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rubinhowell30 · 2 years

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ostrich birkin 1

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

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An angsty one-shot for your day. I stayed up way too late to write this.

CW- drinking

Aelin keeps the letters stacked neatly on her desk.

Each letter is stamped, addressed, and ready to mail. In tiny marks on the back, she writes the date every individual one was written. The envelopes are his favorite shade of green. A deep, pine color that she’d painstakingly scoured every stationary shop to find.

Delicately, Aelin seals the latest envelope and adds it to the growing pile.

My Love,

It’s almost winter here in Orynth. I know it’s your favorite season and you are probably sad to miss out, so I took a Polaroid of the clouds coming in over the staghorns for you.

Do you remember how we’d sit in front of Mistward every year and watch the first snow storm come in over the peeks? We would drink hot chocolate and talk for hours. About our families, our futures, anything and everything. It’s still one of my favorite traditions.

In fact, it’s where I am right now. Writing this letter to you. Just because you are overseas doesn’t mean you get to bail out. I bought two hot chocolates, but I suppose I’ll have to drink yours for you. What a shame.

Writing to Rowan was her weekly tradition since he got deployed. No matter how busy life got, every Friday she wrote him two full pages front to back. Whether she got to sit at her desk or had to scribble against the rusty bench at the bus stop, every inch was covered in her hand writing.

That was her personal rule. They had to be handwritten. Aelin felt it meant more that every piece of the letter was entirely from her. So she keeps a collection of colored pens handy for whenever the urge to speak to her husband grows to be too much.

At the bottom of the last page, next to her signature, Aelin always kisses the paper with red lipstick. Maybe it’s cheesy, but it’s the same shade she wore at their wedding.

You could see the ghosts of the color along his jawline in their favorite photos together. His beaming smile, the smudges of red on his face and the collar of his white dress shirt. A remnant from the happiest day of her life she thought would bring him comfort.

My love,

Winter is here! It’s so cold outside. You would say it’s this frigid every year, but it just feels different this time. Maybe it’s because you aren’t hear to snuggle up with and your side of the bed is empty? You were always so warm.

I keep your slippers by the couch. They are ridiculously huge on my feet, but I swear they still feel like you just walked in them. Your warmth is still there.

You would laugh if you saw me hobbling around the apartment in them. My toes slide all over the place. Truthfully, your feet are atrociously large, dear- Still they remind me of you, so I love them.

Aelin gets home late from work that night.

Humiliated tears sting her cheeks, even as she rubs them away. The feeling of that creep, Cairn’s, hands lingering on her ass.

She was used to fending off handsy patrons. What bothered Aelin is that when she complained to her boss, Erawan, he publicly berated her for instigating the customers.

None of the other waitresses would meet her eye when she looked for back up. Grave, the bartender, sniggered through the entire dressing down. Aelin could still feel their eyes on her skin as Erawan accused her of being provocative.

Rowan would have demanded she quit the job. He would have marched down to the bar and broken Cairn’s face. Possibly even held him back so Aelin could do it herself.

Aelin needs the money, though. Rowan’s accounts were frozen due to some stupid technicality at the bank. Without her paycheck, she would lose the apartment.

Sniffling, Aelin slides her feet into Rowan’s slippers and plops at her desk. It isn’t Friday yet, but she’s desperate to speak to him.

As her hand flows across the paper, Aelin knows she won’t describe the days events to him. He’s under enough stress without her work drama adding to his worries.

My love,

Yulemas is next week. Aedion is in Caraverre with Lysandra and our new nephew. Lorcan and Elide are going up from Perranth to stay with them, but the roads are so frozen in Orynth I may just stay here this year.

Besides, work is busy right now. They need someone to man the place for the people with nowhere to go for the holidays.

Maybe I’ll host a little celebration at the bar. Like we did that one year when we got stuck in the Hostel in Rifthold. We made the best of a bad situation, and it was the first time you told me you loved me. I think I’d like to relive a little of that this year.

I miss you. Please come home.

Aelin lays in her bed the night before Yulemas and sobs.

Ugly, guttural noises spill from her chest and she soaks their pillows with tears. The newest envelope is clutched against her chest, and the building stacks mock her from their spot across the room.

Her heart is so raw. Aelin knew it was a bad idea to count the letters, but there was so many. Curiosity got the better of her, and now she was bleeding for her mistake.

Fifty-six.

A full year of letters she hadn’t been able to send.

Rowan had only ever written her twenty before he was declared missing in action.

A year ago, she’d been hanging bobbles and decorating a tree knowing her husband only had a few weeks left of his tour.

Aelin had painted a welcome home banner, and her whole family made plans to come and spend the holiday with the soon-to-be-reunited couple.

She had his slippers waiting by the door. Rowan’s favorite blanket was laundered and folded on his side of the bed in case he wanted to lay down. Aelin had it on good authority that the bed would be one of the first places they visited when he arrived. Emerys had even given her a mixture of their favorite hot chocolate to make.

Everything was perfectly in place for his return.

That’s what when the soldiers arrived at her door and her world fell apart.

Lorcan came home a week later. He hugged Elide and she cried into his shoulder. Happy tears. So unlike the ones Aelin had been shedding. Her friend beamed ear-to-ear, as the love of her life gathered her into his arms and squeezed.

It was a touching sight, but Aelin could feel the hot knife being twisted in her chest. Elide’s happiness caused her physical pain, and it made her feel so selfish. She didn’t begrudge Lorcan his life, or Elide her joy- Aelin just missed her own husband.

Elide and Lorcan spent Yulemas together. Kissing and holding hands. Lysandra finally announced her pregnancy. Aedion’s expression when he opened the box with the baby onesie inside was priceless. Her cousin whooped and hollered, almost dancing with the prospect of becoming a father.

Aelin smiled. She gave her congratulations and celebrated with her family. They hugged, and laughed. Aedion took care to include her in everything, and she played her part even as she tried to ignore the concerned looks her family exchanged behind her back.

Aelin made it to lunch before she couldn’t take it anymore.

Fenrys was the one to find her having a panic attack on the bathroom floor. She hadn’t even known it was a panic attack. Aelin just assumed the pain of losing her soulmate was finally killing her. The tightening of her chest and the body aches felt enough like a heart attack to be convincing.

He gathered Aelin in his arms and counted breaths with her. His twin brother Connal was lost in the same fight where Rowan had gone down. Fen had seen the whole thing from the cockpit of his plain, and nothing he did could’ve saved them.

He shared his pain, and for the first time Aelin felt like someone understood her.

Fenrys let her lean on him as they excused themselves from the celebrations. They drove to some bar in Caraverre and spent the rest of the day wallowing over whiskey.

Aedion came to collect their drunken asses later that evening. Worry etched into every line of his kind face. It only made her feel ashamed that she’d rained all over their happy day.

He was going to be a father, and she’d forced him to spend his time fretting over her instead of reveling in that news.

Now here she was a year later. Aelin wasn’t going to subject herself to that again. Couldn’t. She wouldn’t force her grief upon anyone else this year, either. Just because she was hurting didn’t mean that everyone else had to suffer with her.

So, as Yulemas Eve came, and before she could finally distract herself with work, Aelin pulled Rowan’s blanket over herself. She’d spritzed it with his cologne, donned his shirt, and pulled his socks over her feet. Aelin did everything she could to feel surrounded by him.

Then, alone in their bed, she watched as the clock ticked down to midnight.

Rowan,

Wherever you are, I hope my words reach you and that you know you aren’t alone. I wish with every ounce of my being that I could trade places with you- would give anything, just to know where you are.

It breaks my heart, to be without you. Every breath seems pointless. I lied in my last letter. The roads aren’t frozen. I’m not needed at work. No one really needs me to be around them. I just couldn’t spend another holiday surrounded by happy people when the other half of my heart is gone from me.

When you come home, I will feel like celebrating again. I’ll wrap my arms around you, and we can make up for lost time. Just please, don’t make me wait too much longer.

Merry Yulemas, my love. We will be together again one day.

Until then, I’ll keep on writing, only so long as you don’t yield.

Sincerely, your loving wife

Aelin

#throne of glass #rowaelin #fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aelin #rowan #angst fic #write me #one shot #tog fanfiction #tog

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evarcana · 3 years

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Taking it out on you

Ev attends the court meeting only to learn that sometimes the second impressions are just as bad as the first ones.

characters: Ev Panopolis, consul Valerius and brief appearance of Volta

words: ~3k

warnings: alcohol (as expected)

notes: On some point I gave up on the idea of Ev being the apprentice, as she just does not have this "MC energy". So this is an introduction to her story, because there is no better way to celebrate the 1 year anniversary of this blog than to remember that a very long time ago I used to write fanfiction.

It has been almost a month already. Almost a month since she came to Vesuvia, almost a month since she was told that her services were not required here. The thought makes Ev frown, but she keeps a quick pace, the sound of her impatient steps on the marble floor echoing through the palace corridor.

It is just before eleven o’clock, and the last of crisp morning sun pours over the rich mauve of lustrous silk drapes and the gold leaf of intricately carved murals, drawing out the warm scent of orange blossom and beeswax from the polished panels of precious wood. Vesuvian palace is exactly what she was promised - a great wonder, and yet Ev doubts it could give any lesser impression while the backdrop to its striking opulence is the city torn apart by disease and grief.

There are no servants or visitors in sight, and Ev’s only company in this seemingly endless corridor are paintings on the walls, depicting what she can only guess are some of the proud moments of Vesuvian history - people and places so foreign to her.

She does simple math in her head: two months and two days ago she was marching down the corridor of a very different palace, eager to be on time for the meeting with Crown Princess Nafizah despite the quite literal last minute notice, and not knowing yet that she was about to hear details of this so-called diplomatic mission.

Back then it sounded straightforward enough. Prakra couldn’t ignore the news of Count Lucio's tragic death, not least because that meant Princess Nadia, the youngest daughter of the Prakran royal family, was left widowed and with the daunting task of handling the red plague epidemic in Vesuvia all on her own. Any ruler could do with an extra pair of hands and any country could benefit from the alliance with Prakra, especially in times of crisis like this. And it would have stayed straightforward if only the discovery of Countess Nadia’s mysterious illness and the unexpected, unreasonable, outrageous hostility of Vesuvian court did not bring this crisis to the whole new, now personal, level.

In theory, Ev did not have to deal with any of that. She could use the excuse that it was only appropriate to deliver such unsettling news about Nadia in person, go back and forget everything that happened in this palace like one of those unpleasantly bizarre dreams you get after a night of drinking. But Vesuvia was still the city Prakra cared about, Nadia’s city, and as far as Ev knew none of the people who came to be in charge of it were appointed by her. Prakran diplomatic presence was perhaps the only way to look after Nadia’s interests until she woke up. Even if Ev had no actual power over the court, returning to Prakra without accomplishing at least something felt like a failure, and failure has never been an option for Ev. With that in mind, she pressed the seal with enough force to imprint Prakran royal crest on the desk and not just on the drop of red wax marking the envelope, and stayed.

Now, after a month of living in the city, she has learned to see that there is more to her new role than just misfortunes. Her relocation allowance is generous, her new place is nicer than what she had in Prakra and she is getting rather used to the convenience of the wine shop next door. Even if parts of it are foreign and unwelcoming, Ev feels at ease in Vesuvia. The tension in her body relaxes, and she thinks maybe this palace can eventually get used to her too, but the thought faints away as soon as she sees the salon door. Ev presses a pile of papers closer to her chest and tells herself that she can think about everything else another time - the court meeting is about to start.

She pushes the door open but immediately freezes on the spot stricken by the gagging wave of nausea - nails dirty with soil and blood, sickly sweet buttercream pastries and rustle of feathers covered in mud. It is no more than a faint impression but even through the fogged mind Ev recognises the feeling - it is vestige, the afterimage of magic. She has felt it before, many times and in many different forms but never has it made her feel physically sick. What is even more unusual is that such a revolting sensation is coming from the palace quarters. One would expect tingles of bubbles from the charmed fountains of never ending sparkling wine or at least the impression of whispers, premium tea, treacle and bitter ambition from the walls which have been magically given ears, and not... whatever this is. Ev draws a deep breath, pushing down into her diaphragm and looks around the room. The salon is not set up for the court meeting, instead there is a tray of food and stacks of empty plates towering on almost every flat surface. Her eyes stop on greasy remains looking terribly out of place on the delicate porcelain plate and she unconsciously covers her mouth. Maybe she is mistaken after all - it is the strange smell of food and not some kind of creepy magic, and, more importantly, maybe this is not the salon she was looking for.

Before Ev gets a chance to mentally blame the chamberlain for giving her the wrong directions, a tiny figure appears from behind the chair. The white cornette is instantly recognisable and Ev is about to ask procurator Volta whether she is here for the court meeting too when she sees that behind the commotion of dark robes Volta is frantically trying to push the whole roast rack of lamb down her mouth. Dear gods. Somewhat unsurprisingly, one of the bones appears to be stuck. Clearly having not expected to have an audience, the procurator widens her eyes at Ev in a mixture of terror and shame. Unable to speak, after a few incoherent squeaks, she throws her tiny hands in the air helplessly, spattering herself with gravy and gestures to the open French doors leading to the balcony. Without giving it too much thought, Ev gives Volta a quick nod and takes an opportunity to escape the awkwardness of the scene.

Wrapped in the soft shade of the balcony, consul Valerius is casually leaning back in the chair, with the usual glass of wine in his hand. Even before she reaches the doors, Ev sets her eyes on his face. The consul is looking away, his face carved and unmovable, the tight knot of dark eyebrows making him look ireful and disgruntled, like one of those statues of stern gods she saw growing up in Zadith. Her next step lands much quieter and then, there steps in, Ev stops and stands very still wondering what thoughts could possibly bring this storm to Valerius’s face. Sun would suit him much more, she thinks, her eyes curiously trailing down the golden glints of his hair.

A loud snort catches Ev off guard and she realises that Valerius is now facing her, looking considerably more displeased than before, no doubt because of her. That’s more like it. How could she forget that this man is the very cause of her problems.

“Could I please have some of your time, consul?” she asks, heading straight towards him. Greetings seem excessive, they didn’t necessarily part on friendly terms last time.

“I didn't expect to see you here again.”

Ev allows herself a smirk. “I know.” I am not here to do what you expect from me. She stops inches away from his chair looking down at him, apparently enjoying the close proximity which, considering their formal relationship and the consul’s well known bad temper, could be regarded as both highly inappropriate and potentially reckless. But Valerius only turns away, more interested in his drink than in her.

“I have been studying the treasury records,” she continues, searching his face for any kind of reaction. His lips curl up in a sneer as he takes a sip of wine, but his eyes are still firmly fixed on the horizon. Ev follows his gaze expecting to see some radical change to the surrounding landscape, but there is only faint outline of the city roofs behind the lush green of the palace's vast grounds, - no columns of smoke, no ominous looking storm clouds gathering in the distance, nothing that could possibly be more interesting than her. Whatever. “Your tax system - ,” she hands Valerius neatly arranged papers, which he completely ignores,“- it is not working.”

“Vesuvian tax system remained largely unchanged for the last two generations, this is how these matters are handled traditionally,” says Valerius, once again denying Ev courtesy of eye contact.

Ev’s mouth twists at the sound of the last words. Too worried the conservative mindset might be contagious, she quickly withdraws her hand and takes a step back.

“I trust you understand that sometimes one should focus on what works, and not what is traditional,” she says, doing her best to disguise the growing irritation. “You don’t attract nearly as much foreign trade as you used to.”

What comes next is a very profound, uncomfortable silence. Ev sighs.

“Consul, you had plague in the city, people died,” her voice is louder now, “lots of people died”, and the irritation is obvious. “And Vesuvia cannot exist without its people. Somebody needs to bring food from the farmlands, make clothes, teach children, attend to the sick. Yes, in the past you could always import whatever you did not have but now people are scared to come because of the plague. You -”, she pauses in anticipation noticing Valerius shifting in his seat, but he only reaches for the bottle to top up his glass, “- you need to do something to make it attractive for them again. Lower the customs, lift the taxes for people whose skills you need, sell empty real estate cheap. There is plenty all around the city!”

Deep down Ev knows that none of these is going to work long term, but she doesn't care - she wants to do something and she wants to do it now.

Yet, nothing changes. She is still standing there, and he is still looking away. Ev would prefer him to disagree, start arguing with her - anything really, as long as it breaks this silence.

“Fine! If you don’t feel like changing this traditional system of yours, even temporarily, at least fix your mistakes.” Ev starts chaotically flipping through the papers searching for the one she needs, which would be a much easier task, if she was less flurried and if Valerius offered her a seat. She wonders whether he is now watching her, sneering at her struggle. “Your approved accounts, here,” this time she brusquely puts the paper in front of Valerius’s face blocking his view, “your numbers do not even add up! ”

For a split second she sees something on his face - a twitch, a flick of rage, and thinks that she has gone too far. But his question comes out in a calm, almost disinterested tone: “What makes you think that somebody like you is even qualified to check the city’s budget approved by the esteemed procurator Volta?”

A moment passes before Ev is able to break from staring at Valerius in disbelief. She glances to the salon where, judging by the sound, Volta has freed her mouth only to move to the next dish. Seriously? Perhaps she should be impressed that he managed to say it with the straight face.

And then there is a chilling sensation at the pit of Ev’s stomach. She asks herself what is going on here? What is this city under the reign of a person who questions everything and everyone except the obvious mistake in the accounts? And what is she - ? Angry, she reminds herself, is what she is, and throws a look at Valerius, who is taking another sip from his glass as in triumph. You don’t need to be qualified, you just need to have common sense. And you, Valerius, either don’t have it or you were not even bothered to look at what your court approves.

She pictures him lazily drinking wine, legs on the desk, his shirt unbuttoned, while completely ignoring his state duties. The image is irritating and yet not entirely unpleasant.

“We both know that I come from a family of alchemists and merchants. Trust me, I know how to count,” she says with a smile. It sounded right in her head, a ridiculous answer to the ridiculous question.

“I thought that during our last meeting you said that you had nothing to do with your witchcraft family.” A perfectly raised eyebrow, and that infuriating smirk.

Ev opens her mouth in protest but gives up quickly. Those were her exact words after all, save for the witchcraft part.

She begins to pace around the balcony avoiding looking at Valerius as much as possible. The consul clearly has a way of getting on her nerves, and she needs all her concentration if she wants to explain what exactly will happen to this goddamn city if they carry on with this approved budget.

“Think about the consequences for the people if this mistake is not corrected!” she shouts, her voice much louder than she would like it to be, and quickly turns to Valerius expecting a blowback. But the pale eyes are looking down, studying something on the floor, or on the edge of the fabric of her long sleeve, she really can’t tell. Oh gods, he is not even paying attention.

***

Valerius has firmly decided that he is not going to pay any attention.

The time of plague was exhausting: the palace suddenly full of people of all kinds and intentions promising to find a cure, pleas for help on the streets which he could not escape even behind the doors of the most expensive carriages, the count who was growing more desperate everyday and the white smoke of the Lazaret carried by the sea breeze towards the city, the memory of which still haunts him. And now there is the Satrinavas’ new pet here having an audacity to talk about his city’s problems - the problems which, out of all people, he should know the most about, he is the consul after all, and a Vesuvian.

Vesuvia he inherited is haggard and sad, and on top of that an enormous responsibility. The last thing he needs is a stranger questioning his authority, as if the incompetent court and the city demanding their beloved countess back have not been tiresome enough. Valerius lets out a short, barely audible sigh. He just wants this farce to be over so he can go back to thinking.

But the witch is not planning to stop, if anything she seems to be enjoying it. Look at her. Absorbed by herself and her ludicrous ideas, she is loud and talks too much with her hands. Her dress keeps slipping down the shoulder draping around the soft curve of a half barred breast every time she does one of these unnecessary, overconfident gestures. Valerius has absolutely no idea whether this is deliberate or she is simply unaware of the indecency which keeps drawing his eyes.

He tries to distract himself by taking a drink of wine only to discover that his glass, just like the air around him, is full of this loud perfume of hers. Harsh cinnamon, incense and patchouli, very much alike their owner, have no concept of the personal space ruining the perfect balance of his red. The wine is not helping. He catches himself looking at the shoulder again. In fact, absolutely useless. He sets his unfinished glass aside on the small table. Valerius has had enough.

***

“Enough!” Valerius shouts. His voice is suddenly deep and rather forceful and Ev hates that it has the desired effect on her. She stops and looks at him. “You were not invited to the court meeting.” The consul’s face looks awfully angry now.

Ev narrows her eyes. “And what exactly are you doing at your court meeting?”

“That should not be a concern of the Prakran subject”, Valerius says, his words dripping with poison, “or whoever you are.”

“I am a diplomatic emissary -,” she does not get a chance to finish.

“Leave!”

Ev wants to scream and protest, but even she knows better than to yell at somebody who outranked her. She draws a breath. One, two, three. All right.

“I only came to give you the papers”, she says coldly, her eyes still locked on his, and leans forward to place the documents on the table. “But I am taking this away, one should work without the distraction of wine.”

With these words Ev snatches the glass from the table, turns away and heads toward the exit as fast as she can without breaking into running. She does not want to look like she is scared that Valerius will grab her by the arm. If anything she is slightly disappointed that he doesn’t.

“My regards to the court,” she raises her hand and waves the glass in the air without looking back. Behind her there is a sound of paper being torn apart.

***

Ev only slows down when she reaches the main staircase.

Suddenly feeling very tired, she leans against the handrail. Again, what is she doing here? Why did she need to turn up in person when she could send a letter? Ev closes her eyes and rubs her fingers together as if feeling for answers in the whorls of her own skin, and remembers about the glass in her hand. Another bad decision. It would have been wiser to take the bottle.

She raises the glass to her lips and breathes in the wine. It’s pleasant. Perhaps she would prefer its company to the boring palace affairs too. Ev twists the glass in her hand, eying the smooth rim before drawing one long sip. It leaves a blush mark of her lips firmly planted on the surface which she studies for a few seconds. “You better be as angry as I am now”, she says to the dark liquid at the bottom of the glass.

#no i didnt read the whole thing myself #the arcana #consul valerius #the arcana fic #the arcana fanfic #evpanopolis #valerius x mc #ev x valerius

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magnusbanewastaken · 3 years

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WHAT TO BUY THE SHADOWHUNTER WHO HAS EVERYTHING (And Who You're FINALLY Officially Dating... And More)

SUMMARY: In compliance with our roleplaying group's winter holidays special activity, following the prompt: “Someone has just become fabulously wealthy and is picking out gifts for their family.”

RATING: G

CHARACTER/S: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood, Max Lightwood-Bane

TAG/S: rpgroup, writing challenge, romance, winter holidays, christmas

also @ ao3

Last minute Christmas gift-shopping was always a terrible idea. Either things would be out of stock by that point or nothing much of worth would be left on the shelves. Not to mention the surprising long lines that still exist that late into the holidays. Not to mention having to deal with ill-tempered customers in line with you and the frustrated staff who had to be stuck at work instead of spending the last few days before Christmas preparing for their own celebrations at home. But that's not always the case, not if you were like Magnus who knew exactly where to go.

Everywhere you looked in the Liberty Mall were a festoon of lights, ribbons, tinsels, shiny ornaments, and faux evergreens decked along escalators, archways, and guardrails. A massive Christmas tree that reaches up to almost the third floor of the mall, stood tall at the center of the atrium. This was the place to be in Manhattan for Magnus's quick, at-the-very-last minute shopping spree. All the shops were still open despite it being Christmas Eve already but there weren't a lot of people there compared to other stores and strips around Manhattan around this time in the afternoon. The reason for that most likely had something to do with the stores there being lavishly-priced luxury stores. And that was most unfortunate for him since he liked the attention and stares he'd get for the captivating outfits he usually wore.

Today he had on black leather pants, a studded black belt that looped around his waist twice, and a blood red wool overcoat open over a white wool deep V-neck sweater. A pair of gold thin rimmed sunglasses sat neatly over his coiffed hair and his face was subtly slathered with silver bits of glitter just over his eyelids and out towards the outer corners of his eyes. At least there were still some store managers to dazzle, he thought, perhaps he'd even get discounts as it sometimes often happens to him. Not that he needed any discounts. He had a perfectly wonderful yet complicated relationship with money that never really failed him even at times when he'd end up with nothing but the shirt on his back. He could get himself anything he wanted and anything anyone else wanted. Which is how he ended up going for a last minute shopping spree in the first place.

He didn't have to be there. Personally Magnus wouldn't really bother with shopping "traditionally" for anything. He could just conjure up anything from somewhere and compensate for them later, that is if he remembers to do so, and it was more reliable than online shopping. But now that he was practically sharing his life with Alec, some changes with his lifestyle had to be made. His roguish shopping habits weren't something Alec particularly liked leaving the warlock no choice but to oblige.

He sauntered through the marbled floors of Liberty Mall, going in store after store to pick out presents for tonight's party. It was a gathering at the Institute, mostly a Shadowhunter event despite other Downworlders like him being invited and despite Christmas not exactly traditionally celebrated among the Nephilim. It was an excuse to have a party for the holidays and a way to have their growing families gather together for a night. He wasn't in charge of organising this party, a mistake and a tragedy for them if you'd ask Magnus. He would've done it for free if they asked but the other people who aren't his friends and family that will be there were still predisposed into thinking Magnus would have turned it into a Downworlder rave. At least it was Isabelle helming the celebration, he could count on her to pull off something he would still enjoy despite the restraints of the ever-so-uptight Nephilim traditions.

It was easy enough to think of gifts for the women in his life since fashion was always the answer. He went to every big-named fashion houses at Liberty and was immediately entertained by store attendants, likely believing he might be someone important or famous with the way Magnus always carried himself. And if not that, it was the wads of cash he'd fan and flaunt to their faces, Magnus always wanted to do that. Isabelle was easy to give gifts to since she was always more than willing to try out anything Magnus recommends and her taste and style was to his liking. He simply got her anything he thought would look good on him if he was a woman. Maryse, much like her daughter was somewhat easier to give gifts to. Some jewelry here, designer coats and handbags here and there. They didn't always see eye to eye but ever since his little blueberry, Max, came around, Maryse had softened, even Robert too. She'd often invite him over just to chat, although he was certain she just wanted to spoil little Max. But it did give him the opportunity to get close to her and know her well which also pleased Alec.

Lily was another person he found to be easy to gift to, she'd accept almost anything fancy he gave her, even the not-so-fancy ones he'd sometimes trick her into believing were fancy. Clary on the other hand was slightly more difficult as to this day she still had little to no fashion sense and would deny him the opportunity to enlighten her about the latest fashion trends. Even Maia was easier to bend, provided it came along with a couple of board games and video games. But that won't stop him from trying. He didn't want to force Clary into things that would be uncomfortable for her even if they are trendy. He didn't want to change her, he only wanted to open her eyes to different possibilities than just sticking with something safe and casual. Good thing Jocelyn wasn't as difficult as her daughter. He got her some clothes and jewelry but of course he had to give her the finest brushes and paints as well as coffee table books on art. He was certain Clary would be jealous of them but she'll have to up her fashion game first before he gives her anything she actually wanted.

Men were difficult to give gifts to, he thought. If they weren't anything like him who had a taste for all the pretty and stylish things in the world, he wouldn't be enjoying even thinking about what to give them. Raphael and Ragnor were the exceptions since their gifts were almost exclusively joke gifts and expensive ones at that. But, well, it wasn't possible to do that anymore. He completely rushed through gifts for Jace, Simon, Luke, and Robert and got them simple, not-as-thoughtful as the rest gifts. A set of throwing knives from Japan and a set of Scandinavian hunting knives were for Jace. Simon gets to inherit some of the rare comic books in his possession that were still in mint condition. He threw in a couple of the latest computer games in there just to say he actually bought him something. Luke also gets a set of first editions of books he had owned for centuries; he figured he wouldn't mind that they were used books. But he also got him some new clothes and shoes. Magnus appreciated his alternative, scruffy vibe but he can't wear plaid and worn out boots every single day of the week, that's just preposterous, especially when he has to stand next to a lovely woman such as Jocelyn. And for Robert he got him a pair of watches and a set of fashionable ties, dads liked those kinds of things, right?

He also threw in mugs with designs that he thought would fit for everyone like "Nothing Less Than Seven Inches" for Isabelle. "World's Best Grandma and Grandpa" for Maryse and Robert respectively, "Life Is Short And So Am I" for Clary, "I'm A Vampire Let Me Suck You Off" for Lily, things like that. Nobody likes getting mugs, especially not for Christmas, but he had already prepared expensive gifts for them, surely they wouldn't mind the mugs.

He was empty-handed again after sending away the novelty mugs he got for everyone. His loft must look like Santa's Workshop by now with the amount of gifts he sent back there, he was hoping to get back and do some wrapping before Alec and Max comes home. He looked out the glass panes of the side of the mall to see that the sky was still a bluish gray of daylight, and the horizon was just turning into a faint shade of purple. It's only been a couple of hours but going through all those stores felt like a lengthy ordeal. Next year he wouldn't be so generous, he thought, he'll only do it again in ten years or twenty.

Now all that's left was his own little family. Alec and Max. Max and Alec. My family. He kept repeating the thought in his mind. Even if it's been years since he and Alec were together and well over a year since Max came into their lives, it was still a bit odd for him to think that this was all real if he was being honest, but it was all real. Being with Alec was real. Having Max with them was real. He doesn't really show it but even Magnus was still trying to get used to the idea.

Max was not difficult to think of a gift for, what was difficult was restraining himself from spoiling him; Max was such a cute baby it was really difficult not to do so. If Magnus had it his way he would've spoiled him to death, even Maryse was quite eager to do just that, but Alec wasn't going to have any of that, and he was right on this one. Still, it was Christmas, so he got Max some stuffed toys and a rideable toy car that looked very much like the black Maserati he and Alec rode through France last summer. He hoped for the best that Alec would let this slide becuase Max would look really cute in it, provided he didn't float away with it.

Alec was the last person he would be getting a gift for. Magnus could have made an excuse for himself that this was because he saved the best for last but really Alec was the first person he tried to think of a gift for, the moment he woke up this morning to be exact, and since then he hasn't settled on what to actually give him. Magnus wondered how you could love someone so passionately and even know that someone all too well for quite some time, yet you still find yourself having difficulties with thinking of what to gift said someone.

Magnus took respite in a garden cafe on the first floor of the Liberty Mall. He had one of their special winter lattes that were sweet and minty cool to taste while still thinking of a gift for Alec. He knew he couldn't ask anyone else for their opinions, he learned that lesson the last time he tried to think of a gift for Alec on his eighteenth birthday. He could always ring up Isabelle but he figured she would still be busy with organising things for tonight. Scrolling through articles online on his phone didn't help much either since they found them all too tacky and incredibly heteronormative for his liking. He sighed and put down his phone and took a sip from his latte.

His eyes lingered on the stuffed toys sitting inside the toy car he recently bought for Max just sitting next to his chair. He hadn't sent it away to his loft yet since seeing it gave him some sort of comfort. Looking at the car closely made him remember of his time in France with Alec again. That was the time where they finally managed to redo their European trip without having anything to do with demons and cultists. He has been in and out of France far too many times since the Belle Époque but that summer felt like a brand new experience with Alec. Magnus showed him all the places he had fallen in love with in the quaint countrysides of France and Alec showed him how to fall in love with them all over again. He told Alec about how he felt about that and Alec told him how much he looked forward to seeing the world with him. That was a promise that made Magnus believe that what they had was something for the long run, that he would be loving Alec for a long time. And that's when it hit him. He finally figured out what to give Alec.

Magnus's loft never looked so bright and festive unless it was because of his parties. It has been a long time since he last threw one and it was before Max came along. Tonight, his living room was ornamented by the dreamy and warm hues of gold, beige, cream, and white. The usual colours of reds, greens, yellows, and blues were much too gaudy for Magnus's vision of Christmas that year. The only greens in sight were the garlands lined all over the place and the tree sitting at the center of the room, swathed with gold and silver tinsels and ornaments as well as strings of fairy lights. Sitting by the floor and standing about as high as half of the tree were the presents he had bought earlier in the day. Magnus had already changed into the suit he would be wearing tonight. Alec had warned him that he might get looks from people since he would be wearing white when it's not a funeral. Not that Alec really minded but thought he should let him know anyway. Magnus thought that would be ridiculous, he'd be wearing chanterelle beige not white and he would very much like to get looks from people. And that was that, no one could tell Magnus how to dress anyway.

He was surrounded by lights and sparks of blue as he did his magic, as he was still in the middle of boxing and wrapping the last batch of presents when he heard the door swing open. Without pause, he looked over the side of the tree and looking past the mountain of presents to find Alec with an astonished expression on his face. He was also already in his outfit for tonight which was something he asked Magnus to pick for him. He wore dark brown dress pants and brown overcoat over a cozy beige turtleneck sweater that let him look somewhat formal without sacrificing comfort. He would have just worn something semi-formal but knowing Magnus, he wouldn't have let him look too simple next to him. Alec was carrying a little blueberry of a baby in his right arm, wearing a little black and white onesie suit. The little blue warlock was looking far more cheery than Alec at the sight of the presents. Or perhaps he just had a nice mix of milk in his bottle that day, Magnus couldn't quite tell with Max sometimes.

"Did you just rob the North Pole?" asked Alec.

"Of course not! And even if I did, I'd say it's fair game, that jolly old bastard owes me," Magnus just finished tying the final bow on the last gift in the pile when he walked over to where Alex and Max was.

"...Santa Claus is real?"

"Absolutely, and he's a warlock too. I thought that was common knowledge," said Magnus then planted a kiss on Max's temple.

Alec was not always sure whether Magnus was making things up especially when it comes to warlock things and his warlock friends but that wasn't what's important right now.

"You paid for all this, right?"

"I did and here are the receipts to prove it," with a quick snap of a finger there appeared a clipboard of receipts popping up from a blue swirl of light, floating right in front of Alec's line of sight.

Magnus spoke almost too proudly about legally acquiring his gifts. Alec had been persistent in guilting him with the things he'd conjure from somewhere without paying after all. Magnus picked up Max from Alec's grasp before Alec started flipping through the receipts. Then suddenly a gasp was heard.

"By the Angel, Magnus! Twenty thousand dollars just for clothes?" Alec asked, having a more audible and greater shock than the one he had when he came in earlier causing Max to look up at Magnus as if he could understand and was looking at him for answers.

"They were Dior," Magnus simply explained.

"Seventeen thousand dollars for a watch?" Alec continued flipping.

"Two watches actually, believe me that's already cheap, I hope your father doesn't mind."

"How could you even afford all this?" He asked as he still continued flipping but should really be stopping at this point.

"The painting I sold off the other day remember? It was worth millions apparently,"

"Millions?" Alec looked at Magnus with an even greater expression of disbelief than when he started flipping through the receipts.

"This is why I don't want to talk money with you, you look like you're about to faint," Magnus spoke calmly as he held Alec's face in his free hand hoping it would calm Alec down as well.

"Remind me not to ask next time," Alec nodded then sighed. Magnus looked at him, a bit of worry evident on his face but Alec gave him a reassuring smile, "As long as you actually paid for things."

"Yes, dad, I don't do that thing anymore," Magnus quipped with a smile and dipped in for a kiss on Alec's cheek.

"How are we getting all this to the Institute?"

"Darling."

"Right, magic. Almost forgot. Well, we better go ahead, Izzy will kill me if we're late."

"Wait, I'm sure Izzy won't mind us being fashionably late. I want to give you your present right now," said Magnus then passed Max back to Alec's arms.

"You look serious," Alec noted as he let Max nestle comfortably in his right arm.

"Just nerves. I'm not sure why when I know you wouldn't say no."

"No?"

A whirl of blue light appeared in the palm of Magnus's hand. When the glowing light dissipated, underneath it was a small red velvet box. Magnus could see Alec was already too stunned to say anything. He stared at the box in the warlock's hand for a moment and then back at Magnus. His brilliant blue eyes seemed like they were glistening as their eyes met and Magnus felt his heart warm up at the sight of Alec's smile.

Magnus opened the box and cushioned inside were a pair of rings. One had a round ocean blue diamond set in an intricate basket of flame filigrees, setting on top of a half-braided white gold band. The other ring was a bit bigger in size with an emerald cut blue diamond framed with blue melee diamonds.

"You paid for this too, right?" Alec finally spoke, Magnus almost laughed.

"Darling."

"Sorry, nerves."

"It's my promise to you, my love," said Magnus. "I still stand by what I said the last time we spoke about it, that I won't have you marry me until you, until we, can marry in gold. You deserve nothing less and I can't have you settle for less just because you chose to be with me. I want these rings to be a promise and a reminder for us everyday when we might glance upon it that this is all real. Just as real as any other Shadowhunter unions. That the kind of love we have is not worth anything lesser just because it's a little bit different than what Nephilim traditions dictate.

"So, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, if I may ask,” Magnus got down on one knee and looked up at the two loves of his life, first to Max and then to Alec, "Will you promise to stand by me until we can marry in gold?"

"Absolutely. Yes. It's a promise," Alec was holding back tears as he said that. Max might have felt it too since he started blubbering things and patting his little hands on Alec's face as if to comfort him.

Magnus picked out the ring with the round cut blue diamond then reached out for Alec's left hand. He slipped the white gold band in his ring finger then looked up into Alec's beautiful blue eyes with his heart full of love. Alec took out the other ring from the box with his free hand as Magnus raised his left hand in front of him. The ring sat perfectly around Magnus's left ring finger and suddenly it was the most priceless ring he had, putting all the other rings he wore to shame. They both leaned in for a kiss, it was sweet and tender and Magnus felt the warmth of Alec's love between his lips. But Max had other plans when he decided to break it off and hit Magnus on the side of his head.

"Alright you little smurf, we're going, we're going," he smiled as he ruffled the head of the little blue warlock.

"Oh, right, Alec," Magnus raised his hand and behind the blue glow of smoke surrounding his hand, he conjured up what looked to be like car keys. He handed it to Alec and he immediately recognized the logo etched on its body.

"Did you rent this just for tonight? Can't we just Portal through?"

"You know I don't trust Portal-ing with the baby," Magnus replied. "And no, it's not rented, it's yours."

"No way. Magnus, I can't—" but Magnus cut him off with a kiss.

"Darling, no more arguments before a party," said Magnus as he pulled away from Alec. He then took Max from him and carried him in his arms. "I don't want us to look stressed when we waltz in there. We have the image of a perfectly perfect family to rub in people's faces."

Alec was still a bit dumbfounded about everything that just happened. All those surprises in one night seemed to be too much for the Shadowhunter. But Magnus liked it whenever he leaves Alec dumbfounded.

"Now come along, Alexander, I don't want us to be later than fashionably late," Magnus was already out the door and was being playful with Max who was giggling his little heart out. "My little blueberry must steal the show, yes you will, you're going to be just like your papa when you've grown."

Alec eventually broke out from his daze. He followed them out and went on their way to the Institute.

The party had already started by the time they rolled in the Institute grounds in the sleek black Maserati GT Convertible Magnus had just given him. Though the streets were lined with snow, luckily it wasn't snowing that evening so they were able to ride the car with the top down. Alec might have wanted to argue with Magnus about it earlier but driving it now let him warm up to the idea of owning it. Max seemed to have enjoyed the ride as well as he sat on Magnus's lap in the back of the car. Everything seemed to be going smoothly on its own that Isabelle had the time to come out and meet with them. Simon was with her of course and Jace and Clary followed too when they heard that Magnus, Alex, and Max were on their way. But it was really just an excuse for them to be able to leave the party even for a moment. Parties really weren't the same without Magnus in it.

Clary immediately walked over to Magnus who was carrying Max in one arm. Max was still bouncy and lively as he wrapped his hands around Clary's finger and patting his other hand on her head. Jace was in awe of the car that his parabatai drove and recognized it was the same one Alec kept talking about when they got back from their European redo trip last summer. Jace nearly flipped when Alec told him it was his Christmas gift and even Simon who wasn't exactly a car guy was impressed by it. The car conversation was cut when Isabelle broke in to reprimand Alec and Magnus for arriving late but immediately had a change of heart when the two showed off their rings. Isabelle practically leapt in to hug her brother and so did Clary with Magnus. They all said their congratulations but no one could say they were surprised. With the way things are between Magnus and Alec it was just the natural progression of things but it was still something nice to see especially on Christmas Eve.

As Magnus had expected and have willed to happen, there were a lot of eyes on him as he walked inside the Institute with Alec holding his hand and Max nestled in his other arm. No one would dare state for too long but he noticed the side glances and whispers as they walked through. Whether they were bad or good whispers he didn't particularly care, it boosted his ego pretty well either way.

He and Alec approached Maryse and Robert first who were in the middle of a conversation with some of the Blackthorns. Maryse was quick to ask for Max when they got close which Magnus obliged to and passed his little blueberry into his grandma's arms. It was Alec who excused his parents for a moment and brought them aside to show them their engagement rings. Maryse looked like she was getting overwhelmed that Robert had to take Max from her while she hugged Alec tightly. Like the others, they weren't entirely surprised by it but the rings really did make all the difference.

When all was finally said and done, Magnus conjured up the mountain of presents that were sitting back in his living room. The presents were all lined up around the base of the Christmas tree for his friends and family to open up later when the other guests have left. He made sure to conjure up the gifts in the homes of the others who weren't able to make it there that night like Jocelyn and Luke who decided to stay in together. As well as Maia and Lily who had hosted a different kind of party for the werewolf pack and vampire clans.

At the Beth Israel Hospital, Catarina finally had time to take a break from cheering up the kids who were stuck there for Christmas. She sat on her own in the breakroom having a snack and some coffee using a mug that said "Why So Blue?". She was on her phone to check the messages she couldn't read earlier and most of them were typical holiday greetings. The one that stood out and brought a smile to her face was a photo greeting of Magnus and Alec showing their rings and Max floating on his own next to them with the caption, "Happy Holidays from the Lightwood-Banes".

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #max lightwood-bane #the mortal instruments #tmi fanfiction #tmi fanfic #river writes crap

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pixiegrl · 3 years

Note

Also I would really love to read "I won't make it home for Christmas" with Lashton please and thank you, love you 💜

Amanda! Darling Amanda! I originally had another idea and then we were talking about soulmate AUs and this uh. Turned into that. I hope you enjoy it! For the holidays!

on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28205598

I won’t make it home for Christmas. The line has been tattooed onto Luke’s hip since his 13th birthday when he got his soulmark. He’d been giddy when he’d first gotten it, excited to have something so unique as the first thing his soulmate will say to him. The older he’s gotten, though, the less the tattoo has made sense. After all, why would that be the first thing his one true love would say to him? How can you tell someone you won’t spend Christmas with them as the first thing you’re supposed to say?

No matter how much Luke wants to find his soulmate, wants to meet this person, he’s pushed it aside and gotten on with his life. It was Ben who first suggested he become a flight attendant. Luke was antsy to get out of Australia, to get out in the world and explore, and to find the person he’s destined to be with. He jumped at the chance, finishing the university classes he needed to quickly and then immediately applying to the airline. It wasn’t long until he was going through training. It’s where he met Michael; sarcastic, funny, sharp Michael, who’s good at putting on his customer service face for people and making sharp remarks to Luke while they prepare drinks. They make a good team, if only because Luke laughs at Michael’s comments and Michael had talked Luke down from his panic attacks on their first few flights together. Luke would venture to call Michael his best friend, if Michael wouldn’t make fun of him immediately for it.

It’s how they’d met Calum, Michael’s soulmate. He’d been the co-pilot on one of their early flights. Michael had crashed into Calum in the middle of the cockpit, covering him in coffee and uttering Oh fuck don’t get me fired, and Calum had frozen for a moment before bursting into laughter. He peeled back his sleeve to reveal the same sentence on his forearm, saying “This isn’t how I expected to meet; that’s for sure.” Michael then ripped his shirt open in the middle of the cockpit area, showing off the mark on his rib cage with those same words, laughing wildly in the face of Luke and the other flight attendants telling him to put his shirt back on before someone complained to the airline.

Luke likes Michael and Calum, enjoys spending his time with the two of them even though it's frustrating to watch them kiss and stare at each other all starry-eyed, sappy and in love. Luke’s lucky that he doesn’t live with Michael anymore, happy to have some time away from the two.

The other downside of Luke’s soulmark is that he’s heard some variation of it over the years. He’s been a flight attendant for close to four years now, and he’d have trouble counting the amount of times someone has said something in relation to not being home for holidays or Christmas. Luke’s almost desensitized to the words now, unphased by it all. He’s never felt the connection or spark behind it that everyone else claims to feel when they meet their soulmates. So Luke is here, waiting on flight after flight, airport after airport, for his soulmate to appear.

Luke is positively miserable today, though. It’s Christmas Eve and he’s supposed to be getting on a flight from Boston to California and then to Sydney. Supposed to being the key word. He’s currently stuck in the Boston airport, his just one of many delayed flights piling up on the back of a snowstorm rolling in. Luke’s been hiding in the back corner of the airport, texting Michael and Calum, jealous they get the holiday off. They’ve been sending him photos of their Christmas cards, where they’re grinning in matching ugly sweaters and reindeer antlers. It’s cheesy and sappy and Luke has never been so jealous of soulmates before.

Luke’s airplane sends out an announcement that the flight will be delayed until tomorrow morning and advises everyone to find somewhere to spend the night. Luke hears the grumbles of the other passengers, rolling his eyes at how clueless people can be. Did they really think they’d be able to leave tonight, between the other flight delays and the snow? Luke shares a look with one of the other attendants across the way, shaking heads and equal looks of misery at the idea of finding a place to spend the night. Luke’s waiting for the okay from his boss before he tries to find a place to spend the night. Luke is desperate to get out of here, to find some food and to find a hotel room to shower and sleep in.

He’s scrolling through his phone, looking at photos from his family, and debating when he can get up to go find somewhere to spend the night or if any of the other attendants need a roommate when someone collapses into the seat next to him. Luke glances to the side, catching sight of brown curls, nice biceps, and a strong jawline. If Luke wasn’t exhausted and wasn't going to have to fight people to get a room in a hotel on Christmas Eve, he might try to flirt with the guy.

“I won’t make it home for Christmas,” the guy says. Luke hums, half listening.

“The first time in years I’ve had the holiday off and I’m stuck here, in a crowded airport. Not even sure I’ll be able to find a hotel at this point,” the guy says, glancing at Luke while he huffs a bit and rolls his eyes. He’s fiddling with his phone, leg bouncing. Luke hums, glancing down at his own phone, snorting at the picture Michael’s sent of him and Calum in their matching tacky Christmas sweaters, reindeer antlers and all.

“I’m sure there’s a hotel left somewhere; the snow’s only just gotten bad,” Luke says, nonchalantly, defaulting to his generic answer he always gives passengers when they complain to him.

“What did you say?” The guy sounds a little breathless, shocked. Luke sighs, putting on his customer service smile and turning to look at the guy. The smile slips from Luke’s face though when he makes eye contact with him. It feels like he's letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding, a tightness in his chest relieving itself. The world slides itself into place and Luke gets it. It’s stupid and cliche, but he gets it now. The feeling everyone has described to him over and over again, of coming home, of peace. Luke gets it now, staring at the man next to him.

“Oh,” Luke whispers, taking him in, curled brown hair and bright hazel eyes, a slow smile forming on his face. Luke can’t help a similar smile from forming on his lips, dimples creasing his cheeks.

The guy grins even wider, pulling the sleeve of his jacket up so Luke can see the sentence painted across the back of his forearm, flowing cursive and Luke’s words. Luke reaches out, unable to stop himself, and traces the words, sucking in a breath at the electric feeling that flows through him at the contact with his soulmate.

“Who knew I’d have to go to an airport in Boston to meet my soulmate?” He says, laughing. Luke realizes he has an Aussie accent too, and he laughs breathlessly because really, what are the odds. What are the odds he’d go halfway across the world just to meet his soulmate by accident in a shitty, cold airport, stuck here during the holidays until the snow stops. Although, Luke guesses, fate probably had a hand in this.

“Australia is a large country,” Luke says, pulling his hand back, blushing.

“It seems fate has decided we should meet here instead. Ashton,” He says, holding his hand out. Luke blushes again, shaking Ashton’s hand, finding it incredibly silly to be shaking his soulmate’s hand in an airport waiting area. Ashton snorts, lacing his fingers in Luke’s so they’re holding hands. Luke blushes even harder. He’s usually much smoother than this, he’s being ridiculous.

“Luke. I would show you my tattoo but it’s on my hip,” Luke says, gesturing vaguely in that area. Ashton smiles, tongue poking out a little. Luke’s immediately charmed by him.

“So I can tell what brings you to an airport on December 24th. Uniform stole my one-liner,” Ashton says, gesturing to Luke’s dress pants and shirt, the little name tag pin he’s wearing. Luke blushes.

“You have one liners prepared for picking people up in airports?”

“Always gotta be prepared. Never know where you might be a handsome stranger destined to be your true love.”

Luke rolls his eyes, “Well, what brings you to an airport on Christmas Eve? Since you mentioned wanting to get home.”

“I’m a session musician. We were finishing up recording and I was so sure I would be able to make it back home in time for Christmas. My sister’s gonna kill me.”

“Well, tell her you met your soulmate. She can’t be too mad about that.”

Ashton snorts, rubbing his thumb along the back of Luke’s hand. Luke stares at Ashton’s face, trying to memorize as much of it as he can. He wants to remember every detail to tell his family later, to describe the scene to Michael and Calum, to write into his wedding speech when he tells everyone about this moment.

“I bet you hear people complaining about not being able to make it home all the time. You know, being a flight attendant and all,” Ashton says. Luke smiles.

“Nothing quite as on the nose as you, though. Not from anyone as pretty as you,” Luke says, leaning over to brush a stray curl out of Ashton’s eyes and tuck it behind his ear. Ashton blushes, red dusting his nose and cheeks. It’s charming, Luke decides. Ashton is charming and cute and everything he’s ever wanted in a soulmate.

“Want to go get dinner? See if we can get a hotel room? Maybe between your uniform and my pleading, we can beg for a room somewhere,” Ashton asks.

Luke laughs, standing up and cracking his back, “I think we could manage that. Somewhere has to still be open at 6:00pm on Christmas Eve.”

Ashton grins widely, jumping up and slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. Luke smiles, pulling his jacket on and grabbing the handle of his rolling suitcase. Ashton grabs Luke’s hand, lacing their fingers together and grinning widely at Luke when he makes eye contact with him. Luke smiles shyly, cheeks pink, and curls falling in his eyes as he ducks his head.

They venture out into the cold of Boston, grabbing the first bus and taking it into downtown.

“What instrument do you play?” Luke asks, picking at some invisible lint on his pant leg.

“Drums. Sometimes I play guitar or sing, but my main love is drums. Well, my other love I guess,” Ashton says. Luke rolls his eyes, huffing fondly at Ashton. Ashton laughs, head tipped back slightly. Luke is charmed immensely by Ashton already. God, now he gets why Michael and Calum are so unbearable to be around.

“Do you live in Australia?” Ashton asks once his laughter has died down.

“Sort of. When I’m home I stay with my parents since they’re not too far. I officially own a place in LA. It’s my base airport and it’s easier to have a place there during my off times. Do you?”

“Yeah. I bounce between LA and New York most of the time being a musician. Boston was an accident. I was in London for the last month and was grabbing a connecting flight from there back to Australia for the season.”

“Maybe fate did want us to meet.”

“Could have done that without a snowstorm and flight delay.”

“Well, I wouldn't have met you without the delay,” Luke points out. Ashton shrugs. They fall into comfortable conversation, talking about their families, Michael and Calum, Ashton’s friends that he records with, their lives. It’s interesting, meeting someone who’s the other half of your soul. Luke feels like he’s known Ashton for years, comfortable and happy with him, but still like he’s learning Ashton. They haven’t let go of each other’s hands, fingers interlocked and resting in Luke’s lap while they talk, Ashton rubbing his thumb across the back of Luke’s hand.

They get off the bus when they make it to the city. Ashton pauses, taking a deep breath and turning to look at Luke.

“Do you wanna find a hotel and get room service? I doubt anywhere is open now,” Ashton says. Luke figures he’s probably right and nods. Ashton hums, pulling in the direction of where Luke can see a hotel in the distance.

They make it half a block before Ashton freezes, turning to look wide eyed at Luke, “Oh, I just assumed you’d want to share a room together. You don’t have to of course. I completely understand.”

Luke rolls his eyes, “Ashton, you’re my soulmate. Of course I wanna spend the night with you. I like talking to you.”

Ashton deflates, smiling, “Good. I just didn’t want to force you.”

“You’re not forcing me, silly. I’m happy to be with you,” Luke says. Ashton smiles, tugging Luke in, pressing a kiss to his lips. Luke startles before relaxing slightly, easing into the kiss and tilting his head slightly, letting Ashton pull him close, gripping his hips, brushing his thumb over where Luke knows his soulmark sits, curved letters and all.

“Since I’m already delayed for the holidays, maybe I can delay myself in LA. Since we’re going the same way,” Ashton whispers onto Luke’s lips when he pulls back. Luke grins.

“Are you asking to move in with me on the first date Ashton? How very forward of you.”

“Well, we’re meant for each other. Might as well skip a couple steps if it gets us there faster.”

Luke laughs, snorting slightly and burying his face into Ashton’s neck, “How about we settle on dinner and a hot shower first? See where it takes us.”

Ashton hums, “Only if I can see your soulmark.”

“Well, obviously. Only fair if you get to see mine since you showed me yours.”

“I look forward to it,” Ashton says, grinning, as he presses another kiss to Luke’s lips, taking a step back and pulling them both in the direction of the hotel. Maybe delayed flights on Christmas aren’t so bad. Not if they can lead Luke to his soulmate.

#5 seconds of summer #lashton #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #my writing #its a soulmate au and stuck in the airport #for my love amanda

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vestancethesmol · 4 years

Text

The Taste of a Tiny~

Word count: 1.7k

tw: fatal, vore, g/t vore, fear play

this was somethin i made for @patpat-snore since there's no vore fics for preds really (this is in the pov of a pred) I hope you like it lots!!! I'm sorry if I did bad!

It was a terrible day for you, your coworker called in sick and asked you to cover his shift, and for some dumb reason, you did it. Although if you had known what you were in for that day, you would've hung up the moment that they called you. It was horrible, it was the holidays of course, so everyone was in a rush, people were in terrible moods, makes you wonder what happened to the “holiday spirit” which is supposedly in the air. But for your workplace, the holiday spirit may as well have been nonexistent with how this women was treating you. She was screaming, demanding to purchase an item that hadn't been in store for weeks now, due to the fact that it was probably Christmas Eve of all times, and last minute shopping never went well. But she didn't care, she wanted it and she wanted it now. It was only until your General manager had stepped in that she finally caved in and went home, muttering a string of curse words and bad cheer under her breath as she exited. The day was awful sure, but as if Lady Luck herself had come down and smooched you on the cheek, your boss told you that you could go home early!!! You practically skipped out of the building after clocking out, you were so happy, you had never gotten out this early. A myriad of things to do with your newfound free time were swimming in your head. But as lady luck was smiling upon you, she was not smiling upon an unknown resident of your home…

Unbeknownst to you, there had been a little woman living within your apartment walls for quite some time. She was always careful, always meticulous, learning your schedule perfectly so that she wouldn't end up getting spotted by her massive roommate, but it wouldn't help her today, as this was the first time in years that you had ever clocked out sooner that 5:30. She was out in your apartment, sneaking out little nibbles of the loaf of bread that had been sitting in your pantry for a few days now, a little morsel of the spongy grain saddled on her back, ready for transport back into her home. She snuck her way out onto the kitchen counter, the hidden entryway to her living space mere feet away as the apartment door slowly creaked open, a heart stopping chill running its way across the borrower’s spine, freezing her in her tracks like a deer in headlights. Her day about to take a turn for the worse.

You lazily dropped your keys on the table, and walked into your kitchen, very very very very very hungry after an annoying day’s work, but what you laid your eyes on was not food, well not yet anyway, but a tiny woman instead, her tiny eyes wide with fear, the piece of bread falling from

her grasp and onto the counter without a sound. Your own eyes were wide too, way wider than hers obviously, but still, it was a massive surprise to you too. You had always heard stories from your grandmother of the little people who lived in people’s walls, and were always excited by them, always searching for them whenever you went to her house. But you always thought that those stories were just fairy tales, made up for little kids to give them a sense of wonder in the world, you didn't expect for one to be in your house! Although… you always did have this bizarre fascination with what a tiny human would taste like. What it would feel like for them to wriggle down your hungry gullet. What it would feel like to have them writhe and squirm inside your cavernous belly as they were turned into nutrients for your body.You suddenly found yourself licking your lips with hunger, a gluttonous look in your eyes, and to top it off, a devious smile painting itself across your features. A smile that could only mean danger for the little thief inside your apartment.

“By all means, enjoy the piece of bread little one, you've clearly earned it, after all, if I hadn’t gotten home early you would've already eaten it” You said sinisterly, your much larger eyes studying the tiny, like a butcher’s customer would study the cuts of meat, wondering how she would taste once you had gotten her into your maw. You had decided to hold off on devouring her outright, not until you had sufficiently toyed with her. “I-if you insist mister, th-thank you for letting me have this, I r-really appreciate it” she stammered sheepishly, tentatively taking little nibbles of the bread, the tiny very clearly still terrified of what you might do now that you had found out that she was living in your home. After a minute or two of nibbling she had finally finished her snack, although yours was just about to begin you had thought to yourself…

“Th-thank you for letting me eat some of your bread mister, now if you don't mind I’ll just get out of your hair by going back to my ho-”

“Going so soon? But we had just met little one, and after all, you may have had your food, but I haven't had mine quite yet” You chuckled ominously before slamming your hand down atop the counter, mere inches from the tiny female who was about to escape, causing her to fall backwards onto her rear in shock. “Wh-what do you mean by food?” she inquired meekly, the little one crawling backwards, away from your massive palm that was blocking her path “What do I mean by food? Well I mean you my dear~ After all, if a delectable little treat is going to waltz around my countertops, who am I to miss out on this golden opportunity?” You explained, your hungry eyes never once leaving her frail and vulnerable form. She just looked so… helpless like this so… delicious, you couldn't wait any longer your, your free hand swooped in to snatch her up, each one of your fingers wrapping around her like a snake, making her confinement in your hand more and more secure with each digit that had curled around her. You lifted her up effortlessly, bringing your adorably helpless prey up to your face. “Don't worry little one, this won't hurt… much, and, don't think about it as your end, think of it as a very warm, very wet roller coaster ride, ok?” You stated, letting your warm breath spill out over your meal with each word, giving her a taste of what's to come inside of your hungry, hungry mouth. “Ahhhh~” You opened wide and stuck out your tongue, placing your tiny, feminine morsel atop the pink muscle, marinating her in your own saliva as you slowly withdrew your tongue back into your cavernous maw. Once the snack had been brought in past your teeth, you shut your mouth, giving her a curtain of your pearly white teeth instead of the kitchen light that she used to see, but her journey wasn't quite over yet as you waggled your tongue around inside your mouth, making sure to get the little visitor thoroughly coated in your own saliva before her trip down your throat. You could feel her squirms, it was so very clear that she was trying to fight your tongue, it felt like a little wrestling match to you, a wrestling match that you won quite easily as you pinned her beneath your tongue, pressing her little body against the floor of your mouth, licking all over her little body. You tasted every inch of her, she was so perfect, sweeter than a piece of your favorite candy. You felt her little arms trying to push up against your snake-like tongue, but it was no use at this point, it was very clear that you were fully intent on devouring her like the piece of food that she was. In one last, little tease, you decided to let her head pop out from beyond your lips, your tongue wrapping itself around her waist in order to prevent escape. You looked upon her adorable little head, her hair stuck to her face and the side of her head now that it had been doused with your spit, you giggled to yourself, the chuckles reverberating throughout your body, causing your guest to rumble a tad bit as your finger drew ever so close to her little head, the digit making a circular motion as it crept closer… and closer until… boop! Your giant finger pushed her head back inside to your awaiting mouth, your tongue assisting in the task to pull her back in. “Alright, enough games, I can't wait any longer” You thought to yourself, a giddy grin breaking out along your face, excited at the prospect of a real life borrower meal!

“Bye Bye little one~ enjoy the roller coaster ride down” You murmured to your struggling prey before throwing your head back, letting the delectable woman slide down, savoring her flavor on each taste bud as she skidded past, plummeting down your warm throat, you brought up one of your fingers to the bulge in your throat, trailing its descent down and down and down until they fell into the bottom of your gut, where you let your hand rest on your now full belly, a content smile upon your face at having enjoyed a wonderful meal. “Thank you for the food dear, you were absolutely delicious, so delicious that I wish that there were mo-URP!” Your monologue cut off by a massive belch erupting past your lips, probably your tummy thanking you for feeding it. “As I was saying, so delicious that I wish I could taste you over and over again, but sadly, I'll have to settle for this one time” You spoke softly, drumming your fingers over the spot where she had landed, the tiny clearly still moving around inside, hopefully coming to terms with her digestion. “All this playing made me sleepy, I think I'll take a nap little one, don't go anywhere~” You teased, going off to your bedroom to sleep as your little passenger would soon digest inside you, hopefully giving you energy for your workday tomorrow...

#soft vore #g/t vore #vore writing #vore story #male vore

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minsugapie · 4 years

Text

The Eve: part 4 (1930 words) - Kim & Do Development

• • • • • •

Lumi is down on her luck. After graduating university with a business degree, she has yet to secure a career in that path, reluctantly working and living at an old motel instead.

Kim Jongin is on the run. He’s been framed for embezzlement, and someone faked his death while he was out of town. With only a handful of bills and a false identity, he had been only able to survive for so long until breaking down in front of an old motel, hoping that whoever found him wouldn’t report him to the authorities.

• • • • • •

prev // current // next

masterlist

• • • • • •

oop and here it is...ok but like damn kyungsoo is fine af

• • • • • •

“…Mr. Do,” Kyungsoo finally heard what was coming out of the phone he held to his ear, Sehun on the other end. He’d been distracted lately, and he didn’t like it.

Kyungsoo was walking around his office, thinking about nothing important. He should have been trying to figure out what his next plans were. But there was only one thing that he was able to focus on as of lately—the love of his life.

His longterm girlfriend broke up with him when she found out that Jongin had “died”. Apparently, that bitch had previously hooked up with Jongin and was trying constantly to get with him. That’s why she dated Kyungsoo in the first place.

She was only using him for sex and companionship as she waited for her Jongin to see her again. Now everything that he’d done to Jongin felt like it was worth it after the love of his life left him and said she never loved him.

He should have been feeling a little better because he’d finally managed to do what he’d wanted for a while —practically an ex-communication of his business partner. But something felt off.

Jongin didn’t know it, but Kyungsoo knew exactly where he was. It worked out in his favour, however, because seeing him suffer like that was better than anything. He hadn’t actually wanted to kill him, because that would have been too easy. No, he wanted him to know what it felt like to have to live in the shadows and not have it easy.

When Kyungsoo met Jongin in university, they’d hit it off, but Kyungsoo quickly thought there was something about Jongin that was just too perfect. He was just too nice. Even to this day, he couldn’t even put his finger on it.

So he guessed that the fact that he started a business with Jongin was on him. It was his bad. But, what better way to bring it all to light than frame him for something? Kyungsoo needed the money for his family’s old medical bills. In fact, that was the reason for wanting to start business with Jongin anyways…there was absolutely no way that he wasn’t going to be famous. He was famous before they’d graduated. He’d come from a family of business people. He was successful before he was even successful.

And Kyungsoo needed money. More than he made. So he took some from the business, and when people started getting suspicious, he pinned it on the partner.

“Repeat,” Kyungsoo replied into the phone. Sehun had been tailing Jongin for the last week, even taking the last of his money and beating him up a bit. Jongin had been eating less and training less, so of course Sehun would be able to beat him up.

“Jongin’s being taken care of,” Sehun repeated. Kyungsoo noticed that his voice sounded a little timid, probably worried what he was going to say.

Kyungsoo’s attention was fully on Sehun now.

“You mean he’s found someone who doesn’t know who he is?”

“I mean, maybe, but either way she’s been going in and out of the room with supplies and food.”

“It’s a woman? Interesting. Well follow her. Figure out who she is and if she’s a threat to us. We can’t have anyone giving away any information,” Kyungsoo sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Jongin finding someone to take care of him had never been in the plan. Heck, he was surprised that he’d even let himself be vulnerable in front of someone when he was in this situation. Actually, he’d never let himself be vulnerable in any situation, ever.

“10-4. I’ll call you in a few days.”

“You better have some good information for me,” Kyungsoo threatened. Sehun was only with him because he had debts to pay off. He just happening to be in the wrong place at the right time. Kyungsoo made sure to remind him of his place every once in a while.

• • • • • •

Sehun hung up after Kyungsoo’s last words. He decided that the best way to get to know this girl was to book a room at the motel. Jongin wouldn’t know who he was because of two important things: he started working for Kyungsoo after Jongin was framed, and he wore a mask when he beat him up the last time. Regardless, it would be stupid for him to leave the room.

Parking his car out front, he made his way into the front office, but not before lingering beside the room Jongin was in first. The curtains were closed and it looked like the lights were off. It seemed like nobody was there. It really was the prefect place to hide.

The girl was sitting behind the front desk, almost falling asleep in her book when he walked in. Sehun really couldn’t blame her. The motel seemed run-down and old, yet still clean. Paint was cracking, furniture was dated, but there wasn’t a spec of dust in sight. There were two cars parked outside, excluding his own, so it was dead, but not completely out of business.

The girl’s head lifted at the sound of the bell on the door, posture perking up at the sight of a customer.

“What can I do for you?” She asked, putting aside the book that she was reading.

“I’d like a room, please,” Sehun replied, never taking his eyes off the lady. He had to admit that she was beautiful. Her long blonde hair framed her face as she looked at him with a warm smile. He wondered how Jongin was able to get her to help him after the found out who he was. Maybe she just didn’t know who he was?

“How many nights do you plan on staying?” She followed up, taking a key off the wall behind her, getting ready to jot his name down in the book.

“We’ll start with two. Would it be possible to add more if needed?” He smiled at her, putting all his charm into his words to see if she was swayed at all by handsomeness. It was something that had always helped him out. He had a cool, calm personality and he knew exactly how to control the emotions of those around him when he wanted to.

“Perfect. We can definitely add more if you need. I just need your name and credit card number for the records, so if you could get those out for me, that would be great!” Her answer was diplomatic and polite, not phased at all by his flattery.

Sehun shook his head, smiling as he took out his card and ID for her to take down the information. She seemed so nice. It made sense that she wanted to take care of someone in need. But it made him sad that she’d gotten herself into this situation. While she was writing it down, he asked, “So is there some place good to eat in town?”

She looked up at him with a smile. “Of course! I just came back from there actually! It’s the diner on main street. Tell them Lumi sent you, and they’ll give you the best treatment!”

So her name was Lumi? Sehun thought that Lumi’s smile was contagious.

If Sehun found out anything about Jongin from Kyungsoo, it was the fact that Jongin couldn’t resist a beautiful woman. So, he was sure to try something with her. “Will do,” he smiled, taking the key from her hand as she held it out to him. He wasn’t even going to go to his room right then. Clearly if she knew the people at the diner, they were sure to know something about her.

“I hope you have a good supper and a good night, Sehun,” she called as he opened the door to head back to his car.

The one thought on Sehun’s mind as he drove to the diner was that he was sad that she had to be nice. He wasn’t sure what Kyungsoo planned to do with her once he got the information, but it couldn’t have been too good. He could be a very cruel person.

• • • • • •

The diner was pretty crowded when he walked inside, realizing that it was prime supper time. He took at seat at the bar by himself and waited for a waitress to take his order. Beside him was an old man who was doing the crossword in the back of the newspaper. He looked up at Sehun almost immediately. “What’s your business in town?” He asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“I just came from the hotel. Lumi recommended this place,” Sehun dropped her name, wanting to see the reaction it sparked in the people around him.

“Oh! Lumi sent you! What a beautiful woman, inside and out!” The waitress spoke before Tom could. Sehun nodded his head at her as she placed a tall glass of water in front of him.

“She seems to be,” Sehun said. “Why is someone like her working in a place like that?”

Tom sighed beside him, taking a sip of his coffee. “She went through a tough divorce after university and is stuck.”

“Oh? She had bigger plans?”

“She doesn’t like to talk about it…but she wanted to go to the big city. She got a degree in business and had such optimistic plans!” Tom spewed, probably not knowing that he was telling Sehun everything that he would ever need to know. Poor Tom didn’t know what he was doing. “She always told us about this dream of hers to work for Kim & Do Development, but we’re all glad that that didn’t work out…especially considering…”

Sehun’s ears perked at the mention of the very familiar company. So she did know who he was!

• • • • • •

The two days passed before Sehun decided to call Kyungsoo to tell him what he had seen. He’d watched Lumi for a while, seeing how much of a smile she had on her face when she left the room with Jongin or how she brought food back from the diner for him to eat.

Sehun had spoken to her that morning when she asked if he needed anything for his room. He couldn’t help how pretty and kind he found her. While chatting with her that morning, he’d noticed that she had some slight bruising on her neck that he hadn’t noticed when he checked in. Briefly, he wondered what had happened.

“Ok, so I’ve found some things,” Sehun told Kyungsoo as he was lying down on the bed at the motel. He couldn’t believe that only a few rooms away, Jongin was probably lying on a bed with Lumi by his side. Who knows what they were getting up to. It was Kim Jongin after all.

“What are you waiting for, kid, tell me,” Kyungsoo sounded less than amused.

“She’s a business graduate that actually wanted to work for your company. I got Chen to do a background check for me, and apparently she’s not from around here. She was married to a guy named Kim Junmyeon, who went by Suho, but they divorced. Parents are travelling the world in their retirement, but she hasn’t been in contact with them since she ran away to get married. No siblings.”

“Hmmmmm, I didn’t want to have to do anything, but…” Kyungsoo thought aloud on the other end of the phone.

“What are you going to do?”

“Take her, Sehun. Take her when an opportunity presents itself and bring her to the storage lockers.”

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eris223 · 4 years

Photo

@kokkoro tis I, your Secret Santa!

It’s been a pleasure chatting with you these past few weeks. I hope you have a wonderful New Year’s Eve full of relaxation after the craziness of the holidays. I wrote something for you. Just a fun little fic inspired by some of our chats:

Charming Bites & Lady Knights

The parking lot was packed. Lexa’s shoulders slumped, and she pulled into the final available spot, steeling her mind, body, and soul for the inevitable irritation that came with being in a crowd of holiday treat shoppers.

As she slugged through the snow-dusted lot, Lexa reminded herself that this quest came only once a year. Only during the holidays did her mother, who never asked anything of her daughter, request a few charming bites, as she called them. And dammit, Lexa was a noble and true daughter.

So here she stood, calming herself before the local dairy farm and bakery.

The tintinnabulation as she pushed open the heavy door was nearly lost to the constant chatter of bakery employees and frantic customers. Lexa weaved in and out of bustling shoppers, coming to a halt at the end of a ten-person line.

The bakery counter line crawled forward, and every time Lexa dipped her head to the side to gain insight on why the line was moving so slowly, all she saw was a flash of blonde hair attached to a blur of a frenzied yet striking young woman.

“It’s moving slowly, isn’t it, dear?”

Lexa smiled at the old woman who just hopped in line behind her.

“It’s always a mess during the holidays.” Her words were direct and easily interpreted as annoyed, yet the elder’s smile was anything but.

While Lexa was no deipnosophist, she could manage a bit of chit-chat with a kindly old lady who reminded her of her best friend’s doting grandmother. “I think that employee is the only one working the counter. It can’t be easy with this many people,” Lexa motioned towards the counter just as the blonde woman heaved a sigh and greeted the next customer.

“That poor dear,” the old woman clicked her tongue. “We’ll be sure to leave her a nice tip, won’t we?”

Lexa nodded, her cheeks aching with the smile she sported. It wasn’t every day she met someone genuinely kind.

The line still moved at a glacial pace, but with the light and easy conversation with her line partner, the time passed quickly. Soon enough, Lexa stood only two people from the front.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not ready’? I called it in three days ago!”

A hoarse voice crashed into Lexa’s ears, and she whipped her head towards the front of the line. A burly man leaned forward, hands on the counter, shoulders tense, as he continued to berate the pretty employee.

“I left a message on the machine. I said it needed to be ready today!”

“Sir,” the woman’s voice was calm yet peppered with exhaustion, and it was so much more luscious than Lexa anticipated. “Did someone from the bakery call to confirm or give you an order number?”

“Can’t you just give me one of those?” He motioned towards the stack of cakes on the back counter, and Lexa’s skin bristled.

A bout of pure protective nature coursed through her veins as she watched the young woman set her lips in a firm yet polite line.

“I’m sorry, sir, but those are reserved for other custo-”

“This is ridiculous,” he spat at the employee, and Lexa’s muscles tensed. “I can’t believe how far this place has fallen. Hiring fools instead of employees. I want a cake. There are cakes right there…”

Lexa wrapped her hand around the hilt of her sword, her leather gauntlet stretching as she flexed her fingers. She drew the blade slow and with purpose, holding it at the ready.

She tapped the tip of her sword to the rude man’s shoulder. “Thou must apologize to the fair maiden. She art naught but a kind woman caught in a difficult situation.”

He turned with malice laced throughout his gaze. “And who do you think you are? Her knight in shining armor?”

Lexa stood tall, her heavy hauberk shifting and jingling, filling her with pride and confidence. “If she would permit me to be, aye.”

She spared a glance to the maiden in question, and the small nod Lexa received bolstered her further. “Apologize, or I will be duty-bound to defend her honor.”

The man gave Lexa an acute once over, sizing up his competition. With a low growl, he reached behind him, pulling a longsword from the scabbard on his back.

The metal blade scraped loud and dull against his sheath, and Lexa smirked. An expert swordsman could draw silently. This oaf was just a rude buffoon who needed to be taught a lesson in humility.

He swung without warning, his four-foot blade slicing through the air. Lexa, much quicker with her arming sword, ducked beneath the clumsy attempt.

With a flash of steel, Lexa whipped her lighter and swifter sword low, confident her foe would be unable to block such a blow. As her blade clanged hard against his battle-battered greaves, he stumbled backwards.

Lexa leapt into action, assaulting the retreating man with a succession of sudden attacks.

He grunted, his breath drawing in quick bursts with the peripeteia of combat. Emboldened by her enemy’s perpetually slower parries, Lexa ducked under a final graceless swing and landed a devastating blow to the center of his cuirass.

The large man stumbled, and this time, fell to his knees. Chest heaving with exertion, Lexa held the tip of her sword to the soft underside of his throat. “Thou hast lost. Apologize.”

“Dear? It’s your turn.”

Lexa shook her head, ridding her overactive mind of knights and chivalry. She cleared her throat and stepped up to the counter.

“Hi.”

The blonde employee was overwhelmingly gorgeous, with bonhomie dripping from her eyes down to the soft smile adorning her lips. Despite the heat in her cheeks and the fluttering in the pit of her stomach, a halcyon wave crashed around Lexa. After what seemed like an eternity, she muttered back a simple greeting.

“What can I do for you today?” The woman rested her hands gently on the counter in front of her, and Lexa, the suddenly smitten woman she was, completely forgot the reason she was actually there. She thought of nothing but the rude man who insulted this beauteous creature before her.

“I would like to formally apologize on behalf of that man from earlier.” Lexa locked eyes with brilliant blue. “He was out of line, and you were nothing but professional and courteous towards him-” Lexa leaned forward to get a better view of the simple name tag pinned to the woman’s white shirt. “Clarke,” she added with a smile.

“That’s sweet of you to say. Thank you,” Clarke bit back her smile. She dropped her voice low, and with a little twinkle in her eye, nodded behind Lexa. “But if you don’t order something in the next ten seconds, you’re going to be witness to a whole lot more rude customers.”

“Right, sorry,” Lexa mumbled as she tried desperately to contain her blushing cheeks. “Half a dozen cannolis, half a dozen peanut butter cookies, and one cream puff, please.”

“Just one cream puff?” Clarke paused, the pastry box half-popped open in her hand.

“I get one for myself every year. A little treat,” Lexa shrugged as she watched Clarke expertly pluck two fluffy pastry cream-filled treats into the box. “Oh, just one.”

Clarke looked up from the display case with a smile so big and bright she could have lit the night sky. “Try meat.” Her full cheeks ignited into an impressive array of pinks and reds as she manically shook her head. “My treat,” Clarke corrected, and Lexa couldn’t help but smile at the fluster-induced spoonerism.

“For being my knight in shining armor,” Clarke finished with a wink that transferred that impressive blush from her cheeks straight to Lexa’s. Her heart triple-timed, desperate to catch up to her racing brain. It wasn’t every day she met a beautiful woman who perhaps, just maybe, shared her slight obsession with lady knights.

“Can you please stop flirting and get on with your job?”

Lexa whipped around, shooting a death glare to the middle-aged woman standing three customers back. “Some of us have better things to do than watch this-” she waved her hand dismissively towards Lexa and Clarke. “Whatever this is.”

“Yeah, flirt on your own time!” Another snappy customer shouted, starting a low rumble of assertion that quickly grew to a cacophonous roar.

Lexa’s jaw hardened. In the minute she’d been standing there, Clarke had never stopped moving. The entire time they were talking, Clarke had been expertly plucking treats from the display case and packaging them neatly. These chthonian people should just crawl back under the filthy rock they came from.

“A little patience goes a long way,” Lexa narrowed her eyes at the woman who started it all.

She was met with a sneer that stoked the fire of anger deep within her belly. Lexa wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her sword once again. “I wish you all no harm, but if provoked, I will respond with force.”

The corybantic crowd drew their weapons: long swords, daggers, maces, axes, all glistened under the fluorescent lights.

Lexa waited atiptoe for some fool to make the first mistake. But her patience soon wore thin, and unwilling to be caught unprepared, she pulled her own knightly sword from her hip.

A jumble of footsteps echoed behind her, and Lexa gasped as Clarke, donned in a black Gambeson cinched around her waist with a golden belt and sheath, leapt over the bakery counter. Her boot-clad feet landed with a graceful thump, and she drew her own arming sword.

Lexa wanted to exclaim, to ask a million questions, but the crowd around inched forward. The gleam of polished steel glinted in her eyes. The stuttered adrenaline-infused breaths prickled her ears.

Lexa tightened her grip around the leather-clad hilt, her muscles coiled and ready. Clarke’s back pressed against hers as they both took cautious steps, painting an unseen circle on the old hardwood floors, surveying their numerous enemies.

The ephemeral dance ended in a flick of a wrist. The crowd fell in on them, a mess of steel and wood. Clang after clang, Lexa deflected the attacks, all the while keeping an alert ear to the sound of Clarke fighting.

Her fair maiden was no amateur.

The whistle of a well-made blade cut through the air behind her like a song of combat. Clarke’s back bumped against hers as a particularly devious blow caught Lexa’s sword.

A steady hand grasped her free one, and with a knowing squeeze, they twirled on their heels, exchanging foes in a deadly dance that couldn’t have been better choreographed if they tried.

They fought, side by side, deflecting here, helping there, until their foes we’re nothing more but a groaning mess of plate armor and chainmail amongst the floorboards.

Lexa wiped the sweat from her brow, sheathing her sword with a satisfied smirk. “My lady,” Lexa assessed the destruction around them. “You wield a sword to rival me.”

With a satisfied twirl of her blade, Clarke slipped the weapon securely into her sheath. “I expect not a savior, but a partner, my good dame.”

She smirked at Lexa, all satisfied and battle lust-filled. The kilig was unbearable, so Lexa took a bold step forward, wrapped her hand around Clarke’s neck, and leaned in.

“I’ll be right with the next customer,” Clarke smiled politely to the back of the crowd. She caught Lexa’s gaze, her face a little more flushed. “Thirty-seven dollars even.”

Lexa signed the electronic pad and accepted the pastry box from Clarke. With nothing more than a shy smile, she sulked towards the door, mindful to give that middle-aged love-hater an intimidating glare as she passed.

“Dear, this is unacceptable.”

Lexa turned around just in time to be leveled with a heartbreaking disappoint glare that grandmothers executed with perfection. Her line partner heaved a heavy sigh, her plastic shopping bag crinkling against her long coat in the process.

“What do you mean?” Lexa swallowed down the urge to cower.

“This shilly-shally-” she waved frantically at Lexa. “Just ask that young lady out. There isn’t a nobler cause in the world than matters of the heart, dear.”

The woman was right.

Lexa squared her shoulders and marched straight to the front of the line, ignoring several annoyed glares in the process. But when she reached the display case, Clarke was nowhere to be found. A chipper brunette stood in her place, tending to customers with a smile too big to be considered normal.

A few more frantic minutes were spent scouring the shop, and when she finally caved and asked an employee, she was informed that Clarke had been sent home for the day.

Lexa sulked out of the bakery, slipping the pastry box carefully into the passenger seat of her car. Her fingers gripped the keys, when out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of blonde.

Keys forgotten, Lexa hopped out of the car.

Clarke whirled around the parking lot, her unbuttoned coat fluttering in the freezing wind, searching for something. She turned down Lexa’s row. Her frantic movements halted.

Lexa offered a gentle wave, and Clarke began the slow walk towards her. The closer she came, the more manic Lexa’s heart. Clarke, rid of her bakery uniform, strode towards her with a gleam in her eyes. Her jeans, the midnight blue scarf tied haphazardly around her neck, the little gray beanie perched atop her blonde waves, it all added to the gawsy appeal.

“Hi.”

A glorious gallimaufry of emotions washed over Lexa with that one word. Her stomach fluttered, her brain fuzzed, and her fingers tingled with the need to touch. But Lexa stamped it all down and smiled a simple, “Hello.”

Clarke shoved her hands in her pockets, suddenly insecure, the vicissitudes of her emotions written plainly on her face. “My replacement finally showed up,” she mumbled into the frigid air.

“Long day?”

“The longest.” Clarke shifted from foot to foot, and the wind caught the lapels of her winter coat. A flash of a familiar symbol burned into Lexa’s eyes. A logo.

Not just any logo. The logo to the state renaissance faire. A faire Lexa regularly frequented during its season, soaking in the swordplay and artisans, the weaponry and the atmosphere. And here her new love was, standing before her, broadcasting to the world her interest in medieval merriment.

If Lexa wasn’t already a mess from a simple conversation in the bakery, she certainly was a catastrophe now.

“Would you like to get a drink with me?” Clarke’s voice held none of the worries her body showed.

Lexa stepped forward, grasped Clarke’s hand, and pressed a feather-light kiss to her knuckles. With gentle flourish, because what kind of noble knight would she be if she denied a lady such as Clarke a swoon-worthy acceptance, Lexa nodded, “It would be my honor.”

#clexa secret santa 2019 #hi #clexa fanfic #clexa

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split-n-splice · 4 years

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He doubted she was back to return the sweater she’d borrowed earlier, as she was still in it. In the spirit of the season, she’d added a little bat brooch too.

[Chapter Guide]

19. Welfare Check – 1

With a little luck, some hobbyist with a destructive streak would make the incinerator cannon project pay for itself, assuming he didn’t keep it for his own arsenal. Bugs had been worked out in prototypes months ago, but something had come up and it was put on the back burner like everything else, shoved aside into one of the storage rooms until now. Now Drakken was left with finalizing it, piecing together framework that would support the internal components stored in a nearby crate, just waiting to be assembled.

It would have been nice to have a henchman to lend a hand in hoisting hefty core elements into place in a skeletal cradle affixed to the tripod, but after some straining and grunting against a throbbing headache, Drakken managed it on his own. Without anyone to snap at to hold it steady for him, the thick steel barrel rested heavily on his shoulder as he fastened it in place as well.

He backed away slowly and breathed a sigh of relief when his project didn’t teeter and topple over.

He’d always been fine working on his own, even if doing so made it harder on himself, but he was really beginning to wish there was someone close at hand to fetch the equipment he needed next along with the crate of custom-ordered pieces of the hull he was left to weld and bolt together. Someone to grab him some aspirin would have been nice too.

Headache aside, keeping busy kept his mind off a particular assistant. Moping over the uncertainty of when he’d next see her wouldn’t do him any good anyway – and spacing out over it only resulted in dropping a heavy ratchet on his toe.

Under normal circumstances, it really shouldn’t have taken him several hours to construct a carapace around the otherwise-prebuilt-but-considerably-disassembled cannon. It especially shouldn’t have begun looking like a Picasso, a far cry still from the menacing weapon of destruction he’d envisioned.

Grumbling, he inspected the plans he’d neglected to follow – plans he’d drawn up, damn it – but his memory served him right. All the buttons and knobs were where they were meant to be, all the wiring and critical inner mechanisms too, and slowly but surely, the jigsaw carapace was coming together as planned.

He crumpled the diagrams and cast the wadded paper aside. He was just impatient. It would look better once it was finished and sporting a shiny coat of paint.

It was in the midst of welding yet more steel slabs together, puzzling together the hull around the deadly weapon piece by piece, when something began to tick at his subconscious. Something was out of place.

Drakken eventually flicked off the welder and pulled off his gloves and mask to thoroughly double-check the components of the seven-foot cannon standing at three-quarters completion, but he couldn’t place what was jarring his nerves. He was overlooking something, but for the life of him, he couldn’t pinpoint it.

Vexed, he reached up to run his fingers through his hair and scratch his head, but paused as his hand grazed over the nape of his neck. The elastic band that had been snuck into his hair yesterday was still there. If he still had the headache, he might have been apt to blame it on the ponytail. He ought to have done away with it when he’d showered last night, but must have overlooked it in his haze. It explained why his neck felt a little colder and why he’d yet to have to tuck his hair back out of the way of sparks today.

The band had begun slipping down, so he pulled it out and shook his hair free with a contented sigh. He nearly shot the lousy band to some dark corner of the lab, but stopped himself. Letting his hair grow out wasn’t so much a conscious choice as it was due to neglect, not that he minded it for the sake of hiding behind as much of it as possible now that he was blue. A ponytail might defeat the purpose, but he wasn’t particularly fond of the smell of burnt hair or in the mood for an impromptu haircut, and a hair tie was effective in keeping it safely pulled back.

Drakken scowled at the green elastic band in his palm, and reprimanded himself before he could overthink it. His appearance was judged enough on a regular day. Wearing something which served a function couldn’t possibly hurt his villain image any more – not like there was anyone around to judge him in his own lab, anyway.

Fingers fumbling behind his head, he tried to tie his tangled hair back again, redoing it several times because it sat weird or felt like an uncomfortable knot at the back of his head or made him wince when it pulled painfully. By the fifth attempt, he grunted his frustration and was about to give up and flick the band – and suddenly fine hands were batting his away, and before he could startle and whip around, the invading fingers had expertly fixed the ponytail.

As silently as she’d come, Shego sauntered away without ever looking him in the eye, returning to an open magazine and sitting sidelong in his computer chair. It was then that Drakken understood with queasy humiliation why things may have been feeling off for a while now.

There was no telling how long she’d been there, potentially watching him given the chair had been turned away from the desk to face him. He wondered with a hot face if she’d seen him burn his thumb with a soldering iron, or drop the ratchet on his foot, or how long she might have delighted in watching him fumble with tasks which would have benefited from the aid of extra hands.

He doubted she was back to return the sweater she’d borrowed earlier, as she was still in it. In the spirit of the season, she’d added a little bat brooch too.

Drakken pulled his gloves and mask back on for a minute more, hastily finishing up the section of welding he’d paused in the midst of. Although he could hardly see her through the tinted window, he was positive she was indeed watching over the top of her magazine. Soon enough, he discarded his gear once and for all along with the tools on the nearby workbench.

He had half a mind to snip and ask what she was doing back at the lair so soon after making him risk driving her into town in a stolen vehicle, but he was still too flustered to speak. He checked his watch – it was almost six in the evening, late enough to call it dinnertime – so he skulked away without even extending a greeting, retreating to his personal quarters instead.

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich was wolfed down in the time it took him to throw himself down onto the couch and fish out the pocket notebook from the jacket he’d thrown over the back.

Not a minute later, he heard the door creak open, but he didn’t look up. His computer chair must not have been so comfortable after all, because Shego migrated to the other end of the couch, sliding over the spine and dropping into the cushions with a big huff to resume flipping through her magazine there, one leg still hooked over the back of the couch.

Drakken doubted it was an unintentional bump when the toe of a sneaker nudged his hip, but he refused to look up. He focused on the notepad to ignore her, thinking up a more aesthetically pleasing design for the incinerator cannon, writing off the failed Picasso shell he’d abandoned in the lab. It would look better when it was completed and polished up, he still told himself. He just didn’t need to be working under anyone’s critical stare right now.

There was no mistaking it when Shego lit up a cigarette. She was fishing for attention, or a reaction, or something – only Drakken was too stubborn to yield. She flicked her ashes in a green ashtray that had taken residence on his coffee table just for her, and if polluting the stagnant air of his living room with smoke wasn’t aggravating, having her hog the couch and rest her heels on his knee certainly was.

He refused to give her the satisfaction of a glare or a sneer or any other indication she was on the verge of getting his goat, but how long he could keep that up was anyone’s guess. She was getting closer to it when she snuffed out the cigarette and took her goading a step further, sitting up and scooting over to Drakken’s side of the couch. She went as far as to prop an arm up over his shoulder as she leaned decidedly too far into his personal space.

It was hard to argue with the proximity, even if it felt of a teasing nature, like pigtail pulling. If making him lose focus on the new concept design he was sketching out was her goal, she was on the right track, twirling his new ponytail around a finger for good measure. He steeled himself against her tactics. So close to his ear, her grunt of irritation had a rather disagreeable effect on his nervous system, but he kept his eyes fixed on the page and didn’t bolt even as the sketch lost shape. He was only going through the motions now. He had been for a while, really.

Leaning against him didn’t do the trick, nor did the hair-pulling or breathing on him – which must have left her desperate to make him crack first, because she undoubtedly crossed the line next.

She was quick about it, but he might have been somewhat to blame for falling for it by lifting his arm at the slight tug of his elbow, inadvertently giving her an opening to slip in. Breathing down his neck would have been preferable to her rear landing where it didn’t certainly belong. Pretending she wasn’t there was impossible, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t stubbornly try as she leaned back against him, giving him hardly any room at all to peer over her shoulder until he parted his knees to drop her between them. That wasn’t much better – not when his notebook was still spread on her lap.

His train of thought was broken after all. There was no more ignoring the nuisance.

Frozen to the spot, Drakken was torn between gasping for air and holding his breath, but he had to breathe eventually and her hair smelled nice even if weirdly of cucumbers. Barely masked by the fragrance of her shampoo, he picked up traces of a particular odor, and had to wonder if she was high. She was acting strange enough, the odds were probably pretty good, he decided.

Notebook snapped shut and pen clipped to the cover, his idle hands nearly hovered over her hips – but then he balled them into fists and drove them into the cushion on either side of him to keep his paws to himself. If he could, he would have leaned even further back to put distance between his face and her hair, although having her disengaged from him entirely would have been preferable. He didn’t need to be treated like an armchair, for crying out loud.

Words failed him for a moment until he cleared his throat and tried again, “Don’t you have something better to do?” He tried to muster up some resent for the disrespect, but wasn’t sure how good a job he did at masking his nerves.

“Not yet,” she answered nonchalantly as she reclined back. He was effectively trapped. “Just killing time.” Devoid of guilt, it might as well have been a confession of fishing for a reaction for no other purpose than to entertain herself. He couldn’t be sure he wanted to be included in whatever game she was playing.

Drakken raised his brow at her as she innocently fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve, coaxing his hand from the cushion and uncurling his white-knuckled fist. He couldn’t block her smooth fingertips from his senses even if he’d wanted to. His other hand found its way to her hip after all, although he had half a mind to shove her off. “You came all the way out of town and up the mountain to kill time?” he said, and scoffed. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I know of a party tonight,” Shego began to explain. Her soft hand over his suddenly felt like pins-and-needles and was almost painfully warm, a little like plunging icy hands under hot water.

Drakken had enough sense to heed an alarm bell tolling in his skull, and jerked his hand away from her hazardous touch.

With a yelp of indignation, Shego was abruptly deposited on the floor in the most ungraceful manner. She was blushing furiously as she scrambled to pick herself up, and Drakken swore he felt her eyes burning into his back as he strode away to the kitchen.

“That’s nice,” he called back dismissively. He rummaged in the fridge for the jelly to fix himself another sandwich, keeping his back to her as Shego followed hot on his tail.

Her mood had soured, but rebuffs had a way of doing that to a person he supposed, so Drakken didn’t hold the attitude against her. Shego leaned against the counter next to him as he glopped jelly on white bread, forcing herself into his peripheral. She crossed her arms and glared. “Yeah. There’s supposed to be booze and a heated pool and hot dudes and chicks,” she said dryly. “It’s gonna be real great.”

Drakken nodded, mumbling, “Mm-hm.” Why was she telling him this? When had he ever given the impression he was a partygoer? “Sounds lovely. Have fun, stay safe, arrange for a designated driver,” he advised with disinterest – but then a zap on his hip made him shoot daggers over to the slightly-maybe-possibly-high woman in his kitchen.

Feigning innocence, she rested an elbow in her palm and twirled a lock of her raven hair around a finger.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you want from me, Shego?” he finally griped. He didn’t mean for it to come out so pathetic. Her smirk nearly melted the resolve he had to give her a cold shoulder. He’d fall under her spell with that look alone if he was any weaker.

“A favor,” she said smoothly. “Nothing much. Just hoped you could whip something up for me.” She nodded to the door to the lab.

He raised a brow. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, but it explained her behavior – although ulterior motives didn’t make him feel any better. He squared his shoulders, reluctant to let her wrap him around her finger so easily – even if she slipped behind him, twirling his hair around one such dainty finger before giving his tense shoulders a squeeze, kneading him as part of some blatant manipulation ploy. It was working.

His legs felt weak.

The thought of adding a clause in the contract to strictly forbid such manipulative conduct crossed his mind but was dismissed just as quickly.

Grunting, Drakken slapped the poorly-spread PB&J together and took an aggressive bite of the sandwich. She could remove her weird warm tingly hands any time now – he was already bending to her will – but he was greedily hesitant to snip at her to back off. A mouthful of peanut butter was partly to blame as well.

“Like?” he prompted mid-chew. He nearly choked on it when he gulped down that first bite.

She let go. He breathed easy, but she wasn’t done with her persuasive tactics yet, as she fetched a quart of milk from the fridge to pass to him. He drank from it shamelessly – it was his milk, he could drink from the carton if he wanted – but was aware of her lazy gaze on him all the while.

Shego was fidgeting with her own hair again, leaning against the counter. “Well, you want me to keep a low profile, so physical and property damage are out if I can help it,” she went on carefully.

He eyed her curiously, unsure what she was getting at. “I’m confused. I thought you were going to a party?” he uttered dumbly.

“Oh, I wasn’t invited,” she clarified, dripping with resent. He had the sense some of it was aimed at him. “I’m going to crash it. Nate’s going to be there, and I figured you could give me a hand since you’re the crazy inventor that got me dumped.” She had to be sober, with a glare like that.

Drakken nearly choked on peanut butter again. “Why are you blaming me?” he spat defensively.

“Uh, hello?” Shego snapped back, and poked him in the chest to drive her point. “Random weird dude shows up in the middle of the night to whisk me off and I can’t explain why? You’re dumber than I thought if you don’t think there’s something fishy about that. Now this loser’s calling me a tramp and thinks I’m in a gang or something, and—argh!” She heaved a huge groan of aggravation, hands waving in exasperation with green sparks jumping from them.

Drakken tore his eyes away from the glittering release. Rallying his own irritation to hide his unease at the implications, he gave a contemptuous snort. “That boyfriend of yours didn’t make any calls thinking I abducted you, did he?” he asked, and tasted bile. He checked the expiration date on the milk and ruled it out.

“Nah, you’re good,” Shego dismissed, but by the flick of her eyes, he had a suspicion she wasn’t so sure. “And he’s not my boyfriend. He just wishes.”

“Then why—?”

“Anyway, I want payback,” she interjected. “You game? Or am I wasting my time?”

Aggravation subsiding somewhat, he gave it a moment of consideration, chewing slow and setting his half-eaten sandwich aside. Whether he liked it or not, she had him wrapped around her finger and under her spell. He might have been a little too keen on giving the dog boy a bad day as well, but he kept the impulse subdued. Or at least he made an effort to.

Drakken shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Remind me, how vengeful are we talking?” he asked wryly. Shego smirked up at him as a devious grin stretched across his face. Without a doubt, she had him bent to her will, and he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. He was in over his head.

He was still delighted to have her following on his heels back to his lab though, the opportunity to show off almost intoxicating. She reiterated her limits – she was restricted to ultimately harmless chaos – and in ten minutes flat, Dr. Drakken had constructed for her a time bomb of sorts, loaded with the ingredients to produce a foul stench promised to clear the block. Hence the necessity for a countdown, so the prankster herself could make her getaway when the time came.

A cliché alarm clock strapped to a small metal box to protect the delicate inner workings of a malicious stink bomb was his gift to her, along with a warning not to jostle it. As he handed it over, he suggested impishly, “Hide it in a vent. The smell will linger for days and they’ll never know what hit them.” He knew that from experience. He’d used such a device once or twice himself, resulting in the evacuation of a college dormitory.

Barely heeding Drakken’s warning, Shego elbowed him in good humor and gave him her thanks. She invited him once more to come crash the party with her, but he respectfully declined, using the excuse he had an incinerator cannon to finish. He wasn’t sure if she was merely playing or serious, but his chest still bled warmth as she batted her eyes up at him and promised to make it worth his time. At which point he plucked her hand from his necktie and brusquely turned her to the door, refusing to let the same brand of devious trickery work twice to swindle anything else out of him. She’d tested him enough for one day anyway.

Shego shot him an annoyed frown over her shoulder as she left to stir mayhem with his creation.

Just as soon as she was out the door and out of sight, Drakken ran a hand down his face with a stern scolding to banish the cursed warmth dancing around inside of him. He was just happy to make a device for mischief and took pleasure in knowing the misery it would cause – that was all. That was what he tried to convince himself. It absolutely couldn’t be giddiness trying to bubble up at the idea his partner in crime might have cut it off with that short-lived getaway driver of hers and was out to enact revenge, and that maybe it might potentially free up time for him soon so that maybe she might even spend her downtime lazing about the lair like she had in the first few weeks of her stay.

It was wishful thinking.

#*PRETENDS I KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING*#The Company You Keep fic #Drakgo #Drakken #Shego

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black-is-no-colour · 5 years

Photo

The Story Behind Hamish Bowles’s Maison Margiela Artisanal by John Galliano Met Gala Look

By Hamish Bowles, published by Vogue on 08 May 2019. Photography by Mehdi Lacoste.

John Galliano was always a star. When I started on my Foundation course in the early 1980s at Saint Martin’s School of Art, as it was then known, he was already a supernova of the fashion department, his exquisite drawings setting him on a sure path to becoming an illustrator. He inspired me to decide on a career in fashion rather than costume design (I had been torn), and after the Foundation course, I stayed on at Saint Martin’s to pursue just that. As John worked on his degree collection the following year, he holed up in the college library, hidden behind stacks of reference books that served a double purpose: They defined his private work space and helped to shield his jealously guarded sketches from prying eyes. As it turned out, John had taken inspiration from the Incroyables—the male and female dandies who emerged in the wake of the French Revolution with their own exaggerated versions of revolutionary style. He even burnt the edges of his drawings and dripped candle wax over them to create the illusion that they had been salvaged from an aristocrat’s ransacked mansion.

The collection was sensational—Joan Burstein, who ran Browns, London’s most fashionable boutique, bought it in its entirety. John couldn’t afford a taxi to transport it, so he wheeled it on a dress rail all the way to South Molton Street, where Mrs. B put it in her window and Barbra Streisand and Diana Ross bought pieces right out of it: They were his very first clients. John turned down a job offer to become an illustrator in New York and instead set up his eponymous brand there and then on a wing and a prayer.

I wore pieces from that first collection—waistcoats made from patches of 18th-century-style upholstery silks and sprigged cottons, jersey long johns, and vast organza shirts tying at the throat with a huge jabot. (John has re-created one of these looks to complete an ensemble built around a coat from this collection that the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s costume department has recently acquired and that is showcased in Andrew Bolton’s brilliant “Camp: Notes on Fashion” exhibition.)

The following season, John didn’t have the money to stage a fashion show, so he did a presentation instead in an old artist’s studio off the King’s Road. This collection was based on a 1920s cartoon in the satirical British weekly Punch titled Afghanistan Repudiates Western Ideals, and it explored a collision of Occidental and Afghan dress in John’s characteristically intriguing way. One of my ensembles from this collection—including a knee-length skirt that caused a sensation in Paris when I wore it to the collections that season—is now in the Boston Museum of Fine Art’s exhibition “Gender Bending Fashion.”

As soon as I heard the theme of this year’s Costume Institute show, I thought it would be the perfect moment to work again with John, who has found expression for his unquenchable creative force once more at the Maison Margiela. John had already made me a bias-cut black satin evening suit that evoked Shalom Harlow’s look from his unforgettable Fall 1994 show in Paris socialite Sao Schlumberger’s empty Louis Seize mansion.

To my great delight, John was soon on board. I sent some inspiration images of my eclectic pantheon of camp icons, including Mrs. Slocombe, the character with the Elnett-hairspray-bottle hair in ever-changing pastel hues, from the British sitcom Are You Being Served?; Quentin Crisp; Barbara Cartland; and Jazz Age aesthete Stephen Tennant. Together with John’s partner, Alexis Roche, we looked at looks from the Martin Margiela Artisanal Men’s Spring 2019 collection and isolated some silhouettes that we thought could work for me.

Source: Maison Margiela

At Saint Martin’s, John and I shared an inspirational mutual friend in the indubitably camp form of David Harrison, who was studying in the Fine Art department, had once improbably been scouted to front a punk band to be called the Sex Pistols (Johnny Rotten got the gig), and worked a Teddy Boy look that he accessorized with white winklepicker shoes, a peroxide quiff, and a pom-pom clipped white poodle dyed shocking pink who often appeared in his artworks. John’s studio had produced a frenetic collage print that was worked not only into the clothes but the runway itself, and that incorporated an Yves Klein blue poodle in everything from jacquard to tufted embroidery. I wondered if the poodle couldn’t go pink in homage to our camp friend?

Meanwhile, John’s studio sourced a jacquard cravat in mauve from Charvet, the storied Parisian men’s outfitter, and a selection of textiles in shades of grape and wisteria. (Charvet also made the shirt, and I found some Pepto-Bismol pink cufflinks in my own closet that the sculptor Andrew Logan had made for the John Waters high-camp superstar Divine in 1987. These would be my talismans for the night.)

When I went to Paris for my first fitting, after an initial visit to take measurements, John wasn’t in town, but Raffaele Ilardo, Margiela’s inspired head fitter, and his associate Jung A. Park were there to attend to all the finer points. There was already an amazing sample of the jacquard with the electric-pink poodles, and of the ostrich trim that John had instructed be embellished with metallic lurex threads to catch the light on the red (pink) carpet. (“Invisible to the naked eye but will pop in pictures, trust me,” he said.) Ilardo apprenticed with the legendary tailor Paquito (who carved Karl Lagerfeld’s most amazing suits at Chanel Haute Couture in the ’80s and ’90s), and he had made the most beautiful toiles, with a jacket that sat perfectly on my shoulders without adjustment and had a beautifully constructed rising roll at the top of the sleeves. The cape was constructed like a Victorian visite, with openings for the arms and subtle shaping in back. It was so perfectly constructed that I could have worn the toile itself.

Raffaele Ilardo working on the toile. Photographed by Alexis Roche.

“I advise that cape is rehearsed up and down steps if you can,” said John after he reviewed the fittings videos from afar. “No angle must be left to chance but still must look spontaneous. Every swish must be ingrained in the subconscious, and always imagine that Avedon is following you. A sudden knock at the door works wonders for that frozen-eyes-to-the-left look. Never forget Avedon is your focal point.”

A little over two weeks later, with the clock ticking before the Gala, I returned to Paris for a final fitting with John in the house. To my amazement, the entire ensemble had now been made, including the wide-toed Mary Jane shoes, shown in patent but specially remade for me in violet satin. There were two options of subtly different lilac, for a sheer sock dotted with a point d’esprit effect that was faintly obfuscated by the crushed hairs on my legs and would definitely be showcased, as the short pants hovered only a little below the knee. John gave my lower calves a long, hard look. “You’ll wax them just before the gala,” he instructed firmly. (“Always better when viewed through sheer, tons of moisturizer 15 mins before socks are put on,” he advised nearer the day.)

“It’s unbelievable,” I said when I saw the cape arranged on a tailor’s dummy in John’s light-flooded Margiela atelier. “It’ll only become unbelievable when you start to wear it,” said John. And, sure enough, when I put on the cloak and began walking up and down the studio and it caught the air in its massy volumes, it lifted up like a cloud, and, despite the thick feather fronding, seemed almost as light as one. “La légèreté!” John proclaimed exultantly, “It looks like a canvas, like you’re coming out of a painting.” I used the Margiela staircase to rehearse maneuvering the cape up and down the pink carpet, and I tried to work it from every angle, thinking by turns of Dietrich and Dovima and Proust’s beloved Comtesse Greffulhe. (“I love that little coyness!” said John. “It’s a Dorian Gray moment!”)

I’d asked John’s longtime collaborator and my great friend Stephen Jones for thoughts on something for the head (he concocted the custom top knots for the “Camp” exhibition mannequins) and he designed a wonderful tiara bandeau made of Swarovski crystals that were custom-produced in the required lilac hue and, like those lurex fronds, would add some pink carpet dazzle. John pronounced it a “very cool touch” and suggested “surfer pink” hair to match.”

On the eve of the gala, I submitted to leg waxing and sundry other beautifications (“Lymphatic drainage on face the night before always refines,” John had counseled, and thank you, Tracie Martyn, skin alchemist). On the morn, I went to the Greenwich Hotel to be ministered to by the brilliant Teddy Charles and his assistant Satoshi Ikeda, alongside Amber Valletta, and then I hied up to the St. Regis in a white Maserati to meet John, Alexis, and Raffaele and practice some more swishing and strutting in the hotel’s ballroom under their watchful eyes. “The Japanese kids are going to go mental for it,” said John of my Savile Row meets School Boy meets Comtesse de Castiglione lewk. Stephen fitted the tiara, which perfectly framed those Teddy-tweaked waves.

“Command your space!” said John as I headed out, “Hamish, it will be a riot!” How right he was.

Hamish Bowles at a fitting for his first custom Margiela look in 2018, photographed by Alexis Roche.

Source: Vogue.com

#Maison Margiela #Margiela #Hamish Bowles #Maison Margiela by John Galliano #John Galliano #Galliano #fashion #Vogue #Met Gala #Met Gala 2019 #Met Ball #Met Ball 2019 #Camp: Notes on Fashion #atelier #behind the scenes

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tipsycad147 · 5 years

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50+ Fun Family-Oriented Pagan Activities for Winter

Winter is a time of inner reflection, but it’s also a time of family, feasting, and fun. Here are my favourite fun, family-oriented pagan activities for winter. Time to get out the mittens, mugs, and mistletoe! Whether you celebrate Yule, the Winter Solstice, or Christmas, these pagan activities may become traditions for your family. Keep in mind, you’ll see Christmas mentioned in this article, because many of us grew up celebrating Christmas and have blended the Winter holidays to meet our family’s needs and traditions. Just because the term Christmas is used, doesn’t make a tradition any less pagan. In fact, most of the Christmas traditions originate from older pagan traditions! Feel free to adapt each tradition and name to fit your beliefs and preferences.

DISCLOSURE: I may earn a small commission for my endorsement, recommendation, testimonial, and/or link to any products or services from this website. Your purchase helps support my work in bringing you information about the paranormal and paganism.

50+ Fun, Family Pagan Activities for Winter!

1. Candles in the Window

An Irish custom for centuries, placing candles in the windows guides your loved ones home in the winter months. It also invites the sun’s return. My grandmother did this every Christmas and it was a tradition I always loved.

2. Cloves in Oranges

Who doesn’t love the clove and cinnamon scents of the winter holidays? There’s a winter tradition of sticking cloves into oranges which is called pomanders. Pomanders date back to Medieval times and were used to ward off infection and bad odours. Hang cloved oranges around the house to scent your home and also draw in abundance. Cloves represent success and the oranges summon the sun’s return.

3. Bake Cookies

Whether you call them Yule or Christmas cookies is up to you, but baking cookies is a tradition for any family who loves sweets during the winter holidays. Let your kids decorate gingerbread and sugar cookies. Use cookie cutters in the shapes of stars, Santa, and his reindeer to represent the night sky, Odin, and his steed.

4. Advent Calendar

Advent Calendars are a fun way to countdown to Yule and/or Christmas. Instead of using candies for each day’s gift, replace with natural items like crystals. Advent means “coming” in Latin. Christians think of it as the coming of Jesus, while Pagans think of it as the coming of the sun.

5. Christmas Lights

The winter nights are long and dark, hence the tradition of Christmas lights. They light the way plus work sympathetic magic in inviting the sun’s return. Hang them up on the house and around the interior of your house. And don’t forget to go on a car ride around the neighbourhood to see all the beautiful light displays!

6. Cider or Mulled Wine

A cold night can always be warmed up with a hot cup of cider or mulled wine. Give the kids the hot apple cider with a stick of cinnamon and an orange slice, and let the adults partake in mulled wine with cloves, star anise, cinnamon and oranges. The Norse peoples used to refer to Yule as “Drinking Yule”, so why not let it live up to its name?

7. Women’s Christmas

The Feast of the Epiphany (January 6th) is also called Women’s Christmas in Ireland. Its tradition in County Kerry and County Cork to allow the women to have a day out on the town, while the men do the housework and cooking! Honour the women in your life, as you do the Goddess, and give them a day off for Women’s Christmas this winter. It’s also tradition on this day to take down Christmas decorations and the Christmas tree.

8. Gingerbread House

Gingerbread originated in Germany in the fifteen hundreds. If you have German ancestry, honour their memory by making a gingerbread house with your family.

9. Reindeer Food

Odin was known to ride his steed, Sleipnir, through the skies on winter nights. Sleipnir is thought to be the original “Santa’s reindeer”. Reindeer were sacred animals to Siberian shamans. Make reindeer food with the kids and leave it out for the reindeer on Christmas or Sleipnir on Yule.

10. Cookies for Odin & Santa

Whether you celebrate Yule or Christmas (or both), leave out a cookie offering for Odin on Yule and/or for Santa on Christmas Eve. The tradition of leaving cookies and milk for Santa clearly originated in leaving sweet offerings to appease the winter gods in the old days.

11. Caroling

Caroling has ancient roots that go back further than we know. “We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!” Going from door to door, singing blessings to the people inside in exchange for a cup of hot cocoa or a round of applause? Sounds like you’re bestowing good luck and abundance in exchange for offerings to me! Caroling is the newer version of traditions called mumming and wassailing.

12. Offerings to the Winter Fairies

They say there are a different set of fairies for each season. In the winter season, wouldn’t it be nice to set out offerings for the winter fairies? Frosted cookies and hot beverages would be greatly appreciated by the wee folk. This makes for a fun tradition with the whole family. Set the offerings outside on a tree trunk or somewhere in the garden. This is one of those purely pagan activities

13. Holly & Ivy

Decorate your house and hearth with holly and ivy. Holly and ivy as Christmas decorations predates Christianity. Our pagan ancestors used evergreens to decorate hearth and home for a couple reasons: to keep the “warmth” of the earth alive in their home and hearts, to ward off evil spirits in the winter, and to bring abundance in the new year. In new pagan traditions, the Holly King and Oak King battle it out on the Winter Solstice and the Oak King wins! He represents the return of the sun/earth/summer.

14. Gaze at the Winter Sky

Sometimes the sky looks so clear on a winter’s night. Spend a minute or two gazing up into the sky – notice the brilliance of the stars and the darkness of the black space between. If the moon is out – praise her for her light and glory. Wish upon the north star.

15. Wassailing

A similar/same tradition as caroling, yet wassailing in apple orchards is believed to provide a good harvest in the coming year. Wassailing is basically singing to the trees, honouring the spirits in the trees, and ensuring a plentiful bounty of apples in the coming year.

16. Yule Herbal Sachets

Make herbal sachets full of Yule and Christmas spices to hang around the house. Cinnamon, clove, star anise, and apple serve to sweeten the air, plus bring abundance in the coming year to your home. Choose herbal sachet bags of red, green, silver, and gold.

17. Sun Bread

The Winter Solstice is the longest night of the year. But the following day brings hope with the sun’s glorious return. Bake bread in the shape of the sun to celebrate the sun’s return to the earth. Recipes and instructions can be found online. Eat and partake in the sun’s warmth and abundance for the year to come.

18. Pinecones

The pinecones have dropped. Hopefully you collected some last Fall! Now you and the family can decorate them with silver and gold spray paint and glitter OR decorate them like Christmas trees and hang them on the tree!

19. Winter Solstice Spiral

The spiral symbol represents the never-ending cycle of life, death, and rebirth and did so for our ancient Celtic ancestors. On a snowy day, go outside and create a spiral made of evergreens and stones to honour our ancestors and the great cycle of life. It also makes for gorgeous photos and a lovely offering to the winter spirits.

20. Resurrection Flower

The Resurrection flower is also known as the Rose of Jericho. It is a tumbleweed and desert plant that seems dead, until soaked in a bit of water then springs back to life! It’s used in hoodoo tradition to bring abundance if 5 coins are placed in the water along with the resurrection flower then the water is used to wash one’s front door. Keep the resurrection flower all year, then add water in the winter to represent the return of the sun and renewal of the earth.

21. Yule Altar

Clean, consecrate, and re-decorate your altar to honor the Winter sabbats, gods, and spirits. Choose evergreen garland, red and green candles, and silver candle holders to name a few.

22. Yule Log

The Yule log is steeped in ancient tradition. Choose a log and decorate it with greenery. You can even carve out holes to use as candle holders until it’s time to burn the yule log. Traditionally, it was burnt slowly over the course of the 12 days of Christmas then a piece was saved to light the next year’s yule log. That piece of the yule log was thought to ward off misfortune in the coming year.

23. Yule / Christmas Tree

The true origins of the Christmas or Yule tree are heavily debated, but I think its clear bringing an evergreen tree into one’s home is an ancient pagan thing to do. Whether to preserve the tree’s spirit through the winter or to bring life into the home, the Yule tree is a popular tradition during the winter holidays for many people, religious or not.

24. Books on Xmas Eve

In Iceland it’s called Jolabokaflod or “Christmas Book Flood.” This tradition is about giving each other books as presents on Christmas Eve and then staying up late that night to read them. Give your family books this year and read them together as the Icelanders do!

25. Yule Bock

A Northern European tradition that dates back centuries is the Yule Bock (Yule Goat). Scholars believe it is tied to ancient Germanic paganism, the Harvest, and/or the Norse god Thor. Make your own yule bock out of hay and red ribbon. If it’s small – hang it on your tree. If it’s large – place in random places around the home.

26. Christmas Wreaths

Make your own Christmas wreath out of evergreens like holly or spruce. Hang on the front door for good luck and Christmas cheer. The Christmas wreath is thought to date back to ancient times as a symbol of eternity or divinity (circular shape and evergreen).

27. Hot Cocoa

Drinking hot cocoa is a sweet tradition that all kids love…and many adults. This sweet treat has surprising pagan origins. Sources say the ancient Mayans or Aztecs invented hot cocoa as a drink for royalty.

The ancient Mayans invented hot cocoa…make and drink it as one of the sweetest pagan activities in the winter!

28. Gifts

Without falling into the cycle of mindless consumerism, giving gifts to loved ones during the winter is a time-honoured tradition. During a season of cold, bleak days, gifts can cheer us up and bring us closer together. Choose to give gifts with meaning. Special framed photographs, experiences, etc. instead of useless objects that will end up at a thrift store or at the dump.

29. Fruit & Cinnamon Garland

Another fun seasonal craft is making your own garland out of fruits and herbs. String together dried orange or apple slices along with star anise and cinnamon as a beautiful, rustic piece to hang on the mantle or around your home. This is a simple craft the whole family can do!

30. Simmering Potpourri

Want to make your house smell like Yule? Try making a simmering pot of potpourri on the stove this year. Its as simple as adding cinnamon sticks, orange slices, star anise, and cloves to a simmering pot of water.

31. Sun Decor

Bring back the sun by decorating your altar and home with sun decor. Find sun plaques online, or make your own from felt and hot glue.

32. Oranges in Stockings

My grandmother used to add oranges to our stockings at Christmas. This tradition is said by some to be a Christian representation of the gold thrown down the chimney by St. Nicholas; however, pagans know it as a nod to the end of winter and the sun’s return (think citrus – sun).

33. New Winter Holidays

Add a different winter holiday to your winter repertoire. Depending on your culture, there may be a holiday you’ve never celebrated with pagan roots.

34. Bonfires

Not only does a bonfire keep us warm on winter nights, it also reminds us of the same element our ancestors used to survive the winter months. Without fire, we might not be here. Roast marshmallows and sing Christmas songs together this winter.

35. St. Stephen’s Day

One of those “other” winter holidays we discussed previously, St. Stephen’s Day is celebrated the day after Christmas Day. In Canada, it’s called Boxing Day. Whatever you want to call it, make your own tradition of celebrating this winter holiday in your own pagan way.

36. St. Lucia’s Day

St. Lucia’s Day is celebrated in Scandinavia and is thought to be a more modern Christian celebration of St. Lucia who was once a pagan goddess. Perhaps she had another name, perhaps not. The Grimm Brothers say St. Lucia as another representation of the ancient goddess Berchta. It was originally celebrated on the Winter Solstice, giving it a clear pagan foundation.

37. Dough Ornaments

Another craft tradition centred around the Yule tree – try making dough ornaments with your kids and family members. Stars and suns add a perfect pagan touch to the tree.

38. Ghost Stories

Traditionally, winter was thought to be the season following Samhain (Summer’s end) where spirits roamed the earth…particularly dangerous spirits. Ghost stories were once told around the fire. Bring back the ghost story tradition this winter!

39. Oak King and Holly King

If you have a family of thespians, assign roles to your family members, print out a script, and put on a play of the battle between the Oak King and the Holly King. You could even make special costumes for the event! The winter solstice is when the Oak King takes over rule of the earth, winning against the Holly King in battle.

40. Feast on Yule

What’s one thing we love to do as human beings? Eat, of course! Feasting during the winter holidays has been going on for thousands of years. Long before the church’s rise, our pagan ancestors feasted during the winter as a way to “lighten the mood”, bring the tribe together, and thank the gods for a bountiful harvest. So feast on Yule!

41. Feast on Christmas

See above. Already had a feast on Yule? Throw another feast on Christmas!

42. 12 Days of Christmas

Once upon a time, Christmas was celebrated over a span of twelve whole days! Where do you think the song comes from? Also called Christmastide, the celebration of a holiday lasting more than a few days is said to originate before the rise of the church but was adapted by the church to make conversion easier. Who doesn’t want to celebrate Christmas longer? Do something simple for each of the 12 days of Christmas starting Christmas Day and lasting until January 5th.

43. Charity

Nevermind religion, giving of your time or goods to those in need feels good during the holidays and teaches kids a wonderful morality lesson of compassion and kindness. The holidays are about community and giving.

44. Story of the Baker’s Dozen

There’s an old tale about where the baker’s dozen comes from. It involves Saint Nicholas, an old witch, and a baker in New Amsterdam (NYC). Read it to your kids by the fireside.

45. Story of La Befana

Continuing on the lesser known Christmas stories, children in the U.S. and elsewhere in the world might have never heard the story of the Christmas witch – La Befana. If you live in Italy, you will know the story. La Befana is a witch who gives presents to children on Christmas Eve. Read the story and add the tradition to your home!

46. Story of the Perchten

Does your family like scary stories? Read and tell the story of the Perchten, a horde of scary monsters that parade through the streets of Germany, Hungary, and other countries during the winter holidays, scaring off evil winter spirits. The Perchten are named after the germanic goddess Berchta – read their story here.

47. Christmas Movies

One of the best things about the Winter season is all the family-oriented Christmas movies on TV. Watch a different winter movie each weekend together. Our pagan ancestors put a huge emphasis on family. Elf, Rudolph, and The Santa Clause are just a few of my family’s favourites.

48. Cuddle

More emphasis on family, but also to keep warm, make time to cuddle up with your favorite person this winter.

49. Letters

Have the kids write letters to Santa or Odin and send them “up the chimney” (aka leave it on the fireplace/mantle) or send in the “mailbox”.

50. Mistletoe

Mistletoe is steeped in pagan history. The Druids found mistletoe to be a sacred plant because it grew on their holy tree – the oak. Mistletoe was banned from the church because of its pagan associations for many years. Hang mistletoe in the house and when two people are caught under it together – they’re supposed to kiss so goes the old custom.

51. Goddess Ritual

With Santa, the elves, and Odin getting all the attention during the winter holidays, don’t forget to include the Goddess in your holiday fun. Write and perform a ritual dedicated solely to the Mother Goddess. Perform on the Winter Solstice or on the Full Cold Moon.

52. Snow Fun

If you live in a region that gets snow in the winter, why not get outside in warm clothes and enjoy the winter landscape? Go sledding, build a snowman, have a snowball fight, and make snow angels! Bundle up and enjoy Mother Earth in her glistening, snowy glory!

https://otherworldlyoracle.com/50-fun-family-oriented-pagan-activities-for-winter/

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emotionsofthesoul · 5 years

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Chapter 21 _ Feliz Navidad

December felt like it flew by. Juliana was settled into her apartment. She had a queen sized bed in her room and very comfortable couches in the living room. She and Valentina painted the entire apartment white once she received permission from the management. The white allowed the lights to bounce off the wall creating a brighter effect to the usually dim rooms. The spare room was used as Juliana’s office for any and all of her fashion work.

Christmas season had arrived and the Valdes family was going to celebrate Christmas Eve together at Juliana’s apartment. The Carvajal family were going to celebrate in the Sacramento loft per Leon’s request. He said it would be easier for Valentina to get to Juliana’s before midnight and much safer to make the 15 minute drive than the hour drive.

Valentina had returned back to the Carvajal mansion officially but spent many nights with Juliana instead of heading home. Alirio takes ever December off so Valentina had been driving herself to and from Sacramento. Mid December was finals season and Valentina had been stressing about her general ed finals so Juliana volunteered to help her practice and memorize things before the finals. They would stay up studying after she got off work and if it was passed 10pm, Juliana didn’t allow Valentina to drive home so late so she convinced her multiple times to stay over. The first few nights Valentina protested but eventually it became their favorite routine. Valentina and Juliana were a great team especially in the art department. Their collaborative photos had come out amazing earning a spot on the RS Gallery at the University for the following semester. Once the semester was over Valentina spent many week nights at Juliana’s and went to work with her with Renata’s approval.

Now that it was Christmas time the girls decided they would spend the dinner with their respective families and once the clock struck 11 they would meet at Juliana’s to exchange their gifts.

The Valdes family did not usually do gifts for Christmas. It was just a family dinner and a movie marathon before midnight and once midnight arrived everyone called it a night. But tonight would be different. Juliana’s parents had been invited to the Grupo Carvajal company party so once the dinner ended they headed over to the party knowing Valentina would soon arrive to keep Juliana company.

The Carvajals on the other hand were used to having dinner, play board games afterwards and once the clock stuck 12 exchange half of their gifts. They were a very competitive family and always had intense game nights. This particular Christmas they decided to play Sequence with a twist, for every game Valentina won she would be able to open one of her gifts and for every game she lost she had to drink a shot of the eggnog that she hated. It would be the first Christmas Eve without her there to open gifts so they wanted to be together when she did open them and this was a fun way to do it.

While she waited for Valentina, Juliana started her own movie marathon, she started with Anastasia because that was always a must-watch since it was her favorite movie. Followed up by How The Grinch Stole Christmas and when Valentina finally arrived she was halfway through Home Alone.

“Wow. That top looks beautiful on you…” Juliana said as she opened the door and found Valentina in a blouse she made for her. “You look beautiful.”

Valentina let out a small giggle as her grin grew. “Can I come in? I come bearing gifts.” She said holding a few bags and gift boxes.

“That beautiful smile is the only gift I need tonight. You are breathtaking.” Juliana said opening the door wide enough to let Valentina through.

A blush began to spread across Valentina’s face at the way Juliana was looking at her. It was a look of love, adoration, and something else she wasn’t quite used to yet but loved nonetheless.

“So what are we watching, chiquita.” Valentina said sinking into the couch that she loved so much.

“You.” Juliana whispered before snapping out of her trance. “I mean, uh… I’m watching Home Alone but it’s basically over so we can watch whatever you want now.” She said handing Valentina the remote control.

Valentina smirked at Juliana’s ‘you’ and decided to see where that avenue could go. “I have a better idea.” She said as she bit her bottom lip knowing the effect it had on the girl next to her.

“Don’t do that, Val.” Juliana said closing her eyes for a quick second and opening them to see Valentina smirking. “What’s your idea?”

“It’s almost midnight, how about we exchange our gifts now?” Valentina said as a playful smile spread across her lips knowing full well what a tease she was being and liking having Juliana all flustered.

“Oh okay that sounds like… an idea. Then we’ll start with mine.” Juliana said as she walked over to the Christmas tree to grab Valentina’s gifts nodding her head trying to get her mind off Valentina’s beauty.

“Here, open this first.” Juliana handed a small box to Valentina.

Valentina carefully unwrapped the present and as she opened the box she found a beautiful gold necklace that had a small red wooden carved heart with a note that read, “Te entrego mi corazón, keep it safe.”

“Thank you Juls I love it!” Valentina said as she reached over to give Juliana a quick kiss and turning around so Juliana could put it around her neck. “Okay open this one now.” She said as she handed Juliana one of the gift bags.

It was a handmade notebook with the world map on the front cover and an phrase on the back cover that read, “YOU ARE MY WORLD” and on the first page Valentina wrote a note that said:

Juliana,

Gracias por ser mi mejor amiga. Por darme tu amor. Thank you for loving me the way that you do. I am the luckiest girl in the world. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been. I want to show you and give you the world. Forever. Te amo.

Yours Always,

Val

“Valentina thank you, I love you.” Juliana said placing the notebook on her coffee table as she leaned in to kiss Valentina. A kiss that made Valentina lose track of where or who she was. One hand was placed behind Valentina’s head and the other on her waist as Juliana leaned her back onto the couch.

After a while Juliana pulled away leaving the girl beneath her all flustered and told her, “I think we still have a few gifts to exchange.” She said as she sat back up with a smirk as she got another present to hand over to Valentina.

“Neta? You’re just gonna leave me like that?” Valentina said trying to catch her breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Juliana giggled as she looked away.

They continued exchanging gifts for another hour and eventually Juliana gave Valentina a custom made summer dress and Valentina gave her a framed picture of the two of them at the park.

“Okay babe that’s it, do you wanna watch a movie and eat Oreos with milk? We’ll make homemade cookies tomorrow with Guille & Natty so that’s why I didn’t bring any but you love Oreos so we can totally eat those.” Valentina said cuddling into Juliana.

Juliana looked down at Valentina with a sly smile. “I have a better idea.”

Valentina looked up at Juliana who got up and offered her a hand, which she took as Juliana walked the two of them towards the bedroom.

“Best. Christmas. Ever.” Valentina exhaled quietly as she followed Juliana.

The following morning the girls awoke to a knock on the door.

It was Renata and Guillermo. They were dressed up as Mr. & Mrs. Clause and had a red bag as a good Santa should. They had different ingredients and boxes to make their yearly Christmas cookies and cupcakes. This time it would only be the four of them preparing the cookies. Juliana had yet to use her oven so this was the perfect occasion.

“Here love birds, go get ready while we set up the mixers, we brought you elf costumes. Now go go cuties!” Renata smiled excitedly as she handed each girl their outfits.

“Es neta?” Juliana said letting out a chuckle.

“Babe, you better listen to Renata, homegirl is serious about her Christmas-cookie-making outfits. It’s actually pretty hilarious, but don’t try to fight her on it, just let it happen.” Valentina said laughing as she placed her arm around Juliana’s shoulders walking them back to the room.

They took turns taking a shower and getting ready. By the time they returned to the kitchen Guille had already set up all their equipment and Renata was connecting her phone to Juliana’s speakers in order to play her Christmas playlist.

“You weren’t kidding, this is serious business to her.” Juliana whispered at Valentina with a loving playful smile. She truly adored Renata like big sister; she has easily become one of her best friends and mentors.

“Oh good! You’re ready my little elves! We’re all set up. First competition will be the gingerbread. We can opt for cookies or cupcakes. I think for this first round it’ll be the designers against the siblings to make it fair.” Renata said cheerfully.

Valentina groaned. “Fair?! How is that fair! You two design for a living. I’m stuck with the lawyer! And you have my girlfriend. How dare you Renata Isabel Carvajal!”

Everyone laughed at Valentina’s complaints.

Juliana leaned over to give Valentina a quick kiss. “It’s okay babygirl. I’ll go easy on you.” She finished with a wink.

“Oh so it’s like that? Okay, I see you. May the best member of Juliantina win then!” Valentina said stretching out her pinky to make the bet official.

“Juliantina?” Guille asked confused.

“Yeah it’s what people have been calling us since they found out and it’s kinda cute.” Valentina said still challenging Juliana, who simply lifted her eyebrow and decided to take on the challenge by wrapping her pinky around Valentina’s.

“Oo I like this already! Good luck babe, we’re gonna kick your butts!” Renata told her husband while giving Juliana a high five.

Both teams chose to make gingerbread cookies. Once finished it was clear who the winners were, the designers. Guille and Val weren’t that great at decoration their cookies. The remainder of the afternoon they made and ate their baked goodies. By noon Juliana’s parents along with Leon & Lucia arrived at the apartment to have lunch and enjoy the baked goods. They spent the rest of the day dancing, playing boardgames, and watching movies. Valentina had Eva in the back of her mind but she knew not inviting her was for the best after how she’d treated Juliana at every chance she’d gotten. Little did she know her sister had been coming up with what she considered a definitive plan.

#juliantina #valentina carvajal #juliana valdes #juliantinafics #juliantina fics #Forever #forever ch21

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