let me tell you. He would plow through so many books, I thought of renting out the library for him. He would never stop reading this one.” she said, looking over at him, who was nose deep in his old copy of The Hobbit. A faint blush covered his cheeks, and his mom ruffled his curls, and Nathan smirked at her, thanking her.
You returned back to the present, and Nathan looked over to you, kissing your hand. You two smiled, and as you headed to his mom’s house, you knew it was going to be much better.
“Nathan, how are you. And his lovely partner, AND SWEET BABY LILY AWW!” his mother said, fawning over the three of you. Lily cooed at her grandmother, and was handed over to her, happily accepted.
You all stepped into her apartment, and brought in the baby bag, almost forgotten in the car. You helped out in the kitchen with Nathan’s mom as Lily played in the living room, watching her father look at childhood photos. Nathan took his daughter from her playpen, and held her up to the pictures, talking to her quietly. You glanced from the kitchen, and worked the dough for quick pie, Nathan’s mom catching you slacking a bit.
“He’s a keeper, honey. And you are too. You should hear the way he talks about you to me. Nothing but love and admiration in his voice, and even now, talking to Lily. He doesn’t really open up much, not even to me. But the way that he’s talking to Lily right now is really lovely.” she says, looking at you.
“Yeah. He’s been super supportive during everything and I seriously couldn’t be happier. He’s so wonderful. Always talking to Lily and being so gentle with her. You raised an amazing son.” you said, smiling.
When the food was ready, the lot of you piled into the living room, and ate a full meal, plus desserts. Lily was fully asleep by the time you all were wrapping everything up, and Nathan’s mom offered you two the guest room to stay in for the night. Nathan happily accepted it, and you slept peacefully that night, thankful of the support in your life.
Masterlist
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hi everyone! so glad this is back!
romilly ‘mila’ van der woodsen was spotted in the fashion district adorning the jimmy choo thyra 100 jewel-embellished suede heeled sandals , with some airpod pros on . they’re most likely listening to blinding lights - acoustic by victoria voss . you may know them as romillys or as that casimere jollette lookalike . their twenty fourth birthday just passed . while living in the upper east side , they’ve gained a bit of a reputation . they’re known to be defensive but on the other hand hard-working . wonder if they’ll be the next person to hit the headlines . ( cis woman / she/her + elle / 23 / she/her )
* character questionaire .
01. if you have three words to describe yourself , what are they ?
focused, daring, confident.
02 . what is your favourite alcoholic drink ?
it’s definitely wine. i used to only drink white but i’ve become really fond of red. my grandpa gave me a bottle of 1982 latour for my twenty first birthday and that was easily the most impressed i’ve ever been with wine. i’m not going to be basic and say dom perignon.
03 . what is your favourite season and why ?
i’ve always loved winter because of the associations of ballet and the performances of the nutcracker. it’s always help a special place in my heart and i continue to feel the same after all these years. plus, i love the parties and dressing up, feel like i can go more glam with more diamonds and sparkles than in the summer.
04 . what’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done ?
it would have to be when i drunkenly booked a vacation to dubai for myself and a few friends after a wine and movie night. i spent a ridiculous amount but the trip was fun and i can safely say my friends and i still talk about it.
* character biography .
the only grand daughter of olivier van der woodsen, romilly would grow up surrounded by luxury olivier was the founder and controlling shareholder of woodsen enterprises, a company has investments in various industries including auto parts, energy, metals, rail cars, casinos, food packaging, real estate, and home fashion. it was more than enough for him to provide for his son and daughter-in-law and now his grand-daughter. like her parents before her, romilly was born into privileged and lived comfortably in an upper east side penthouse where she was waited on by endless nannies and housekeepers. her father was involved in the family business, hoping to be handed olivier’s shares one day but the other showed no sign of willingly stepping down any time soon; her mother a self-absorbed socialite that had her own ideas of how to dominate society meant that childcare did not land with either of them.
her parents were difficult to communicate with and this lead to many nannies leaving just when romilly had started to become attached. they were the closest thing to love that she had received but as they left constantly she would grow up with a great sense of inadequacy. they weren’t in love and it seemed the both of them only valued their own sucesses, not each others. as she grew up, she would become her grandfather’s favourite and it would leave both her parents with green eyes...
romilly always liked dancing and had a special connection with music. every time she heard it she wanted to move. she was too young to understand it but she had natural musicality. when they realised that it was harder for the help to stay, they pushed her onto olivier with the hope that she’d be a distraction to pressure him into taking a step back. The man, although one of the most powerful people in New York City, did have a soft spot for his granddaughter. he was the one that saw potential in her dancing as a child. he was quick to enroll her when she was six and everything else followed.
from that moment on, she would only look forward to dance and seeing her grandfather. he was the only one who understood her passion and was the one encouraging her at every stage. however, her parents were quick to criticise performances or her facial expressions when performing. no matter how hrd she tried, it wasn’t enough to impress them. she started distancing from them after that, only talking to her grandpa and looking to him when she needed emotional sport.
being accepted into the summer intensive programme for the school of american ballet was a game changer for her. she made good friends and loved breathing dance and being surrounded by people who had the same passion. she attended the same intensive two years running and her place there just felt right. the next year, she was enrolled as a full time student at the school of american ballet and moved into halls. it was a freedom she never had before and felt like it was her very first chance to have a real sense of community and support.
romilly worked extremely hard and was definitely one who focused on her success; that had seeped its way through from her parents. she was one of the lucky ones to become an apprentice at new york city ballet and the staff definitely took note. her skill level had almost been at prodigy level and she always maintained a ‘can-do’ attitute. she wouldn’t simply bend into the background.
this year, she became one of the youngest principal dancers in the company and it was the best day of her life. she had become a successful professional ballerina. she has also assisted with some choreography as her creativity has blossomed over the years. now her parents wanted to be proud of her and they did make an effort to see her, although it felt really strained from their side. they had ulterior motives but she wasn’t sure what.
romilly was hit hardest after the announcement of the death of olivier van der woodsen, her grandpa who she had loved so much. after the loss and added pressure, her personality has somewhat shifted. she’s out a lot more in clubs now, making out with people and deciding to lessen her control over herself. besides, she’s now a billionaire in her own right but can even comprehend how much money she actually has. she is more defensive and snaps at her co-workers a lot more. she’s secretive and does keep most things to herself. she’s embarrassed that she’s involved in family disputes over money that she never asked for and now worried that stories are leaking on the internet about her and have the ability to tarnish her image in the ballet world. she feels like if she doesn’t fix it soon, she’ll be on her way out of the company. still, she doesn’t help herself and continues to party and drink a lot more than she should do which leads to easily avoidable drunken stumbles that hurt her...
* extras .
profile:
Full Name: romilly annabeth van der woodsen
Nickname(s): mila, tiny dancer, ro
Age: twenty four
Date of Birth: december 19, 1996
Hometown: new york city, new york
Current Location: new york city, new york
Ethnicity: white
Nationality: american
Gender: cis woman
Pronouns: she/her
Orientation: bi romantic & bi sexual
Religion: none
Political Affiliation: none
Occupation: principal ballerina at new york city ballet
Living Arrangements: upper east side penthouse previously owned by olivier van der woodsen
Language(s) Spoken: english, french, chinese
Hair Colour: blonde
Eye Colour: blue
Height: 5′4″
Build: slender
Tattoos: none
Piercings: ears
aesthetics
a fully stocked wine cabinet, diamante earrings, chanel pumps, silk crop tops, crystal embellished stilettos, a pile of pointe shoes discarded in the corner of the main room, marble flooring, roof to floor windows, bobby pins gathering at the bottom of her purse, quickly applying glitter eyeshadow with her fingers, a collection of nude palettes and diamante earrings, deleting emails without reading them, golden chandeliers, rejected calls from parents, tops with puffed sleeves, berets, nineties colored purses, twenty hour days and booking trips aborad while under the influence.
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A Moment of Sincerity
Word count: 3327
Summary: On Natsume’s 18th birthday, Madara finds himself contemplating that Natsume would leave after he graduates high school.
My (late) entry for @natsumeweek 2020. Day 1 Prompt: Wandering/Belonging.
A/N: Unbeta'd, and some of them (the final part) was written in the middle of the night, so I'm not sure how it turns out (even after rereading and editing some bits). Also referenced my other fic titled Camellia: Remembrance. I hope you enjoy ^^ ALSO! A belated happy birthday, Natsume-ku~n! <3 season 7 where u at
Read on AO3.
~*~*~*~*~
Madara watched the boy blow the candles on top of his white-frosted cake. When the last of the flame went out, his friends around him blew their horns and threw the confetti while the Fujiwaras clapped in silence with smiles on their faces.
“Happy eighteenth birthday!”
“Happy eighteenth birthday, Natsume!”
Natsume couldn’t stop the smile breaking through his lips, a tinge of pink on his cheeks.
They set out to cut the cake and handed them out on white paper plates. Natsume had even saved a piece for him, placing it in his bowl on the floor. “Here’s yours, Sensei,” he said. Madara would rather have those fried shrimps he had seen on the table, but it was Natsume’s special day, so he offered no complaints and instead just dug in to the soft, fluffy, creamy cake before his eyes.
Madara had witnessed three birthdays in his time living with Natsume. The first was a quiet thing, when not even Natsume had remembered. It had been around the time they first met. Touko had started fussing around the house after the boy left—cleaning, cooking, nothing out of the ordinary but Madara could tell she was giving extra effort on everything. Then she left for the town, and he left for the mountains, and when he came back later that afternoon riding on Natsume’s shoulder, a strawberry cake waited for them in the kitchen, with the words Happy Birthday, Takashi-kun spread across the top and center on chocolate icing. Natsume’s shock had been a sight to behold.
The second was a boisterous event, mostly held by his friends from school. With cakes and cookies and presents, a banner and confetti and trumpets. You’d think they hadn’t seen each other for years with the way the loud bunch had thrown the party. They had talked for hours and hours until night fell, and they had to go home because they had school the next day. Natsume hadn’t been able to stop smiling for the rest of the night.
Birthdays. Madara never understood the meaning of it. The day of someone’s birth. Natsume had asked him once if he had a birthday. The beast living off as a house cat had scoffed and said he didn’t need one. Though, if Madara had been honest, it was more like he didn’t have one, at least as far as he was concerned. Madara didn’t even know how long he had been alive. For as long as he could remember, Madara had been roaming the sky and across mountains as a great white beast, cultivating power and terror, until all the ayakashi feared him and respected him. Until all he could do was wander and pass the idle days under patches of dappled sunlight or drinking under a bright moonlit sky.
Madara finished his fluffy cake with a burp, his stomach full. It was good, as always. Too sweet for his taste, but he had no complaints.
Natsume and his friends weren’t around. Only the Fujiwara couple were there, eating their slices of cake on the table in silence.
Touko gave a quiet sigh.
“What’s wrong?” Shigeru asked.
Touko brought a spoonful of cake into her mouth. It was a while before she spoke. “This’ll be his last year here,” she said, her voice quiet.
Shigeru looked up from his cake and stared at his wife.
“Time…seems to move so fast, don’t you think?” When Touko looked up, her small smile was tinged with sadness, and Madara took it upon himself to leave.
Natsume and his friends were holed up in his room. He could hear their screams and laughter from down the stairs. Madara couldn’t find the energy to join their raucousness, so he turned left toward the front door and exited the house.
***
An excitement seemed to brim beneath the silence of the forest where the ayakashi usually gathered. Whispers and hushed glee spread throughout the woodland creatures, leading him deeper to a dark clearing his ayakashi eyes spotted through a break in the trees. Familiar figures were rushing in and out, carrying little trinkets over their heads and dropping them at the center. And then he heard the voices, high-pitched and low, familiar and not.
“Here’s more!”
“I found these.”
“Would he like it, though?”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure Natsume-sama will accept them nonetheless.”
The two middle-class youkai stood at the center by a pile of what Madara had thought were the trinkets but apparently was an assortment of stones and twigs, flowers and acorns. Many lesser ayakashi darted into the pile to drop their forage, only to leave in search for something else. Hinoe stood by, overseeing it. She was the first to spot him at the edge of the clearing.
“Madara!” she called, hand held up high in wave. If none of the ayakashi had spotted him, Hinoe’s call certainly put him under the spotlight, and most of the lesser ones bowed to him before dashing away.
Madara strolled over to the pile, eyeing it with great interest. He could feel power coursing through it, not enough to attract attention, but enough for someone with a keen eye to know that something was there.
“What’s this?”
“A gift, Madara-sama,” the middle-class youkai said. “For Natsume-sama’s birthday.”
Madara blinked. A retort was ready on his lips, but he was cut before he could say anything.
“No, these aren’t just trash,” Hinoe said. “They’ve been bathed under the moonlight for the past month and now, they’re at the peak of their power.”
“They’re said to bless humans with long life!” the middle-class piped in, echoed by his ox-face friend beside him.
Long life.
Madara scoffed. He didn’t doubt the “gift” had some sort of power—he could feel it pulsing, like the throb of a beating heart. But he doubted the power was enough to bless “long life”, or if it would at all. He wouldn’t be surprised if they would take something from Natsume in return for it.
But Madara could already picture the boy’s face: a grimace, then a resigned smile. Natsume would still accept it, even when he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Too kind. The boy was too kind. One would have thought someone who had gotten into so much of youkai trouble had learned a thing or two about dealing with the lot, but in the three years Madara had lived with him, there hadn’t been a day when he was able to leave Natsume alone without getting into any trouble.
“All right,” the middle-class said after a short while. The kappa was the last one to drop a worn pebble on the heap. “I think we’re done.”
Every ayakashi in the clearing shouted and clapped their little hands. The gift pile glowed a dim blue in the dark, emitting a sort of warmth, as though the accumulation of moonlight-induced trinkets had produced a small fire deep within. Madara wondered how the hell they would bring these to Natsume. Drop them outside of his window? He could imagine Touko frowning at the sight of it.
“Let’s pack them up, everyone!” Hinoe said with a clap of her hands, but before anyone could move, Madara interjected.
“Give them tomorrow.”
“What?”
“He’s with his friends right now,” he went on. “Or do you want them to see stones and pebbles floating around in the air?”
Silence, where each of the ayakashi present looked at each other and murmured among themselves. It wasn’t until Hinoe grinned at him and said, “Since when were you so attentive, Madara?” that his temple pulsed.
Madara ended up ordering the couple middle-class youkai to get him the best alcohol they could find, announcing they would hold their own celebration tonight, and shouts of consent and joy were thrown around. They brought him to a spring deep in the woods that seemed to glow even when there was no moon to be seen.
***
Madara lay on his back on top of a boulder at the edge of the spring. A gap in the foliage above him showed a fragment of the moonless sky.
After a night-long merriment filled with drinking and laughter and singing, and more drinking, everyone was dozing peacefully, spread across the clearing. Quiet wheezes and snores, hushed breathing and a silent whimper as someone shifted in their sleep, turning on their side to hug an empty bottle of sake, murmuring incorrigibly. Madara couldn’t sleep, staring at the stars strewn across the stretch of dark indigo sky, blinking back at him.
A stir among sleeping reveler caused him to shift his eyes toward the source of the sound. A particularly tall ayakashi approached him. Her feet barely made any sound as she stepped over the grass and her sleeping companions.
“You’re not going back, Madara?” Hinoe asked as she reached him, her blue hair swaying in the cool gentle wind.
Madara shifted his gaze back toward the sky. “I’ll return in the morning.” It’s not as though he had never stayed out late. He would open the window in the morning, and Natsume would berate, but the boy would leave him be.
Silence fell. Hinoe sat on the grass with her back against the boulder.
“Who came up with the idea for the gift?” Madara asked quietly.
It was a moment before Hinoe answered. “I did.”
“Why?”
Hinoe shrugged in the dark. “I don’t know. It just came to me that we have never given Natsume anything.”
Madara scoffed at that. “We don’t owe humans anything,” he said. “And besides, it probably would’ve been better to assemble something that would help him with his future rather than something as lofty as blessing him with long life.”
“What’s wrong with blessing him with long life?” Hinoe asked testily. “That’s what all humans wish for.”
“It’s stupid. No matter what blessing he receives, we’ll always live longer, and then one day, he’ll be gone, like a flower falling off its branch, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
He could feel Hinoe’s glare, even if he didn’t see it, before she huffed and turned her eyes away. “I only wish he would live longer than Reiko.”
Reiko. Now that was a name Madara always had trouble sorting his thoughts on. A human girl around Natsume’s age who had been such a pain that he had done all he could think of to avoid her relentless approach.
“Do you remember, Madara?” Hinoe asked. “The last time we saw Reiko.”
He remembered. It had been burned to the back of his mind. Though the scene playing in his head was probably not the same as the one Hinoe was referring to. Because Madara had seen the human again, once, years after she had come to them on that late winter day and challenged him to a match.
Come on! Reiko had insisted. This could be the last time.
He’d look at her then, this small defiant human who had seemed to have the backing of a thousand gods with the way she had been pestering him time and again. Bold. Daring. Or should he say fearless? Stupidly fearless. Didn’t she know that he could eat her alive right then and there and she would never be heard from again?
But Madara had scoffed, because he hadn’t believed it would have been the last time they saw each other. Though, if he were being honest, even if he had known, Madara probably would have still refused. So he had grunted and said, “Good riddance then,” and Reiko hadn’t returned the next day, nor the next, until he found her sitting on a set of stairs leading down to a small cemetery in the mountains, her features looking older than the last time he had seen her.
***
“What brings you here, Reiko?” he’d asked her. The human he had known to have harassed half the mountain dwellers had looked frail, and sickly then. He had seen it in the gauntness on her face, a weakness in her drawn shoulders, and the indifferent look that somehow looked tired.
She had been staring at a bouquet of white flowers on one of the cemetery gravestones. Camellias, she had said those flowers were. The red ones symbolized noble death. But the white ones, when they were brought to a graveyard, it was said to send out a message—that those who had died would live on in their hearts.
Madara had never seen Reiko look so forlorn. Her voice, small and quiet, talking about flowers and death had brushed him the wrong way. Something was off, he’d thought, but he hadn’t known what.
Until she decided to perk up and challenged him once more.
Madara had scoffed.
“Come on, you never accepted,” she had said. “For old’s time sake.” And before him had not been the sickly Reiko anymore, but the Reiko he had used to know, with that exasperating spark in her eyes. “If I win,” she’d gone on, “you’ll give me your name. But if you win…”
You can ask for anything you want, was what he had thought she would say. It had gotten to be like a spell, the way she kept saying the same thing over and over every time she met a new ayakashi. However, what she ended up saying had frozen him to the spot.
“I’ll give you the Book of Friends.”
Madara had stared at her and found her staring back—some sort of resolve swimming just underneath those amber eyes. He had heard right. She hadn’t been joking.
Of course, Madara hadn’t accepted her challenge. She had left with her young daughter shortly after he told her he would take the Book after she died. Reiko hadn’t given him any sort of retort or comeback, only smiled and said thank you. He didn’t know how many seasons passed until that one early winter day, when Madara was walking past the cemetery and he noticed something that made him pause, transfixed: hundreds of white flowers on the bushes and undergrowth blooming in unison.
Camellias.
***
“I heard Natsume’s leaving.”
Hinoe’s voice broke through his reverie, pulling Madara back to the present. The stars had slowly gone out one by one as the sky started to lighten in the distance. Dawn would come soon. Madara turned over to his side then leaped to his paws on the soft grass wet with dew.
“Rumors reach your ears fast,” Madara said, shaking himself free off the night’s ruminations. His eyes felt heavy. He needed sleep.
Hinoe straightened up her back. “What are you going to do, Madara?” she asked. Madara stared at all the ayakashi still sprawled throughout the clearing. “Are you going to follow him?”
Madara looked back at Hinoe. “I suggest you give the present after he comes home from school.” Madara turned around without another word and made his way home.
***
Natsume came home one day when Madara was dozing in the corner of his room. The door slid open, followed by quiet footfalls as Natsume made his way to his desk. Madara heard a soft thump—Natsume had sat down on the tatami mat. A moment’s pause before the boy drew out a heavy sigh, and Madara opened an eye to see him plopping down on his back, his hands stretched out on either side.
Madara waited for a moment, then, realizing Natsume wasn’t going to say anything as he stared up at his ceiling, decided to go back to sleep. His head was pounding from all the sake he had drunk the night before. However, not a heartbeat had passed when he heard Natsume sigh again and this time, Natsume spoke.
“The teacher gave us one of those future plan surveys again,” he said. “I don’t know what to write in it.”
“Didn’t you say you were going to college?” Madara said, his eyes still closed. Ever since the season rolled from summer to fall, Natsume had been staying up late at night, studying. A couple times, Madara had seen Touko and Shigeru helping him decide what schools to choose and what things he could study. Natsume had even talked to Natori that one time he visited town for another job.
“You’ll have more chances to land a good job if you go to college,” the exorcist had said.
“Did you go to college, Natori-san?”
Natori only smiled and said, “I did,” but had not elaborated.
“I could just look for a job here,” Natsume went on. “I’m sure there’s something I can do. Help out in someone’s store or something.” He paused. “What do you think, Sensei?”
Madara was silent for a while. He couldn’t believe Natsume was asking these things when he seemed to have been quite excited the last time Madara saw him talk with the Fujiwaras. And why was he even asking him about his future plans? And his head still pounded hard and the light filtering through the windows didn’t help at all.
A migraine was coming.
Madara turned around on his paws to shield his eyes from the light and plopped himself back down, desperately wishing for sleep to come.
“I don’t care what you choose nor am I obligated to help sort your human problems,” he said. “Whatever you go with, rest assured that I will be with you all the way.”
Silence fell. It was a moment before Madara realized what he had said, and it made him internally cringe. When he was about to take it back, his head hurt so bad that even lifting his eyelid was too much of an effort.
“Sensei…” he heard Natsume say, so soft he almost missed it.
He had expected a scoff or a laugh, but all Madara heard was a sort of wonderment in his voice. And maybe it was all right, this moment of sincerity. Or maybe it was the sake talking. Or the migraine talking. Just to get Natsume off his back and let him have his peaceful sleep.
But there was one thing Madara knew.
Once upon a time, Reiko had wanted to entrust the Book of Friends to him. Once upon a time, Madara had promised he would. He could say that was the reason why he said what he said. Or even the promise he had made Natsume on the day they first met, before he became the boy’s so-called guardian. But despite the quiet excitement brimming under the surface, Madara had seen the faraway look on Natsume’s face when no one was looking. A slight frown, drawn eyes, and furrowed brow—almost the same expression he had seen on Reiko’s face all those years ago, when she came to him and Hinoe and challenged him to a match.
This could be the last time.
He had thought Reiko as bold, and daring, and fearless. But after living with a human for three years, Madara had begun to see her persistence as a way to hide her loneliness and anxiety.
And maybe, Natsume felt the same.
Madara forced open an eye and found Natsume lying on his side on the mat, gazing at him. Silent. Expecting. And maybe a little apprehensive, though who was he to know? Humans were such complicated creatures.
“I’ll stay with you wherever you go, Natsume,” he said.
Natsume blinked.
A moment passed, then another. Natsume didn’t say anything, and Madara frowned. That was the most cringe-worthy line he had ever said. He turned his face away and closed his eyes once again.
But then he heard it—a soft chuckle—and he imagined a small smile grazing Natsume’s lips as the boy whispered, “Thanks, sensei.”
Madara’s chest tightened and his stomach flip-flopped. A peculiar yet bothersome sensation he would rather not feel again, but it wasn’t bad. Madara’s ears drew back in contentment.
“Now leave me be!” he said instead. “I have a headache!” Natsume’s light laughter was the last thing he heard before he finally drifted into sleep.
~ END ~
#natsume yuujinchou#natsumeweek#natsume week#natsumeweek 2020#fanfiction#my fanfiction#natsume fanfic#my story
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31: New Year’s Kiss
sorry i haven’t posted any more of the ficmas stuff lol. i’ve been so busy sometimes i forgot to write it all together. anyway this is Sad and i’m sorry but i’ve been dwelling on this particular angst topic for ages aldasldghasdh.
read it on ao3
word count: 1998 | posted DEC 31 2019
New Year’s in Derry wasn’t different from anywhere else. The kids all piled into the Hanlon’s barn, the empty old one full of rusting, dying farm equipment. They’d go treasure hunting in there sometimes, pulling up relics from the farm’s past, from the town’s history.
Those kids had reputations. They were soft with one another, all caresses and forehead kisses, because their parents… well, their parents weren’t. Even the Kaspbrak boy, who hated being called small or delicate, was soft with those kids. His gaze turned to them and became all soft edges and little smiles, big eyes and freckles. It was easy to see why Sonia kept him hidden away, tried to keep him under her thumb. He was like one of those puppies you get for Christmas, the ones that quickly outgrow your twelve-year-old’s patience. Eddie couldn’t be brought back to the pound, though, so he got drunk at the old Hanlon barn in the middle of nowhere, where he could scream and run and nobody would stop him.
The Marsh girl supplied them with alcohol. She was a charmer, but the only boys she ever fell for in return were those boys. The only ones who didn’t treat her like anything but something to be cherished. The only ones who didn’t suffocate her. The ones who lifted her up, higher and higher and higher, away from the clutches of Al Marsh, away from the stares and the sneers that awaited girls in that town. Bev loved them, unendingly, with the fire that nobody else could see in her. They all knew that she was their core, the thing they twisted around and bent to. She was the moon, and they all were the tide, and the crops, and the people that worshipped her.
The Denbrough boy soaked up all the attention he could get. Never got any at home, not since his brother, well. You know. He got the most drunk, the quickest, and threw up in the bushes, then drank some more to get the taste out of his mouth. He never was the same, after that summer. It’s a shame, seeing bright children go to waste like that. He could write, though. Where the others could see things effortlessly, like the way the branches of a tree could weave together to make a roof, he saw words. He saw stories, or he had them in his chest. They brought him up to the stars, too, because they were the only ones who would pick them for him like apples from a tree. It’d be easy, for them, if they did it at his request. They would do anything for him. Well, they’d do anything for each other. But they followed Bill wherever he went, wherever he wandered, no matter how dangerous or doomed or ill-conceived.
Hanscom, that kid with the single mother, he was never outspoken. He was always quiet, always last place, but he worked hard. He was earnest, he was kind, and gentle, and everything none of the others ever expected a man to be. They all knew men as filthy, snarling beasts with slurs on the tips of their tongue, but Ben held their hands and rubbed their shoulders and wrote them poems, got them flowers. Never raised his voice at them, or hit them, always asked before he kissed and kept secrets as faithfully as a dog. He ran with Eddie, both of them trying to outrun something they never could. He rarely got as excited, as hyper as Eddie, but they were both dancing in circles around the other Losers in the frigid December air, howling to the wind. Successfully outrunning whatever they were trying to, at least for the night.
Tozier howled too, something wild overcoming him as the cycle worked closer to the ending and then, the beginning. He didn’t run, too long-limbed to be any good at it. His glasses had been long-lost, he was too drunk to really know the difference anyway. They--the kids--mellowed him out, ran his energy thin. Mike’s hand on his arm, a sideways glance from Bev, a kiss from Eddie were the only things that ever got him to stop talking. He danced, though, with the Marsh girl, breathless and pressed together. He was all straight lines, physically, but everything else about him was crooked and looped and broken. He’d crash and spend the night in the center of the circle, the way those kids slept together, pressed against one another, holding someone in the middle. Richie would be the one tonight, after he started gasping from cold and everyone realized he was crying.
Uris was curled up against Hanlon, on top of a pile of filthy hay with a blanket laid over top. They were mellow, watching with half-open eyes as the others danced and sang and screamed. Stan wasn’t usually calm, but there was something about the others that made him think it would all be okay. He was all nerves, afraid of his own shadow. Who knows--maybe he did have something real to fear. His father never seemed to think so, but Stan knew better. There were plenty of things to be afraid of when he wasn’t pressed up against Mike, when he wasn’t watching Eddie and Ben chase each other with sparklers. He had so much to fear. Eddie’s mom, and Bev’s future, when she’d be pulled from the town like a healthy tooth from a mouth. Richie’s instability, Ben’s insecurity. Bill’s neglect. When they were worried, they came to Stan, because Stan would tell them everything would be okay in the most certain of terms, even when Stan didn’t believe it himself.
Mike was the thing that kept them all together. If Bev was the core, Mike was the gravity holding everything to the core, keeping them packed so tightly together that nobody could pry them apart. He was the warmest, so when they were cold, they would reach out and ask for his hands against their fingers, their nose, their ears. Mike would oblige, in return for a kiss. They wouldn’t hesitate to deliver. Mike hated to see things in pain. He hated the screaming of the newborn calf, the one with the birth defect where it looked so sickly they had to kill it. He hated the sound of the sobbing. Richie’s crying, saying they’d all have to leave eventually, that they’d forget. Mike knew they would--that’s the thing about Derry. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how you wrote it down or catalogued it, you’d forget. Derry wasn’t on any maps or travel guides. Nobody who left Derry ever came back, unless they came for a funeral. There were no hospitals in Derry, no wedding venues. The only reason to come back, the only reason to remember, was at a wake, as they lowered the body into the ground.
Richie didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want to be alone again, he didn’t want to have to start fresh, even if he was still sporting a black eye from the last time Bowers’ cronies played Smear the Queer. He wanted to curl up in the hay, with Bev spooning him and petting his hair, he wanted to die like that. Wanted to feel Mike’s calloused hands on his face forever.
“I can’t forget,” Richie begged, “There has to be some way to remember.”
The radio was on in the background, announcing the start of the New Year. The last year the Losers would be in high school, the last year they’d have together before the Forgetting. Mike dreaded it, more than anything in the world. He’d never felt his chest seize up like the thought of the Losers leaving. They’d forget him, they’d move on. The clown had promised them happy lives if they left. Mike wouldn’t. There was no future for him outside of Derry. He could feel the others revving up to leave, almost as if they were enticed by the Forgetting.
Three minutes to midnight, and they were still around Richie, placating him with empty promises. They knew they wouldn’t keep them. They’d made a promise, and for the promise to work someone had to stay, and Stan had been accepted to Georgia State and Bev had gotten into some fancy fashion design school in Upstate New York, and Mike had nothing. Mike had an ailing grandfather and a failing farm and no more cattle.
Richie was inconsolable. He went to the one person who didn’t know how to lie. “Ben, will you stay? Please? With me, we don’t have to stay here, we can go anywhere, we can--”
“Richie,” Ben said, with sad eyes, with the gentle hands and kind words. That’s all he said. He couldn’t lie, so he didn’t. He didn’t say anything, just tried to keep the lump in his throat from turning into something more. He didn’t know whether sobs or words would be more mortifying.
Sixty seconds.
They moved closer, a few blankets covering them, encasing them in the warmth of an embrace.
Richie begged and begged, like he was hurting. Mike imagined this is what the sheep sounded like before he put a bullet through their brain. He pleaded, hands twisting in the front of Mike’s shirt. Bev was crying, too, her face pressed to the back of Richie’s head.
When the buzzer went off, Mike surged forward to kiss him. Richie tasted like tears, like alcohol, and Mike let out a sob into Richie’s mouth. The future was so rocky, so uncertain, so unstable it felt like crumbling earth. Like they were on a cliff face, about to tumble into the sea.
“Rich,” Stan said, rubbing Richie’s calf, “You know we can’t--we can’t stay together. We’d forget, we’d drift. It’d hurt less to just leave. We have right now, though. I love you so much, Rich, it hurts to think about it too much.”
Richie shuddered, burying his face in the crook of Mike’s neck. The knowledge felt too heavy, it weighed down their shoulders. Mike could feel Eddie sit down next to him, finally run all the way down to his bones.
“Mikey,” Eddie said, a tremble in his voice, “I don’t want to leave.”
Eddie was brave. He’d resisted, he’d all but run away in his attempt to get his mother to stay in the town. He’d faltered, though. He wasn’t a coward any more than the rest of them, but he’d caved, he’d let his mother drag him out to NYC. Ben was moving away, too, and Bev and Stan and…
Mike let out a sound that could have been a sob, but was closer to a wail. He hated it, feeling so vulnerable, so open.
“I love you,” Ben said, in lieu of Mike, “More than anything, Eddie, I love all of you.”
Eddie’s back was pressed up against Mike’s, solid and not delicate at all. He’d filled out, after the first few weeks of letting his lungs expand all the way, of letting himself breathe and run and scream.
“Happy New Year,” Bill muttered, bitter and quiet and angry. He was, more than anyone, angry. At his parents, his teachers, himself. At that stupid fucking clown. But he could never be angry at them, and he let out a sigh, Stan caressing his shoulders. He relaxed into Stan’s touch. They cried together, they all cried, they all mourned, grieved for what that clown had done to them, even if he hadn’t killed them. He’d stapled them together by the palms of their hands and then he ripped them apart, tearing them from one another like an arm from a shoulder.
They loved so hard that it would kill them to leave, for the days, for the hours they remembered. They knew, they knew it was coming and there was no way out because they were all just scared kids, still trying to survive, still trying to put one foot in front of the other.
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With A Bow On Top
Summary: After giving birth to your daughter three months ago, the life of being a new Mum meant you weren’t as prepared for Seunghoon’s Christmas present this year.
Pairing: Lee Seunghoon x reader
Genre: Christmas au / parent au / suggestive / fluff
Warnings: mentioning of smut but not in depth at all.
A/N: The final story in the Christmas in July series that I’ve been collaborating with @this-song-thats-only-for-you over is a little bit spicy. I wanted to write about a topic that would affect a lot of new mothers so I hope you enjoy this with a festive spin on it!
Word count: 2419
** This story takes place in the “Late for Christmas” world. You can read this apart from the other two stories in this world, but if you’d like the full picture, the links are just below.
Late for Christmas | New Year, New Adventure
Normally you had an idea of what to buy Seunghoon each year. Some of the time that came from not so subtle hints from him, or something would appear in front of you when gift hunting and you would just know that was something your husband would love to receive. However, this was the first Christmas that would be different.
There had been a few changes lately so you really did have to give yourself some credit for being at a loss on what to get him. As a new Mum, you didn’t have as much time as you had in the past to go out and shop at various places with leisure. Your daughter, as much as you adored her, was easily fussy and outings were still stressful for you to do alone. Sure, Seunghoon had to work so you could go out with your Mum to search for the perfect gift with her assistance, but you still hadn’t been successful.
So this year you would have to take the uninspired route.
You approached Seunghoon after dinner with your daughter in one arm. Resigned. For some reason, you already felt as if you had failed this year to make it as special as every other had been.
Seunghoon glanced at you, his smile widening for you both until he noticed your expression. His brows knitted together, now perplexed. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“What do you want for Christmas this year?” you asked hurriedly, looking away as you finished the statement. You felt guilty for asking and his silence only made your thoughts heavier. Turning back to glance at your husband, you sighed. “I don’t have a single idea this year to surprise you with.”
His smile grew again, and the light within his eyes relaxed you somewhat. You rearranged the four month old in your arms in anticipation for a cheesy line to come out of his mouth. Ever since your daughter was born, he had stepped up with some incredibly cringe-worthy lines, making you laugh or shudder depending on the mood. Right now, you expected him to say, ‘I already have the best gifts standing right before me’, or something of the like.
But he didn’t say that. In fact, what he said was brief yet impacting. You blinked. “What did you say?”
“I want you for Christmas,” Seunghoon repeated, the gaze he now gave you drying out your throat. You knew that stare all too well. The message was clear.
Yet you brushed it off, giggling a little. “Don’t be so silly, I meant as a present. That isn’t a gift at all when you’ve had it many times during our relationship.”
“And you’re the proof of that, aren’t you,” he cooed, scooping your daughter into his arms.
You rolled your eyes at his response and placed a hand on your hip. “Hoon, I need an actual answer.”
“I gave you one.”
“What about something for your music or gaming or have you seen any clothes you would like lately?”
He shook his head once, still playing with the infant within his arms affectionately. However, his avoidance at giving you a proper answer irked you. You whined and he finally glanced in your direction. “Y/N, I told you what I want. I know being a mother has changed your relationship with your body but I miss you. I want you as my Christmas present. With a bow on top.”
The smirk that played upon his lips made you blush.
“I’m being serious right now.”
Seunghoon tilted his head as if that would help you understand his feelings. He chuckled a little incredulously. “Babe, so am I. I want you. That’s it. Now I’m going to take this little Miss off to bed and give you a chance to relax, or plan how you’re going to execute my gift.”
With a final look in your direction, your husband left you to contemplate his request. You wanted to scoff, to deny it and come up with a better plan. Yet you knew where Seunghoon was coming from. Having your daughter had been one of the most beautiful experiences in your life. However, Seunghoon was right; your body was different now. You were proud of it for carrying your child safely but you weren’t as confident with it post-partum. It had taken you a while to heal from childbirth and since then you had been hesitant. It wasn’t as if you didn’t crave intimacy with Seunghoon. You loved him and knew he would cherish you, take care of you.
All the same, you didn’t think you could still have the same effect over him as you once did. It was foolish, even you could admit that.
Heading into your bedroom, you stood before your mirror, a small smile crossing your lips as you had once done the same thing before telling your husband that your body was about to change since you were carrying a life within. Now without your daughter inside of you, the reflection was yet another phase of your life. You were a wife, a mother, and it showed. The restless nights and waking up to breastfeed meant you had permanent dark circles under your eyes and your skin looked just as tired. Your hair was messily tied back from your face, stray tendrils falling away from the tie. Your shirt had a stain on it from god knows what, and you were certain you had been wearing the same pants for the past three days.
Maybe to Seunghoon you were still beautiful but in your eyes, you couldn’t see anything remotely sexy about yourself anymore.
You sighed heavily, unsure if you could fulfil his request this year.
The air outside was crisp yet indoors was warm with Christmas spirit all around. You had chosen to go out for dinner with your family two days out from Christmas since everyone wouldn’t make it for the big day, and you were currently surrounded by good food and laughter. The night was still young when you departed from the restaurant, not because you were now parents who had a child to put down to bed, in fact, tonight you wouldn’t be doing that at all. You were anxious now standing outside in the parking lot, your gaze darting around the place.
You had a lot riding on tonight.
“Okay say goodbye to Nana.” Seunghoon handed your daughter over to your mother and she looked at you before shaking her head.
“Say goodnight to Daddy instead,” she told him and your husband frowned, looking at you for information.
“Mum wanted to spend time with her granddaughter, sort of like an early Christmas present.”
“I hear you both have a lot of presents to wrap so see this as a good chance to do things you can’t with a little one around,” she encouraged with a knowing smile in your direction, her silent boost to your confidence making you smile nervously.
Although Seunghoon wasn’t entirely placated with this answer, he nodded at your mother before fussing over the small child in her arms for a final time tonight. You kissed your daughter and after saying goodbye to your parents and siblings, you climbed into the car and tried to limit any fidgeting to a bare minimum. Seunghoon was already suspicious of your behaviour and you didn’t need to give away your plans before you were ready to.
And that’s why when you got home, you immediately did as your mother suggested.
“You really let your parents babysit tonight so you could wrap presents?” he wondered, his voice thick with disbelief.
Glancing up at your husband, you gave him an easy smile. “They need to be done.”
“Yeah but…” Seunghoon glanced at the door leading to the hallway and then sighed. Sitting down beside you, he grinned instead. “Two sets of hands will get through this faster, leaving us time to do other things.”
“I like the idea of that.”
Soon, the presents were all neatly packaged and you had sung along to far too many Christmas songs. Once the last gift was placed under the tree, you smiled at Seunghoon. He reached out for you and pulled you into his arms.
“Now it’s time for us,” he announced and you shifted back just enough to shake your head. Seunghoon gaped at you. “What, do you have something else to do?”
“Of course!”
There was the large pile of laundry you hadn’t yet caught up on folding, again your husband helped with that too, albeit begrudgingly. You managed to fit in another couple of tasks and when you mentioned you were just going to take a shower and get ready for bed, Seunghoon was convinced that you two weren’t going to be on the same page about any intimacy tonight.
Slipping under the water raining over you from above, you attempted to silence your amusement. You didn’t need to give it away, and frankly, you still needed to prepare everything you had left before the grand reveal. After showering, you worked on drying yourself in front of the bathroom mirror, silently repeating the affirmations you had been all week long. You placed on the lingerie you had purchased and then threw your oversized top over it, glancing into the mirror again to ensure your surprise was hidden. And then you grabbed one more thing from out of the cabinet above the sink and ventured into your bedroom.
Seunghoon didn’t even glance up at your appearance in the bedroom, working on his laptop now that he accepted having an uneventful evening. You approached his side of the bed, leaning down so you could strike up a conversation.
Inwardly, you waited for the right moment to happen.
“What are you doing?” you asked brightly, scooting in closer so your legs were flush with the side of the bed.
Seunghoon glanced up at you and then smiled. “Work emails.”
“You’re doing them right before bed?”
“Much like you did laundry and dishes,” he replied, tone laced with a hint of bitterness.
You smiled when his hand fell instinctively to your thigh.
This was something you had hoped for. It was a habit of Seunghoon’s since he had an affinity about your thighs, and whether being seductive or affectionate, you could guarantee he would reach for you there every time. You shifted so his hand that was now rubbing mindless circles on your bare skin could reach up higher. It took a couple of minutes of casual banter, but finally, Seunghoon’s hand connected with what was hidden underneath.
He stilled, his sentence stopping midway as his eyes snapped to yours. From the angle you now held, you were certain he could see down the neck hole of your top and he moved his stare to look there as well. You smirked, he was too predictable sometimes.
“What are you wearing?” he asked, voice huskier than usual.
Now it was you who was equally affected. Fumbling to pull the item you had tucked down your back, you placed the bow on your head. Your husband’s eyes flashed with building desire and you smiled at him, pushing the laptop aside so you could sit in his lap instead.
“I know you’re not one for early presents but-”
“I’m more than ready for this one,” he squeaked out and you laughed, leaning in to kiss him. He chased away your humour with passion, kissing you with demand as his hands felt for what was hidden underneath your top. Much like when trying to decipher what a gift was sneakily through the wrapping, his nimble fingers explored all the edges they could feel, his lips now moving to your neck and anchoring on. It felt better than you ever remembered, and you moaned wantonly under his examination.
“Is this why we’re childless tonight?” he breathed and you grew meek temporarily, his husky laugh reaching right down to your core. “You’re so adorable you know that, right?”
“I know it’s normal for everyone, but it felt odd doing something so intimate as this with our daughter in the room.”
“Remind me to buy your mother flowers to thank her tomorrow,” Seunghoon mentioned and he slowly pulled the bow out of your hair, smiling hungrily at you as he discarded it across the room. He then stopped, eying you so intensely that you were thankful for being within his arms as you felt your knees go weak. He then smirked. “Time for me to unwrap my Christmas present, huh?”
You nodded, chewing on your lip anxiously. “I hope you like all the surprises within.”
Your nerves eased as soon as Seunghoon laid you down beneath him on the bedding. Something you had dreaded happening now felt euphoric. As his hands removed every layer you had on, the sexier you felt before him. The kisses over your body reconnected you with the lust you had lost over the past few months, and the moans you let sound around the room reaffirmed your need for the way Seunghoon pleasured you.
After climaxing for the second time, you fell back into the bedding heavily, spent from your lovemaking. Seunghoon rolled onto his side next to you, the smile on his lips inerasable. “You’re something else. I don’t think it’s ever been as good as that.”
“Maybe I should make you wait more often,” you teased and despite chuckling, he shook his head quickly in response.
Reaching to cup your face within his hand, he kissed your swollen lips tenderly. “You’re so beautiful, you know that, right?”
“I do.”
Because you realised now that you could be anything you wanted to be. Your body had definitely changed. And it would continue to do just that with age and further children. Your husband would still be able to make you feel like the most magical woman in his life no matter how you appeared on the outside because your connection with him wasn’t just skin deep. It reached right down into your soul and awakened your entire being.
You were beautiful, sexy even.
Seunghoon kissed your forehead and got up to get something to help you both clean up and once you were both settled back under the blankets, with sleep ebbing at the edges of your mind, you heard the small breath he took.
“You know, with my birthday coming soon and-”
You smiled lazily as you replied. “Don’t worry, I’ve got some plans on how to make that present just as good as tonight’s has been.”
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AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “Cold Comfort” [ 2.05 ]
CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows) || S2 Tag || Official Page
ON THIN ICE – The holiday season brings less cheer than usual as reality settles in with the winter. New traditions replace the old. Invitations to the Matthews’ annual holiday party are extended to all, but a select few are left out in the cold.
58 Minutes (14K words) || No warnings apply.
[ ← Valerie De La Cruz ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ How the Twinks Saved Christmas → ]
( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )
EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Christmas Time Is Here” as performed by Vince Guaraldi Trio || Performed by AAA Juniors
Flurries are falling over a chilly grey Manhattan, winter descending upon the city. With winter break right on the horizon, the vocals of the junior class set the mood for what is certain to be an uneven holiday season.
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - RILEY’S ROOM - DAY
RILEY MATTHEWS is feeling that uncertainty as she finishes addressing and sealing invitations for the annual Matthews holiday party. She’s got a sizable stack for her classmates in a pile on her desk, just finishing off the last few. She scribbles Clarissa’s name on the top of one and adds it to the stack, methodically moving to the next one.
As she continues to work, a montage shows us little glimpses of how other homes are looking around this time of year...
INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - DAY
The Hart apartment is cozy but empty, both its inhabitants out on the grind. No decorations are up within the place, which seems off.
INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY
The Minkus home is in the process of being lavishly decorated for the winter and Jewish holiday season, but its only the help participating. Although the aura gives the appearance of being festive, none of the Minki are around to appreciate it.
INT. BABINEAUX HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY
A collection of cutely wrapped gifts has begun to accumulate at the foot of a pretty Christmas tree in the Babineaux living room, JADA BABINEAUX home for winter break and in the process of adding some to the pile.
INT. FOSTER HOME - DAY
No such room for gifts at the foster home, where a gorgeous fir tree takes precedence in the living room but has no collection of gifts to go with it. Instead, letters addressed to each of the foster kids dots the tree like ornaments, presumably holding pricey but thoughtless gifts inside.
INT. GARDNER HOME - DAY
The Gardner home is elegantly curated for the most important time of year, ELEANOR GARDNER putting the finishing touches on the garland and stocking arrangement over the fireplace. She also touches up the glass miniature set of the birth of Jesus set up on the mantle, not one detail out of place.
INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY
At the Friar apartment, nothing is different. The place is quiet and dark, and the window to Lucas’s fire escape is open even with the frigid weather.
INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - DAY
ERIC MATTHEWS pulls a rack of cookies out of the oven, frantically blowing to cool them off and dropping them on the stovetop. Behind him, gift bags with the names of his fellow faculty wait to be filled in preparation for the last day of school.
INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - DAY
JACK HUNTER decorates his apartment with simple but sweet touches, SHAWN HUNTER and ANGELA MOORE playfully arguing in the background over where their old stockings should go. Jack seems to have a moment of melancholy, before he’s pulled out of it by ANNE MARIE WINTHROP approaching from behind and giving him a peck on the cheek. She hands him a mug of hot chocolate, which he accepts.
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY
Riley hesitates on the last couple of invitations, all sealed and ready to go but not bearing names. It’s clear she’s debating whether or not to address them at all, glancing up at her rather blank moodboard for guidance. It doesn’t have any, obviously, so she’ll have to make her own call.
Determined, Riley quickly writes the last two question marks on the envelopes -- Lucas and Farkle. Then she adds them to the top of the pile, tying it together with a piece of twine and heading out.
EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY
Riley makes her way down the street to the mailbox, snowflakes catching in her hair. She stands in front of it for a long moment, gazing down at the invitations and attempting to swallow the last of her trepidation.
Then she drops the stack into the mailbox, shutting it and fast-walking back up the street to escape the cold.
Cue title sequence.
This episode, much like the Les Mis one of the first season, takes on a slightly different structure than usual. It unfolds in miniature vignettes, capturing the unique experiences of each of our main players as first semester comes to a close.
Between each story, a small quote indicates a transition in time and focus. So, over black:
PART I
There’s a world outside your window, and it’s a world of dread and fear.
And the only bells that chime there are the clanging chimes of doom...
INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY
Even with the uncertain mood permeating the junior class, the atmosphere still feels festive. Lockers are decorated for students’ respective holidays, and with only a day left of class, energy is higher than usual. Students from all different grades greet one another in the halls, dressed in their most cozy-looking apparel and exchanging small gifts.
LUCAS FRIAR is at his locker, evidently not in the same spirit. He looks as disgruntled as usual, fighting with one of his notebooks before just tossing it down in the bottom and calling it a day.
However, he’s got forces working against him to bring the holiday cheer. He jumps when ASHER GARCIA and DYLAN ORLANDO pop up next to him, slamming his locker closed and launching into a goofy, pitchy duet of the opening tones of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” They point to one another as they sing the name “Dasher,” Lucas unable to hold back a smile.
Lucas: You did it, mission accomplished. I’m officially anti-Christmas.
They jeer at him, knowing his whole dismissal is a facade. The two of them seem more than ready for the season, Asher looking sharp and cozy in a burgundy cardigan and Dylan in what might be the most outlandish holiday sweater ever manufactured.
Lucas: [ to Asher ] You look like adolescent Mr. Rogers. [ to Dylan ] And you look like Buddy the Elf.
Dylan, happily: That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.
They go on to ask him what the plan is for the techie party this year is, but Lucas claims he doesn’t know. He isn’t even sure they’re still doing it.
Asher: What? We can’t not do it. It’s tradition.
Lucas: We’ve done it, what, two years? That’s not a tradition.
Dylan: Well, not with that attitude.
The three of them begin walking to class, Lucas expressing that the planning for the party usually falls on Isadora. So they should maybe ask her -- oh, but wait, they can’t, because she’s far too busy hanging with her new diva cult to think about it.
Dylan: [ to Asher ] There’s a cult?
Asher: No, it’s just a -- don’t worry about it.
Dylan: I’m not worried, I’m offended. I thought we were going to start one first.
INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY
The full A class is assembled on stage, waiting for Shawn and Harper to arrive for announcements regarding the last days before winter break. As they’re hanging around, DAVE WILLIAMS has the eye to point out Lucas’s newest aesthetic feature.
Dave: Hey, man, nice new kicks.
They’re the boots he was eyeing in the store window during Thanksgiving break. He thanks Dave smugly, ISADORA DE LA CRUZ tuning into the conversation and frowning. She knows damn well Lucas can’t afford new shoes, let alone ones like that… she makes eye contact with Riley across the circle, who is wearing a similar skeptical expression.
Harper finally arrives, giving the basic low down of some non-stressful last few days activities they plan to do. Shawn jogs in a few moments later, stating after Harper’s dismissed them into small groups that he needs to meet with the techies separately.
Asher and Dylan look to Lucas, curious if he knows what’s up. He shrugs, the three of them marching off with the rest of the crew to their usual spot in the back.
Once they’ve settled into the chairs in the back center section, Shawn stands in front of them and begins his explanation. He speaks with uncharacteristic hesitancy, so it’s evident that whatever he’s about to tell them isn’t going to be good news. And it’s decidedly not -- he informs them that the technician’s booth will be shut down and off-limits until further notice. They aren’t allowed inside.
All of the techies are shocked by this, pointing out how that’s going to impact their work and wondering how long it’s going to be in effect -- but Lucas is downright feral. He’s the loudest opposition out of all of them, asking how the hell they’re supposed to do their jobs and stating there can’t be a good reason for this. As Shawn notes, however, they’re literally a day away from winter break so they won’t be doing much work anyway.
When Lucas presses on why the mandate was laid down, all eyes turn expectantly to Shawn. He stammers out an explanation about new equipment, claiming they’re running on old juice and it’ll be great for all of them to get some better upgrades.
JEFF MONROE and the others seem somewhat excited about this, but Lucas remains unconvinced. He grits his teeth as Shawn continues on with announcements, already thinking ahead.
INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S ROOM - NIGHT
Ousted back into his reluctant abode rather than recluse in the booth, Lucas is cramped in his bedroom with the door locked tight. The window is still open to let in the cold but fresh air, Lucas slouched on the floor in front of his mattress. He’s wearing a worn-out Knicks sweatshirt, an outdated behemoth of a laptop computer on his lap as he squints in the dark.
His focus shifts as his phone lights up with a text from Isadora. She heard about the booth, and is just checking in to see if he’s okay or if there’s any way she can help in the meantime. Lucas opts to ignore it, tossing his phone back down and getting back to work.
On the computer, he’s deep on a web search looking up the models of their equipment in the booth. Based on what he can tell, most of the stuff they have in there is already updated to the latest model. All of this is way too fishy, and he’s not buying a second of it.
INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY
Lucas sneaks into the school at the crack of dawn the next morning, still wearing the same sweatshirt and his hair stuffed under a beanie rather than his usual snapback for warmth. He makes his way up to the booth, taking the stairs two at a time.
He takes a moment to make sure no one is around, and then swiftly picks the lock into the booth and breaks inside.
INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY
From what he can tell, everything looks about the same as he left it. He goes to get a good look around, double-checking his list of their equipment and his theorized models, confirming his suspicion that the upgraded equipment excuse was a lie. His fellow techies may not notice, but he spends far too much time in the booth to be fooled.
When he goes to check his usual nook, he’s stunned to find that the panel he usually takes out of the wall has been screwed shut. No more easy removal of it. Lucas curses to himself, checking in the other hiding places where he’d keep his overnight stuff and finding nothing.
Everything is gone.
Starting to panic, Lucas’s attention drifts to a safety notice that has been taped up above the paneling. It reads like an inspection notice, stating that the current area has suffered a “pest infestation” and needs to be fumigated and closed off until further notice. Case in point, the real reason they aren’t allowed in the booth.
Lucas scowls, ripping the notice off the wall in a fury.
INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY
The notice is slammed down on Jack’s desk, Lucas hardly able to contain his emotions as he meets with him.
Lucas: This? Is bullshit.
Jack takes the notice from him, making a comment about how he wonders how Lucas got his hands on it. Oh, no, silly him. Of course he just disregarded a mandate from his teacher and barged his way into the booth anyway.
Jack, deadpan: Glad to see we’re remaining consistent right up until the last breath of the semester.
Lucas isn’t in the mood for jokes. Whatever sort of authoritarian bureaucratic fuckery this is, it’s all wrong. They don’t have the right to bar them from one of their most important spaces when they don’t even have a legitimate reason for doing so.
Lucas: I have been in that booth for hundreds of hours -- I practically live in it -- and not once have I seen what I would consider a “pest.” Can’t even make a joke about Minkus or Hart, since we make a point of keeping them out of there. This is unfounded.
Jack: And you can’t trust the authorities in your life that perhaps there is a reason?
Lucas: When all of their excuses so far have been absolute crap? Actually, no, I can’t.
Jack caves, raising his hands in surrender. Lucas wants the truth? Fine. The infestation referred to on the notice isn’t about mice or vermin -- janitor Harley informed him that he discovered evidence that someone or someones might be staying in the booth. That’s a major no-no, not to mention a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Lucas does his best to keep his expression neutral. He continues to stammer for more arguments, but for what it’s worth Jack can see right through him.
Lucas: You can’t just do this based on a suspicion! You don’t even have proof!
Jack: Proof? You really want proof?
Lucas: Well, since you don’t have any --
Jack: Fine!
Jack rises from his desk, going to the small storage closet in his office. He retrieves a full duffle bag of things -- the items recovered from the booth when Harley stumbled upon it. He drops it on the desk, watching Lucas’s expression as it shifts from aggressive to stunned.
Jack: These were the items Harley found in the booth. Look familiar?
Lucas: … I --
Jack: Think they should. I’m fairly certain they belong to you.
Checkmate. Jack knows Lucas was the one staying in the booth, and he knows that’s why he’s taking this whole thing so personally.
Still, he responds with empathy. He attempts to get Lucas to talk about what’s going on, or how long this has been a thing, but such difficult conversations can quickly go nowhere. And with Lucas’s current emotional state, that’s exactly what happens. He lashes out instead, shutting down rather than taking Jack’s offers of help.
So Jack has to switch approaches as well, warning Lucas that he cannot keep doing things like this. His behavior is increasingly causing more issues, and with certain people keeping their eyes on the school this is not the time to be lighting more matches. He can’t continue to look out for him if he’s going to take advantage of it at every turn.
Lucas, defensive: Then don’t. News flash, I don’t care about this stupid school!
Jack tries to get him to stop and actually talk, but Lucas is over it. He scoops his things off the desk -- confirming they are in fact his, to Jack’s clear dismay -- and storms out of the office.
INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY
Lucas is attempting to stuff some of the things in his locker, any holiday cheer that he may have picked up earlier in the day long gone. Dylan and Asher come to find him again, obviously concerned by his palpable anger and wondering how he’s handling being kicked out of the booth.
Not well, obviously. Dylan tries to say something to cheer him up, but Lucas isn’t hearing it. He’s gathering his things into the duffle.
Asher: Well, hanging out with the crew will make you feel better. We’ll be able to figure out the plan for the holiday --
Lucas, harshly: Pretty sure the party’s off, spaghetti. Not that it fucking matters anyway.
Lucas slams his locker, marching down the hall. Asher and Dylan call after him, wondering where the hell he’s going.
Lucas: Anywhere but here. I’m taking winter break early.
Asher tries to get him to stop, but he’s already gone. The two of them exchange worried looks.
EXT. AAA - DAY
As Lucas is jogging down the steps, he gets a call from Isadora. She asks where the hell he is before class. He brushes off the concern, and when she changes the subject and asks about the techie party plans, he snaps. He states it’s funny that she’s bothering to ask, but she’s wasting her time. He doesn’t feel much like celebrating, and he won’t be participating this year.
Isadora: Lucas, are you kidding? You can’t just bail. If you don’t do the break-in, then what are we supposed to do?
Lucas: Oh, you’ll figure it out without me. You’ve gotten really good at that.
Lucas hangs up before Isadora can respond, stuffing his phone in his pocket. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the icy air and running the rest of the way down the steps. As far away from AAA as he can get, as fast as possible.
PART II
Merry Christmas, darling, we’re apart that’s true,
But I can dream, and in my dreams I’m Christmas-ing with you…
INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY
While Lucas is accosted by Dylan and Asher in the background and they launch into “Rudolph,” we’re now following ZAY BABINEAUX as he makes his way through the halls with his duffle. He nods to friends as he passes them, high-fives with YINDRA AMINO as they cross paths outside the black box. But his destination that morning is a bit further away, a quick stop before the rest of the school day unfolds…
INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY
He makes it to his and Charlie’s usual studio just as CHARLIE GARDNER is wrapping up a routine, totally focused on the choreography. Zay takes a moment to watch, leaning against the doorframe with a fond smile on his face.
Once he’s done, Charlie whips around and spots Zay. He reacts in surprise at first, claiming he scared him and wondering why the hell he’s just hanging in the doorway when he should’ve just come in. He could’ve easily stopped the run through. Zay brushes it off, sauntering in as Charlie excitedly claims he has something to show him.
He retrieves something from the front pocket of his backpack, turning back and giving Zay a grin and eyebrow raise. When he prompts him to go on, Charlie enthusiastically dangles his key ring between them, now bearing a new car key.
Charlie: Early Christmas present from the folks. I mean, I’m still terrified to use it, but now the option exists. [ with a nudge ] Maybe now you can stop having to drive to and from Queens all the time and I can save you the trouble.
Zay: Whew, Santa, baby. You’re giving me an extravagant gift just from gas money savings alone.
Charlie cracks up, returning the keys to his backpack. Zay takes the opportunity to shift gears, dropping down to unzip his duffle bag. Speaking of gifts… he may have a thing or two for him. Charlie is caught off-guard, claiming he wasn’t expecting a gift exchange. He can’t possibly accept something from him. It wouldn’t be fair.
But Zay is too darn cute to refuse, and he assures him it’s not a big deal. The first thing he presents is a slip of paper, which he brandishes with a flourish as he hands it to Charlie.
Upon closer inspection, it’s revealed to be a coupon for all-he-can-eat French fries at their Queens diner. Charlie laughs again, nodding appreciatively.
Charlie: Okay, okay. If this is what you meant, then I guess me braving my fear of the New York roads to see you is equal enough.
Zay: Hey, that’s a steal of a coupon you’ve got there. Don’t take that generosity lightly. [ a beat ] And there might be… one more piece.
Before Charlie can argue, Zay drops down and grabs his last gift. It’s a bundle wrapped in newspaper. Charlie gives him an eyebrow raise as Zay encourages him to unwrap it, clasping his hands together in front of him.
The newspaper falls away, and suddenly Charlie finds himself holding one of Zay’s sweatshirts.
His expression shifts from playful to something softer, obviously not sure how to react. He holds it delicately in his fingers, lightly shaking his head.
Charlie: Zay…
Zay: Ah, no, don’t worry. I’ve already thought about everything you could possibly say. I’ve thought it all through. I picked the best one based on which would be least likely to raise eyebrows, as well as one you could conceivably have in your own wardrobe... you know, if you ever shopped anywhere other than the GAP for once.
[ Charlie can’t help but laugh. He unfolds the sweatshirt a little bit more as Zay continues his explanation. ]
Zay: It’s also one of my newer ones, so it’s just broken in enough that it’s like, me, but not worn in enough that it would seem like a hand me down. You can easily say to anyone that asks that you just bought it. I really only wear it around the house, so as long as you don’t wear it at my place of living, you should be all clear.
Charlie: What made you think of this?
Zay: Well… I know that this is exactly the kind of thing you’d like to have, but wouldn’t ask for on your own. Thusly… happy holidays, Chuckles.
And he’s exactly right about that. It’s a thoughtful gift for a couple who has been together for six months, even in secret, and it’s more than clear how much it means to Charlie.
Charlie, sincerely: It’s perfect. [ hugging it ] Thank you.
Zay gives him a nod, smiling brightly. Charlie goes on to apologize again, feeling bad that he didn’t try and figure out something similar to give him. Zay assures him that it’s fine, but subtly suggests that he might have a solution.
Zay: You can always make it up to me… by coming over for dinner.
Although the aversion is pointedly less strong than it was even a couple episodes ago, Charlie is still freaked by the suggestion. He claims he can’t do that, but Zay attempts to change his mind by explaining the full context -- his mom is super into like, knowing his friends, and she wants to have an evening during winter break where he invites some of his closest over for a casual dinner sort of thing. His parents are super friendly and not at all suspicious, and considering how often he talks about Charlie they wouldn’t think anything of it if he were in attendance. In fact, it might be weirder for him to not be there.
But that’s not enough. There’s something in Charlie, deeply rooted inside him somewhere, that cannot wrap his head around such a possibility without thinking about the implications. He sticks by his original answer, despite how much it hurts to do so.
Zay tries not to let the rejection sting, but his disappointment is getting harder to hide. The longer they’re together, the more he has to wonder if things are ever going to change the way he keeps hoping they will. He understands, of course, but at what point is it going to get easier? If it ever does?
Zay: Kind of ironic, isn’t it? Most wonderful time of the year, and we’re still so stuck.
The comment isn’t said harshly, but it makes its point. Charlie tries to say something to fix it, but comes up short. Zay walks away before he can stop him, stepping out of reach as he tries to take his arm.
INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Blue Christmas” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux
Zay emerges into the hall, launching into the bluesy holiday classic. His voice is heavy with emotion as he saunters through the school, passing by other classmates and friends already reveling in the joy of the season and welcoming the incoming freedom of break together.
More to the point, it’s as if Zay can’t escape the echoes of what it is he most desperately wants. He passes by other students in romantic relationships openly being together, exchanging gifts, joking about mistletoe, making holiday plans. Dylan and Asher fall into giddy laughter by the latter’s locker, Asher nudging him lightly before pulling him into a kiss.
By the time he gets to the last verse, he’s returned to his locker. Across the hall, Charlie is at his, exchanging a quick chat with HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ before they saunter off to class. The distance between them is suffocating, in spite of how close they are in every other way.
Elvis and any other performer have no idea what longing means compared to Isaiah Babineaux. He leans against the wall of lockers and watches Charlie disappear around the corner without a second glance. Then he adjusts and tilts his head back against the cold metal, crooning out the last few notes as the piano takes us out.
INT. BABINEAUX HOME - DAY
Winter break kicks off, the front door to the Babineaux home opening to find Riley, Yindra, and MAYA HART there on the doorstep. They cheerfully greet Zay, exchanging hugs with him as they step inside. DONNA BABINEAUX is quick to come greet them, explaining that she just started on food and that Omar and Jada should be home soon.
Maya and Riley head to the living room, Donna hanging by the door and asking Zay if they’re expecting anyone else. What she means, naturally, is are they still waiting for one more. Zay shrugs, trying to cover his ill feelings.
Zay: Wouldn’t count on it.
He follows his friends into the living room without further comment, Donna giving him a curious look as he goes.
INT. GARDNER HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY
As is tradition in the Gardner household, the children are assembled to decorate the tree together. ROSAMUND GARDNER is hard at work, determining where each ornament should go while DAISY GARDNER unwraps them from their tissue paper and hands them off.
Charlie is supposed to be on box duty -- retrieving the new boxes from the storage bin and passing them to Daisy -- but he’s sort of slacking on the job. He’s zoned out, lost in his own head and turning a baby angel over in his fingers absentmindedly.
He’s broken out of his fugue by a soft ornament to the face, Daisy remarking that he’s not being very much help. He tosses it back at her, snarkily excusing himself as he pushes to his feet. Daisy and Rosie watch him go, once again observers to his unusual behavior.
Daisy: What’s up with him?
Rosie, wisely: Testosterone.
INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY
Charlie enters as his mother is busy slaving away, baking an assortment of holiday cookies for the upcoming festivities. She greets him cheerfully, passing a peanut butter drop cookie towards him from fresh off the rack. She knows how they’re his favorite.
He accepts it gratefully, breaking off a piece and taking a bite. He glances towards the refrigerator, where Riley’s invitation is hanging. He tentatively asks whether or not it would be okay for him to attend the party. Eleanor checks out of the baking zone, glancing at the invitation again and reading it over before granting him permission. It doesn’t conflict with any of their family plans, and Riley has always seemed like a wonderful girl and good friend to him. It would be rather rude of him to decline the invitation when she took the time to invite him, now wouldn’t it? You know, a good friend like Riley…
Implications of how his family thinks of Riley aside, Charlie searches for a change of subject. On the subject of their family plans, he softly questions whether or not Bridgette will be coming home for Christmas this year. Even though she’s not facing him, it’s obvious that the query catches Eleanor off-guard. She tries to skirt it, her nonchalance kind of pissing Charlie off.
Charlie, curtly: Was she even invited?
Eleanor: [ with shocked disappointment ] Charles.
For as quickly as the boldness shot through him, it’s zapped away even faster. He avoids his mother’s gaze, pushing away from the counter and claiming he needs to go call Riley to let her know he can come.
INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S ROOM - DAY
Safely hidden away in his room, Charlie leans back against the door and hides his head in his hands. Trying to get a grip on his emotions, which seem to be fluctuating more than ever nowadays. Too bad he has no idea how to settle them.
Well… maybe that’s not entirely true. A thought strikes him, Charlie going over to his duffle bag and digging through his school things. He finds what he’s looking for, grabbing Zay’s sweatshirt and holding it out in front of him.
After a moment, he pulls it on over his head.
Not an instant cure all, but maybe a little bit better. Charlie adjusts it on his shoulders, flopping onto his bed and staring at the ceiling. Lost in the way he wants things to be, not certain how to make them so or if he even has the courage to follow through if he did. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and crossing his arms like he’s hugging himself.
As if with the sweatshirt, it’ll be like he’s hugging him.
PART III
Christmas Eve will find me where the love light gleams,
I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams…
INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY
Maya and Isadora are in the dressing room together, hanging out before theater lab. While Maya has definitely noticed that Katy has been so weird about money lately, she’s found a new way to spin it in her head that makes it seem like a positive rather than a negative.
Maya: It’s totally some kind of surprise thing. Like a big present for the holidays. Tickets to a Broadway show, or maybe even a trip. God, how cool would it be to go to like… Los Angeles? The Hart women take L.A.
Perhaps a new level of delusion. Isadora doesn’t look sold on the idea, but she doesn’t want to burst her friend’s bubble either. Maya takes her expression as a lack of interest in L.A., lamenting that she’s been there dozens of times to see Valerie, so of course she doesn’t find it all that impressive. She’s jaded to the west coast allure.
Isadora: Ah, yes, the allure of smog and snail trail traffic is truly irresistible…
Maya gives her a look, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Case in point, what Maya wouldn’t give to explore the other entertainment hub of the world. And maybe, if the way they’ve been siphoning away money is any clue, she just might get her wish.
INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
That night, Maya takes the straight-forward approach in pitching this take to KATY HART. She jokingly asks her when they’re going to stop playing charades, when she’s going to reveal whatever the big secret is. Although Katy continues to act aversive and Maya plays along, it’s clear from the way Katy doesn’t want to talk about it that it won’t be a trip to Los Angeles. Clear to everyone except Maya, who has rooted herself into a state of denial.
Only one more night before winter freedom, Maya declares, giving her mother a kiss on the head and fluttering off to bed. Katy watches her go, a wistful expression on her face. Suddenly, she’s looking all around the apartment with a similar emotion -- it might be a dump, but it’s home. It’s where she’s gotten to raise her daughter, the most important thing in the world.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Slipping Through My Fingers” as performed by Mamma Mia! Original Movie Cast || Performed by Katy Hart (feat. Maya Hart)
Katy gently slips into this nostalgic power ballad, continuing to roam the extent of their small apartment. As she goes, small glimpses of flashbacks come into focus, featuring her and Maya as she grew up through the years. A toddler Maya running away from the bathtub as Katy chases after her, wrapping her in a towel and cuddling her close; the two of them singing together as they make dinner together when Maya is in elementary school; a middle school Maya in her leotard, showing off a routine she just learned in dance class to a fond and proud Katy.
INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - DAY
The song continues into the next morning, Maya getting ready for the last day of the semester. Katy offers to braid her hair specially in a crown around her head, the two of them sharing laughter as she does so. As Maya heads out for school, she blows a kiss to Katy.
Once Maya is gone, the tone of the piece seems to shift somewhat. Katy begins taking things down, packing certain things away in boxes in her room. She grows tearful as she goes, having to take moments to step away from it.
INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY
Maya takes her verse while rehearsing in the dance studio, the thought of whatever might be going on with her mother obviously distracting her. When she turns to face the mirrors, she envisions Katy standing there behind her, encouraging her to keep her chin high and smile on. The exercise works like a charm, Maya going back to run the routine again.
INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY
As song floats through the final verse, Katy wanders the halls of AAA. It’s a bit unprecedented for her to be there, but it’s clear she’s on a mission.
INT. AAA - CORY’S CLASSROOM - DAY
Katy lightly knocks, surprising CORY MATTHEWS from grading papers. He greets her happily, wondering what would’ve brought her all the way to AAA.
From the way her eyes are glossed over with tears, it’s not going to be for anything good.
Katy: I hate to do this, but… I need to ask a major favor.
INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - EXTERIOR HALL - DAY
Maya is on the phone with Riley as she walks home, confirming that she’ll be at the party.
Maya: Why you decided to mail invitations like we’re in the 1930s, I have no idea, but you do you babe.
After she hangs up, she takes a second to eye their bare apartment door. Then she unlocks the door, stepping inside.
INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - DAY
Katy is already waiting at the kitchen table when Maya enters, nervously twisting her fingers. Maya doesn’t catch her demeanor right away, commenting that it’s a bit weird they haven’t put up their wreath yet. Or any decorations, really. Maybe they should get on that, with the holiday right around the corner?
Katy, timidly: I don’t think we’re going to be able to do that this year, baby girl.
The moment she hears her tone, Maya immediately loses her teasing attitude. She grows more serious, asking what’s wrong as dread creeps into the room. Katy gets up from the table and guides Maya to sit with her on their couch, indicating there’s more to say.
That’s also when Maya realizes Cory is there with them. He rises from his seat in the arm chair to greet her, but his presence just makes her more confused and thusly, more nervous. She continues to ask Katy what the hell is going on, bordering on panic.
Maya: Mom, what is he doing here? What the hell is going on? Mom --
Katy shushes her, trying to keep it together for her sake. She goes on to explain the situation as coherently as she can -- the diner isn’t making ends meet anymore. They’ve been struggling to pay bills for months. She tried to find additional work beyond the two jobs she already has, but there’s not enough time and she doesn’t have enough credit to her name.
The bottom line is, they can’t afford to live in this apartment anymore. She can’t afford to stay in the city right now.
In an instant, Maya is in tears. She’s shocked, bewildered, and bubbling with millions of questions. How could this happen? Why didn’t she tell her? She could’ve picked up a job, she could’ve helped search. But the true question rises eventually -- what about AAA? How is anything going to work the way she’s known it her entire life if they’re moving away?
This is where Cory steps into the conversation. With prompting from Katy, he calmly explains that they’re extending the invitation for her to come move in with them. Now that Topanga has moved out and they’re rearranging things anyway, they have more than enough room and would be happy to have her.
It’s a nice sentiment, and Maya appreciates it. But… she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want to leave this place, and she for sure doesn’t want to be apart from Katy. She stammers out as much as she’s overcome with tears, Katy pulling her into a tight hug as she starts to cry as well.
Katy: I know, baby, I know. But it’ll work out. In time, it’ll work out. And you need to be here. You need to be here shining your brightest, I’m not gonna let all this take you away from that. [ pushing some hair out of her face and wiping her tears ] The dream is priceless. We’re not letting you let it go for any reason.
Maya nods, but she’s still crying. The two of them embrace again, dreading the moment they’ll have to let go.
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT
Maya drops the last of her things in the sparse master bedroom, all of Cory’s things having been moved and Riley’s stuff scattered in the process of moving. Cory explains that with Topanga vacating and Maya moving in, the two girls could share the master given that he won’t be needing nearly as much space for himself.
He leaves her alone to settle in with a pat on the shoulder. She waits for him to go, closing the door behind her. She starts to go to her suitcase and unpack, but can’t bring herself to do it. Her hands are shaking. Somehow, her entire world has turned upside down.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Home” as performed by Beauty and the Beast Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Maya Hart (starting at 00:40)
In this moment, nothing matters other than Maya’s vocals. It’s one of her most powerful, wrenching performances to date, nothing in the unsettled space to distract from how raw the experience feels. She’s truly lost the feeling of home, and she has no idea if she’s ever going to find it again.
She settles into the undecorated bay window as the number peters out, tears shining in her eyes as she gazes out at her new view of the city. Snow falls gently outside the windows, the melancholy captured in Maya’s reflection through the glass as the screen fades to black.
PART IV
They’re singing “Deck the Halls,” but it’s not like Christmas at all,
‘Cause I remember when you were here, and all the fun we had last year…
INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “River” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus
Picking up with soft piano where Maya left off, Farkle demonstrates his piano skills again as he practices alone. His solitude seems to echo off the walls, dominating the performance despite how great his voice is as always. The lyrics speak to his feelings aptly enough, although if he wasn’t saying them under the guise of practice he likely wouldn’t be expressing them at all.
Charlie pops in just as he wraps up, claiming that they’re getting ready to close the building for break and they have to head out. Farkle thanks him for the heads up, gathering his things. Before he goes, Charlie takes the second to wish him happy holidays.
Farkle nods and offers a tight smile, but it’s gone as soon as Charlie is out of sight. It’s clear he’s more of the opinion of like… is it? Are they, really, happy holidays?
Slinging his bag over his shoulder as he leaves, he flicks off the light and sends the practice room into darkness.
INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY
Farkle’s invitation to Riley’s party has arrived, sitting on the top of the pile of mail sitting on the counter by the doorway.
As JENNIFER MINKUS bustles in with URI MINKUS and EZRA MINKUS, one of them accidentally rams into the stack and knocks it to the floor. Jennifer chides both of them, guiding Ezra into the suite and requesting of Uri that he clean them up.
Headphones in and obviously annoyed, Uri flips through the first few and determines they’re all junk. He scoops all of it -- including the invitation -- into his hands to promptly dumps it into the trash, absolving him of the burden without further ado.
INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S ROOM - DAY
Farkle slips back into his summer habits, reverting back to his appearance and slump of the start of the season. His hair is untidy and even wilder than before now that it’s grown more, and his baggy sweater is going to get worn out from overuse.
He spends a majority of the break sleeping, not feeling the motivation to get out or do much else. It’s what he’s preparing to do that afternoon, drawing his blinds shut from the pleasant view of snow falling over the city, when LILA MINKUS pokes her head in. She’s chewing on a granola bar, back from college for the holidays and distinctly unimpressed with his habits.
Lila: Are you really going to waste your entire winter break lazing around?
Farkle: Are you really going to spend your entire existence annoying the fuck out of me?
Lila: Real classy, germ. If you’re just going to do nothing, you could at least make yourself useful and help mom with holiday prep.
Point made, and hard to ignore. Farkle glances at his bed waiting for him so invitingly, sighing as he slouches out of the room to make his presence on this Earth worthwhile.
INT. MINKUS HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT
That’s how he finds himself assisting his mother with dinner, plaintively cutting up vegetables as she attempts to keep up conversation with him. Given how lethargic he is he’s not all that talkative, but she does her best. She tries to gauge if he has any plans for the remainder of break.
Farkle: No.
Jennifer: Nothing?
Farkle: Just practicing.
Jennifer: Well, I’m sure your friends must have things going on. They can’t all be off on vacations or something. Why don’t you see if one of them wants to do something? [ a beat ] I’m sure that Maya --
Farkle: Trust me, they don’t.
This doesn’t sit well with Jennifer. It’s clear that whatever is going on with Farkle is concerning to her, but she doesn’t know how to confront it or figure out what the real trouble might be. So she continues to problem solve aloud.
Jennifer: I can see who isn’t going out of town, if we’re looking for company. [ excitedly ] Oh, you know who I should call? The Shapiros. I can see if Roberta is free sometime in the next couple weeks, God knows she could use the date --
Farkle, disturbed: No thanks, I’m fine, thank you!
A notification on Jennifer’s phone disrupts their discussion, prompting her to take her medication. She crosses the kitchen to the corner cabinet and sorts through an array of pills to take them dutifully, Farkle eyeing her as she goes through the motions.
He questions what she takes all those medications for, to which Jennifer gives him an offhand and brief run down of what ailments run in their family and what a pill cocktail they’ve got going on in that cabinet. She points out the fact that he might very well also be iron deficient with how sickly he’s felt lately, so she is going to have the doctor run a blood test when he goes in for his annual physical in the spring.
Commotion from the entryway pulls them out of the conversation, Ezra gleefully exclaiming something. Farkle and Jennifer exchange a look, making their way out of the kitchen.
INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT
STUART MINKUS has returned home with EZEKIEL MINKUS in tow, fresh from the airport and another successful semester at college. He enthusiastically greets Ezra and picks him up into a hug, joking that he has got to stop growing while he’s not around. Jennifer comes to shower him with affection, Stuart stepping past them and exchanging a playful look with Farkle at all the hubbub.
While the moment of attention from his father is a treasure, getting to see his favorite brother is a pretty sweet deal too. Ezekiel gestures him forward to meet him, wrapping him in a hug that Farkle eagerly accepts. For the brief moments that he’s fully surrounded by family and actually being acknowledged, Farkle seems to relax.
INT. MINKUS HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT
The table is more lively than usual as family dinner progresses, Ezekiel acting as a lively contributor to the conversation and the mood considerably lighter given that Stuart is actually in attendance. Lila and Uri argue over something inane, Ezra jumping into any part of the discussion where he can manage to understand what’s being said.
Farkle doesn’t speak, but he isn’t nearly as pallid as he actually consumes his dinner. He smiles lightly as his father and older brother speak, simply glad to be back in their presence even if just as a spectator.
The room quiets a bit as Stuart lightly clinks his knife against his glass, getting all of the family to draw their attention to him. He expresses how happy he is to see the lot of them together again, how this year is always his favorite time of year -- and not just because the stocks are rising (ha ha ha, oh Stuart). He states how wonderful it is to have Ezekiel and Lila home for the holiday, and that he’s looking forward to video calling with Raziel later in the week all the way from Europe where he now resides.
Farkle starts to zone out when he begins lauding Ezekiel’s accomplishments and discussing what good fortunes are going on for their family, lasting much longer than Lila or Uri. However, he snaps back to attention when Stuart begins discussing early Hanukkah presents, simply because he calls Farkle out specifically.
Farkle: [ blinking out of his daze ] Huh?
Ezekiel watches with a knowing smile as Stuart goes on to explain the tradition they have within their family, as sons approach their sixteenth birthday. Given that Farkle’s is in just a couple of months, this year means it’s his turn to accept the early gift.
Stuart passes a small, long gift box across the table. It settles in front of Farkle, who picks it up as Lila watches derisively and Uri continues to stab at his green beans. Ezra leans over and practically climbs on top of Farkle to get a good look, bursting with excitement at the prospect of an early Hanukkah present.
Farkle opens the gift, surprised to find a specially made gold name plate with his name engraved into it. He takes it out and turns it over in his fingers, expression hard to read as he gets a good look. Ezra loses interest, going back to his food. Stuart begins a whole spiel about the tradition, how the name plate is -- in theory -- passed down to each young Minkus man who will go on to uphold the family legacy and invest in the family business.
A nice sentiment, but Farkle is a bit short on emotional bandwidth at the moment. He frowns, lifting his head to lock eyes with his father.
Farkle: What the hell am I supposed to do with this?
This is far from the traditional reaction. Jennifer scolds Farkle, Uri actually tuning into the conversation and Lila choking on her food to hold back a snort. But Stuart assures Jennifer that it’s fine, he just wasn’t clear about the purpose of the present.
Stuart, genially: It’s not so much functional as symbolic. It’s just meant to demonstrate how proud I am of you, and how excited I am for you to one day join me in the family business.
Farkle: But I’m… not. I’m not going into business.
To his credit, Stuart is a patient man. He nods, acknowledging Farkle’s current perspective with only a hint of condescension.
Stuart: Yes, we are all quite proud of the accomplishments you’ve made with the performing arts. [ off Farkle’s disbelieving expression ] I only mean for when you’re older, beginning to think more seriously about your future. When this performing fad passes --
Farkle: It’s not a fad. My passions are not a fad!
An argument unintentionally brews in the midst of all the tension, misguided good intentions and a frayed mental state making for a toxic combination. Stuart doesn’t appreciate Farkle’s waspish tone, turning the tables on him and asking what he expects his future to be then. At what point is he going to stop dreaming and start operating strategically? Farkle defends his ability to be strategic, pointing out that Stuart wouldn’t know what strides he’s making either way considering he’s never fucking around.
Jennifer attempts to end the open fire, but Stuart isn’t finished. He again reiterates the looming question of the future. What is Farkle’s grand plan, when all is said and done? This one stumps Farkle, as anything beyond living day-to-day has kind of felt unrealistic, and the actual notion of a capital-F future seems foggy. The truth is, he has no idea, and that sort of lack of preparedness is simply unacceptable.
While all eyes are on him for his response, Farkle pushes out of his seat and states he’s being excused. Stuart watches him go, immediately beginning to discuss with Jennifer in hushed tones what the hell that was all about. Ezekiel gives his father a comforting pat on the arm, reminding him that growth can take time.
Lila leans forward to pick up the name plate, looking at it with bland disinterest before offering it to Uri. He makes a face, swatting it away with his fork. Major pass.
INT. MINKUS HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
That night, Farkle is crashed on the couch and tuning out everything else. He’s distracting himself by continuing to reread The Great Gatsby, the cover and spine cracked and the pages crinkled from use. It’s not the first time he’s read the novel, not by a long shot.
Jennifer comes in to check on him, perching on the back of the couch and reading over his shoulder for a moment. She comments on whatever is going on in the book, to which he hums in response but doesn’t start a conversation. She changes the subject, getting his attention and trying to placate the situation from earlier. She explains that his father is proud of him, they all are, things just aren’t all that simple when don’t meet one another’s expectations. Farkle doesn’t seem bothered either way, but that’s more likely due to repression than an actual acceptance of complexities to the situation.
She gives him another fond look, leaning forward and brushing some hair from his forehead.
Jennifer: My talented boy. [ softly ] I love you.
Farkle returns the sentiment, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Jennifer gives him one last pat on the cheek before heading to bed, turning off the main lights and leaving Farkle illuminated by the lamp on the side table.
Farkle continues to read, slouching further into the couch. The grandfather clock standing against the wall continues to tick on, creating a lulling tempo…
INT. MINKUS HOME - LATER - NIGHT
The room has gone dark, the lamp suddenly out on the table. Farkle has dozed off on the couch, the clock no longer ticking. His arm is dangling off the couch, still holding the novel loosely in his fingers… inches from the hardwood…
He drops it, the moment it hits the floor waking him with a start. He rouses with a deep inhale, sitting up on his elbow and rubbing his eyes. When he realizes he fell asleep on the couch he sighs, falling back onto the cushions and throwing his arm over his eyes.
That’s when he hears the rustling.
He immediately stiffens, eyes open wide as he listens more carefully. The movement from somewhere deeper in the house continues, although it’s not coming from the hall where all his family are fast asleep. Someone else is in there with him, and it’s not anyone he can account for.
Cautiously, Farkle climbs off the couch and eases back towards the other end of the living room. He searches for a way to defend himself, taking the fireplace poker off its holder and flipping it in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he slowly begins to ease his way towards the entryway where the sound seems to be coming from… squaring his shoulders… ready to do some serious diva damage if necessary…
When he spots the figure of the intruder and raises his weapon to attack, the stranger spinning around to face him catches him by surprise. He shouts, stumbling backwards and blinking to make sure he’s not making this up.
Eric: Careful with that, Farkle! You’ll take someone’s eye out with that thing.
Farkle: [ in disbelief ] Counselor Eric? What the hell are you doing in my house?
It’s not quite Eric, see. It’s Dream!Eric. He ignores Farkle’s query, brushing it off and instructing him to drop his weapon of mass destruction. If he does so, then he’s more than welcome to follow him. He was just heading out.
Farkle rubs his eyes, but no. Eric is still there, stepping out into the main hall and on his merry way. Farkle hesitates, before letting the poker clatter to the floor and taking off after Eric.
INT. MINKUS HOME - ELEVATOR HALL - NIGHT
As Farkle catches up to his dream counselor, Eric asks him if he’s feeling blue this holiday season. Disconnected, out of sorts. Farkle offhandedly comments that he wouldn’t limit it to just this time of year. The two of them stop in front of the elevators.
Eric wisely states that often times, people feel immense pressure during the holiday season. Higher expectations, more socializing, and the sheer emphasis that this should be the most wonderful time of year can lead to it always falling short. Sometimes, you could do with a little reminder of what’s really important. Which Eric is happy to help with… if Farkle is willing to take the journey. The elevator dings, the doors sliding open even though Eric never pressed the call button.
Oh, so it’s that kind of dream. Farkle wouldn’t think of himself as any George Bailey, but if Eric wants to It’s A Wonderful Life this sitch, then he supposes he might as well go along for the ride.
He steps into the elevator, glancing at Eric next to him then back out towards the familiarity of the hall to his family suite. As the doors slide closed…
INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - NIGHT
When Farkle steps through the doors again, he’s emerged into the dressing room hall at AAA. On the wall next to him, a flyer for the Kossal audition is on display, as well as a signed poster of Les Miserables by the sophomore class. They’ve been transported back to last semester, before everything changed due to an ill-advised fit of emotion. Or, as Eric puts it:
Eric: Before the end of the world.
A good time, Eric says wistfully. Farkle doesn’t understand what he means, wondering why the hell he brought him here… when suddenly the sound of music catches his attention. It’s muted, muffled by the doors separating them from the auditorium. But it’s clear that Farkle recognizes it, remembering the memory associated with it.
He looks to Eric in confusion, who nods him along. He can explore as much as he likes, granted he can get himself to do it. Farkle gazes back towards the doors to the wings, tentatively making his way towards them. Then he’s walking faster, the music growing louder as he pushes through the doors --
INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Mambo No. 5 (a Little Bit of…)” as performed by Lou Bega || Instrumental
The song is already in full swing as Farkle enters the scenery, the classic jam playing over the speakers as the sophomore class is in the process of striking the set from Les Miserables. The performers and techies are working together efficiently, creating a fun time out of it by dancing around and goofing off as they get the work done.
It really is an entirely different era. Everyone is lively, comfortable, functioning as a class. Zay and Jeff have a playful dance off, Yindra cheering them on and NIGEL CHEY poking at JADE BEAMON to join the dance. Dylan and Asher are dancing together, Isadora weakly attempting to pull them back into work before they threaten to pull her into the dance too. Dylan manages it, Isadora laughing and surrendering seeing as it doesn’t seem likely work will get done anyway.
Charlie is goofing off with Haley and Clarissa, twirling the latter. Riley is all smiles as she grooves with Lucas, actually getting him to move a little bit as he spins her under his arm. And front and center of it all is Farkle and Maya, dancing back to back and being their full diva selves as they jam out to the bop. The way they used to be -- when they were friends.
Present-day Farkle navigates the scene as it unfolds around him, awestruck and struck by the nostalgia. He can’t remember the last time AAA felt like this, bright and hopeful and carefree. It’s a lot of fun to step back into, all that enthusiasm and camaraderie…
And even harder to watch disappear. As Farkle steps into the place of his former self the imagery melts away, leaving him standing alone on the empty stage. Dark, quiet, only the ghost light occupying the space with him and casting him in an eerie glow.
He’s startled from his reminiscing when another voice beckons him from the shadows of the audience. He squints, trying to get a good look.
Jack: Come along then, Mister Minkus. We don’t want to be late.
Dream!Jack, dressed professionally as always, doesn’t wait up. He marches back through the doors to the atrium, Farkle scrambling off the stage and running through the aisles to catch up.
INT. MINKUS HOME - ELEVATOR HALL - NIGHT
Farkle emerges from the elevator out of breath, surprised to be back in his hallway. He spins around to try and find Jack, scoffing and holding out his arms.
Farkle: That’s it, then? Giving up on my monster soul already?
Jack: Sarcasm is only charming in small doses, Mister Minkus.
Jack is in fact still there, hanging by the door to his apartment. Farkle approaches, commenting that he doesn’t see how sending him home is going to show him anything important. He spends enough time there alone. Jack corrects him, stating that he’ll find this is no ordinary version of his home. He explains that people often forget the imprint they leave on other people -- and that may be especially true within the Minkus clan.
INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT
As they step back through the doors, it becomes clear what has changed in this version of their apartment. On the wall by the coat rack where all the children have their portraits hung up, Farkle is no longer present. This is a scape where Farkle is absent, a figment just like Jack rather than a member of the Minkus family.
Said family is gathered for dinner, business and enterprise dominating the conversation like usual. As far as Farkle can tell as he observes it… it doesn’t seem all that different. Uri looks a little less broody and well-dressed, given that his sibling pecking order changed, but otherwise it looks about the same.
But there are small details that Farkle isn’t picking up on. Like how Ezra is uncharacteristically quiet, far more muted and less eccentric than the way he is today. Lila is exchanging her digs with Uri instead, the two of them no longer semi-comrades in disdain but adversaries. The home is polished and well-maintained, but it also lacks something too. Behind where Farkle and Jack are watching, the grand piano is no longer in the living room.
Farkle states that it looks about the same to him. What did Jack expect to show him, his entire family being miserable without him? Unlikely, since none of them pay attention to one another anyway and he’s the black sheep as it is. Jack tries to point out the nuances but Farkle isn’t listening, pointing out all the ways things seem better, like how no one is arguing about their dreams or storming out of the dinner as an embarrassment to the family legacy.
Jack shifts gears, growing frustrated with his inability to see where he leaves an impact. He spins them to face the living room and throws them back into memories, a series of them shimmering like a mirage. Him and Ezekiel talking together on the couch in 112; his mother having him help cook when he was little, Farkle gabbing on and on with his unbridled energy and Jennifer laughing along; Farkle leading a younger Uri and Ezra in imaginary games, both of them enthralled and delighted as the fantastical story unfolds in their living room. Bringing creativity and unconventionality to a home that sorely needs it.
Then, a moment from a different Hanukkah season years ago. Stuart hands a nine-year-old Farkle his copy of The Great Gatsby, pride shining in his eyes as he gifts the brand new copy. Farkle takes it eagerly, giving his dad a hug and showing how there are common interests between them.
Present-day Farkle edges towards the warm memory, captivated. His eyes are shining with tears, Jack thinking he’s made his point.
Jack: Don’t you see that? Don’t you see how that feels?
Farkle: I see it… [ uncertainly ] But I don’t think I know it.
The feeling of that memory feels about as distant as the time it occurred. It fades, along with Jack, as Farkle settles back onto the couch and the room falls back into darkness. For a moment, Farkle debates going back to sleep to escape all the melancholy.
But the dream isn’t over yet. The grandfather clock chimes, startling him as it bangs out successive clangs to the midnight hour. But it continues to chime even after it should’ve stopped, confusing Farkle and causing him to rise and investigate it.
While the hands are lined up to midnight, the clock isn’t moving. The second hand doesn’t tick onward. It’s completely frozen.
Farkle reaches forward curiously, another familiar voice halting him from messing with the clock when they speak up from behind him.
Angela: Come on, Farkle.
He whips around, eyes wide as he spots his favorite teacher waiting patiently for him across the room. It’s Dream!Angela, and although she lacks the usual warmth and energy of the actress her presence alone is cause for emotion.
Angela: We really should get going.
Farkle lets out a strained exhale, jogging over and enveloping Angela in a hug. She doesn’t respond, as she’s merely a spiritual apparition, but the concept of the gesture alone seems to give Farkle some comfort. He embraces her tightly, only pulling back when she gently nudges him and takes his shoulders. She gives him a wise look.
Angela: We don’t dare be late for the future.
INT. FARKLE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
As they push through the doors, Farkle finds himself stepping into an unfamiliar apartment. It’s lavish although essentially vacant, the only object worth note being the grand piano that has relocated to the center of the room. Farkle looks to Angela uncertainly, who nods him forward.
Approaching the piano, a flyer becomes visible laying on top of the piano. Farkle reaches for it once he’s close enough, revealing that the flyer is actually a playbill. It’s a Broadway show -- although the details are nondescript, as they don’t matter -- and flipping to the inside, Farkle is first billed. He’s the star of the show. His big break.
Farkle: It’s… I’m… Angela. Angela, look --
He whips around to show her, the excitement wiped from his face when he realizes she’s gone. He’s alone again, facing this potentially successful future… with no one to share it with. Just him, a playbill, and a needlessly spacious apartment.
Angela: Do you remember what I told you, Farkle?
Angela is seated at the piano again, lightly playing a tune on the piano. Upon careful listening, one might be able to identify the diddy as the ending verse of “The World Was Wide Enough,” but it’s hardly the focus of the scene.
Angela: You once asked me if the dream was worth it. And I told you it was. Undoubtedly so. But I told you something else too. Do you remember?
Farkle looks down at the playbill, searching for the joy that seeing such a future should bring him. Then he gazes around the empty apartment, void and cold. The answer is quite simple.
Farkle: Empty.
INT. MINKUS HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Farkle jolts awake, the lamplight illuminating the room signaling that we are in fact back in real time. The grandfather clock has resumed motion, ticking in its usual time. He tries to shake off a sense of panic, breathing uneven as he pushes himself into a sitting position. Footsteps in the kitchen behind him freak him out, glancing over his shoulder with wide eyes just as Ezekiel pokes his head out with a glass of water.
Ezekiel: Farkle? What are you doing out here?
Farkle wants to respond, but words aren’t working at the moment. Ezekiel notices his frazzled state, shifting gears and rushing over to ask him what’s wrong. Settling down on the couch next to him, he reaches out and tries to calm him down. Farkle flinches as his brother wipes tears from his cheek, ones he didn’t even realize he had shed.
Ezekiel: Must’ve just been a nightmare. But it might help if you weren’t sleeping out here on the couch. Come on, let’s get you some real rest, yeah?
Farkle allows his brother to help him up, hands clammy and shaky as he rises to his feet. Even as he goes, it’s clear from the haunted expression on his face that he won’t be forgetting that dream any time soon.
Behind them, The Great Gatsby lays forlornly on the floor.
PART V
Somewhere in my memory, Christmas joys all around me,
Living in my memory: all of the music, all of the magic,
All of the family, home here with me…
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY
Riley takes the final segmented part of our story, experiencing a torn existence within the apartment. She and Cory kick off their winter break by moving around all of their things, Riley beginning the process of moving her belongings into the more spacious bedroom.
As she drops her moodboard against the wall by the door, she questions if her father really wants to make this swap. He assures her he’s of sound mind, stating that the last thing he needs is a reminder of all that empty space haunting him. Gloomy. Besides, he goes on, with what Katy requested of him they may very well be giving Riley a roommate to share all the space with.
It’s clear Riley doesn’t know how she feels about that little detail, but she’s happy to provide help where help is needed. She’s feeling jarred enough swapping spaces in the apartment she’s lived in her entire life, she can’t imagine being removed from it entirely.
Their conversation is interrupted by Auggie cheering from the living room. They exchange a look, making their way out into the hall.
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - DAY
As expected, Auggie’s fanfare is in response to the arrival of TOPANGA LAWRENCE. She gives him a tight hug and a big kiss on the cheek, offering the same enthusiastic greeting to Riley as she jogs over to greet her. She even grants Cory a familiar kiss on the cheek, obviously in good spirits due to the holiday season.
That, and she does seem simply generally happier. As if the decision to file for divorce and take control of her own life how she wants it is empowering, despite how effectively it’s caused a ripple effect to everyone else around her. It’s evident that she intends to treat this holiday season like any other, pretending everything is right as rain in favor of a good Christmas time.
This includes their annual holiday party. It’s tradition, and they sure won’t be slacking this year. She immediately launches into all of the things they’ll have to get cracking on, operating with that charming discipline she’s so well known for. Auggie grins up at Riley, who gives him a soft smile in return and nudges him along to follow their mother.
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - LATER - DAY
Now in the process of preparations, Riley and Topanga work together to set up and decorate the Christmas tree. As they’re hanging ornaments, Riley ventures the question of how Topanga is liking her new place in Midtown. She claims it’s fine, and an invigorating change of pace, but she’s not certain she’ll be staying there long. It’s just a squatting place, a space to regroup until she can figure out where she truly thinks she would fit.
Riley plays along, suggesting some other areas of the island where her mother might thrive. Her phone ringing disrupts it, and although it’s clear she is savoring this actual attention from Topanga, seeing Isadora light up the screen makes her think she should take the call. She excuses herself, jogging back into the hall to her makeshift bedroom.
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY
Riley answers as soon as she’s alone, Isadora letting Riley know she believes she will be coming to her party. You know, if that’s still cool. Riley assures her that of course she’s more than welcome, she did send her an invitation after all. But she has to admit she’s confused as to why she’s not attending the techie party instead. That was likely going to be the same time, wasn’t it?
Isadora huffs, reluctantly stating that the techie party isn’t happening this year. The cause as to why it fell apart goes without saying, both of them quite aware of how Lucas has been acting as of late. Riley repeats the notion that Isadora is welcome with her.
Isadora murmurs that the holiday season certainly doesn’t feel much like the holiday season this year. Riley can’t help but concur, promising that she’ll see her soon as they end the call.
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT
And as the party edges closer and closer, the more true that seems to become. While Auggie is never around for the sharpest moments, Cory and Topanga begin exchanging digs and snapping at one another again. Although the apartment sure looks festive, it feels far from it.
As Cory and Topanga get into a tiff about one of the items on the food preparation list, Riley finally cracks. She questions why they’re even bothering to have the party in the first place, since working collaboratively seems to be such a burden for all of them. For appearances? To pretend like everything is fine and dandy? What a lovely, shallow Christmas vignette they make.
Topanga is surprised, and Cory tries to comfort her, but Riley escapes before either of them can get a word in edgewise. She disappears back into the hallway, her parents exchanging sheepish looks.
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT
Riley retreats into her new room… only that doesn’t make her feel much better either. It’s in complete disarray, just like everything else, and now Maya’s added stuff feels even more overwhelming.
Without thinking, Riley grabs her coat and pulls it on in a hurry. Then she’s yanking open the bay window, climbing out onto the fire escape.
EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Where Are You Christmas” as performed by Faith Hill || Performed by Riley Matthews
As Riley emerges into the cold, snowy winter night, she takes a deep breath to center herself before quietly launching into an impassioned rendition of this ode to innocence lost. She begins making her way down the familiar streets of the city, the lights and charm of the holiday season the true visual spectacle of the performance.
But as usual, the true star are Riley’s vocals. They build in volume and power as her emotions escalate, reaching a fervent pitch as she makes it to the final part of the song. New York is her stage as she spins around the winter wonderland, lamenting how what used to be her favorite time of year suddenly feels as far away as everything else she once loved.
Even at the lowest times, Riley Matthews truly is too damn talented.
PART VI
Everyone would have a friend, and right would always win,
And love would never end,
This is my grown up Christmas list...
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT
It’s the night of all planned holiday festivities, settling us back in a coherent timeline. Riley and Maya are just finishing up getting their now shared room into a decent state, not bad for a couple days work. Maya says as much, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
After a moment, Riley gently reaches out and touches her arm.
Riley: I’m sorry about what happened with your mom.
Maya accepts the kindness, but brushes it off before she gets emotional again. She changes the subject, asking Riley who else is supposed to be showing up to this shindig tonight. Given that she has literally nowhere else she could be, she’s guaranteed at least one party guest.
Riley mirrors Maya’s mocking laugh, claiming that just about everyone from their class RSVP’d. After a beat, Maya curiously asks if that includes Farkle. The query seems more interested than derisive, which seems like a step in the right direction.
But Riley doesn’t have good news in that regard. She covers instead by expressing that Charlie is supposed to becoming, as well as Isadora. Maya wonders what happened to the techie thing if Isadora is planning to come, since she never told her any different. Odd, considering their new status of best friends. Riley opts not to say anything, however, the harsh pre-lapping tones of “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” say plenty…
INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - NIGHT
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch” as performed by Thurl Ravenscroft || Instrumental (up to 1:00)
Lucas is seated at his kitchen table, a Grinch-like glower on his face while he’s lost in thought. He’s watching the snow fall outside, stuck in the apartment he hates but is now forced to be in full time. He’s twirling a wrapper in his fingers, absentmindedly twisting it until it starts to come apart with a simple tear. The music is playing from the small radio on the counter, underscoring the dark mood.
GRACE FRIAR pulls him out of his own head, entering the room and joining him at the opposite end of the table. She lightly questions what he wants to do for dinner, beginning to sort through mail. Lucas offers to go through the junk for her, which she declines at first but then allows when he extends the offer again. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget in this household that people can be helpful and kind.
Lucas moves to the counter as he sorts through it, stopping cold when he sees the invitation addressed to him. He removes it from the stack and gets a better look at it, recognizing Riley’s handwriting in an instant. He holds it delicately in his fingers for a long moment, obviously contemplative…
Then it falls into the trash can with all the rest of the junk.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” as performed by Kelly Clarkson || Instrumental
The radio switches to Kelly Clarkson as the Grinch wraps up, a knock at the door surprising both Grace and Lucas. They exchange perplexed looks, Grace asking if he’s expecting anybody. He shakes his head, cautiously approaching the front door to check it out.
When he opens it, he’s immediately accosted by what seems to be the full assembly of the techie crew. Jade is at the front of the pack, carrying their box of decorations and giving Lucas a cheerful greeting as she pushes past him and into the apartment. Dave is next, carrying a small tree in his arms; then Jeff; then Nate, who gives him a playful punch on the shoulder as he lets himself inside.
Lucas turns to watch them take over his apartment, shell-shocked. They’ve got all the goods necessary for their tradition -- food, decorations, gifts -- and start setting up and spreading the cheer without a second thought. Grace pokes her head out uncertainly from the kitchen, Dave immediately rushing over to greet her and shaking her hand enthusiastically.
Dave, loudly: Hi, wow, you’re Mrs. Friar! I’m Dave. I love what you’ve done with the place --
Lucas whips back around to the doorway, finding Asher and Dylan standing together with smug smiles on their faces. They’ve got their hands clasped in front of them and are dressed for the weather, Dylan’s cheeks rosier than ever as they greet him.
Dylan: Greetings, Mr. Grinch.
Slowly, Lucas starts to piece together what’s happening as his shock wears off. He glances back at the party beginning to unfold and his mother being happily guided into the festivities, obviously surprised but not opposed to this unexpected holiday cheer. It’s not a common occurrence in this apartment.
Lucas shakes his head, looking back to his friends with a sheepish look on his face. Clearly appreciative, even if he doesn’t know how to express it.
Lucas: You guys didn’t have to do this.
[ Asher and Dylan exchange knowing looks, raising their eyebrows. ]
Asher, matter-of-factly: Yeah, we did.
Dylan: Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal.
Both of them move forward at once, sandwiching Lucas in a warm hug. Dylan gives him a peck on the side of the head, grinning. Lucas stiffens at first… but then smiles in spite of himself.
INT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT
Zay is finishing up getting ready for Riley’s party, Jada and Omar laughing about something in the living room behind him. He’s pulling on his shoes when there’s a knock on their door as well, Donna moving to answer it.
Zay: You expecting someone?
Donna: No, are you?
Either way, there’s clearly someone there. When Donna pulls open the door, Charlie is standing there on the doorstep and quickly turns to face them from looking around at the neighborhood. He looks like a deer in headlights for a second until he remembers that he drove all the way here and chose to do this.
Zay is equally stunned. He blinks at him, trying to figure out if he’s imagining him.
Zay: Charlie? What are you doing here?
Charlie tosses a glance towards him, before clearing his throat and holding out his hand to introduce himself to Donna. She accepts the gesture, stepping back to allow him to step into the house. Charlie states that he’s one of Zay’s good friends from AAA, and apologizes for the fact that he couldn’t make it to the dinner she arranged.
Donna: Oh, well, that’s fine honey. There’s always next time.
Charlie, boldly: [ looking at Zay ] I’ll be there.
Omar and Jada are watching with extreme interest from the living room, Donna subtly questioning what exactly he’s doing there right now. Charlie seems to remember that detail, laughing nervously and explaining that he and Zay are both going to Riley’s party tonight. He promised he’d give him a ride, save him a little gas money.
Jada starts to question if that makes any sense -- does Charlie live around here too? -- but Zay quickly bids them farewell and ushers them out the door before any of them can grill him.
EXT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT
Zay takes his arm and guides him a little ways down the block, wondering what he’s doing there and how he even managed to get all the way out here in this weather.
Charlie: [ holding up his keys ] I’ve got wheels now, remember?
Zay, stunned: … you drove here?
Charlie nods, pocketing his key ring again. That might be one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for Zay. He’s speechless, trying to wrap his mind around it, as Charlie continues with an explanation.
Charlie: You’re not doing all the labor in our relationship anymore. Emotional or otherwise. I felt terrible about… well, a lot of things, and… I just want you to know I’m in this. I know I’m all over the place but… I’m serious about what we have. I’m serious about you. I’m trying, Zay. I’m really trying.
Zay, softly: I know. I know.
Charlie smiles lightly. He unzips his coat about halfway to show that he’s wearing the sweatshirt, Zay unable to hold back a smile.
Charlie: Sorry I still haven’t gotten you something in return.
Zay: Dude, what you just did? Driving all the way here and then... [ nodding to his house ] That’s the best present you could’ve ever gotten me.
Charlie grins, nodding. Pointedly, he steps forward -- closer than usual in public, although it is dark and in the suburbs -- and slips his hand in Zay’s pocket to hold his hand.
The two of them exchange another fond smile, beginning the walk to Charlie’s car.
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT
Riley is playing hostess as her friends from school arrive, dancing around and making sure everyone is having a great time. Nigel and Yindra try to get her to relax, but she feels better up and about. She’s hosting the party, and yet she’s hardly participating in it.
She rushes to answer the door when Zay and Charlie arrive together, greeting both of them warmly. There’s still an awkward beat between Riley and Charlie, but it feels less hopeless than before. She gestures for them to make themselves at home, the two of them stepping into the apartment just as Isadora shows up behind them.
She doesn’t look very cheerful, all things considered. Riley states that she’s happy she made it, which Isadora nods along to but still seems dazed. Out of sorts. Not where she’s usually supposed to be on this night.
Riley senses her apprehension. Gently, she guides Isadora inside and leads the way through the crowd, the door closing behind them.
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT
Riley and Isadora are situated on the bay window seat, cooped up and escaping the crowd for a minute. For the first time they really get the chance to talk, expressing how things have felt so off this year, right up until the last few days of the calendar year. Isadora feels more disjointed than ever, and Riley can relate given that they’re literally sitting in a half-sorted bedroom.
Still, Riley has to have hope. She has to believe things will work out, even if it’ll take some time to get there. Isadora shakes her head, laughing in spite of herself.
Isadora: I have no idea how you do that. How can you manage to be hopeful when just about everything has given you a reason not to?
Riley: Because if I don’t… [ with a shrug ] then who will?
A lot of pressure to carry on one girl’s shoulders, but something she’s clearly determined to do regardless. Isadora claims that’s always been her best trait -- the reason they all warmed up to her in the first place. The reason Lucas liked her so much, definitely. They all need some of that energy in their own lives, she supposes.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Believe” as performed by Josh Groban || Performed by Riley Matthews & Isadora De La Cruz
Riley starts the thoughtful duet, reflecting the odd emotional state they’re all existing in right now. “We were dreamers not so long ago” is apt enough, and it’s not long before Isadora joins in to harmonize on the chorus. It’s a soft shared moment of vulnerability between them.
INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT
Their voices carry over the rest of the episode as we touch base with the small moments of hope encompassing everyone else. Spirits are high at the Matthews party, a majority of their class enjoying the time together. Maya holds court with a gaggle of the performers, exuding charisma to cover for the hurt she’s grappling with inside. Zay and Charlie actually sit next to one another as they chat with Yindra and Nigel, bumping elbows and exchanging smiles and allowing themselves to just be.
INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
The same warmth is radiating from the techie gathering, where they’ve fully set up their decorations and are just settling into energetic and gleeful conversation. Dylan has his arm around Asher as they’re seated in front of the couch, Lucas coming to settle down next to them and in front of Grace seated on the couch.
He passes a cookie to her over his shoulder, Grace giving him a grateful smile. Actually enjoying the holiday for the first time in forever, love filling a space that usually feels so cold.
INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT
All on his own, Farkle carefully lights the first candle for Hanukkah. He tends to the small flame gently, lifting his gaze to glance out at the wintery landscape of the city laid out before him.
So high above it all, trapped in his version of reality.
END OF EPISODE.
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How to Announce a Pregnancy Ch. 3
Several years after the event of How to Fake a Marriage, Adrien and Marinette are ready to expand their family. When it comes to breaking the news, though…
Well, some people are harder to tell than others.
Adrien and Marinette had planned on telling Gabriel about their baby before he left, they really had. But he had canceled their dinner three weeks in a row in favor of meeting with one more client, and by the time they headed over to the mansion to say goodbye to Gabriel before he hopped in the car, they were a bit tired of getting pushed to the side in favor of work.
And then they got there to find Gabriel in a Mood, irritated because there were reports of long lines in the airport and a traffic jam on the highway. There was no way that they were going to blurt out the news when he was as distracted and irritable as he was. It just wasn't the time.
So they said their goodbyes, pretended that they weren't annoyed when Mr. Agreste brought up the idea of Marinette transferring to work at Gabriel again before he left, and then watched as he got into the car and was driven away.
"Well, so much for that attempt," Adrien said wryly as the mansion's gates closed behind the car. "I guess he's just going to find out when he gets back, then."
Nathalie, whose attention had returned to her tablet as soon as Mr. Agreste had been bundled securely into the car, looked up at them sharply. "Find out what?"
Adrien and Marinette exchanged a grin. They had agreed before arriving that, even if they failed to tell Adrien's father about Marinette's pregnancy, they would at the very least tell Nathalie. She deserved to know, and it wouldn't hurt to have someone else on their side, helping them actually get their family dinner with Mr. Agreste once he returned.
"I'm pregnant," Marinette told Nathalie, grinning as she patted her (still remarkably flat) stomach. "We're going to have a baby soon!"
Nathalie's eyes widened, and then a small smile slipped onto her face. "Oh! Congratulations!"
Adrien beamed. He knew that Nathalie would be excited for them.
It only took a second, however, before Nathalie realized what their earlier words had meant. She looked after the car vanishing down the street, and then promptly decided that Gabriel deserved to be kept in the dark for the two more months that he would be gone.
"Well, no one can say that you didn't try," she told them, a small grin appearing on her face. "You scheduled three dinners, and he canceled them, and then you showed up before he left and he still blew you off. Besides, you'll be at, what? Month five or so when he gets back? That's not insanely far along."
"Eight," Adrien and Marinette corrected in unison, and Adrien had a moment of glee as he watched Nathalie's eyes fly wide. For once (or once again, he supposed, but it was such a rare occurrence), they had managed to catch Nathalie off guard.
"Eight?"
"Well, eight and a quarter," Marinette corrected herself. "I'm just over six months now. We've been trying to tell Mr. Agreste for a month and a half, but he's been too busy."
"Six months," Nathalie repeated in clear disbelief. Then she gave herself a shake. "Well, with any luck, the tabloids won't have picked it up? I mean, it will be winter…"
Marinette perked up. "Oh! Chunky sweaters!"
"We have already told our other friends," Adrien told Nathalie as Marinette clearly drifted off into daydreams about fashionable chunky sweaters that she could find or make. "And Marinette's coworkers. We tried to tell Father first, but…"
"No, you shouldn't be expected to sit on your news just because Gabriel can't make space in his schedule," Nathalie told them briskly. "Even though he knew full well that I could have handled some of the meetings before he left, and I will be handling the ones that happen while he's gone. Maybe this will help him learn that he needs to stop canceling dinners with his family to do business outside of business hours. He was doing better after you got back from London, but he's really slipped recently. This should put him back in line."
Adrien gaped at Nathalie. Part of him had expected that she would tell him that he should have tried harder to get his father's attention somehow, but it sounded more like… "Nathalie, are you actually encouraging me to prank my father?"
"I prefer to call it malicious compliance, actually." Nathalie's lips turned up at the corners ever-so-slightly. "He's the one who insisted that he had to hear any news from you face-to-face. Personally, I can't wait to see his face when he gets back and finds out that you're expecting a baby in a month."
All of Marinette's family was super, super excited for Emma to arrive. Her parents, of course, were counting down the days to Marinette's due date. Her Nonna Gina cancelled her trip to Peru so that she would be in the city when it was time for Marinette give birth, and her Lao-lao was going to fly over from China to visit after Emma was born. Between her family, friends, and coworkers- and, of course, her own very busy hands- Marinette already had baby clothes lined up for Emma's entire first year and (potentially) into her second.
"Some of this is resizable," Marinette commented as she and Adrien sorted through the clothes, hanging some things up in the closet that she had started clearing in the sewing-slash-baby room and folding others to put away in the dresser. "Other stuff Emma is going to outgrow in a couple months."
"And then Alya and Nino can borrow it for Elodie to wear," Adrien pointed out. "So it'll get a few more months of use before we have to put it into storage." He snickered. "Father is probably going to be beside himself that we already have all of Emma's clothes ready."
"The longer we go without telling him, the more nervous I get," Marinette admitted. She crouched down as much as she could to pet Masha as she wound herself around Marinette's ankles. "But at least we have Nathalie on our side."
"Nathalie is getting a huge kick out of this," Adrien assured her with a laugh. "I shouldn't have been surprised, honestly. She thought the prank wedding was hilarious after she figured us out." He reached over to squeeze her hand. "Honestly, he's going to have to admit that it was his own fault. We tried for six weeks in a row to schedule a dinner with him to share the news, and he either couldn't fit a dinner in or canceled it last-minute. And in the meantime, we've had dinners with your parents at least once a week, usually twice now that they know about Emma."
"Speaking of which, we need to finish this up and head over," Marinette commented, glancing at her watch. "We can't deny Maman her chance to coo over the tiny bump that's finally appeared."
Adrien laughed at that. "Alya is jealous, you know. Her bump is already bigger."
"I know." Marinette patted her stomach fondly. "I like that it's small, too. I'm not waddling or anything yet. Maman said that she was at seven months, but I've not really been affected at all yet. Well, besides getting tired and the cravings, at least."
It didn't take them long at all to finish folding and hanging up the rest of the clothes. Adrien grinned at the neat piles of tiny clothing as they got tucked away into the dresser that he and Marinette had gotten for Emma's stuff.
It was getting so real now. He couldn't wait to meet his daughter.
"Ready to go over to your parents' place now?"
"I gotta go to the bathroom first!" Marinette announced, making a beeline out of the room. "I'll be right out! And- oh my gosh, Adrien, can you keep Masha from following me into the bathroom? I don't need her staring at me when I'm trying to go."
"On it!" Adrien called, jogging to catch Masha before she could slip past Marinette into the bathroom. Ignoring her protests, he scooped her up and carried her into the living room so that Marinette could use the bathroom in peace. He snuggled their cat, grinning at the disgruntled look Masha sent him.
"Well, maybe Emma isn't announcing her presence with a huge belly, but she sure is having an impact on Marinette's bladder," Adrien told the cat, scratching under her chin until she started purring. "But you do know that you don't need to supervise, right? They'll be fine."
Their efforts to get the baby room ready had started in earnest at seven months, two weeks. Adrien and Marinette had tried to keep everything more or less organized as they got more and more stuff for Emma, but sometimes organized meant stacking it neatly in the closet instead of having it out. But they would get more busy (and in Marinette's case, more tired) during the time before Marinette gave birth, so they had to get it done now.
The problem was that there wasn't quite enough space to have all of the baby stuff out and have Marinette's sewing things set up in the same room.
"What do you think about moving your sewing machine and desk and maybe the mannequins into our bedroom?" Adrien suggested. "We have a lot more space in there than in here. And once Emma starts crawling, we can keep her out of here and away from the pins and needles. If you had the machine in the living room area, she could get into things."
Marinette considered that, then nodded. "That sounds good. We might have to wait for my dad to come over to dinner to do that, because I don't think I'm meant to be lifting things."
"No lifting heavy things, yeah." Adrien glanced around the room. "Okay, so in the meantime- how much is there to get ready with the crib? I know you said that there can't be any blankets in the crib."
Marinette nodded. "Yeah, not for the first year. That's why we have the basket under the crib, to keep a couple blankets there for when we're holding Emma. The other blankets and the quilt I made are going in the top of the closet for now."
"And then we have a basket of burping cloths, and a space for packages of diapers, and we need to unearth the baby carrier," Adrien added. "Uh- do you want to put stuff in the baskets, maybe, and I can move the furniture around? And then we can sort out all of the toys that we've been getting from people."
"And then can you get the baby mobile up?" Marinette asked hopefully. "It's so cute, I just want to see it out of the box."
Adrien laughed as he remembered that particular present from Marinette's parents. Somehow they had found a pastry-themed mobile and had swapped out a couple of the duplicate cupcakes for baguettes and croissants. "We'll have to make sure that it's high enough that the cats don't go for it."
"Oh, we're going to find them in here, totally entranced by the mobile, aren't we?"
It didn't take long for the nursery to start to take shape. The crib was pushed to one corner and the changing table in another. Marinette packed up her sewing machine and Adrien carried it to their bedroom, along with the chair from her sewing table and her two mannequins. The things that they wouldn't need in the room but wanted ready- the baby carrier and the high chair- both got unpacked and placed next to the crib, and the packaging was brought out- well, after the use and cleaning instructions had been extracted and tucked away in Emma's dresser.
And that was pretty much all they got done for the day.
"Okay, I gotta sit," Marinette announced. "My ankles are starting to hurt. Maybe we can get more done tomorrow. Or the next day. Or next weekend."
"It's going to be a little difficult to move around in here until you get your sewing desk moved," Adrien agreed. "And we've made really good progress! I think that's enough for today."
"Can we make cookies now?" Tikki asked hopefully. "We ran out two days ago."
"I can make cookies," Adrien assured her. "Marinette? Any requests?"
"The sea salt pretzel ones, maybe?"
Adrien grinned. "The salt and sugar cravings are hitting again, aren't they?"
The only response that he got was Marinette's stuck-out tongue.
"Have you decided yet when you're going to start your maternity leave?" Adrien asked as they headed out to the living room. "I know you were planning on discussing it with Belle yesterday."
"She said that I can work as long as I want, and we can increase the number of days that I work from home as time goes on and I get too tired to go in to work," Marinette reported. "And then I think I have to start proper leave three weeks before my due date? That's what we've done the paperwork for, at least." She made a face. "I feel like I'm going to go either go crazy with boredom or with fussing around to try to make everything perfect. At least I'll have Tikki to talk to during the day."
"And you don't have to stay at home," Adrien reminded her, heading into the kitchen and starting to pull bowls down for the cookies. Tikki flew after him, interested. "It's not like you're on bed rest. You can go visit your parents. And didn't you say that Abbey might be visiting during that time?"
"She might, yeah. She hasn't decided for sure yet."
It didn't take long for them to fall into a comfortable silence. Marinette curled up with a blanket, a book, and the ever-hovering Masha while Adrien got down to work in the kitchen, tossing chocolate and butterscotch chips to Tikki as he mixed up the dough. After a while Sasha appeared, meowing for treats.
"Plagg, did you teach her to do this?" Adrien asked with some exasperation as Sasha made an attempt to climb up his leg. "She didn't use to be such a beggar."
"Blame my papa," Marinette called from the other room. "He's been teasing her with table scraps. I've been telling him not to, but he never listens."
"We might have to start shutting the cats up in the bedroom during dinner," Adrien suggested. He scooped Sasha up and carried her out to Marinette. "I need to put the cookies in the oven and I don't want her tumbling in."
"Double kitty cuddles!" Marinette snuggled Sasha under her chin. "You get to stay put, my little troublemaker."
Sasha let out an annoyed mmrew but stayed put.
Without a hungry shadow attached to his leg, Adrien finished scooping out the first trays of cookies in no time and put them in the oven. Once the timer was set, he pulled out his phone to check it. It wasn't long before he made a face and let out an irritated noise.
"What is it?"
"Nathalie just texted. Apparently my father wants to talk to us over Facetime. I'm guessing that not having the option of being able to call us over with a day's notice has been chafing at him a bit." Adrien rolled his eyes as he headed out to join Marinette on the couch. "Nathalie quoted him, actually- he said that he wanted to talk since we 'didn't have the chance to properly get together before his departure'."
Marinette snorted. "Gee, I wonder why."
"And we might as well do it, or we'll have him pestering us all the time," Adrien said, feeling a bit discouraged. He- well, they- had kind of been banking on the two-month separation (and the couple months of very minimal contact prior) would drive his father into actually honoring their scheduled dinner. With a Facetime "meeting" mid-vacation, Mr. Agreste would probably consider that enough interaction with his son and daughter-in-law for another couple months.
At this rate, Emma would already be born by the time Adrien's father could spare the time to meet with them again.
"Do you want to tell him the news when we're Facetiming him?" Marinette asked. "Or do you want to do the- what did Nathalie call it? Malicious compliance?"
Tikki frowned. "I don't like that name! It sounds mean."
"It just refers to deliberately following what someone said exactly, even if we know or suspect that it wasn't exactly what they actually meant." Adrien grinned. "Like, I bet my father would include Facetime as face-to-face interactions. We're ignoring that on purpose. I'd prefer to make him wait, honestly," he added to Marinette. "Since otherwise he's not going to bother ever having us over for dinner in person again."
Marinette laughed. "That's what I was thinking, too."
Even with Mr. Agreste's request, it took several days for them to get a Facetime video set up and actually get it done. He canceled on them once- apparently he had met a prospective client, which was maddening considering that he was meant to be on vacation and resting- and then actually honored the appointment the second time.
Adrien was Not Impressed.
As it turned out, his father mostly wanted to dictate a bunch of stuff to them about what should be going on at the company, since apparently Nathalie wasn't listening to him. His return was going to coincide with some sort of gala with investors and famous clients and assorted company staff for Gabriel, and he wanted to make sure that everything was perfect. He also wanted to make sure that Adrien and Marinette knew that they were expected to be there.
Adrien shot off a text to Nathalie that boiled down to please can you do this thing that my father is asking about and tell him you did because I don't want to deal with him bugging me about it until you do.
"Mr. Agreste, we don't have anything to do with the company," Marinette was saying in clear exasperation as Adrien pocketed his phone and glanced back up to re-join the conversation. "There's no point in contacting us about this stuff. Tell Nathalie or one of the other secretaries."
Mr. Agreste waved that objection off, just like he always did. "Yes, well, you're family. It's a family business. I've told you time and time again that you should-"
"She's told you no, over and over," Adrien cut across, his voice going steely. He was honestly tired of his father doing this, and Marinette shouldn't have to keep turning him down. It was exhausting, and Marinette was already getting tired more easily than usual. "She loves her job where she is, and the design aesthetic at Gabriel isn't anywhere near as good of a fit. Enough with the asking."
His father actually looked taken aback. Marinette reached over, squeezing Adrien's hand gently. He glanced over and she shot him a thankful look.
"How is the vacation going?" Adrien asked once he had taken a second to recompose himself. "Have you visited anywhere interesting?"
"I've been visiting a number of the typical inspiration locations and have found most lacking," Mr. Agreste said stiffly. "The crowds are atrocious, even at this time of the year. Perhaps especially at this time of the year. There are far too many people for my liking."
"Perhaps you could find some easy hikes to go on?" Marinette suggested weakly. "There won't be as many people there, surely, and the nature should be inspi-"
Mr. Agreste snorted, cutting her off mid-word. "It's far too warm in this part of the world to spend that much time outdoors, I haven't got the shoes for hiking nor the desire to, and what would I do if my heart decided to give me trouble while I'm out on my own? No, I won't do any hiking."
There was an awkward silence at that.
"Has- has your heart been giving you any trouble?" Adrien asked tentatively, since clearly attempting further suggestions would get nowhere. His father was determined not to enjoy his vacation, so there was no point in even trying to help.
Mr. Agreste snorted again, waving a dismissive hand. "Not at all. I've never had any trouble, so I don't know what my normal doctor was on about. It's just all exaggeration and nonsense."
...okay, yeah, Adrien was remembering why he hated trying to hold a conversation with his father so much.
Two minutes later, their conversation had devolved to talking about the weather and his father was looking increasingly irritated. Adrien hastily brought the conversation to an end, and both he and Marinette leaned back from the darkened computer screen with a sigh.
"I prefer talking to your Nonna to that," Adrien told Marinette. "She might not listen that well, but at least she clearly enjoys the places that she visits."
Marinette nodded, looking exhausted.
"And a gala…" Adrien let out a long breath. "Every time he tells us to go to one of those, I worry that he's going to try to use peer pressure to force you into the company. I hate it."
"By telling people that I'm going to join the company, you mean?" Marinette asked. "And thinking that I'll be forced to go through with it once it's out there? Because I think he knows that I wouldn't hesitate to correct him. Loudly. And that would just embarrass him."
Adrien laughed. "Yeah. If you had any less backbone, I think he would try it. But he knows that you aren't scared of him, so he has to at least pretend to behave." Then he got more serious. "But a gala when he comes back- you'll be at eight months. A little over, actually. You can't wear a chunky sweater to a gala."
"He can try to stop me," Marinette muttered rebelliously. Then she sighed. "I'm still really small. I could probably get away with wearing a flowy empire waist dress- actually, I know just the one. It's dark, so that's even better, and sleeveless, so I could wear an open-front sweater- hmm. I'm going to have to think about which one I could pair with the dress. But it's not impossible to hide my bump at a formal event. It's still tiny."
"And we can try to beg out early, as usual," Adrien told her. "Since I'm sure you'll be exhausted."
"I'll be on leave by then, so I can rest up and have all day to get ready. But I'll never argue with leaving early."
"Perfect."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Marinette sagging against Adrien's side as they recovered from the ridiculously exhausting video call. Then Adrien was hit by a fantastic idea.
"Say, I could go for some ice cream to recover from that whole conversation. Do you want any?"
Marinette perked up. "Oh my god, yes. Can I have pretzels with mine?"
"Whatever you want, my Lady."
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Pit-town Strays Ch.1
Kidlaw softness and redneck shenanigans in a northern mining town. Everything's fucked but whatever.
Rated T, no warnings, or just general warnings for setting-specific social ills and violence (racist cops, shitty parents, etc). Someone ordered wholesome kidlaw family feels? well HERE.
[Ch. 1] - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5
Read on Ao3 too, I’m Ossicle
“What the hell are you going to Pit-town for?” Bellamy chewed at Law with his mouth open, a smarmy sneer on his pasty face.
“None of your business.” Law scowled, turning his eyes away from his brother’s ground-up breakfast. He shoved a random pile of coursework into his backpack.
“Well I know what kids like you go up there to do. Everybody knows.” Bellamy drawled on, like he knew shit about anything besides scamming beer and shooting bottles at the quarry.
“Don’t make assumptions, idiot. I’m just babysitting.”
“Why?”
“It’s called a job? You should try it,” Law suggested primly. “Feet.”
Bellamy lifted his feet off Law’s pile of textbooks. “Why, though? You got that big scholarship, I seen the letter when it came in.”
Law frowned at him. “How did you…”
“Well it was just there, so I read it. Why don’t you move out, if you got all that money? You hate it here so much.”
Law waved this matter aside. “I owe that money to someone. Give me the volvo keys.”
Bellamy didn’t move his stupid stumpy self from the ancient recliner—prized spot in the basement space the three brothers shared. “No, I need it, I’m meeting up with some guys later to go down to the quarry. Dad said I could.”
“Bellamy, I need it to get to town. Just gimme the keys.”
“Well I need it to pick up little ladies! You can hitch, right?”
Law didn’t bother arguing. He sighed through his nose and slid his feet into his severely ratty sneakers before heading out into the yard.
“Don't tell Dad where I am or I'll tell him about your girlfriend!” Law called on his way out.
“Obviously,” Bellamy muttered.
The ancient volvo wasn’t feeling cooperative today, or Law was having a lapse or something because he couldn’t fucking hotwire it. He slammed his fist on the dash and took out his phone. It was an oddly summery fall day—not too cold to walk or bike—but his shoes were getting thin in the soles, and Law didn't like asking his dad for little stuff like that. Didn't wanna be such a burden all the time.
He scrolled through his messages and sent a couple off to see about a ride. But Robin (who'd suggested the job) was teaching, and Baby (sweet, bitter Baby) was already in the sauce.
BB: i cn still come tho? you real stuck?? big bro awwwww im sry
You: Nono dont go driving if youre partying it up, Ill hitch a ride I guess
BB: Where?
You: Just into town
BB: Where in town??????
You: The Pit.
You: or whatever.
BB: LAWWW NOOOOOOOOooo jus kidding lol no judgement here
BB: id sell it on weekends too if i were pretty liek U
You: I’m not selling my ass!!!
BB: Lol
BB: sure
BB: why else ndn boi hangs w miner trash? Shady.
You: Lots of reasons, including a babysitting job. Don’t make assumptions.
BB: “babysitting”” “””job”””’
You: Yes.
BB: God ur sheltered
BB: shltered bebe in u nice rich house
BB: don get picked up there, pit-town piggies love ndn bebes
Law pocketed his phone with an eyeroll and started walking down toward the highway.
Once he’d found a ride and gotten dropped off, it was a twenty minute walk from the highway to the Pit. Law ended up climbing over the bare, rocky hill behind the truck stop, cuz his phone’s map had the place all wrong. On top of the hill, he could see the Pit in all its glory laid out before him.
Pit-town was the weird little enclave where the town’s mine workers were housed, in tar paper houses as outdated as the mine itself. The tangled machinery of the refinery loomed just beyond the houses, and above all that, the smokestacks. White smoke drifted from their peaks, as high above him as the clouds. Nothing except low bush berries grew around here—it was like an outpost on the moon.
Law went down into the village. Men with tattooed arms watched him from pickup trucks, and women smoking in lawn chairs whispered. Half-feral dogs barked and circled.
“Ya lost, hun?” one busty woman called from her front step as he passed, and her friends chuckled.
“No…” he mumbled back, and hurried on as they all laughed.
He was flustered and out of breath by the time he got to the address, on the other fucking side of the whole village. The house was like the rest: a single-storey bungalow on a small plot of land with a car port full of dead appliances. There was a little pink bike lying on the front step, and a short dog chain attached to a pole in the middle of the bare yard. A deep trail had been trod in a circle around the pole but there was no dog in sight. Law went up and knocked lightly.
He stood there for a few minutes, feeling the neighborhood eyes on his back, before trying again. He knocked a little louder. “Hey, um. Hello?”
A harsh voice called, “YEAH IT’S OPEN.”
Law tried the door. “No it’s not?” he called back.
“YEAH IT IS JUST KICK IT AND TURN THE THING AT THE SAME TIME.”
“...No, definitely not open,” Law assured him after trying every kick-turn combination.
“AH FUCK.”
“Yeah.”
“OKAY, CAN YOU JUST BREAK IN?”
“...What??” Law was almost offended.
“I’M DOING A THING, CAN’T GET THE DOOR RIGHT NOW, JUST TRY SOMETHING.”
Obviously Law could break into stuff, because his shitty little brothers thought it was hilarious to lock him out of the house all the time. And because their father thought it was prudent to keep things like Law’s ID in a secure location. Law didn’t think that skill set was a great way to start this ‘job’ thing, though… He looked around at the prying eyes across the street and they flitted back behind their blinds. He sighed.
The lock was just one of the doorknob ones, and the jamb didn’t have a guard on it so it was easy to get a credit card in there. The door swung open and Law stepped into a cluttered hallway.
“In here!” the big voice called from down the hall.
“I here!” a little voice added.
Law navigated his way carefully, stepping over baskets of laundry, unreturned empties, and sealed up moving boxes. Something obnoxious was playing on tinny speakers in another room. He rounded the corner into a sweltering little kitchen that seemed like the only clear spot in the house.
There was a very tall redhead with a face full of piercings sitting at the kitchen table in his boxers, and a much smaller redhead in a frilly blue bathing suit beside him. They were painting their toenails black, with their feet up on the table.
The bigger redhead seemed really shocked to see Law. He almost toppled backward on his chair. “H-hi! Uh! You’re Native.”
Law blinked. “Yeah. Um. You’re naked.”
“I’m Nami!” announced the little girl.
The guy was pretty much naked, by Law’s standards. Also kind of jacked… Law could feel his face heating up and was glad that it didn’t really show on him. The man sitting there in his boxers was pale as a fucking ghost, though, and so his sudden flush was super obvious. He rushed to recover from that intro.
“I don’t mean like, ‘oh, you’re Native.’ Well, obviously you are, heh, but I don’t mind or anything!"
“Yeah, uh.” Law nodded helpfully. “I don’t mind either, that you’re… naked.”
“Kidd is a naked...” Nami sang to herself.
“I'm not even,” Kidd protested. “I'm just hot as hell. Aren't you hot?”
“Am I??” Law was completely lost.
“Not—! I mean, yeah, but you're in a hoodie? Aren't you sweltering?” Kidd clarified.
“Oooh. No, not really. I like to keep covered up,” Law explained, picking at a fraying sleeve. He supposed it was weird to be wearing jeans and a hoodie in this weather, but no weirder than wearing Crocs in public, like people here seemed into doing.
Kidd was distracted by Nami painting patterns on her feet with the nail polish. “Fuck, Nami, stop, we just paint the nails. It’s messy, see? MESSY.” He took the tiny girl and sat her on the counter instead, then went about cleaning up the table. “Sorry about the door. Can’t go anywhere with wet toenails, it smears like hell.”
Law nodded harder and went to help him. “It’s cool, I know how to break into stuff. I mean I don’t usually! But your door was easy. Not that I’ll do it again!”
“Not a problem… uh, Kidd. I’m Kidd. Hi.” The guy finally got his head together and extended a hand. His fingernails were painted black too. He had a really firm grip.
“Law,” Law replied in relief.
“And this is my sister Nami,” Kidd jabbed a thumb at the toddler perched precariously on the counter. “She’s a fucking psychopath.”
Nami ignored them, sticking towels into the toaster instead.
“You have a dog too? I saw the chain outside.” Law wondered.
“No, Dad took the dog with him. And the fuckin car…”
“Your parents are both working?” Law asked, and immediately regretted it. God, he really was sheltered.
Kidd blushed again and started stacking dishes.
Law rushed to clarify. “Or, ‘parent'? I only got one too—a dad. I'm adopted though, and my birth parents are both passed, so.”
Kidd was wiping off each dish absently under the running water, not really cleaning anything. “We got a dad and mom, they’re just… not around right now. So it’s just us! Which is better, believe me.” He growled the last bit under his breath.
“Oh, got it.”
“Anyway. I didn't wanna ask someone to come all the way here to watch Nami, but that bitch down the street won’t take her anymore because of lice or property damage or something, and I got an interview today. I’ll prolly find another illegal daycare somewhere around here if I do get this job, though, heh.”
“Yeah don’t worry about it.” Law tried not to seem squeamish at the mention of lice.
“If they do take me I’ll be starting right away, so I might be out til pretty late,” Kidd warned him. “I’ll pay you for however long you’re here for though.”
“Sounds good. You gonna work at the mine?”
This seemed like another sensitive issue. Kidd looked away and muttered, “No… you gotta be 21, and take all these courses and stuff. And anyway, like HELL will I end up in the fuckin pit,” he finished with unexpected heat.
Law was saved from having to come up with a response by Nami blowing up the toaster outlet. The kitchen appliances all blinked out.
“FUCK! Again…” Kidd rushed to pick her up and sit her back on the table as a loud dryer beep sounded from the bathroom. “And fuck, there’s my pants. Listen, can you grab a fuse from the drawer there and stick it in? I actually REALLY gotta go, like right now.”
“Yeah of course!” Law watched the strange redhead duck through the kitchen door and pick his way down the obstacle course hall to another door.
He pulled his eyes away from the muscled back and onto the little girl, who was… eating nail polish.
“You!” Law scolded her, and put her in a chair. He grabbed the few towels that weren’t burnt, and tied her to the aluminum frame. “Okay, eat cheez-its while I fix this.”
Law had got the new fuse screwed into the panel and the nail polish off Nami’s face by the time Kidd came back, dressed in clothes that didn’t seem like interview clothes to Law: heavy duck pants and steel-toed boots. He grabbed a duffel bag that was sitting on a box stack, shouldered it and then stood looking at Law.
“Uh,” Kidd was blushing again. It was kind of amazing to see this tough blacklung brat acting so unsure. “If I come back really late maybe I could bring something? To eat? And we could eat it here?”
“Yeah, that'd be good.” Law shrugged like he didn't mind either way.
“KFC?” Kidd suggested.
“Oh I don't like breaded stuff. Fries are good, though.”
“Chinese?”
“I'm trying not to eat MSG actually…”
Kidd tried to think. “So what do you eat?”
“Mostly sushi.”
“I didn't know there was any sushi places in this shit town,” Kidd admitted.
“At the college there's one. Uh, but whatever you bring is fine, don't worry about it!” Law reassured him.
“Okay. Well, see ya.” Kidd made his way outside, yelling at some hovering dogs to git!, then started swearing. “Aw fuck, Nami's FUCKING bike…”
“You trip on it?” Law poked his head outside.
“No,” Kidd was looking at an empty front walk. “Fuckin kids took off with it again. I'll just go punch their dad in the throat later, not a big deal.”
“Holy,” Law commented mildly.
He watched Kidd pull a frankenstein-ian motorcycle out of a side door and roar away on it. Then he looked around to see if anyone had caught him looking. He was just sending a good glare at the prying eyes across the street when he remembered that he was babysitting. He returned to the kitchen where Nami was sitting once again on top of the table, drawing circles in a nail polish puddle with one finger.
“Your brother is an entire entrée,” Law informed her.
She didn't reply, intent on her craft. But she objected when he tried to pick her up. “Nooo!”
“No?” he put her down.
She glared at him, a tiny girl of no more than four, ginger hair in little pigtails and her frilly blue bathing suit spotted with nail polish.
“I'm Law,” he sat down so he was at her level, and introduced himself. “Lawww.”
“Law...” She appraised him solemnly for another moment and then seemed to deem him acceptable. “I’m being a witch,” she confided in a whisper.
“A witch?”
“Yah.”
Law sat back in the chair with a laugh. “My girl! Let's talk!”
Law had the kitchen scrubbed to his own exacting standards in short order, having secured Nami firmly to a chair (with duct tape and towels this time).
She was starting to nod into her cheezits by the time he'd finished, and Law figured it was nap time. He went to review the rooms along the hallway, looking for a baby room. He couldn't figure out the logic of the place, though. There was a largeish bedroom, which seemed to be the source of the stale smoke smell, mostly taken up by a tacky king bed and Seinfeld DVDs. It clearly hadn't been used in forever. He closed that door. Then there was a smaller room that might've once been a child's room, decorated with glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and complex Lego structures piled in one corner. It was stacked floor to ceiling with file boxes and covered in dust too. Another small room seemed to be Kidd's hideout, though the bed was just a box spring covered in laundry and books. There was a guitar and practice amp, and a desk piled with half-dissected old laptops. Law resisted the urge to snoop, and closed the door.
He went back down to the other end of the hall, past the front door, where the narrow corridor opened into a small living room space. A couch and a single mattress were neatly made up into beds, in front of a large TV that seemed like the only new thing in the house.
“I want a Kidd nap.” Nami had somehow gotten out of the duct tape high chair and was at Law's side, rubbing her eyes.
“Okay? In the big bed?”
“You're silly,” she accused. She went to lie down on the couch, pulling a fuzzy blanket over herself.
Law went to sit next to her. He gestured down at the mattress on the floor, with its orange and blue comforter and many fuzzy cushions. “Is that your bed? Don't you wanna nap there?”
“No,” she explained patiently, eyes already closed.
“Right, obviously.”
He watched her shuffle and sigh her way to sleep.
“I could've had a sister,” he murmured, partly to her and partly to himself. “I mean, I do have a biological sister, but I didn't grow up with her. I think it would've been nice, though…”
Nami was already asleep when he looked over again. Easy! Law totally had this babysitting thing in hand. He pulled his stats assignment out of his bag, and got down to the real work.
Nami turned out to be a pretty chill baby, as well as being an utter terror. She mostly ignored Law, preferring to go about her little play tasks uninterrupted, with the TV playing in the background. “Being a witch,” she explained whenever Law asked what she was doing.
“Keep it up,” he encouraged her, turning back to his own work.
He quickly learned, though, to keep an ear out for silence, because she was probably blowing shit up. Law found her building a fire in the oven, then making what he was pretty sure was mustard gas in the toilet.
“How’d you do that??” He took the bleach from her and she threw a mild fit before toddling off to the next game.
By the time Kidd returned, Law was just sitting in a kitchen chair with his stats assignment disregarded in front of him, watching the four-year-old expertly jimmy the makeshift lock he'd put on the knife drawer.
“More twist on the lever,” an amused Law recommended.
“So this one's being a psychopath huh,” Kidd entered and threw his duffel bag on the table.
Law corrected him.“Um, she's a witch and a prodigy? She made several deadly potions with cleaning supplies today."
“Oh jesus now there's two of you.”
“One more and we got a coven.”
“Great. Nami, it's like 11, why ain't your ass in bed?” Kidd growled at his sister, who ignored him.
“She went down for a couple hours, but kept getting up when she heard a car go by. And I couldn't get any pajamas on her,” Law reported.
“Yeah she won't take the bathing suit off unless I bribe her. She's big into being a ‘mermaid’ this month, on top of being a witch.”
Nami had gotten the knife drawer open and was feeling around in it with one chubby hand.
Kidd scooped her up. “No knives.”
“A knife!!!”
Law shook his head and smiled. Child after his own heart. “What's she want a knife for?”
“She's been trying to slash my tires lately, so probably that. It's usually pretty funny to watch, but yeah, not at bedtime. Eh, Nami?”
“I WAN A KNIFE! A KNIFE A KNIFE A—”
Nami stopped and stared at the chocolate coin Kidd was holding up. She grabbed it and wiggled out of his arms. They followed her to the living room where she was stashing her prize under the couch.
“Holy, she's got a hoard,” Law gave a low whistle at the cache of foil coins and random shiny things.
“Yeah I think she's more dragon than mermaid,” Kidd commented.
Nami lay down in her floor bed, where she could see the glittering pile.
“I got food, if you wanna…?” Kidd nodded back toward the kitchen.
“Is she good here?”
“Yeah she pretty much puts herself to sleep, just leave WrestleMania on for her. She likes the noise.”
They went back to the kitchen, and Kidd turned on a thing Law had thought was a smashed toaster oven reconstructed with safety pins, but which turned out to be a radio. Kidd gestured to a bag on the table, and Law unpacked it while the redhead fiddled with the receiver. It mostly seemed to be picking up country music and static.
“Can almost get that alt rock station with this thing,” he muttered, “probably just needs another coat hanger.”
“You went and got sushi??” Law pulled out several little plastic containers.
Kidd’s back was to him but Law could see his neck and ears going red. He kept fiddling with the dials. “Yeah, whatever.”
“From all the way at the college?”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
“...I think that radio is using you as an antenna,” Law observed, changing the topic.
Kidd snorted and let go of the screwdriver-dial, and the radio went to mostly static. “Faboo. Maybe it wants a piercing too.”
His face had returned to a normal color under all that metal, and he joined Law at the table. Law offered him the dragon roll and took the sashimi plate.
The chopsticks were an obstacle.
“Do you stab it?” Kidd glared at the sushi and the two little sticks.
“No, look at my hand: hold one like a pencil, and the other one loosely—”
“I stab it.”
“Don’t stab it, hey, you’ll ruin the integrity of the roll shape!”
“Hm,” Kidd chewed his mangled piece. “Tastes like salad.”
“Here.” Law scooted over a chair. He took the chopsticks out of Kidd’s fist and rearranged them. Kidd’s hands were large and rough to the touch, and the scent of sweat and gas clung to his clothes. The sudden impression of body heat and machinery smacked Law right in the back of the brain.
“I’m gonna say this is finger food,” Kidd decided.
“Yeah,” Law agreed automatically.
“Yeah, fuck this. Want a beer?”
Law hated beer. “Yeah. I mean, whatever.”
Law sat and nursed the beer with determination, trying to pay attention to Kidd's animated take on government surveillance vans and Nicolas Cage. His brain was getting fuzzy really fast, though. He was such a fuckin lightweight.
“He’s not an actual human person, is all I’m saying. You seen his face tryna do face stuff?” Kidd argued, crunching his second beer can and tossing it in the bin across the room. "Nother beer? Hey, you’re not even done that one.”
“Tastes like bread,” Law noted distractedly.
“I guess. You don’t like Bud?”
“I liked the first movie,” Law hiccuped.
Kidd laughed like a fucking hooligan, and Law had to laugh too. Normally loud laughs grated on Law's ears, but he decided he liked this one. It wasn't mocking or cold; just big.
Kidd shook his head with a final chuckle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Me too. Sooo uh, what you studying at the college?”
“General science right now, thinking I'll go into the pre-med stream,” Law answered right away. “Or maybe something more research, less clinical… uh. Or you know, like. Whatever.”
Kidd actually seemed interested. “Yeah that sounds awesome. I always wanted to go into engineering, but pure research would be cool… You um. Doing some math, there?” He looked over at Law's assignment, abandoned on the table.
“Stats. The bane of my existence. Don't stare at it too long, it'll put the bleed on your brain.”
“...you're stuck, huh?” Kidd glanced over again.
“No.” Law sniffed. “I'm considering it from many angles.”
“Okay, man.”
“Oh, like you know anything about sample sizes and shit.”
Kidd shrugged, but the line in his forehead deepened. He cracked another tallboy.
Law gripped his own beer can in the uncomfortable silence that followed, and then downed the rest all at once.
“Nother,” he wiped his mouth and Kidd raised an eyebrow but passed him a fresh one.
“Git it in ya.”
“Mhm.” Law took a deep swig and almost fucking barfed. “Sooo… you make that bike yourself huh?”
“...yeah,” Kidd's face lost the put-out look and split into a grin. “Or whatever, I just added some stuff and changed other stuff… actually, it's…”
That got another good long ramble out of the redhead, full of startling laughter and crass parallels with female body parts. Law wondered idly if Kidd was actually familiar with any female body parts, or whether this was just how people in Pit-town talked.
“Hm?” Law sat up straight, realizing that Kidd had asked him something. His brain was definitely all swimmy now.
“Or I can give you a lift back now. It's a long way to the Rez.”
“I'm not from the Rez, I live down the highway. I can just hitch my way back, it's not a big deal." Law looked at his phone—after midnight.
Kidd was giving Law a look, like he wanted to say something about that, but then grunted and downed his beer instead. “Here, for today,” he said, taking an envelope out of his pocket and pushing a few folded bills into Law's hand.
“Thanks.”
“If you're free tomorrow I'll be working again at noon. And like I said, you can stay here tonight if the trip out is—”
“Oh!” Law felt his face heating up again. “No, I gotta get home. My dad's gonna kill me as it is. I'll come back tomorrow, though, okay?”
“Okay! Or, whatever, good.”
“Yeah.” Law stood and started stuffing things back into his backpack. “Okay see ya tomorrow.”
Kidd gave him a flippant salute and cracked another beer.
Pulling on his sneakers at the door, Law felt a little tug at his pant leg.
“Law, you are going to go?” Nami worried.
“Yup, gotta go home.”
“Law, you won't be here if you go,” she started snuffling.
Law picked her up and put her back in her bed. “I'll come back tomorrow. Okay?”
“No.” She hid under the blanket and kept snuffling.
He hesitated. “I have to go.”
“She’ll get over it in a minute,” Kidd told him from the doorway, leaning backlit against the frame with crossed arms. “It's better not to draw it out.”
Law looked at the little lump among the cushions and shrugged. He stood to go.
The redhead chewed at his tongue piercing and watched him. “Okay, I don't wanna be weird about this, but like. It's the Pit. And you're... You know?”
Law wasn't getting it. “I'm...?”
“C'mon, you stick out. And it's really late, and it's just past check day, and… it'd really just be faster if I gave you a ride.”
Oh, fucking chivalry or whatever.
“So I'll put my hood up,” Law dismissed this.
“It’s the Pit, though,” Kidd said again.
“... See you tomorrow.” Law left without drawing it out any further.
Law got halfway through the village before someone pulled up next to him, apparently to offer him further unwanted courtesies.
“Looking for a place to stay?” the man offered.
“Just heading home,” Law deflected.
This didn't seem to be the answer the guy wanted, and he followed Law in his pickup at very close range, until they got to the village limits and the end of the street lights. Law gripped his phone in his pocket. He heard the truck door slam just as he went to detour off the road between two houses.
Law tried not to back away as the guy advanced. “I'll call the police.”
“I am the police,” the man pointed to the badge on his belt.
"Shit..."
"And you're trespassing."
Law held onto his phone, a harsh roaring steadily growing in his ears. The smart thing would be to play dumb and helpless so he wouldn't fucking get shot, and just hope someone came by… but the man went to grab him and he panicked just as the roar peaked. Law snapped the fist holding his phone into the man's temple, and it made a loud crunch. A couple more frantic strikes sent the pig down in a confused pile of limbs.
Well he'd fucking done it now. Maybe he could run before—
“Oohhh shit, haha,” someone commented.
Law glared over at Kidd, who was sitting there on his noisy rat bike, peering at the man on the ground.
“Hi?” Law crossed his arms.
Kidd scratched his neck. “Saw him drive past after you left, and figured… yeah. I was just gonna come and like, bam! Do a drive-by with a crowbar. But that Rocky shit was actually way cooler, haha. Is that a brass knuckles phone ring?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah…” Kidd considered the lump on the ground. “Kay, well. Can I drive you home now?”
“...” Law really, stubbornly wanted to refuse.
“Just so you can see how Marlene here rides,” Kidd patted the motorcycle. “Did I tell you I built her?”
Law's tension cracked and an incredulous laugh bubbled out. “Yeah. You told me. She's a beauty.” Kidd passed him the helmet and Law slid into place behind him.
“She’s a rubber-tit, chain-smoking old blacklung biddy, fuck yeah she's a beauty. You can ride her all day and night, she don't get tired.”
Law had been wondering how he'd get all the way home like this without popping a boner, but that mental image cleared it up.
“Uh,” Law gave the unconscious cop a guilty glance, “should we get this guy somewhere…?”
“Oh, I'll just call his wife to come get him, I guess,” Kidd snorted at the pathetic pile and took out his phone.
“You know him?”
“Everyone knows everyone here… hold on a sec. Hey, Mrs. Kyle? Yeah I just seen Kevin going off tryna fight that goose again.”
“Fuckin what??” Law snickered.
“Yeah, Cobb Road. Looked like he'd taken a good one on the head already. I dunno who taught that thing to make a fist. Yeah, anyway. Yeah, bye.” Kidd hung up, nodding to himself like that was it.
“No one's gonna believe that shit,” Law objected.
“Oh the goose? That's real, the thing's a monster. I think they should just shoot it but there's a pool on who'll defeat it in hand-to-hand combat.”
“...okay. Sure.”
“It's the Pit,” Kidd explained again.
Kidd tied a bandana onto his face as a windguard, and they pulled out of the village and onto the highway. It was fall but the air was warm and smelled like tar. Law held onto Kidd's waist and directed him by patting his arm and pointing. The smokestacks receded behind them, though the tar smell lingered on through the treeless landscape. Eventually Law signaled for them to stop.
Kidd pulled off the highway and stopped just under the lone streetlight at the turnoff. He looked around. “This is just a carpool lot. I might as well take you all the way home, right?”
“Nah, my Dad's already gonna be pissed that I'm out this late. If I ride up on a bike smelling like booze… yeah.” Law passed him the helmet and dismounted. “It's not far from here, I'm good now.”
Kidd was still processing the first part. “Aren't you in uni? You still have a curfew?”
Law shrugged. “He's strict. He just worries. Though, yeah, he's nowhere near as protective about my fuckin brothers so—”
At that exact moment Law's brain registered the whine of a familiar car, and he had to grip his bag to keep from bolting. He relaxed slightly when he saw it was just the Volvo.
“Hey Lawnboy,” Bellamy chuckled, leaning an elbow out the window.
“Hiii Law,” a gawky, sharp-eyed girl chirped from the passenger seat.
“Monet, my dream girl,” Law flirted mildly, leaning on the door frame. Monet giggled and Bellamy scowled.
“That your ~boyfriend~?” the blond troll mocked, jabbing a thumb at Kidd, who tensed and sneered.
“Yeah,” Law shot back.
There was a pause.
“Really???” Monet scrambled to get a good look at them both. Bellamy's face went slack with shock.
Kidd stuffed his head into the safety of his helmet.
“What're you doing?” Law questioned the helmeted Kidd.
“He's shy!” Monet squealed. “Ahhhh you guys are perfect!”
“Are you blushing?” Law tried to flip up the mirrored visor and Kidd held on stubbornly, shaking his head.
“Law, bring him to Hawk's place with us, I'll make youse guys’ drinks!! I got sourpuss and peach schnapps!”
“They're not coming to Hawk's,” Bellamy told her sullenly.
“Shut up Bellamy. Law, you guys coming?”
Law demurred. “Gotta work tomorrow, Monet-fique. Nother time.”
“Aw.”
“See you at home, Bellyache,” Law dismissed his pouting brother, who scowled.
“‘Babysitting’, huh. I'm telling Dad you're hoeing it up in the Pit,” Bellamy threatened.
Monet punched him in the shoulder. “Oh my god Bellamy no you're not. Later, Law! Byyye, strong silent boyfriend!”
Bellamy took his cue and screeched away.
Law turned back to Kidd, who was still hiding under his helmet. “Sorry. That was my brother. It just seemed like the best way to get him to leave.”
Kidd gave a slight shrug.
“So. See you tomorrow?” Law shouldered his bag.
Kidd nodded.
“Thanks for the ride. And for dinner and stuff…”
“Yeah it's whatever,” came Kidd's muffled voice.
“Oh yeah I mean, whatever.” Law started off down the road.
“Uh…! Thank you too, for… coming...” Kidd called after him a few steps later.
Law stopped and looked back awkwardly.
“...And for being chill about Nami's issues, and the house, and dealing with that creeping fucker… You don't have to come back after that crap. And if all this is gonna get you in trouble with your dad anyway,” Kidd offered in a nervous jumble, as Law wandered back over and stood there, feeling suddenly sad.
Law had had his share of sweet goodbye kisses under this streetlight, when he'd been a little younger and a little less worried about everything. He kinda really wanted another like that right now… But Kidd was holding onto the helmet on his head like a life preserver. And a kiss seemed like such a shallow, wrong-headed kind of assurance to offer against all ‘that crap.’
Law leaned in, and bonked his forehead lightly against the glossy helmet instead.
“Well, pick me up tomorrow, at the highway. So I don't gotta risk crossing the goose,” Law shrugged too, like it really was all just whatever.
He couldn't see Kidd's face but he could see his heaviness lift.
“You got it, Cap.”
The scruffy redhead leaned into his bike and the road, and became a fading engine roar in the dark. Law walked home slowly.
#kidlaw#KidLaw fic#eustass kid#trafalgar law#one piece modern au#Kid is a blusher#Law is an airhead#blue collar love#pit-town strays
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Expanding Our Hearts
“Harry? I’m going to put the extra food into the refrigerator if that’s okay.” Anne continues to put away the meal from the celebration that had just occurred.
“That’s great, Mum. Thanks. Would yeh like some help?” Harry asks, walking into the kitchen with some of the party decor that was placed around the house.
“That would be lovely.” Anne says, placing the cut up vegetables into a container. Her fingers stall on the last corner of the lid as she gazes at a picture frame that was part of the decor. Her eyes move across the announcement before she wraps her fingers around the metal so she can look at the picture closer.
“She is beautiful. Isn’t she?” Harry whispers over his mum’s shoulder, imprinting the picture of his third child in his memory, even though he just left her with you two minutes ago.
“Yes, and she becomes a little more gorgeous with every passing day.” Anne places the frame back on the counter. “I think her skin is darker now compared to this picture.”
“The pediatrician said that it will take a little for her skin to darken and become it’s true color.” Harry comments, placing a dish in the sink so it can be rinsed off and loaded into the dishwasher. Harry and Anne direct their attention to the little feet skipping across the wood floor.
“Daddy? Have you seen Penny’s dummy? Mummy needs it.” Grace asks her father, her fingers combing through her hair, placing the curls so she can see. Poppy comes to her side and she moves her hand back and forth through his fur.
“Hmmm…” Harry grabs his bottom lip between his fingers, rolling it between his digits. “It’s not in her cot?”
“Nope. We looked everywhere!” Grace throws her arms out dramatically, emphasizing that she has searched the whole house. Poppy releases a small whine at the loss of Grace’s hand, and he brings his paw up against her stomach asking for attention. “Poppy. Not the time. This is an emergency. Penny is sad.” She pushes the paw off her stomach, and Poppy makes his way over to Anne, who is happy to give him some attention.
“Let’s go check it out. I’m sure we can find one lying around somewhere. We have more than one.” Harry chuckles softly at Grace’s idea of an emergency, and he wraps his arms around Grace’s shoulders, guiding her to leave the kitchen and go up to the nursery.
They make their way up the stairs and down the hall. Penelope is crying, and Harry can hear you attempting to calm the baby with the sound of your voice. Harry walks past the nursery door and into the master bedroom, picking up the pink dummy that is sitting on the nightstand next to the bed.
“How did you know?” Grace places her hands on her hips in annoyance that her father didn’t have to look very long to find the item she was looking for.
“I have my ways.” Harry shrugs his shoulders, allowing a small smirk to creep onto his face. Grace releases a small huff and follows her father out of the master bedroom and into the nursery. You make eye contact with your husband as he holds up the dummy, showing that he had found what the crying baby needed. “I’ll take her.” Harry takes Penelope into his arms and places the dummy in her mouth. He sways his body back and forth as he holds the item in his daughter’s mouth with his finger.
“She is very different from the first two. They never wanted something to suck on, but P, if she doesn’t have her pacifier, it’s bad news.” You sit on the pale pink carpet and rest your back against the crib, taking a deep breath.
“Yeh are a little different. But doesn’t mean we love yeh less.” Harry looks down at the sweet baby girl in his arms. Her crying has ceased and only soft whimpers can be heard through her sucking. Her eyes begin to close, and she starts to fall asleep with the swaying motion of her father.
“I. DI-NA-SOAR!!!!” Ethan yells loudly. His hands are in the air as if they are claws and he is roaring all over the nursery. The noise startles Penelope, and she fusses in Harry’s arms. Harry grabs the dummy she spit out and places it back in her mouth. His swaying changes to a bounce in an effort to soothe her cries.
“Ethan love, sissy is trying to sleep. Can we be quiet dinosaurs?” You ask your son, who paused when he heard his name, even though he was mid-growl.
“I whisper. Ni Ni baby.” Ethan taps Harry’s leg as he whispers his dinosaur sounds out of the nursery.
“Just like that, close yer eyes, Squirt. Take a nap.” Harry speaks to his daughter softly. He watches her eyes close peacefully and her dummy moves against her lips in a smooth and steady rhythm. Harry sits down in the rocking chair very slowly so he doesn’t wake the little one. His hand runs softly over her head of jet black hair as he cuddles her close to his body.
“Mumma?” Grace has moved to sit between your legs. She is resting her back against your chest, your arms wrapped around her gently.
“Yes, Bug?” You reply.
“Can I love Penny as much as I love Ethan and you and daddy? You know…. Because you didn’t grow her and she is adopted?” Grace is asking this, honestly curious.
The talk of adoption came about a year ago. Due to complications with endometriosis, you had to have a hysterectomy six months after Ethan was born. This made the possibility of having future biological children impossible. While you and Harry were both extremely grateful for the gifts of Grace and Ethan, your family wasn’t complete. So after Ethan turned two, as a couple, you began searching agencies until you found one that fit. The adoption was introduced to Grace and Ethan once the family was matched with a mother. Even though the topic of welcoming a baby has been talked about for about three months, it is still a hard concept to grasp. You didn’t give birth, but you and Harry came home from the hospital with a baby.
“Of course Bug. Penelope is part of our family now. Even though I wasn’t able to grow her in my tummy, she is still an important part of our family.” You state, looking over at Harry who is rocking the baby and looking at Grace with a face full of love and compassion.
“Good.” Grace relaxes more in your arms as if the question had been on her mind for days.
“Why do yeh ask, love?” Harry questions Grace, curious to know why she was wondering how much love she is allowed to give her sister.
“I just love her as much as Eth.” She looks down at her lap and whispers, “and sometimes more. But I didn’t know if that’s okay.”
“Gracie, do yeh know you can love anyone yeh want to? Yeh don’t have to ask for permission.” Harry reassures his daughter with a statement that has been taught since the first time Grace came home, upset that a kid in her class said she can’t love her friends.
“I love Penny. Even if she didn’t grow in mum’s tummy like Eth.” She smiles. “Does every family adopt? Like we did?”
“Not every family.” Your voice shakes slightly as you attempt to answer the question for your daughter. You are starting to get a tad emotional, grateful you and Harry had the resources to give this sweet baby girl a loving home.
“We are just special enough to have our hearts expand with more love. Penelope needed to be surrounded by love.” Harry looks down at the baby nestled in his arms. “Didn’t yeh, Squirt?” His nickname for this little one melts you into a puddle; actually they all do. It’s extremely endearing that he thinks of a special nickname for the people he loves in his life. “So our job is to love her as much as we can. Just like we love our Bug and our Stud.” Harry smiles, his dimple making a small appearance in his cheek.
“She is my sister, right?” Grace looks up at you, her eyes a little worried that your answer will be no.
“Yes my love, just like Ethan is your brother. Penelope will always be part of our family.” You reply, hoping Grace can understand a concept that is confusing and big.
“Okay. Good. I know I will always love Penny. Butterfly much.” Grace hugs your arms closer to her body.
“We love all of you, butterfly much.” You say softly, kissing the top of Grace’s head.
“And so much more.” Harry adds. Just then, Ethan and Poppy enter the room and join the pile on the floor. The room feels warm and happy as you spend a lovely moment as a family, filled with acceptance, understanding, but most importantly, love.
A/N: I am so thank for @whoopsharrystyles and all that jazz! She is just the best person in this world and I love her bunches. Love you all!!
READ NOW ON WATTPAD!!!
#Please send me feedback#You are best#The adventures of Harry and Grace#Expanding our Hearts#Harry styles fan fic#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#Harry styles fan fiction#Harry styles imagines#Harry styles imagine#dad harry#dad!harry#original writing
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King of Anything - An Escaflowne Fanfiction
A/N: The other day, I re-discovered Sarah Bareilles' King of Anything and it prompted this one-shot to form in my head. Now, granted, that song is more about a guy with correctile dysfunction aka mansplaining syndrome but it's not about that. It's specifically one line in the song that inspired this story. Well, just go with it.
If you're on Insta and are curious how I imagined Merle, go you to 'angelganev' and look for a pretty recent drawing of a super adorable pink-haired girl with two buns.
This is meant to be light-hearted entertainment. Don't take it too seriously.
[Edit 09/16/18: Couldn't have been more wrong about this being a one-shot. I have decided to pick up this story again and am in the process of creating an outline. Stay tuned!]
I'm just playing in Shoji Kawamori's sandbox again, making zero coin off this story.
King of Anything
Act 1, Chapter 1:
In which Van opens a door and Hitomi drops something.
It was dumb. Dumb and boring. Dumb because the physicians were still, after a whole damn week, refusing to allow him to leave his bed, and boring because of, well, being stuck in said bed without any sort of entertainment whatsoever. It was a just cause for slow but gradual declivity into insanity. He had been told numerous times that he still needed rest and even though hotly contested by himself, there was absolutely no debate about it.
Van Slanzar de Fanel, heir to the throne of Fanelia and soon-to-be-crowned king was, until further notice, strictly ordered to rest. To say that he was miffed about it would have been an understatement. If he had to swallow so much as another drop of the bitter, medicated tea they brought twice a day, he would most definitely hurl. If he had to taste it even one more time, he couldn't be held responsible for what he was going to do.
Oh how gladly he'd instead fight that bloody dragon again. All the dragons in Fanelia, no scratch that- all of Gaea, actually- just to get his hands on a freshly brewed, delicious cup of hot, steaming coffee. The lack of caffeine was another, very undesirable, side effect of the bedrest they still had him on. Not even his younger sister, Merle, could be convinced to smuggle a cup out of the kitchens for him, and she would pretty darn well do nearly anything for him under normal circumstances.
At present, said younger sister was still in her usual post on the floor next to his bed, holding onto his hand and napping with her head resting on the mattress, legs curled up by her side. Pink hair, which she liked to carry in two small buns on top of her head had become disheveled from moving around and was beginning to spill onto the crisp, white sheets near their arms.
Of course, Van had told her already days ago that spending every waking hour with him was not necessary. As it was, however, they were the only two remaining members of the royal family so her protectiveness towards him was not entirely unfounded and it wasn't like he wouldn't act in a very similar way if the roles were reversed.
Funny, Van thought now as he stared at the fresco on the ceiling above his large four-poster. Funny how Fanelia's capital was protected by tall, metal walls topped with electric fences to keep out the land dragons native to the kingdom but when it came to traditions, they had no qualms whatsoever about sticking the last male heir of their royal family into an ancient, primitive armor and pushing him out the gates, armed with nothing but a sword and a shield. Not to forget, that was after his brother had already failed at the rite of dragon-slaying years ago.
When Merle finally woke from her early afternoon nap by his side, she stretched and fixed her hair before popping some gum into her mouth. She loved gum and even though the governesses who were supposed to educate her in proper behavior and etiquette befitting a princess kept taking it from her at every possible chance, she always somehow had a piece in her mouth again mere minutes later. It was pretty likely that she had a secret cache somewhere in her room. Clever. Van could really learn something from her in those regards.
"Van, I think it's time for your tea again soon." She announced while getting to her feet, smoothing the wrinkles out of her favorite yellow sundress in the process. "I'll go grab a snack from the kitchens and bring you a cup myself."
Van's eyes widened at her words but he said, "sure. Thanks, Merle," while one of his eyes involuntarily gave a nervous twitch. There was no use in arguing about it. His health was her top priority and it had made her unsympathetic to any and all of his complaints about the foul-tasting brew.
Over my dead body! Was what Van actually thought after the ornate door clicked shut behind his sister. In the blink of an eye, he was out of his bed and across the room, stripping off his black, silk pajama shirt with a few quick movements on the way. He winced a bit when his right arm protested. Ah yes, the injury. The very reason for his much abhorred, mandated bedrest and sole justification for why they were still keeping him quasi-locked up in his own, royal chambers.
Van had managed to slay the dragon but not before the beast, in return, had wounded him with the sharp, bony protrusion at the end of its tail. In hindsight, he had been lucky to get away with only a deep gash on his sword arm considering the beast could have roasted him to a crisp in a matter of seconds. Sure, it hurt but he seriously doubted that a flesh wound warranted anything more than three days of bed rest. They had stitched it together pretty well, after all.
What he really, really needed right now was a good cup of coffee to satisfy the craving and lift his spirits after lulling about and vegetating in the same spot for days. Enough was enough. He needed to get out of here. Only for an hour or two at least, before he'd lose his mind completely.
Luckily, there was a pair of ordinary denim pants way in the back of his closet, behind the suits with the royal crest and the scratchy embroidery around the tight collars he usually wore when going about his duties. No, going out by himself and enjoying some much-needed freedom would only be possible incognito. Luckily, the pants still fit and comfortably so, although he couldn't remember when he even had the chance to last wear them.
Probably sometime before Balgus insisted on upping the sword training to make sure Van wouldn't suffer the same fate as the oldest Fanel offspring. The combat training had eaten up a good chunk of his free time. It was fine, though. Really. He never complained about it. If anything had happened to him during the rite of dragon slaying, all the uncomfortable responsibilities would have fallen upon Merle. Not a royal by birth, his adopted sister would have had to marry some foreign aristocrat to be able to even stake a claim to the throne and Van just couldn't leave her to such a fate. He didn't consider himself particularly fit to rule even now but at least he had received some formal instruction alongside Folken since their father had passed years ago.
Van hastily picked a button down shirt from the endless pile of fresh laundry and yanked the sleeve up his sword arm where the thick bandage was, rolling up the cuffs to just under his elbows after hastily closing the small buttons, only haphazardly tucking it into his pants after. Wait, what was he doing? He didn't have to do this. This was incognito prince Van. He tugged the, now slightly wrinkled shirt, back out of his pants and let the hem hang comfortably loose.
Unfortunately, the royal wardrobe almost exclusively offered a wide array of polished dress shoes. A pair of soft, brown loafers meant for traveling in the summer was the least fancy thing he could find. Perfect, and who needed socks anyway.
When looking into the large full-length mirror, Van noticed that his hair was in a state of complete disarray from the restless tossing and turning he had been doing in bed all day. How convenient. It looked a far cry from the usual, slicked back style which had become his signature look over the past years. A faint smile formed on Van's lips when combing his hand through the mess to drag some of it across his forehead and cover more of the dark skin and trademark garnet eyes he could easily be recognized by.
Drat. This was indeed a dead giveaway. Looking around… Ah-ha! The royal wardrober's least favorite pair of sunglasses just so happened to be Van's favorite. He usually sported them during sword lessons in the relentlessly hot Fanelian afternoon sun and that was pretty much the only reason they had not yet mysteriously disappeared from his wardrobe. The lenses were mirrored, framed by a thin, metallic wire and would completely hide his eyes from anyone. Dressed like, perhaps, a preppy-looking university student, he would be able to roam the streets freely. Just so long as he got out of here before Merle was back, of course.
This was, without a doubt, the worst day in Hitomi Kanzaki's life. Not only had she been soaked from head to toe by a surprise rain shower this morning, torn a lace on her favorite pair of sneakers, and walked in on her two roommates making out with each other in their apartment living room. No, she had also just dumped a whole, fresh carafe of coffee onto the floor behind the counter of the little coffee shop she worked in. It was a good thing there weren't any customers in here at the moment. This was still a slow time of day what with it being a bit after lunch but too early for people to stop in for a pick-me-up on the way home from work.
Perhaps, if she had known that it was about to get even worse, she wouldn't even have left her bed this morning.
Of course, right then, while she was still kneeling on the floor to take care of the mess, the bell on the door chimed behind her to indicate that somebody had entered. Hitomi plastered a fake smile on her face. "Hey! Welcome! I'm sorry I had a small mishap. Will be right with you." She announced while scrambling to her feet from her kneeling position on the floor and gingerly dropping a handful of glass shards into a nearby trashcan.
The tall guy who was passing through the doorway at first appeared to be unusually nervous for a customer. He was checking first left, then right over his shoulder to perhaps see if he was being followed. Then, seemingly more relaxed, he casually sauntered up to the counter where Hitomi was still standing in a puddle of lukewarm coffee, the soles of her sneakers squeaking as she shifted her weight.
"Afternoon. I'll have a cup of coffee. A very large cup of coffee. Black." The man said upon arriving at the counter. Hitomi eyed the dark-skinned stranger more closely before replying.
His clothing was a bit disheveled, the slightly too elegant dress shirt wrinkled at the hem, and his face accessorized with a pair of mirrored shades which completely hid his eyes. He didn't seem to be planning on taking them off like anybody else would have by now.
An ebony mess of hair covered his head and fell across his forehead in charming disarray. He could be handsome, but it was hard to tell without seeing his eyes.
"Sorry, I just dropped the carafe a few minutes ago and need to clean up this mess before I can get a new one from the storage room in the back." Hitomi apologized, visibly a bit annoyed at her own clumsiness. "If you don't mind waiting a little, I'd be happy to make fresh coffee."
The guy scratched the back of his head while turning his head again to look through the large glass windows on either side of the door through which he had just entered while saying, "sure no problem."
Hitomi nodded and crouched down on the floor again to pick up some more of the many glass shards that littered the immediate area. Before she could proceed, however, the guy had come halfway around the counter. What in the world was he doing?
Van saw an unmistakable hue of scarlet pass by the storefront. A royal guard. Damn, they were fast. Surely, his sister had alerted them immediately after she had returned to his room and found him missing. With nowhere else to hide, he quickly stepped around the counter to where the young woman was kneeling to shield himself from view. "Let me help you with that," Van mumbled and moved to reach for a piece of glass near him.
"Wait what are you doing? Don't cut yourself!" Hitomi exclaimed in alarm. It most definitely wouldn't do to have a customer get injured while picking up broken glass.
Hitomi's hand shot out and grabbed the dark-haired guy's arm. Her fingers wrapped around it firmly, pulling him away from the glass and catching him slightly off guard with her reaction. His head moved up and the lenses of his glasses reflected Hitomi's own face back at her. "I don't want you to hurt yourself." She said a bit annoyed but meaning well.
She was pretty. No make-up, short hair, and with a few freckles across her nose from being out in the sun.
"Fine then. Do it all yourself…and let go because that hurts!" The stranger replied, clearly irritated, and winced a bit while readjusting himself and attempting to get back up.
Hitomi's eyes widened when she released his arm. "By the gods…did…did I do that?" She uttered in horror upon seeing that where her hand had been only a moment ago, a scarlet splotch was beginning to bloom on the white fabric of his shirt.
"How in the…was there glass?" She stuttered before scrambling to her feet too, the mess completely forgotten while she checked her hand back and front to see if a stray shard had caught itself on there without her noticing.
"Oh dear. I'm so very sorry. I don't know how that happened! Please let me take care of that." She said with a horrified expression on her face, motioning towards the guy's arm which he was cradling a bit protectively by the elbow. "Your coffee is obviously going to be on the house," she said for a lack of anything else.
Van couldn't help but be a bit amused despite the accident. The young woman, probably around his age, had not the slightest idea who he was even though the news about his injury had spread like a wildfire. When she took his hand, he noticed that it was much smaller than his and soft, not calloused from holding a sword nearly every day over the last five years or so.
He was used to being treated with respect and a sort of standoffish care by the staff, never ever being dragged around. Certainly not ever being dragged around the counter of a tiny coffee shop and maneuvered into a worn, wooden chair next to a square table by the wall.
"Wait here. I'll get some first aid supplies," the woman said while she hurried towards the back, skidding a bit through the spilled coffee near the back counter on the way. She was athletic looking, dressed in tight khaki shorts and a green polo shirt under the short, brown apron that was wrapped around her waist.
When she came back, she was holding a white plastic box with a red cross on the lid. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I'm in nursing school. I just work here to make a bit of money on the side." She said while depositing the container on the table.
"Really, I'm so sorry I don't even know how that happened." Hitomi stammered again, looking at her hand as if to check again whether she had perhaps spontaneously sprouted a pair of sharp talons without her own knowledge.
Van didn't have the nerve to reply. What was he supposed to say without giving himself away? He was currently also busy staring at her face again. As flustered as the young woman with the short, honey blonde hair was, she was becoming prettier by the minute. Maybe it wasn't just her looks but also her naturally endearing demeanor. He didn't really protest either when she investigated the sleeve of his no longer completely white dress shirt.
No cuts or holes were to be seen, of course. A bit bewildered, Hitomi scrutinized him, her face so close to his that Van was afraid she would see right through the lenses of his mirrored shades. "I can't get to your upper arm. Would you mind just taking it off?"
Van only stared at her while his eyebrows traveled far above the metallic rim of his shades. Was she serious?
"I see shirtless male patients during my rotations all the time. It's not a big deal." Hitomi assured him, the professional through and through.
Quite serious, so it seemed.
Fine then, Van thought, slowly becoming extremely curious and also a bit uncomfortable due to the freshly leaking wound. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea after all to at least have it wrapped up. Walking down the street with a bloody arm would most certainly draw a whole lot of unwanted attention.
He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt a bit, the stinging pain in his injured arm making his fingers slightly clumsy. "Here, let me help with that," the woman immediately offered when she saw that he was getting nowhere. Her hands gently pushed away his and deftly undid the button row in mere seconds. If it hadn't been for his naturally dark complexion, the faint tint of red on Van's cheeks would have been blatantly evident. It wasn't every day that a woman undressed him.
Okay, maybe she shouldn't have so vigorously insisted on helping because this, this was most definitely a first. Normally, Hitomi's professional attitude surpassed any and all awkward situations but the slightly arrogant guy with the ebony hair, the sunglasses he still didn't feel the need to remove, and the wrinkly, bloody shirt looked quite a lot more built, no…let's call it 'healthy'…than the average guys who normally came by the teaching clinic to get free urgent care. This wasn't even a guy. This, most definitely, was a man.
A man who was quite a sight to behold. Hitomi realized that not only had his face a dark taint, his skin was dark, no, bronze all over, making it ostensible that he was a native Fanelian, much unlike her who had moved here from Northern Asturia a few years ago.
His dark skin spanned across a slim, well-muscled stomach, a broad, equally toned chest and nicely shaped shoulders and arms. Hitomi gulped and only somewhat regained her composure when the man carefully peeled the blood-soaked sleeve down an already bandaged upper arm. The bandage, of course, was soaked too.
It seemed like a fairly serious injury and this finally caused Hitomi to snap out of it and back into professional nursing mode. "Good grief, where did you get that injury?"
The dark stranger froze in his movements for a second before answering. "Don't worry about it."
His evasive reply rubbed Hitomi the wrong way but she decided not to question him any further for the moment. Getting his arm cleaned and wrapped up was more important right now.
Van was relieved by her reaction but then winced when she removed the dripping bandage. Her hands were quick and careful but the sticky fabric pulled uncomfortably on the wound, making Van hiss and squirm in his seat, the injured arm jerking away by reflex.
"Hold still you're only making it worse." She admonished him, pushing down on his shoulder to prevent his arm from moving out of her grasp again. The royal physicians, as dedicated as they were, usually apologized profusely at any small sign of discomfort from him when changing the bandages. Not her, though. How irritating and refreshing at the same time.
"Looks like a few stitches have come loose." She said full of concern. "Obviously I can't fix them with what I've got here but it's small enough for me to use a taping technique that will hold that part of the wound together. It's likely going to scar a bit more at this point, seeing as how the healing process already started…around a week ago, I'd judge?"
A pretty darn precise estimate. An estimate that would have maybe given him away anywhere else but this woman was clearly not one to follow the news very closely.
"I don't care," Van replied finally. He really didn't. It wasn't like many people would see it anyway, what with him being stuck wearing these awful formal suit jackets all the time. By Escaflowne's scaly hide, one of his first orders would be to completely re-design any and all of these damn suits. For the past years, Van and his sister had still been bound to the etiquette and traditions set in place by the long line of royals before them but things were about to change drastically.
"Okay then," the woman replied and began rummaging through the box to retrieve a bottle of antiseptic. When she began to clean the bloody gash, a crease appeared between her eyebrows. "How on Gaea did you even do this?" She couldn't help but inquire again. "The edges are all jagged and torn. Not something you'd get from anything I can think of except...," she shook her head now, the thought being too silly to finish.
"Except from what?" Van couldn't stop himself from asking.
"Except from…being outside the walls, fighting a wild beast." Hitomi exhaled audibly after saying it. "…but that's madness. Who would be idiotic enough to go out there?"
Who indeed? Van had to wholeheartedly agree with that last part, albeit quietly so and in his head.
This man dressed in a once crisp button-down shirt certainly didn't seem like the kind who would willingly head out for an adventure beyond the walls and make it back alive to tell the tale. Then again, he did look fairly strong, Hitomi couldn't help but be reminded of that fact as her eyes wandered back across his exposed upper body again.
Nope. This was not the time for wandering thoughts. Most definitely not.
"I'm going to need you to push down on the dressing for a moment while I look for something." The blonde woman instructed him while already beginning to rummage around the box for more materials with one hand, while still applying pressure to the wound with the other.
Van wordlessly and obediently complied. It was truly something to behold. The temperamental prince of Fanelia normally did not like to follow anything that sounded like an order, especially not by the physicians, and if, then not without making his extreme displeasure known.
He numbly reached around with his hand and placed it on the woman's smaller one which was pressed onto his upper arm, compressing the wound with a piece of thick gauze. His larger hand had firmly trapped hers in place. As a response, her face immediately flushed a charming shade of red and they stared at each other for the duration of several heartbeats.
"N…n…no I mean…I need my hand." She stuttered charmingly.
"Oh, right. I'm sorry." Van replied equally flustered and let her retrieve the appendage from his hold.
She quickly claimed it while averting her face to go through the box again instead. "My name is Hitomi, by the way."
"Hi-to-mi." Van tested out her name slowly. It definitely was foreign. She likely hailed from one of the other kingdoms.
Her name sounded very different when he said it and it somehow had a nice ring to it. The thought made Hitomi's heart beat oddly fast for a moment.
"What's yours?" She asked the man to distract herself from the feeling.
Shit. "Uh…never mind that." Van replied evasively. It had come out a bit more rude than he had intended.
Hitomi pursed her lips a bit at the answer. She had just begun to think that maybe he wasn't as arrogant after all but clearly, she was mistaken.
"Suit yourself," Hitomi replied as she finally found what she had been looking for. What a weirdo. Undoubtedly good-looking but definitely weird. It would be best to get him out of here asap after making sure that wound was taken care of properly.
Hitomi unboxed the flex tape and cut a few strips off the roll while a strange silence lingered between them. The dark-haired stranger pulled a bit of a grimace again when she asked him to remove his hand and began to tape the top edge of the long gash. He groaned in response to the intense discomfort.
It obviously hurt and no wonder, the wound was deep. Any sane person would be resting, taking it easy instead of wandering around, buying coffee. Hitomi's eyes darted to the man's face right next to hers. He was watching her intently, probably to make sure she wasn't going to botch him.
She finished stretching the last piece of tape across and smoothed it down as gently as possible. Van's face tensed once again. "Just making sure it's sticking well to the skin. I stretched it pretty good so the elasticity of the tape trying to revert it back to its original length will be pulling the wound together.
"Ok, great." Was all Van managed to say when he regarded her big eyes from behind the privacy of his shades. They were green, he now noticed. Her eyes. So green. At that moment, those green eyes flickered over to the side, distracted by something she saw outside. Van quickly turned his head to follow her gaze.
Damn. A royal security guard was right outside again, scanning the immediate area for any trace of him.
Van panicked. What if they saw him? Would they recognize him despite the hair and the sunglasses? In a desperate moment of sheer lunacy, he reached for Hitomi's shoulder and pulled her around to the other side, effectively shielding himself from view.
Hitomi shrieked a bit when he grabbed her with gentle but deliberate force and moved her. In her still slightly bent-over position, she lost her balance and nearly stumbled over her own feet but Van caught her around the waist so that she landed on his lap instead.
Arms flailing briefly, Hitomi supported herself on the next best thing she could reach- a muscular shoulder and a solid portion of pectoral. If she hadn't been so shocked, she would have immediately scrambled back to her feet but the guy had his one arm wrapped tightly around her waist while the other rested on her bare thigh, halfway under the short apron.
Color and heat tinted Hitomi's cheeks once more when she noticed how close their faces were again. So close she could feel his breath brush across her face and feel the warmth radiating off his broad chest. What in the world was happening? Why was she not getting up right now?
Van gulped when he felt her slender form against his. She was clearly some kind of athlete, he decided when his hand on her bare thigh felt lean muscle there. This was most definitely more than he had bargained for. His eyes briefly darted back to the window on the side, taking note of the security guard who was now all too close to the storefront, attempting to look inside past the cursive writing that decorated a good part of the window with the coffee shop's name.
That's when the usually dignified but stubborn prince of Fanelia panicked even more. For a lack of time to come up with a smart plan and to save his hide from being found, he unwrapped his good arm from Hitomi's waist, reached around the back of her head and pulled it across the short distance between them.
Without much warning at all, poor Hitomi found her lips crushed against those of the man whose lap she was presently still trapped on.
Hitomi's grip on his shoulder and chest immediately tightened, her fingers digging into the muscle mass in either location. Van's eyes rolled back to the window nervously while his lips were locked with hers. The royal guard was turning his head away, seemingly embarrassed at having caught two lovers in an intimate moment.
He left only a moment later, but Van's lips didn't seem to want to detach themselves from the woman's silky, soft counterparts. Relaxing a bit, his eyes slipped half closed, matching hers. This was exhilarating and just probably the most scandalous thing he had ever done.
Van couldn't resist and carefully moved his lips against hers, eliciting a small, muted noise from the woman who seemed to be resurfacing from her state of stupefaction. Just as fast as it had begun, it was over. A bit delayed, she finally recoiled in complete and utter shock and scrambled off Van's lap. His hands fell away, although a bit reluctantly, in the process.
"What on Gaea do you think you are doing?!" She exclaimed in a much more high-pitched voice than before, touching her lips with the tips of her fingers before using the same hand to slap him so hard across his left cheek that the stupid sunglasses finally fell off his face and bounced onto the floor. "You can't just do that!" She yelled angrily while taking another step away. "Who made you king of anything?!"
Van's head was still turned to the side from the force of her quite mighty whack. Hitomi stood across from him, panting a bit from anger and confusion while her hands were balled into tight fists. He slowly rose from the chair and retrieved his beloved shades which had landed not too far away. Straightening himself, a single chuckle filled with dark mirth escaped his mouth.
He just couldn't help it right now. "My father." Van finally replied with a single, raised eyebrow as his garnet eyes caught her angry, green ones.
That's when it hit Hitomi. The man's dark, native look, his wound which seemed to have been inflicted by a wild animal from beyond the wall, his reluctance when it came to tell her his name, and then those uncanny, garnet red eyes. Of course. She had heard about it last week on the news but not really paid attention all that closely. The council of advisors had finally decided to send the youngest, male heir of the royal family beyond the walls to complete the rite of dragon slaying. He had returned successfully but sporting a pretty gruesome wound.
Prince Van de Fanel undoubtedly looked a lot different than on a TV screen or in newspaper pictures. His hair was normally always impeccably styled, combed to the side or slicked back while dressed in expensive, tailored suits featuring the Fanelian crest and fancy embroidery.
It indeed was the worst day in Hitomi Kanzaki's life. Not only had she been soaked from head to toe by a surprise rain shower this morning, torn a lace on her favorite pair of sneakers, walked in on her two roommates making out with each other in their apartment living room, and dumped a whole, fresh carafe of coffee onto the floor behind the counter of the little coffee shop she worked in. She had also slapped the heir to the throne of Fanelia. Quite hard.
Hitomi felt hot, then cold, then hot again for a whole array of reasons. Embarrassment, confusion, but most of all, anger. She gritted her teeth. "You!" She hissed, eyes glinting with agitation. "…you…..," she continued with a slightly different expression on her face, brows twitching and a finger pointing at Van across the distance as if she wanted to impale him with it.
Van could nearly see the gears in her head turning. "You?" Van supplied dryly while Hitomi was still processing the events.
She sucked in a deep, calm breath and repeated. "Y…you…your majesty...my…my most sincere apologies." She finally finished but crossed her arms in front of her chest defiantly, averting her gaze and then added more quietly, "I had no idea."
Her reaction then was somehow a bit disappointing but understandable given the circumstances. Van continued to be amused nonetheless.
He sighed and took a step closer to her, completely ignoring the fact that he was still shirtless in this establishment with very large windows. What she had settled on saying was betraying what she felt on the inside. Of course, she had every right to be angry after he had forced himself upon her out of the blue. Future king or not, such a behavior was unacceptable and it was only due to a momentary lapse in judgment that he had allowed himself to act in such a despicable way.
"No," he finally sighed a bit regretfully. "It's me who should apologize. Please forgive me. I was…only trying to escape the palace to spend an hour by myself. I've spent every day since returning from beyond the wall in my bed, being treated like some gravely wounded invalid. Next week, I'm supposed to be shouldering the burdens of an entire country…and all I wanted was a cup of coffee."
Why was he suddenly saying all those things, trying to justify himself in front of this woman? Why was he pouring his heart out to her? What nonsense was he blabbering? She finally looked back at him again with an expression he hadn't expected from her. Pity.
This time it was him who almost recoiled in shock when Hitomi's gentle hand reached out for him. With a feather-light touch, she grazed his offended cheek, about to reply when her words were cut short.
The small bell above the door chimed violently as it opened. Only one individual Van knew could open a door with such panache. "Lord Van." His sword master's deep voice boomed across the small room.
Van's shoulders slumped when Hitomi's hand immediately pulled away from his face. She latched the other one onto it and began to knead them awkwardly.
"You have had the whole palace going wild for the past hour. Everybody is looking for you." Balgus said in a calm but tense voice. His intimidating appearance doubtlessly was the reason for Hitomi's new, fearful facial expression.
Van rubbed the bridge of his nose before replying. " I know. Please give everybody my apologies."
It took a bit of convincing to ease Balgus' mind and Van had a feeling that the man was making it difficult on purpose to make up for the troubles he had caused with his disappearance. No, Hitomi had certainly not harmed him. She had merely taken care of his wound after he had carelessly overexerted himself while out and about. It had been solely his fault for putting a strain on it which had caused some of the stitches to loosen.
A month later, king Van Slanzar de Fanel rested his forehead against the heavy doors of his chamber. Finally a moment of peace on this otherwise busy afternoon. It was as if everybody had done a complete 180 on him in the weeks following his coronation. Nobody lectured him anymore but instead offered council with bowed heads, seemingly bending to his every wish. It was fake, frustrating, and fodder for fury deep inside. Then he remembered something.
A small smile tugged on his lips when that particular thought came to mind. His fingers were still wrapped around the door handle of his chambers but before re-opening it and slipping out, the king hurried over to his dresser to find his favorite shades while raking a hand through his hair in an attempt to mess it up as well as possible. Somebody still owed him a coffee…
Tbc...
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If you liked this, wander on over to FFN where I have published some more Escaflowne fanfiction.
#escaflowne#escaflownefanfic#AU#writingtofreemymind#ishouldprobablybedoingadultstuffinstead#KOAescaFF
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Shadowhunters Short Story #13.
“What do you think? Is it ready?” Aline softly asks her wife, slipping her arm around Helen’s waist as they look around the small and newly decorated room in their home in Wrangle Island. In the far corner, under the window is a crib with white sheets and a few stuffed toys. Engraved in the headboard of the crib are the family symbols of Blackthorn and Pennhallow. Next to the crib is a beautiful oak changing stations with soft white padding. Beside that is an old fashioned rocking chair with a few blankets on the back of the chair and two cushions on the seat. There was a chest of draws pushed up against the teal blue wall, next to the door, with a framed photograph of Helen and Aline on their wedding day, on top. The chest of drawers was full of tiny outfits, socks, hats, blankets and cloths. The walls were adorned with pictures of Helen and Aline’s family and brightly colored paintings that once hung in Tavvy’s nursery. Everything was perfect.
“It’s absolutely perfect, and will be even more so once she arrives.” Helen says, her tone full of joy, as she leans into her wife.
Two years ago, Helen and Aline decided that they wanted to grow their family and become parents. They had thought about it for a while before deciding on adoption. They faced a lot of discrimination for being a gay couple and there was many days and nights spent weeping and sobbing after being rejected or discriminated against, there were a few times were they almost threw in the towel and accepted they were never going to be parents. But just as they were officially about to give up, they met a young expectant mother named Francesca, she was a Shadowhunter in her early 20s who was born and raised in Italy, when she turned 18 she decided to travel to different institutes to train, she was in Spain first for a few years, then Russia, then Thailand and most recently New York where Helen and Aline had met her while visiting Magnus and Alec. Francesca had gotten pregnant as a result of a failed relationship. She was not ready to be a mother, she was still so young and not ready to settle down and raise a baby, so she decided to place the baby for adoption. When she met Helen and Aline the three of them just clicked and became very close. It didn’t take long for her to choose them as her baby’s parents. Helen and Aline had wept with joy and couldn’t thank her enough. A month later they announced the news to their family and friends who were thrilled for them. The three women soon settled on an open adoption, where Francesca would receive letters containing pictures and information about the baby and would be welcome to see her at any time. At Francesca's request, the baby would grow up calling her ‘Aunt Francesca, but they also all decided that the baby would know she was adopted from the get go, they would be extremely open and honest about it with her.
Now Francesca was 9 months pregnant and due any day. Helen and Aline had been given permission by Jia to return to New York for the birth of their child. The Cold Peace was still in place but not as harshly as before, there were a lot of people working on lifting Helen and Aline’s exile and they were becoming very close to doing so.
Two days later just as Helen and Aline are about to go to bed, they receive a fire letter from Francesca telling them she was in labor and they need to come to New York soon because the baby is coming very fast. Francesca had decided to deliver the baby in the infirmary of the New York Institute with a Clave midwife delivering the baby.
Helen and Aline spent a good ten minutes rushing around, getting dressed, finding bags, doing last minute packing, etc. By the time they stepped through the portal Catarina had created for them, their daughter had already been born. Catarina- who had been helping out with the birth- guided them into the room where Francesca and the baby were.
Francesca was sitting up in bed, supported by a pile of pillows, her dark hair damp with sweat was drawn up into a bun on the top of her head, but most noticeable was the little bundle of blankets in her arms with tufts of dark brown hair.
Helen grabs her wife’s hand as she sees her daughter for the first time, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. She itched to hold her but didn’t want to intrude on Francesca's few moments with her.
Sensing their presence, the younger girl looks up and smiles tiredly at them.
“Oh we don’t want to interrupt, we can come back later if you’d like some more time with her.” Helen hurriedly says, tripping over herself to not offend Francesca in anyway, in fear of her changing her mind about the adoption, since it wouldn’t be official for another few days. Francesca shakes her head and quietly says
“No, it’s alright, I’ve had my time with her and now it’s yours, don’t feel obligated to stay with me, go somewhere private and bond with her.” She gently lowers the baby into Aline’s outstretched arms, before lowering herself onto her side, her back facing the new family, clearly she wanted to be alone. So Helen and Aline took their daughter into one of the spare rooms and sat on the edge of the bed, just gazing at her for a while.
“She is so perfect.” Helen softly says, tears of joy rolling down her face. She could hardly believe this little one was hers, that she would get to raise her and love her and teach her everything she knows, to be her mama.
“That she is.” Aline quietly says, kissing the baby’s little hand that was curled around her finger.
“I love you.” Helen says, leaning in and kissing her beautiful wife.
“I love you too.” Aline gently says, softly brushing a lock of Helen’s blonde hair behind her ear.
After a few hours of cuddling with their daughter and basking in their new found joy, they decide to introduce their little girl to her aunts and uncles. They had chosen the baby’s godparent’s from their families, they had originally asked Ty to be her godfather but he couldn't understand why they were going to give her godparents when Shadowhunters believe in not just one religion but them all, and so he declined. So they asked Aline’s father Patrick, who was delighted to be asked, and they also asked Mark, who was extremely touched by the offer and immediately accepted. They had asked Dru to be the baby’s godmother and she was only too happy to accept, she was so excited to become an aunt and no doubt would be a wonderful help with her niece.
It takes 20 minutes to gather everyone (Meaning Julian, Emma, Ty, Kit, Dru, Tavvy, Mark, Cristina, Kieran and Diana) but once they do, everyone is eager to meet the newest addition and hear her name. Helen and Aline had kept their baby’s name a secret the entire pregnancy, the wanted to introduce her to her family by announcing her name.
Sitting on the sofa beside Ty, with Aline beside her and Kit beside Ty, Helen proudly introduces her daughter.
“Everyone, this is Arabella Livia Blackthorn-Pennhallow.” Everyone is silent following the announcement, unsure of how to react to little Arabella having her deceased aunt’s name as a middle name. Helen (and everyone else) still missed Livvy terribly, her heart still ached for her and she would give anything to have her back. She felt it was the right thing to do, honoring her sister by naming her daughter after her, Livvy would be so happy and would adore her niece, she would have been a wonderful aunt.
“Ty, we want you to hold her first.” Helen gently says, turning to her little brother. It really didn’t seem long ago that he was as small as Arabella. Helen had prepared for an argument with her brother, she had expected him to reject the baby and refuse to hold her. But instead he wordlessly holds his arms out for the baby. Helen places the baby in his arms and help’s him support her head, before sitting back and watching him interact with her. Little Arabella was reaching up to tug on the wire of her uncle’s headphones around his neck, but luckily she wasn’t able to grasp them yet. Instead she settles for reaching up and patting Ty’s face. Helen expected Ty to get annoyed and flustered and hand Arabella back, and although her patting did seem to bother him, he didn’t try and hand her back or make her stop.
“I think Livvy would really have loved her.” Ty quietly says, his dark head still bent down as he looked at his niece. Smiling softly at her little brother, Helen gently says
“I think so too Ty, that’s we named her Arabella Livia.”
“I miss her.” Ty quietly says. Livvy’s death had been the hardest on her twin brother, if Ty didn’t have Kit, Helen wasn’t sure he’d have been okay after Livvy died. Kit was an amazing friend (or perhaps more judging on their behavior recently) for Ty, who he could lean on and get support from.
“Me too bud, me too.” Helen softly says, gently squeezing her baby brother’s hand.
Things would never be the same without Livvy, everyone would always miss her beyond words, her death would always have a massive impact on the Blackthorn family. It had been two years since she passed and now little Arabella was here perhaps everyone could learn to love again and hope again, and move on with their lives, just as Livia would have wanted.
#the dark artifices#Helen Blackthorn#aline penhallow#helaine#adoption#Ty Blackthorn#kit herondale#Livvy Blackthorn#mark blackthorn#dru blackthorn#Patrick Pennhallow#shadowhunters#cassandra clare
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SLBPxSCM A Leap in Time: Saizo Pt. 3
Part 3 is out! Not gonna lie, this is my favorite part so far. I had a lot of fun writing it. Maybe it’s because there were people looking forward to the story so it made it a bit more exciting to write. Either way, thank you so much for the kind comments! They mean a lot to me. I’m glad there are people who enjoy reading my work.
For those who asked me to tag you, this is dedicated to you guys because I probably would have taken longer to finish this if you weren’t so excited to read it ^.^ It’s actually a lot longer than the other two parts.
@little-mini-me-world @frywen-babbles @bearlennox @catchthespade @italian-love-cake (I’m sorry, bearlennox, the tag isn’t working on yours!) Hopefully you see this!
Already working on Part 4 :D
EDIT: I noticed some typos and awkward sentences so I fixed them. No real big changes. Also put undercut since the story is kinda long.
Modern Day:
“Another order of dango over here, Sayuri!”
“Alright, give me a minute! I’ll get your order ready,” Sayuri smiled warmly at the customer before turning back to the one in front of her. “This is for you, sir.”
“Thank you,” the man said in a deep voice that purred. Sayuri thought this every time he came in, but Takeda-san (she had learned his name from Yukimura) was quite handsome. His posture was catlike and his personality large. She had no interest him, though. But it didn’t hurt to look, right?
Sayuri smiled politely at Takeda-san before turning to the man beside him.
“And a plate of donuts for you, Yukimura.” She placed the large pile before him, Yukimura’s eyes turning round as saucers, his smile giving him the appearance of an excited little boy.
“Thanks, Sayuri!” He looked up at her as he shoved the fried dough into his mouth. “Ya foo awas da bes!”
“Swallow your food before you speak, Yukimura,” Takeda-san laughed heartily as he took a bite of his dessert. Yukimura swallows in one huge gulp before blushing in embarrassment.
“Sorry, Sayuri.”
Sayuri smiles and lets out a chuckle. “It’s fine. That just tells me you enjoy my food so much you have to eat while you talk.”
Yukimura grinned in response. “I’m not the only one who loves your food,” he said. “Your restaurant is booming with customers. You sure you should be talking me while it’s so busy?”
Just as he asked, off to right and behind, the bell over the entrance chimed, announcing a new customer. All three turned, Yukimura and Takeda-san in mild curiosity and Sayuri waiting with a welcoming smile.
“Welcome to Sakura Dango, please have a—oh!” Sayuri cut herself as she saw the customer, eyes widening in delight.
“Sasuke-kun!”
“Hiya, Sayuri!” Sasuke gave a wide, toothy grin and said, “Can I have more of your dango today?”
“Of course, you can.”
“Don’t eat too much, Sasuke,” a broad shoulder man standing behind him said. He looked like an older version of the little boy. The woman standing next to him gently chided the man.”
“Ryo,” she said gently, “it’s his birthday. Let him have what he wants.”
The man, Ryo, sighed, but gave a weary smile. He looked down at Sasuke and patted his head. “Alright, go ahead. Order what you want.” The boy practically bounced off the walls in excitement.
“Thanks mom and dad!”
Sayuri laughed as Sasuke bounded towards a table. He was always like this. His parents spoiled him, but Sasuke never let it get to his head. He was sweet and playful and he adored his parents as much as they loved him. It warmed Sayuri’s heart.
“Oi, Sasuke!” Yukimura was looking over at him, stern expression on his face. “Why are you ignoring me?”
“Oh, hey Yukimura-san,” he responded happily.
“That’s better,” Yukimura nodded in approval. “How’s your martial arts classes going?”
“I’m at the top of my class,” Sasuke said proudly, chest puffed out. “No one even comes close. I even have to hold back so I don’t hurt the other kids.”
“Nice! You’re a true warrior! You sure you weren’t a ninja in your past life?”
“If he was, he would have been quite the troublemaker, I’m sure,” Takeda-san offered up with amusement. The entire restaurant, familiar with Sasuke and his antics, nodded in agreement before bursting into fits of laughter.
Late evening came and Sayuri closed up shop. She smiled to herself as she started walking down the street.
It’s always nice to see everyone. I’m glad my food plays a part in bringing people together.
She opened this restaurant because her father encouraged her to pursue the culinary arts.
“You have talent,” he had said. “You might even be better than me,” he laughed. “Your food makes people smile. That’s the best reward you could ask for in life.”
She carried those words even now, but something tugged at her heart.
I want to share that smile with him.
The ache grew stronger as she walked down the street toward home and it didn’t go away even in the morning.
Sayuri woke before dawn, as was her routine. After dressing for the day, she made her way to the kitchen and made a batch of fresh, warm dango, placing them carefully in a box. She headed out, wrapped in a light jacket, seeing as though spring had come it was still a bit chilly. Even so, the cherry blossom trees were in full bloom, an array of pink and white petals gently swaying in the breeze.
She made her away along the sidewalk for a while before reaching a park. An expanse of green was spread out before her, with small hills pattering the scenery. On one of those hills stood a sakura tree of grandeur size. Its branches spread out like a canopy, its trunk was three times the width of Sayuri’s arms if she spread them out to her sides. The petals were a vibrant pink that even in the still-just barely-dawn glowed brightly.
Sayuri sat at its base with practiced ease, box of dango sitting in her lap. She looked up at the sky—
And waited.
Time passed like that until the sun started to peak over the horizon in a blaze of fire and gold. It was a stunning view, but from a distance all anyone would be able to see on her face were tears that streamed like rivers down her cheeks. There was a sadness so deep, it would take a boat to cross the chasm left in her heart. Sayuri stayed like that until the sun was now out in full bloom, until the sound of footsteps jostled her from reverie. She looked up.
There was no one there.
She glanced around her, but there were not many places to hide in this large, open space.
“I guess I just imagined it,” she muttered to herself. With that, she pulled herself up, pushed her long, black hair out of her face, and walked away—dango in hand.
Saizo gazed longingly at Sayuri’s back as she walked away. From his perch in the cherry blossom tree, he was able to see everything that happened below—the melancholy of her back as she leaned against the trunk, the whites of her knuckles from gripping the box of dango too hard, the tears that reminded him of rain with no chance of sunshine. Saizo saw it all. He nearly leapt from the tree to present himself to her, to ease her pain if only a little, but just as he reached a hand towards that silky black hair he stopped himself.
Once Sayuri was out of sight, Saizo jumped from the tree to the ground, never taking his eyes off where he had last seen her. Behind him, he felt a presence, but this time he didn’t tense.
“Why didn’t you talk to her?” Ichthys asked, complained really. “She was right there!”
Saizo didn’t reply.
“Maybe he’s nervous,” Dui offered, kindly. “He doesn’t have a lot of time. Once his wish is granted he has to go back to his own time.”
“Why are you guys here, anyway? You’re not Wishes gods.” Ichthys looked at Punishment gods next to him. Dui fidgeted, but Scorpio only glared.
“Neither are you, problem child, but Zyglavis gave you permission to help the Wishes gods and I have to keep an eye on you.” He crossed his arms in irritation. “Freakin’ stupid if you ask me. This human is gonna die when he gets back.”
“Scorpio!” Dui interjected, but Scorpio wasn’t having it.
Hey you,” Scorpio called out to Saizo who was uncharacteristically silent during all of this. Saizo barely spared him a glance.
“What.”
“Don’t ‘what,’ me,” he yelled. “Answer the problem child. Why didn’t you talk to her and eat the damn food? We can’t babysit you forever.”
Still, Saizo gave no answer. Scorpio lost his patience.
“Hey! I’m talkin’ to y—,” Scorpio had reached out to grab the ninja’s shoulder and in doing so brushed the skin peeking between the ripped fabric.
I don’t deserve her.
Saizo thought about all the lives he had taken, whether for survival or money. He couldn’t even remember all their faces, most didn’t even have names. Everyone called him the Lord Assassin because he was the best at killing. That was all he was good at. The little lady had come into his life suddenly and without warning—as a child when he grieved and blamed himself for his friend’s death and when they had both grown, her into a beautiful, kind woman. And him into a monster.
So when he saw her now, Saizo could not bear the thought of hurting her—of leaving her. He had already done so. He had heard Scorpio and the other gods: When all is said and done, he’ll die ninja’s death—as had been his fate from birth. He would never make it to the cherry blossom tree to eat dango with Sayuri. She would hurt for lifetimes after.
You deserve better than me, don’t you, little lady. It wasn’t a question. He would not be with her in this lifetime either so why put her through more pain?
“It doesn’t matter what you think she deserves.”
Saizo jolted from his thoughts and looked up to see Scorpio glaring scornfully at him.
“Not minding our own business, are we?” Saizo stared coldly back. God or no god, he’d be damned if he let this guy read his thoughts again. He stepped lithely out of the god’s reach. He knew what this one could do. Ichthys had told him. Scorpio didn’t back down, though.
“It is my business because these two idiots,” he pointed at Teorus and Ichthys, “are busting their asses off to make sure the first and last wish of your life gets granted. And I have to babysit one of them while they do it.”
Neither Saizo or the gods said anything to this. Scorpio continued.
“You might not have made it in your current, her past life, but you can keep your promise in the life she’s living now. Obviously, that stupid woman is waiting for somebody. How ‘bout you grow some balls and stop making her wait!”
Everyone stared in shock, the gods especially. Scorpio was the last person to involve himself in other people’s affairs, but Saizo’s thoughts and his own ire set the Punishment god off. After a long, awkward silence, Teorus finally spoke up, having been silent the entire conversation.
“You know,” Teorus added, “we may be gods, but on earth our power is finite.”
“What do you mean?” Saizo asked.
“It means,” Ichthys interrupted, “that we’re starting to tire out. Earth makes our powers weaker so we can’t use them forever like we can in the Heavens. Aren’t you starting to feel a little achy,” he looked Saizo up and down in scrutiny, examining the wounds that, at the moment, were not bleeding.
“A bit,” Saizo said nonchalantly. He could feel the wounds starting to itch and burn and ache. Luckily, the poison’s effects were still being held in check by Teorus and Ichthys.
“How much longer do I have?”
“A couple of days at most,” Teorus said cautiously. “But we’d really be pushing it.”
“That’s all it’ll take,” Saizo said.
“Man,” Ichthys cried out, “I’m going to need a long vacation after this.”
“Like hell you will! This is the most you’ve done your entire career as a Punishments god!”
“Guys, let’s just all calm down.”
As the gods argued back and forth, Saizo stared up at the sky now a soft, beautiful blue, with the sun’s light casting a kaleidoscope of hues through the air.
So different from the night I’ll die.
Saizo stood on the corner across from Sakura Dango staring through the glass at the little lady smiling jovially at customers. He had never had reason to be nervous, but for some reason his heart was pounding loudly in his ears and threatening to rip through his chest and sprint towards Sayuri. With a deep breath, the ninja stepped forward.
“Wait!”
Saizo looked back in annoyance. “What problem do the gods have now?”
Teorus and Ichthys stared in horror at him.
“You can’t go looking like that,” Teorus said, aghast at Saizo’s attire.
“Sorry, seems they didn’t give me enough time to change before dying,” Saizo said blithely.
“No worries,” a god with pink hair spoke up beside Teorus. “Gods can make miracles. And I’m pretty good in the fashion department.”
“And who might we be, hmm?”
The god held out a hand. “Partheno, god of beauty.”
Saizo looked bored out of his mind and showed no sign of reciprocating Partheno’s greeting. Partheno dropped his hand, unperturbed.
How many of them are there? Saizo wondered.
“Let’s make you so handsome that cutie falls head over heels in love with you all over again!” Snapping his fingers, Partheno transformed Saizo’s clothing so now he was dressed head to toe in urban fashion. A white T-shirt was overlapped by a gray vest and checkered scarf. His pants hung off his hips in a provocative way and his shoes were shiny and clearly expensive. Saizo looked down at himself before glancing back at the god.
“Interesting clothes this time has.” Not very good for assassinating.
“You look great,” Partheno said. “Now go in there and get your wish.”
The gods watched as Saizo made his way to the door of the restaurant, holding their breath in anticipation.
Saizo hesitated only briefly before pulling the door open; the bell chimed. Sayuri looked up, locking eyes with the ninja. Saizo felt his heart stop, starting again at a faster pace. She was beautiful as she smiled at him, though it seemed to falter before regaining its proper form.
Do you remember me, little lady?
She walked towards him with hurried steps.
Do you remember me, Sayuri?
They were now face-to-face.
Will you forgive me?
Sayuri opened her mouth.
“Saizo.”
To be continued...
#samurai love ballad party#slbp saizo#saizo kirigakure#saizo#kirigakure#slbp#slbp fanfic#slbp fandom#scm fanfic#scm#teorus#star crossed myth#lord assassin#voltage inc#voltage games#voltage otome#volatge
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Day 2: Promise
IH Week
Word count: 1573
Rating: G
As gentle fingers ran through his hair, sending pleasant tingles through his scalp, Ichigo closed his eyes and took in a long, deep breath. The river was rushing at full strength below them from the recent rains, the air was dry and pleasant, the wind rustled gently through the top of the wide tree casting shade over them, and his head rested on the soft thighs of his girlfri – he stopped short in his thoughts and the corners of his mouth curved up in a small, satisfied smile. The soft thighs of his fiancé, he mentally corrected with a deep happiness.
They had settled down for a picnic at their favorite large shade tree on the bank of the river. It had been the first time in a long time since they had had time to themselves since announcing their engagement two weeks ago. He thought engagements were between two people, but clearly their family and friends thought otherwise. Having this picnic had been possible only through sneakiness and subterfuge. Which Orihime had been all over, surprisingly. One knew the smothering Bad when even Orihime needed a break from her friends.
Ichigo was fairly certain the play-doh and glitter part of their plot was sheer genius on his fiancé’s part. He smiled again at that word: fiancé. God, he was such a sap.
But, he figured, he was allowed to be a sap on perfect days. Which this was. A Perfect Day.
“Kurosaki-kun?” his fiancé said.
“Hm?” he replied, keeping his eyes closed as her magic fingers continued to run through his hair.
“Are you ready for dessert?”
“Hm…” he said. Dessert sounded good. Especially considering he knew something about it that she didn’t know. But dessert meant that he would have to move, which didn’t sound good.
Her fingers stopped. “Kurosaki-kun?”
He groaned and popped his eyes open. She was staring down at him with a little smile on her face, her eyes sparkling.
“Kurosaki-kun, my legs are falling asleep,” she said and bopped his nose.
Ichigo sighed, knowing that her legs had probably fallen asleep long before this, but she’d just reached her limit. With great effort, he rolled until his head was on her calves. Not as comfortable, but it would do. “How’s this?”
Orihime laughed and shook her head. “Weird!”
He snorted. “Says the Queen of Weird.”
“Too weird,” she decreed through her laughter and bounced her calves up and down until he sat up.
“So cold, Inoue,” he accused, shuddering.
She wrinkled her nose as she continued to smile. “Cold would be eating all the dessert. I do need the energy after losing all the blood flow to my limbs.”
Ichigo dove for the basket and held it to his chest. “Don’t even joke.”
Orihime grinned and settled down next to him. “Are you going to share that, Kurosaki-kun, or say vows to it?”
He eyed her suspiciously as he slowly lowered the basket to the blanket between them. “I’m going to share it.”
Thankfully, Orihime was the only one who ever saw this borderline goofy version of himself. His friends would never let him live it down, but Orihime? She just…brought it out in him with how open and nonjudgmental and silly she was. Instead of teasing him, she just joined in whatever silly stuff popped out of him. He didn’t even really know he had this side until… She just brought out all of him, he supposed.
Ichigo smiled when she shook her head and laughed, and watched her as she opened the basket and carefully set out plates with their dessert. They were delicate little individual lemon tarts with sweeping piles of meringue baked on top. Fairly benign for her, but Orihime’s mentor had ordered her to bake nothing but basic (boring, she called them) recipes to make sure her foundation in baking was solid. Orihime had been busy rushing around planning their getaway and had let Ichigo fill the tarts with lemon curd and put the meringue on top.
Well.
Ichigo, in his infinite wisdom and genius, decided the lemon tarts needed something. And what does every non-chocolate dessert, pastry, and cake need? Why, chocolate of course. So, he snuck chocolate chips into the lemon mixture.
He was quite proud of himself. Chocolate made literally everything taste better. There were even chocolate pizzas, chocolate sauces for steaks, chocolate dipped figs, chocolate – well, anyway, Orihime couldn’t do anything out of the ordinary for the moment, but he could.
And truth be told, he missed her experimental flavors.
He was proud as punch and sure that she would fall all over him in awe of his skills.
As she wiggled out a bit for herself with her fork, she was busy chatting about how she was beginning to like the boring baking as it somehow birthed all kinds of ideas for more unique flavor combinations plus it was honing her skills. So busy with what she was saying, she didn’t examine her creation as she usually did and simply popped it in her mouth.
He was so eager for her reaction, Ichigo hadn’t even tried it yet, just watched her chew, then slow her chewing, then frown, then lift up the tart to examine it, then frown even more deeply until she was downright scowling.
Not…quite the reaction he had been envisioning.
“Ino–”
He was stopped short with a sharp finger pointed upwards, her eyes continuing to examine the tart with scowling scrutiny. Startled, he didn’t know how to react.
Speaking of hidden sides of people. This…was new.
“Kurosaki-kun,” she said softly, and he fought not to visibly shrink back.
“Y-Yeah?”
Her face smoothed into a neutral expression as she slowly, deliberately, lowered the rest of the tart and placed it on the blanket. She brushed non-existent crumbs off her fingers and placed her hands in her lap, her eyes closed.
“I want you to promise me something.”
Ichigo swallowed. “Okay?”
“That you will never.”
She opened her eyes and her gaze pinned him where he was, like a bug.
“Ever.”
He dared to glance at the uneaten tart still in his hand, then quickly back at her.
“…Adjust.”
He winced.
“My baking without my knowledge again.”
Her voice had been soft but stern. He stared at her and fought the urge to gulp.
“Uh…okay.”
She blinked.
“I mean, yes, Inoue, I promise to never ever mess with your baking without you knowing about it again.”
Orihime nodded, satisfied. She gestured at his tart. “You may try it.”
Ichigo jerked, not even aware before that he had been waiting for her permission, but he had and somehow, she had known he had. Tentatively, he stuck his fork in it and put a small piece in his mouth. And wrinkled his nose.
“You see?” she said.
He nodded. Somehow…it wasn’t good. Which was impossible because chocolate always made things better, and yet it was not better it was…off-putting. Un-melted, hard semi-sweet chocolate chips stirred in with the light, creamy, and tangy lemon curd was…not good. Not even the “well, this is strange, but it works” feeling that usually accompanied Orihime’s fare.
Humbly, he placed his tart down on the blanket.
And sat silently as Orihime quietly packed the dessert things away. The dessert that he’d ruined.
When she was done, she looked at him sympathetically. “I know how you are about chocolate, but there are right ways and there are wrong ways of adding chocolate.”
He nodded, the ego-deflated student to the patient, learned teacher.
“Next time I’ll make you a lemon tart with chocolate.” He perked up at that. “You add a thin layer,” she placed her thumb and finger close together, drawing a thin line across the air, “of chocolate and then add the lemon on top. Once I can bake like myself again, I’ll be adding different flavors to the chocolate like orange or raspberry or both.”
He smiled a little at the way she got all dreamy when coming up with stuff.
She shook herself from her baking dreams and moved to pat the ground next to the tree where she’d been sitting earlier.
Ichigo raised his eyebrows.
“Sit, Kurosaki-kun. I’ve decided your punishment.”
He gave her a look, to which she just grinned, and then settled down, resting his back against the tree. Then, in a twirl and a plop and a few wiggles, Orihime was resting her head on his thighs, looking supremely pleased as she flipped her hair out behind her.
“The tables have turned, Kurosaki-kun.”
Ichigo held back a smile and obediently began running his fingers through her long hair. Some punishment.
She closed her eyes and sighed in satisfaction. “And don’t tell me if your legs fall asleep because I warn you now, Kurosaki-kun, I do not care.”
“My legs are at your disposal, Inoue.”
Orihime smiled and serenely laid her hands on her stomach.
Not five minutes later she said, “Kurosaki-kun…”
“Hm?”
“But really, you’ll tell me if your legs fall asleep, right?”
He smiled, something he did a ridiculous amount when around her, and didn’t say a word.
Ichigo had learned of another side to Orihime. People could criticize her food, even gag at it, and she’d role with the punches. But mess with her baking at your own peril.
And somehow, as disgustingly cheesy and cliché as it was, discovering her new side made him love her just a little bit more.
.
.
#ihweek2017#ichihime#scribblesfanfics#me take a serious prompt seriously?? ha!#still so rushed and clumsy and running a day behind but it's here#do they seem to OOC?#I feel like orihime would be really touchy about people messing with her kitchen creations#but???#idk#too sleepy can't tell anymore
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Twins – Sidney Crosby
A/N: Thank you to everyone who sent in a request, I love you all for that! @had-to-skjei-it and I are currently working on the requests that were sent it, so if this one wasn't yours, just know that we are working on it! This is the first imagine I wrote that was requested so I tried my hardest to include everything asked for! I had a hard time selecting names, but finally came up with something... I hope you like it!! ✌️️
Anon Request: Can you write a Sidney crosby imagine where you're married to him and you're expecting twins and you're currently weeks away from giving birth. The night of the second to last game of Stanley cup series you go into labor.. and there's a minute left into the 3rd period of the game when it's decided that it's time to push and one of your family members desperately tries to reach Sidney and then 5-10 mins later Sidney comes barging in still in his uniform.
Warnings: one swear word
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"And after a long, hard fought battle, the Pittsburgh Penguins are moving on to face the Nashville Predators in the Stanley Cup final," the TV announcer said, but you were too busy celebrating. The second the final siren sounded, you rose to your feet and danced around as much as your pregnant belly would allow you to.
"You hear that boys? Daddy's gonna win his third Stanley Cup!" You said softly to your belly, placing your hands on either side so you could feel each of the boys. Cheerful feet kicked against your hands, making you laugh.
Before you could sit back down, your phone rang, taking you to you and Sid's shared bedroom. Plopping down on the bed, you picked up your phone and answered the call.
"O Captain! My Captain!" you said making Sid laugh.
"Hey (Y/N)," he replied. You couldn't see him but you were almost positive he was blushing.
"The boys and I are so happy for you!" You said cheerfully.
"Thank you, but enough about me... how are you feeling? Any contractions? Did your water break? Are you going into labor now?" Sid asked.
Ever since you hit the 7 month mark Sid had been worrying about you non-stop. He would constantly call you while he was away to make sure you hadn't gone into labor without him. He even called your sister in from Cole Harbour so someone would always be with you in case you did go into labor when he was away.
"Babe, you're going to the Stanley Cup final for the second year in a row and you're worried about me?" you asked with a small giggle.
"(Y/N), you're about ready to pop and I'm still at the rink. Of course I'm worried about you!" Sid said.
"I'm not due for another two weeks. You should have the Nashville Predators swept by then and you'll be there for the birth of your boys," you assured Sid. In all honesty, you were terrified Sid wouldn't be able to be at the hospital with you but you never let that show, it would only make Sid more worried and stressed.
"Just making sure... I should be home in an hour tops, but don't wait up for me, ok?" Sid asked.
"Ok, we love you," you said.
"I love you too, all three of you," Sid said.
"Bye," you said, a smile crossing you lips. You ended the call and fell back on the bed, getting comfortable in the mountain of pillows and blankets you had piled on the bed.
Even with the lights on, it didn't take long for you to fall asleep. Catering to the needs and cravings of twins took a lot out of a person.
You wanted to attend Game 5 of the Stanley Final, but Sid declared that you weren't fit to travel. You tried to make it a point that you were only driving down the street to the PPG Paints Arena but Sid's decision stood. He may have had a point with 'you're gonna give birth any day now', but you still wanted to support you husband and the rest of his team. Plus, you were already dressed and ready to go by 5pm.
Sadly, Sid wasn't convinced, so here you were at home, on the couch in an over sized Crosby jersey with your sister, (Y/S/N) sitting next to you. As nice as it would have been to be at the arena, you weren't complaining about being home. You and your sister were having a good time together.
All was going well until an hour before puck drop. You started getting sharp pains in your stomach which caused you to sit up, hissing in pain.
"You ok?" (Y/S/N) asked. She got up off the couch and was crouching next to you in a matter of seconds.
"I'm fine," you insisted but the fluid that dripped into the floor said otherwise.
"Your water just broke! (Y/N), you're going into labor!" (Y/S/N) said in a panic.
"Calm down, (Y/S/N). My bag is already in the car, I just have to get there," you said.
You got up off the couch and threw on a pair of slides that were close to the door. (Y/S/N) helped you waddle out to the car, and helped you into the passenger seat before she climbed into the drivers seat and drove you to the hospital.
With the way your sister was driving, it was a surprise you were able to get to the hospital in one piece. You had called Sid in the car but he didn't answer so you left a message for him while going through a contraction.
Once inside the hospital, nurses rushed you to a room and got you into a gown. Before climbing into the bed, you draped your jersey over the back of the chair, earning a look from your sister.
"Seriously?" she asked placing her hands in her hips.
"What? I still gotta support the team," you shrugged.
"Get into bed," you sister ordered. You waddled over to the hospital bed and got comfortable. "Did you try calling Sid?"
"Yeah, but he didn't answer," you said.
The next four hours were agonizing! You refused the epidural injection, wanting to go all natural but as the fourth hour of labor hit, you regretted your decision greatly. While you were going through your contractions, your sister was right by your side trying to get a hold of Sid but didn't answer.
Last you heard, you were 8-9cm dilated but you were extremely caught up in the game. It was amazing what people did to avoid arguing with an angry pregnant woman.
At first, you were pretty laid back about Sid not being at the hospital with you for the first phase of labor but as the end of the game got closer, your contractions got closer together and more difficult to get through. A nurse remained in the room, monitoring your dilation and talking you through your breathing techniques because Sid wasn't there to do so.
The game clock couldn't move any slower, the seconds slowly counting down the final minute.
"Alright (Y/N), your next contraction is gonna be a big one," the nurse said.
"Ok," you said without taking your eyes away from the TV.
"I want you to push during the next contraction," the nurse instructed. You sat up in your bed and looked over at the nurse in one motion.
"What?!" You shouted. A doctor and another nurse enter the room, your sister got up from her chair.
"It's time to push," the nurse said.
"No! There's less than a minute left in the game! And my HUSBAND'S not here yet!" you said angrily. You turned to your sister, a worried look on her face. "Call Sid again and tell him to get his hockey loving ass to the hospital or I will throttle him with his skate laces!"
Your sister didn't think twice about following your command, she immediately unlocked her phone and called Sid. Your mood swings had two settings: lets cuddle on the couch all day or I will ruin your life in two seconds. There was no in between, and the second one almost always got you what you wanted.
"Alright, (Y/N). Push," the doctor instructed. No matter how much you wanted to just wait, you couldn't... the boys were ready to come out now and they didn't wanna wait.
Ten minutes after you began pushing, the door to the hospital room flew open. Opening your eyes, you saw your husband had finally arrived... in full uniform, skates and all.
He immediately rushed over to the side of your bed, placing a kiss on your sweaty head. He slipped his glove off and held your hand, letting you squeeze at tightly as you needed.
"I'm here, baby. You're doing great, (Y/N)," Sid coached.
"How did you drive in skates?" you asked.
"I didn't. The media guy had a car ready for when we came off the ice," Sid said.
"We?" you asked.
"Flower, Geno, and Horny are in the waiting room," Sid said with a small laugh.
"The poor souls out there that have to smell all that," you joked. Your laugh was quickly cut off by a sharp pain which sent Sid into near panic. He began coaching you through the rest of the birth, occasionally placing kisses to your head and hand.
You were absolutely exhausted, the actual birth stage only lasted a half hour but it was exhausting. The nurses had cleaned off your new born baby boys, and returned them wrapped in blankets with small Penguins hats on their heads.
You looked up at Sid, a large smile on your face as you held both babies in your arms.
"So, which one will be drafted first overall? Will it be Geno Peter Crosby, or Sidney Patrick Crosby Jr.?" you asked softly. Sid let out a chuckle and placed a kiss on your head.
"I'll work some of my Crosby magic and make sure they get drafted together," Sid said.
"They're gonna be hockey stars just like their daddy," you said softly.
"Ok, I need you both to look at me. We need a Crosby family photo," (Y/S/N) said. She stood at the foot of the hospital bed with her phone raised.
"Too bad we have to take pictures while you're rocking that terrible playoff beard," you teased.
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