prompt: Nessian + “I can’t believe you did that to Santa...”
Masterlist
"Shh, okay? You have to be quiet, Stel. Or mama will hear."
"I am quiet," the small girl hissed, glaring at her brother, returning her attention to the floor below, wrapping her little hands around the slats and peering between the rails of the staircase. Slightly thankful for the shimmery garland coiled around the banister hiding her face. It wasn't like their mother was looking up at them anyway.
Their mom sat on the couch, curled into the corner, resting against the arm. Back turned from the tree. Hair pulled back into a bun and nose stuck in a book. One of those books their parents told them was unique, and for adults only. Stella and Sam didn't see anything special about them. Those books she loved were heavy and held only words. No pictures at all. And to the curious children on the stairs, where was the fun in that?
Brother and sister huddled together on the steps in matching pajamas, red and green plaid pants, a long red sleeves shirt that read Santa's helper in white across the front. Sam kept one arm on a railing and another around his younger sister. Taking the role as her big brother seriously as he steadied her wobbly stance. Both of them squished their faces against the wooden beams focusing intently below. Eyes were frantically searching between mom and the Christmas tree, adorned with ornaments and white lights.
"I wish we had the colored ones," Stella murmured, bottom lip in a pout. Her father would agree, she knew. But Sam, he always agreed with mom.
"No, Stella. Mommy is right. These lights look like snow and stars at the same time. It's cool." he replied, keeping his eyes focused below.
"I guess….," though her little voice was anything but understanding as she yawned out, rubbing her eyes, "I hope he shows soon."
They continued sitting, watching their mother curled in a blanket. Eyes were never leaving the book, even when she took a sip of her mommy juice, as she called it. Nesta was so entranced she didn't realize the figure creeping up from behind her. The children above, hiding behind silvered garland saw.
"Santa!" they both gasped at the figure in a Santa hat clad in his velvet red suit and pants, white lining the coat and the cuffs of his sleeves and pants. He was holding a sack over his shoulder.
The kids watched as close as they dared while Santa rounded the corner jumping in front of their mother. Who screamed in surprise, hitting him in the shoulder with her heavy book. Sam and Stella gasped again. Except for this time, it wasn't out of awe and excitement. But shock. That she gripped the book tight, slamming into his shoulder.
Sam and Stella turned to one another, mouths agape, "Mommy hit Santa!"
Stella asked, "Is she gonna get coal?"
"I don't know," Sam commented with a stern expression watching the scene unfold, looking eerily similar to their father when they were in trouble.
"That hurt Nes," Santa chuckled, rubbing his arm in the process.
Sam scrunched his face, "Santa sounds like daddy."
"What is wrong with you! The kids are asleep. Are you insane?" Mommy asked, folding her arms.
"What? You don't like it?" Santa said, stepping closer to her, pulling her in an embrace, holding her the way their father did. She laid her arms on the suit, giving him the same look she usually gave daddy when did his puppy eyes.
"It weirdly suits you." rolling her eyes as she replied to him," Happy?"
"Not yet. One more thing." Santa leaned in, a gloved hand tilting her face up, claiming her mouth. Picking her up by the hips as she wrapped her legs around him, falling into the couch.
"AH! Gross! Stella, go!" Sam shouted as low as he could.
Together they ran up the stairs keeping low to the ground until reaching the second floor, quickly heading towards their respective rooms. Stella's door hand-painted in stars and Sam's in superheroes by Aunt Feyre. The children's faces paled, hearing strange noises from down below.
"Does mommy love Santa?" Stella asked with the innocence of a four-year-old, "I thought she loves daddy."
"Maybe she loves both." Sam suggested, "Daddy says you kiss people you love. That's why he kisses mommy and us so much, right?" Stella nodded. "So maybe she does. It's still gross. Santa's...old."
"How old?"
"Really old Stel. Let's go to bed. Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?"
Again she nodded, they walked into Stella's room. Climbing into her bed, slipping under the covers together. Stella had a thing about the dark and night terrors. True nightlights helped, having someone near put her at a comforting ease faster than any light. Sam never returned to his bed, falling into a deep sleep shortly after his sister.
Cassian awoke first, jumping out of bed and realizing after their lustful rendezvous on the couch that he left his costume strewn about. Grabbing a pair of red and green plaid pajamas, slipping into each pant leg as he snatched a red long-sleeved shirt with him. He was throwing it over his chest, darting out the door. Taking two steps at a time, praying the kids didn't see discarded garments of Santa Claus scattered across the floor. Stella and Sam both harbored wild imaginations. It was too early for any talk of why Santa and why he left his close behind.
Reaching the last step, it seemed his prayers were answered. No kids were to be found in the living room. Sure enough, the costume was. Crushed velvet pants and coat laid in a heap on the floor along with the gloves and belt. Walking over hastily picking up his clothes, and Nesta's noticing they were still on the sofa as well. It couldn't have been more perfect of timing. As Cassian tossed the clothes into the laundry room, being sure to shut the door and preparing coffee for Nesta. There they were at the bottom of the stairs. They were standing in all their rest-filled, childlike glory. Something was off. Sam wasn't jumping up and down, screaming about Christmas and Santa came as per the usual. Stella kept her eyes, so much like her mothers, trained on the floor.
Eyeing them wearily, Cassian stepped closer, kneeling before them, getting down to eye level.
"Hey, buddy. Stella sweetheart. What's wrong?"
It was Sam who spoke up, "Is mama gonna get coal for hitting Santa?"
Stella chimed in, "and for kissing him?"
Cassian blanched at first, opening and closing his mouth several times. For as sad and concerned as they looked. They didn't appear to be traumatized, which meant wherever they snooped from last night. His kids were smart enough to leave before clothes were pulled off and heated breaths entwined. He'd be lying if a part of him wanted to burst out laughing. He held it in, opting to run with this instead.
"Mommy did what?" he questioned the kids incredulously
Sam and Stella looked at one another, unsure if they should continue. This time, Stella, forever a daddy's girl, spoke up, "Santa came last night."
"I know, baby girl. Exciting, huh?"
"Mmhmm," she nodded, "But Santa was by mommy him, and she hit him with a book." her frown deepened, bottom lips pushing out, "Then she kissed him."
"Oh, no. That's not good at all. Mommy was bad. Maybe she needs a spanking." The kids in agreement. His idea of spanking Nesta significantly differed from what the kids knew.
"And why do I need a spanking?" Nesta questioned, brow raised, tugging on the hem of her shirt. She was standing above them in pajamas matching Cassian.
Cassian only shook his head, displaying how disappointed he was in her, "Nesta, Nesta, Nesta. I can't believe you did that to Santa. Hitting him? With your book?" Nesta's lips pulled into a thin line, eyeing her husband of eight years. Challenging him. "And you kissed him?" Dropping a hand over his heart, Cassian feigned surprise.
Nesta, the ever prideful woman, kept her head held high, descending the stairs, "Perhaps Santa shouldn't jump out and scare people, and maybe mommy wouldn't hit him."
"Is that why he kissed you, mama? Cause he was sorry. Daddy does that too," Sam spoke, watching his mother walk to Stella, kissing her on the head then Sam.
"Exactly. Santa felt bad. He said sorry and made it better. So no I will not be getting coal honey. Daddy might for being so loud," she teased, turning to meet her husband's grin that twisted to his mouth slightly agape. The kids giggling in the background, "Now that's settled, let's go open presents."
Cassian struck out an arm, pulling his wife flush to him, “If you’re giving me coal sweetheart, I’m drinking the coffee I made you.”
Her head snapped towards him in disbelief, “Don’t you dare. Or I will give you coal.” His only response was a light chuckle, before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.
Day 4 For: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @clockworkgraystairs ❤❤❤❤
Prompts: Jurdan + "You look even more beautiful covered in snow" & Snowball fights "I'm going to get you back for that, [name]!!
A/N: sorry if I clog your feed loves! Until I get my laptop, I can only post via mobile. I'll be be too busy the following week to back track drabbles. I'll fix it as soon as I can. Anyway enjoy!
Masterlist
Cardan stood alongside Oak. Against the bark of an aged tree. Its limbs barren due to the frigid winter of the mortal world. True in Elfhame, they had "winters" where a slight chill swept through the lands and a little snow dust over the earth. The snow there however, more reminiscent of powdered sugar on doughnuts instead of actual snow.
Yet here in the Mortal lands, there was a stark difference. What was once covered in dirt and grass the brightest greens is now blanketed thickly in a shimmering white. Enough to the point, they had specialty shoes and garments for the weather.
It took Cardan some time to get used to these puffy coats, his in black, of course, and the awkward heavy boots. Snowshoes, he remembered Jude telling him. For a while, he couldn't fathom why anyone would willingly go outside in this icy weather. The idea of sitting in warmth, in freeing clothes, a hearth alight with embers, and mulled wine sounded much his style than...snow.
Until now, this fight, for lack of a better term, was intriguing. If only for the thrill of competition.
They busied themselves, making as many snowballs as possible before Jude finds them. Oak was somewhat surprised with how quick Cardan became at making them. Within minutes, both had eight each, tucked securely within the pocket of their hoodies.
"Ready?" Oak’s tone laced with amusement, a grin on his youthful features, "and remember," he said, crouching into the snow a gloved palm keeping his arsenal steady, "Don't hit me."
"I do know what a team is," Cardan replied as if offended—repeating the movement.
They sat behind the tree listening for Jude. Sure, since joining The Court of Shadows, she mastered the art of slyfooting. Here with the heavy fall of snow, Cardan picked up her footsteps quickly. It wasn't as loud as, say, Vivienne or Heather. Jude's steps were softer, lighter, yet there's a subtle crunch on the floor when she moved. Like the one Cardan heard a second ago.
Oak seemed to notice the High King's reaction. Keeping his eyes and ears alert for his sister and turning to look at Cardan, pointing to himself and the left. Then Cardan and the right. The High King nodded.
"Be quick and keep low to the ground," Oak hissed.
"This is our third round of snowball. I assure you, Oak. I know the rules." Cardan replied a bit harsher than intended.
"Well, we lost the last two," Oak grumbled.
Cardan scowled, watching him sneak off to the left side, hiding behind another tree. Before surveying the area. Looking out for his wife, he knew lurked by.
The High King briskly moved from tree to tree. Stopping at each trunk to listen. The feather-light crunch of boots on snow guiding his way. A few minutes passed, he wasn't sure if this is working. Cardan spoke a moment too soon. Unexpectedly, Jude appeared, prowling the forest, snowball in hand, heading to Oak's location. Cardan smirked with a hint of playfulness, quietly following his wife. The Ghost trained Jude how to listen and track faerie. Cardan took every step with caution. Careful to not step on any loose branches. Keeping close to trees and inching as close as he dared to.
He caught a movement from behind a tree standing at the edge of a clearing. Immediately Cardan knew it was Oak; to his disadvantage, so did Jude. Of course, she would. Lethal, beautiful, and intelligent, he would've felt pride in his scabrous heart, had it not been for his teammate she was sprinting towards. Cardan darted in between the barren trees. Adrenaline pumping through his veins as he closed in on his wife, his darling god.
Taking a snowball from the pocket of his hoodie, Cardan pulled his arm back and swung. Watching with half-closed eyes as the rounded ball of snow soared through the sky, striking Jude on the back of the head. Glistening snow crashed against her free-flowing tresses. Like melting snow on the earthy floor. He found it striking in appearance
Jude stilled, turning gradually towards him, with a wicked glint in her eyes, stepping towards her husband.
“Three rounds and you finally landed a hit,” her steps were calculating, assessing him silently as she moved around. “I’m proud of you, husband.”
“Well, my dearest Jude, a slow learner, still learns,” he quipped, trying not to watch Oak in the back sneaking up to her.
Unfortunately, Cardan did give his nephew away. As Jude turned, Cardan shouted, “now!”
In rapid succession, Oak threw snowball after snowball at Jude. Cardan joined in, racing up to them, unleashing his entire stock on her. In one moment, Cardan stood tall, then another, his legs were kicked beneath him. He was falling into the soft snow below. Jude straddled him, hips over hips.
She leaned in, kissing the top of his ear, "I'm going to get you back for that Cardan." A promise, a threat, perhaps both. With Jude, one could never be too sure.
He only smiled up at her, all the confidence in the world on his smug expression, "Get me back how?"
Kissing him sweetly ignoring Oak's blatant disgust at her public display, before she spoke, "like this," his wife reached into the snow next to him, dropping the pile on his face. Cardan shook it all away. Hearing both Jude and Oak laughing at.
"Really, Jude?"
"Does it help if I tell you, you look even more beautiful covered in snow." She laughed, like the sweetest of wines.
"As much as I appreciate the comment, my sweet villain, I look beautiful everywhere and in everything."
"Ugh!" Shoving him into the snow and ice, "you're such an ass. Come on, Oak. Round four, you're with me."
Oak whooped and cheered, being on a team with Jude. Cardan gaped on in disbelief as the two walked away from view.
Prompt: Lysaedion + "Character A is stuck working in coffee shop on Christmas Day and Character B is the lonely soul spending their whole day there. All the basics here: domestic, coffee shop, holidays, soft"
Masterlist
It was midnight, officially Christmas day, and Aedion was stuck sitting in the most uncomfortable chair in all of Erilea. His eyes were watching the board above him at the various flights coming and going. It seemed every flight was right on schedule. Except his, the flight out of Adarlan and to Terrasen International.
The snowstorm in his home country grew too intense for planes to leave or enter for the moment. Resulting in the possibility of missing the annual Ashryver-Galathynius Christmas dinner. Explaining to his father and most of his extended family would be easy. They would understand. Aelin, on the other hand, would not. She'd Reprimand him going on about how he should've taken an earlier flight.
Every year, the cousins stood side by side, inflicting chaos and mischief. Not that they didn't any other time of the year, but Christmas was unique. There were sure pranks they could only pull during this season. Now she'd either be faced with doing them all herself or not at all. Not to mention their ruthless ugly sweater competition. At least with him here, she’d win the competition no questions asked. Only Aedion posed a threat to her insanely creative sweaters.
Shifting his weight, Aedion leaned back into the chair. He was attempting to relax, which seemed impossible. The ancient chair groaned loudly as he moved this way and that. His gaze flicked to elongated windows surrounding the floor. He was glaring at the snow flurries and planes leaving. As if this whole rudding affair were their faults.
Twisting and turning in this godsdamned Hellas forsaken chair did nothing to ease his frustrations. There was no sleeping tonight. Not with this seat and the overhead announcement continually going off. They were stating what he already knew. Once that ended, other passengers waiting went to play music and watch films off their laptops. Taking him ages to get close to resting. Then the process would repeat. He would need caffeine to endure this stay.
Gathering his belongings, Aedion made his way towards the small coffee shop of Rifthold cafe. Pulling along his suitcase as he did so. He came to an immediate stop. Seeing the girl behind the counter. From this distance, ten feet away from the cafe's entrance, he could tell she was striking. Dark tresses thrown atop her head, ivory skin, a stark yet illuminating contrast. Like a moth to a flame, he was helpless in being drawn in by it. Her chin settled in the cup of her hand as the woman scrolled aimlessly on her phone.
As if she felt his gaze, the woman flicked her attention towards him. He froze, feeling a heat to his cheeks under her piercing stare. Not only for being caught. But by the striking emerald green of her eyes that seemed to look into the depth of his soul.
"Hey! Are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand there like a creep?" The stunning woman question.
"You're not closing soon?” Aedion asked. As badly as he needed coffee, he wasn’t going to make this poor girl stay open for him.
The gorgeous woman gestured around, "Does it look like I am?" Aedion said nothing, "Twenty four hour shop. Come on. You look like you could use some company."
He laughed, "Now who sounds like a creep? Trying to goad me into your establishment."
"Fine. Don't come in then."
"You already offered," he quipped, "No, turning back now." Hand tightening on his suitcase handle as he entered, striding up to the counter with that Ashryver swagger. Every step towards her, this stunning mystery woman, felt like a step to the next stage of his life. Whatever that entailed.
Unlike its sister shops with ornate displays, intricate details, and heightened awnings, the coffee shop was nothing spectacular. In comparison, this location was a small, albeit elegant, hole in the wall. Quaint and humble with well-crafted tables, rich mahogany flooring, granite countertops compared to its predecessor. Aedion chanced a look down at her name tag, Lysandra.
"Pretty name." she bit down on her lip, masking a smile, "Thanks. What can I get you….."
"Aedion." a crooked grin placed on his too handsome face as if he stepped off the cover of one of those cheesy romance novels. Golden hair sweeping down to his shoulders, the brightest eyes of turquoise with a rim of gold. Gods teeth. Lysandra shook away the impending rose tint from her cheeks. He must've caught the flush of color. His grin seemed to widen when those stunning eyes met hers, "Coffee, black in the tallest cup you've got, please. I have to be up all night."
"K.," she blinked, realizing how unprofessional that was, "Okay. Right. I mean just one moment."
Lysandra turned her back facing Aedion, taking a breath reaching for the grounds preparing to make a fresh cup. She wasn't going to give him cold coffee. She reminded herself to relax. He's just another patron-only coming in for coffee, and that's it, regardless of how attractive he is and how charming he seems. The way he smiled at her warmed her from the inside out. She didn't know how to handle this information. Usually, men don't have this effect on her. There was something about him that pulled her in. Perhaps it was just a case of loneliness or his eyes. That looked oddly similar to her friend, Aelin. They spoke daily since she moved home back to Terrasen to be closer with her boyfriend. Lysandra understood it. A part of her was envious in a way. She didn't have many friends outside of Aelin and her group.
Without Aelin to hold them together, the group slowly dispersed. Which brings her thoughts back around to the first idea. Loneliness. For her as well as him. Maybe he only seems kind to her given the day and the time and the fact he's here instead of wherever he wants to be. With family or kids, his kids. A girlfriend, boyfriend, wife, husband.
She shouldn't be thinking of things like this. It's not her place to pry or be curious if he has anyone. Aedion is here for coffee. Just coffee and nothing else. He's only a customer. Who's name is Aedion, she reminded herself, enjoying the sound of his name. He told her his name after all. With these ridiculous thoughts rummaging in her head, Lysandra forgot what she was doing until the smooth voice from behind spoke up.
"Your uh..your coffee grinds are spilling over."
"Huh?" Lysandra glanced down, looking at the mess of grinds pouring over onto the tiled floor, "Shit." Quickly placing the grinds and filter down, running to the back for a broom and dustpan.
Lysandra's phone started going off. Popular began to play from Wicked. Aedion chuckled at the song. Knowing it was Aelin's favorite from the musical. Like everyone else in their family, he wasn't a big musical fan. However, they were all in support of Aelin's dream of a life in the theatre. Every time he was over, every time they had sleepovers as kids, she played Wicked. All the songs on repeat. Once she saw it live, it was over. Aelin being Aelin, put on an entire show for him and their family. So it's safe to say the musical has been thoroughly ingrained in his mind. He didn't realize he fell into a rhythmic tapping to the song and began murmuring the lyrics, "I'll help you be popular. You'll hang with the right cohorts, You'll be good at sports. Know the slang you've got know."
Lysandra swallowed deeply, regaining her composure before stepping in front of this man again. Not only was he gorgeous, but his singing voice was also velvety smooth. Like the warmth of the sun on your skin, she wanted to bask in and soak up the sound. "Stop it, Lysandra." she told herself, "You're being ridiculous, and remind yourself to yell at Aelin later." straightening her shirt, Lysandra clutched her broom, heading towards the counter.
Her phone ceased for the time being. Aedion continued the song, "So let's start cause you've got an awfully long way to go."
Lysandra resisted the urge to sing along. He was a customer and waiting on his order. This was a business. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine," he replied. Ceasing the singing immediately , forcing out an odd laugh.
She missed the honeyed baritone already. His cheeks flushed, running a hand through his blonde locks, scratching his fingers against the scalp. Lysandra started to sweep the grounds up. The awkward silence between her and customers she hated but could withstand. With him, it felt deafening. Watching the bristles push the grounds into the dustpan, she cleared her throat.
"So Broadway guy, huh?"
"Nah," he waved a dismissive hand, "My cousin is obsessed. I've heard this particular show so many times the songs became engrossed in my head. Someone can say 'one short day' and I'll reply with "in the emerald city'"
"Oh." She picked up the dustpan tossing the contents into the trash.
"I mean, I can be a Broadway guy," she threw a glance his way over her shoulder, laughing brightly.
"That easy of a change?"
"Hey, I do it for my cousin all the time. Why not for you, Lysandra? Who gets flustered at my very presence?"
"Ha, ha." she deadpanned, reaching for the broom, attaching the dustpan to the handle. "You're certainly full of yourself."
Aedion's gaze followed her as she picked up the mess. The little time he's spent with the barista has been the most relaxing he's experienced in months. He couldn't explain why or how he felt comfortable this woman's presence, only that he did. All he wanted to do now is talk to her, get to know her.
When she looked at him, the twinkle in her eyes told him her matching smile is not fake. But genuine and authentic. Like she wasn't just smiling at him because he was a customer. She was stunning to look at. If art could be a person, it would be Lysandra, the barista. Just these few moments alone with her, he could tell she was so much more than a beautiful face. Her jubilant mannerisms, the easy conversations, and she enjoys Wicked of all shows. A win for him, given Aelin, seems to screen anyone he's interested in. Not that he was interested in her like that. They'd only met, but work for her was slow, and he had to stay awake for any news of his flight. Why not strike up a conversation. He leaned over the counter, propping an arm on the small space, his chin resting over his hand.
A wolfish grin on his features, "One of my better qualities." he winked.
She laughed again, taking the broom and dustpan away, returning it to the backroom. Lysandra adjusted her shirt and redid her ponytail before heading back to the counter. She didn't face Aedion yet, opting to make the coffee first.
His gaze was on her, strong and steady, but she didn't get that creeper feeling. Where she could tell, the guy was checking out her ass and ogling her like a prized possession. No Aedion started on at all of her, with interest in her. Not her body.
"Can I call you Lys?" he asked. She nodded, busying herself with prepping a pitcher of coffee, focusing more on what she's doing this time instead of notions in her head.
"I hope it's not forward. Are you seeing anyone?" Lysandra froze—shoulders stiffing at his question. Lysandra almost dropped the grounds again.
"That's a little personal, don't you think?" she teased. Aedion swore he heard a flirty jest in her voice.
Aedion pushed off the counter, rubbing at his neck sheepishly, then pulling on the charming facade that has worked on so many people. "It is. I’d hate to ask a taken woman to have coffee with and keep me company in my night of loneliness."
She snorted, "You sound like I'm going to fall in love with you in a night." sliding a carafe under the machine, pressing the button. Lysandra faced him again. The corner of her lips upturned as she smirked.
"As they say…" he leaned back onto the counter. Inching as close as he dared. Lysandra copied his movements, "stranger things have happened." he crooned
"Oh?"
Popular began ringing in between them. Startling Aedion, he happened to glance down. Stranger things indeed occur. When an icon of his cousin popped up on Lysandra's, "Yeah, like my cousin calling you for one."
"A-Aelin is your cousin?" she croaked out, never breaking eye contact attempting to silence her phone, accidentally answering it in the process. Aelin's voice pierced through the receiver.
"You can't just say there's a hot guy in the air-" Lysandra quickly shut off her phone.
Shoving the damned thing in her back pocket, making a mental note to fly directly to Terrasen and murder her dearest friend. As if this night wasn't embarrassing enough. An amused grin that suited Aedion all too perfectly displayed prominently on his features, as they both spoke at the same time.
"Aelin is your cousin?" "Who's this hot guy?"
Though given the way Lysandra rushed to shut her phone off and the desperate way she tried to change their subject of conversation to Aelin, he had an inclination of who it was. Causing his smirk to grow.
"It's not you," she claimed.
"Right." he clicked his tongue, pointing behind him, "Because it's that guy."
Lysandra stood on her toes' tip, looking beyond his broad shoulder at an older man snoring, mouth hung open. Most likely in his 40s, possibly 50s if the receding hairline was any indication. His mustache was as stout and wide as his belly. He gave off the appearance of someone unaware of the term shower. Still, she kept on. Her hand resting on her hip, pointing her chin up at Aedion. She had a point to make here and was damn sure to make him listen.
"Yes."
"That guy." Lys nodded with confidence, "The guy who's smell I nearly gagged on earlier in the night. Who looks like he's had a bit too much fast food."
"Don't be rude. That's my dream man." she retorted. Her tone curt and direct. He balked at her falsified confession.
Lysandra made to pour him a cup. She handed it to him, now with the customer's smile, fake and plastered. She looked as if she's ready to slit your throat in the middle of the night. Aedion immediately discovered he preferred her real smile over this.
"Your coffee, not hot guy." she teased. "It's on the house."
"Truly so generous of you. As it was your fault for being flustered by a guy who's apparently not attractive." His fingers overlapped hers, dragging gently along her soft skin. He halted the movement at her knuckles. Those damned eyes, like early morning sun of pristine waters bearing into hers. Her heart pounded in her chest, a bird wanting to break through its cage, lips parted as she breathed heavily. All sense of self seemed to slip away. It was only him and the way his fingers moved from left to right and back again. Any indication of jabs and laughter dispersed from either of them, "Have coffee with me, Lysandra. It's Christmas. Were just two lonely, single people."
"I'm working."
"There's no one here but us. You're having a friendly chat with a patron. Occupying them while they wait for a flight." Then he added it again, "It's Christmas."
She sucked in her bottom lip, "when you put it that way. Go sit at that table in the corner." A genuine smile played across her lips. His entire body warmed from the sheer look of it. "I'll be there in a moment."
Aedion wandered to the small table. Sliding into the chair, not much more comfortable than the seat he was recently in. At least the company was far better. He watched Lysandra fix herself a cup. She seemed to be the middle when it comes to adding to her coffee. Him, taking it black. He tried adding sweetness once, per Aelin's request. Aedion swore his teeth would fall out. Aelin, as mentioned, he wasn't sure she enjoyed coffee with how much cream and sugar she put in it. Then there was Lysandra, who used two packets and three splashes of cream. A moment later, she joined him.
"So then lonely patron. Where should we start?"
They fell into a comfortable rhythm, the conversation holding a smooth ebb and flow. Aedion knew how quick Lysandra was to respond in his jests that a conversation between the two would keep. He was taken aback by the strength of it. Soon as he finished a sentence, she was right there, continuing with another story or extending the one he told with one that matched his. He could see why she and Aelin were such good friends. Though according to Lysandra, they didn't start that way. Getting on each other's nerves hourly. Aelin stayed up all hours of the night. Lysandra preferred sleeping. Their shared love of chocolate, fashion, and Broadway, and oddly enough, the same guy, is what brought them together.
He knew of the college senior Arobynn. Aelin brought him once. Aedion never cared for him. The way he possessively eyed his baby cousin and the guy's ass-kissing abilities were less than impressive. One day He asked Aelin what happened and a coldness burned in her eyes when she'd say we broke it off. Never brought it up again. Lysandra seemed to give the sentiment. He wasn't going to press the subject on a dark moment when then things were comfortable.
"She's the Glinda to my Elphaba." Lysandra said, a fondness taking over as she stared into the paned glass, "sounds stupid, doesn't it."
"No," she flicked her attention to him, glaring out the word liar to him, "Yeah, it's cheesy, but it's endearing in a way, and I get it."
She hummed, looking away as he laughed at the action. His boyish laugh lightly bounced off the walls in the small cafe. "What about you and Aelin. I've never seen a cousin relationship, so close like siblings. It seems you two are. It’s sweet."
He flushed, "To me, she is my sister. Don't tell her that. Gods don't." he took a sip of his lukewarm coffee. Setting the cup down, his hand pulling down his face." She'd never let me live it down."
Lysandra watched him talk animatedly about his younger cousin. She found herself adoring the way he spoke and moved at the same time. How effortless it was to be. To talk of any and everything. Even with Aelin, there's something she'd keep to herself. With Aedion, that feeling ceased to exist.
Aedion continued talking of his past how he lived with her for most of his youth. His father was always off working in a specialized military unit known as the Cadre. With just himself and his mother in their lavish house, oftentimes, it grew quiet only the two of them. During his father's tours and special ops missions, they stayed at the Galathynius household. Aelin was always his partner in crime, a kindred soul. Together they caused enough hell for all of Erilea. Lysandra leaned back in her chair, finishing off the contents in her up. Wondering what a childhood between the two would be like. He told her of a time they went camping up in the staghorn mountains, encountering a ghost leopard. Her eyes glowed in excitement and awe.
Her tone was dreamy as she talked, "I love ghost leopards. They're my favorite."
Aedion glanced over incredulously. "Have you been up close with one?"
"Well, no. But they're magnificent, beautiful creatures." She added.
"That won't hesitate to tear you apart and eat you." He admonished, "The most terrifying experience of my life. I almost died, Lys! Then you'd be spending this Christmas alone." "
"It'd be quieter," she suggested; he looked over with offense.
A low chuckle fell from her while changing topics, "It's good to have a relative you're close with it."
"A pain in the ass sometimes, but yeah, you're right."
"More coffee?" she asked, "I’m getting another cup."
"Sure. Don't get flustered this time," Aedion teased. Lysandra rolled her eyes. He heard the word ass from under her breath.
When she returned, It was her time to take the lead—speaking of her sister Evangeline, who she practically raised on her own, In a not great side of Adarlan. Explaining they had different fathers. She made to reach for her phone. His guess was to show him a picture of her younger sister. The barista thought better of it, curling her hand around her cup instead. He assumed she remembered why she shut it off and let it go. Showing him later was always an option. Regardless, she proclaimed her love of Evangeline like she was her daughter instead of her sister. Aedion listened with intent as he exclaimed her mother often gone all hours of the night and day, so it was mainly her and Evangeline. Lysandra dropped out of college from what he learned, forgoing dreams of being a fashion designer to care for their sister. He found out that her mother was arrested two years ago for Evangeline, that meant going into the system or Lysanadra's care. Evangeline was now fifteen versus her twenty-five. He asked if Aelin knows and she replied with a far off no. Lysandra didn't have to say. He knew by her stance, the distant look, and the ghost of a smile that she wished it were different. She wanted to stay in school and keep her dreams. But Lysandra was quite content with her life.
"I'm sorry, I can't imagine.." he trailed off.
"I think you could. By the sound of it, if you had too, you would've done the same for Aelin." to that, he had to agree. There's nothing he wouldn't do for her, "You have a point there. Still doesn't mean I can't be sorry."
"I don't need your pity," she replied defensively.
For the first time in almost four hours, an awkward silence circled them. Aedion opened and closed his mouth several times, yet nothing came out. He didn't know how to proceed after that. What subject to change they should go to after this affected her in such away. His heart told him to reach out and take her hand. An act of reassurance and support. His mind told him that's weird, and he barely knew the girl. And doing so would freak out. He wasn't an excellent listener by any means. Always doing what he felt like. Before his head interjected, he extended a hand to the lonely woman across the way, who seemed to give up so much of herself. He thought deeply about her story; what if that was him and Aelin. The sacrifices and jumps he would go through just to make her dreams come true. He took a chance, squeezing her hand. To his surprise, she squeezed back. The silence curved into something peaceful between them. The loudspeaker came on overhead, breaking the instrumental holiday music, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, we regret to inform you that due to inclement weather, Flight 3506 will, unfortunately, be canceled. We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience…"
Aedion went blank, the rest of the announcement dying in his ears. He was officially going to spend the rest of Christmas alone. Eventually, Lysandra would leave to go home to her sister and him--he would be home ordering take out. Gods, Aelin was going to be pissed. The bottom palm of his hands repeatedly tapped into his temples, pressing into his head. Christmas was their holiday, and he should've listened, taken an earlier flight, but he didn't. Now, this.
Lysandra watched him with concern and a fit of slight jealousy. Witnessing someone be this upset over not being with their family on Christmas day. A wild idea hit her. They barely scratched the surface of knowing each other. But in the spirit of the holiday season and her too-big heart and the growing affection for this man. Lysandra couldn't resist the temptation of the idea. The need to help out someone similar to herself and a relative of one of her dearest friends.
"Aedion." his fingers laced together over his brows, "I know this is probably odd, being we just met in all." his hands lowered, staring at her in suspicion, "I get off in a little over an hour. Mala, this is weird. You shouldn't spend the rest of the day alone."
"What are you asking exactly?"
"Well.." brows pushed together, she chewed her lips, nervously, "Do you want to spend Christmas with me? We could video call Aelin and your family. I can give you my address and number. After your rest, a bit, call me? Don't worry about my sister. I think she'll love you."
"I-" He'd video call his family regardless. The chance to spend the rest of Christmas with her, he couldn't pass it up, "You're serious?" Her expression remained the same, steady and sure. "I don't know what to say."
Lysandra only smiled as she stood, taking both of their cups, tossing them in the trash. She moved to the register, writing down her cell and address on receipt paper, returning to him and handing her information. Immediately he punched in her number and then her address. "You say thank you. And you'll be there. Obviously."
"Thank you, and I'll be there."
Lysandra stayed by the table as he gathered his coat and suitcase. Before he looked at her, feeling his body warmth from their closeness. Aedion cleared his throat, nodding thanks while gripping the handle of his luggage. He was making his way out of the quaint little shop stopping at the entrance. He glanced over his shoulder. Winking and flashing a crooked smile, a promise to see you soon.
Prompt: Jurdan + "I’ve never decorated a gingerbread house before, so now you want to teach me and you seem to be taking it way more seriously than you need to"
I still have three days up for grabs if you'd like send one in check it out here: 25 days of drabbles
My masterlist
This will be the fourth gingerbread house we've worked on tonight.
The first one, I knew, would not go over well. Given it had been some time for me, and I knew Cardan had never in his life built one. Let alone see one. The idea intrigued him instantly. A small home that you built strictly from sweets and crackers.
Oak had revealed earlier this afternoon; his school will be hosting a gingerbread house contest tomorrow. My half-brother let slip of a rude little girl in his class. Who told him he should drop the competition for his small hands and lack of family assisting him would indeed cause his failure in this endeavor. At that, Cardan and I shared a look. Believing no better time to learn than now. For me, it was only finding a deeply buried memory. The problem is Cardan was not exceptionally skilled in gingerbread craftsmanship. Teaching him became frivolous with each trial
Cardan would use too little frosting or too much. Far too much where white frosting seeped out between the pieces. The crackers he placed on the sides weren't equal. The licorice I instructed him on making into squares around the door and windows ended up in circles. Sometimes I looked up, and he had them in between his lips. Between our visit during Halloween and now, he was starting to develop an affinity for sugar. The second house looked more like a shabby abandoned cottage with peppermints and lopsidded gumdrops than a holiday home.
Our third, I noticed the candy bowls depleting relatively quickly for the slow decoration process. Half Cardan chose to eat. The rest went to the house still with uneven walls, Cardan's face beamed with pride. I lacked the heart to tell him that his side was a bit more festive than the rest. Even though his side gave off the appearance of someone who vomited candy, all I could see were licorice, gumdrops, m&ms, candy canes, and peppermint. The worst part was nothing matched. It was a sugary mosaic and not in the good artistic way. More so like a toddler put it together. I offered him a tight smile. Taking over his workspace, showing him how to make proper adjustments.
"You know," Cardan teased, popping yet another bright red gumdrop in his mouth, "I've never decorated a gingerbread house before, so now you want to teach me, and you seem to be taking it way more seriously than you need to."
Oak laughed in the background, and I fixed Cardan a glare, "It is serious. I refuse Oak to be made a fool of."
For Oak, it had to be perfect. I knew Cardan agreed. That his words were meaning to be fun, I couldn't help my annoyance all the same. I didn't want Oak returning to school bullied by a girl for the way his life. Something he cannot change. I know the feeling all too well. If creating this gingerbread house will keep her away at least for a time. I will make sure this house is of the utmost perfection.
I never cared about things like this, these foolish mortal competitions. When did my thoughts merge with my husbands? Though he so rarely has these thoughts any longer. Not since our journeys to the mortal world. Him discovering all the intriguing aspects of the world. The food, music, make up, and all the different bookstores. He loved to grab these fae stories and point out the inaccuracies of them all. Growing up in Faerie, I knew them all. He didn't have to reciprocate them. Yet he did—every time.
I find myself recalling the recent book, where a fae had lied and the confusion on his face. I laugh, squeezing a small amount of frosting along a Graham cracker. The scent of cinnamon inhaling my scents and taking over as I did so. Cardan looks up at me, a streak of green icing staining a sharp cheekbone. Warmth blooms in my chest. I return the grin until I hear it. The snap of the cracker. Cardan pulls his gaze down, slowly looking at his side of the table. Oak sitting next to me, shakes an empty blue box.
"Great," Oak mutters. I can hear the defeat in his tone, "We're all out."
"I can fix it with...." Cardan began to say, reaching for a candy cane. Dipping it into a bowl of frosting, I'm watching him combine the two pieces and the candy cane. I realized why he did this. To use it as a binding. Keeping the broken pieces together.
I watched my husband, The High King of Elfhame, grabbing a spatula lining the cracker with more frosting. A moment later, he pushed the square into the half built gingerbread. All of it was for nothing as Cardan presses the piece with a little too much effort, taking out half of the wall. Candy bounced onto the ground like colorful beads. At this moment, I find myself wishing I can laugh at the scene before me. The High King lost his balance sending more candy flying and bowls of frosting everywhere. His black hoodie, face, and a tuft of curls were coated in green, red, and white frosting.
Instead, I rush to his side. Oak hops off the stool, following me. Both of us are dropping to Cardan's side. Oak immediately starts to pick up the candies. I reach up, grabbing a dishtowel from the table, wiping away frosting from Cardan's face. Noting his apologetic glance towards Oak. I felt ashamed for being harsh with him earlier.
"My apologies Oak."
"S'alright." He says, shrugging his shoulders. I can, and I'm sure Cardan could too, that this was anything but alright.
I look at it, Cardan, his face offering the expression I know too well. A look that mirrors one of my own, a scheming face. My grin in response was there yet still faint enough that if Oak turned and looked. He will not see it.
"Jude, my lovely beautiful wife, I know you're not fond of unnecessary glamours. I could…" I follow his gaze to the caved-in mess along Vi and Heather's table. This is true. I don't care for when he uses glamour for the ease of a situation. A gingerbread house fits under that category. Looking towards Oak picking up the mess, a pain strikes my heart, and I know my answer.
"Do it then. Make it as eccentric as you can."
"Jude, my darling God. Have you forgotten? I am eccentric" I roll my eyes at his confident, accurate declaration.
"We all know," I toss the rag at him, "Go clean yourself up, Vi and Heather will be home from their movie date soon. I'll help Oak and tell him our plan."
Cardan nods, leaning over kissing me sweetly, lightly on the lips, "I am sorry."
It is difficult to take him seriously while his hair's matted in the dried frosting. I can say the same of his face, now adorned in Christmas colors across his face like a clown's makeup. "I know. Now go clean up. Lest I call you a clown the remainder of your life."
To celebrate the holiday season I thought I'd host a fun drabble a day. Starting Dec 1st I will be posting one drabble a day up until Dec 25. I will be taking prompts from any of these lists below. I will update this post when I have a prompt for every day.
How to participate:
Send me a pairing and a prompt from any of the lists below (feel free to combine prompts if you can't decide!). Follow the tag #holidrabbles
Please send in the prompts the following ways
1. "Nessian + I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus" (
-or-
2. State the pairing, prompt list, and prompt number. I.E. Quinlar, Christmas prompt list 4, prompt 12.
Prompt Lists:
Christmas prompts 1
Christmas prompts 2
Christmas prompts 3
Christmas prompts 4
Christmas prompts 5
Fandoms I will write for:
Throne of Glass
Crescent City
A Court of Thorn and Roses
The Folk of The Air
And that's it! Following me if you send in a prompt would be appreciated.
