#when I’m not there the next youngest people are my own parents | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ilythena · 2 months

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𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 || 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

★SUM falling in love with Quinn was bad, but realizing you loved him was worse.

friends to lovers! My fav trope, Arguing and Quinn thinks you’re too good for your boyfriend, distance, angst, mutual pining, there are slight mentions of a very toxic relationship and abuse so please be advised before reading any further below the line. NOT proofread so……

♪ FIREWORKS - DRAKE

“Quinnifer, pass me the pepper?” “Stop calling me that.”

Cooking spaghetti with a grumbling Quinn over your shoulder, you smile when he begrudgingly hands you what you need and goes back to watching you make the food.

It’s a normal routine for you two, being roommates in college and then eventually working in the same field when Quinn got accepted into umich and you became a part of the medical team for them as an intern and a student, it was pretty difficult to separate you two.

“You excited for the fourth? I can’t wait for the fireworks!” You squeal, and quinn lets out a small smile at your excitement. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to as you about that.” He says, and you turn your eyes off the food for a second to let him know to continue, and he sighs out before speaking. “I was wondering if you wanted to come hang with me and my family? My parents keep asking about how you are and they miss you” he shys out and you laugh.

You met Quinn’s family completely on accident. Last year, Your mutual friend was hanging out with him and when you had stopped by the house he was in, Quinn and his whole family was there as well. It wasn’t awkward for a second, his mother opening up her arms to you and it was like you were with your own family.

“Actually, my parents are going out the country so i’d love to! How are your parents? Your Brothers too.” You turn off the stove and move to grab two plates, making them for you two.

“They’re good. They miss you too, especially Luke.” Quinn grabs a fork and sits down, not hesitating to eat as soon as you put his plate down. “Aww, I miss lukey too! He’s my favorite.” You smirk and laugh when quinn huffs in disapproval.

Looking down at your phone, the date is December 26th, 2017. You can see a few text from your mother and some friends, but ultimately decide to put your phone down when Quinn turns on the TV and plays your favorite show. Nothing can compared to right now.

“Hey, Quinn?” You say, Quinn hums and you grab a blanket to cover your lap. “Is it cool if I bring my boyfriend along? Cause I already know you’re bringing a few friends along.” Quinn stops chewing for a second, but lets out a ‘sure’, despite him secretly not wanting to.

Quinn and your boyfriend don’t have the most ideal relationship. It was pretty good in the beginning, but when you and your boyfriend started arguing more and more Quinn started to hold grudges against him. Trying to convince you to break up with him multiple times and failing, him and your boyfriend have this secret animosity that they can’t seem to bring up with each other.

“I know you two don’t get along, I’ll tell him to be on his best behavior if he decides to come along. Cause with or without him I’ll be there regardless quinnifer, I promise.” You smile and he groans at the cheesy nickname you’ve given him.

The next time you see Quinn’s family again is on December 31st, New Year’s Eve.

Everyone’s here. Quinn’s friends, luke and jack’s friends, family friends, random people you’re not sure Quinn even knows, everyone.

You can smell hamburgers in the air and you’re taking a sip of the water you have in your hand when Luke gently grabs you by the shoulder to say hello.

“Lukey!” You shout, grabbing him in excitement after finally being able to see the youngest Hughes after a while. “Y/n! I’ve been looking for you all night!” He smiles, swaying the two of you back and forth as you two laugh together. “I’m not that hard to find, eh?” “Well, Quinn wasn’t any help at all.” You hear another voice groan and you can see Jack with a bag of chips in his hand when you let go of Luke to hug him as well

“He’s never any help.” you joke and steal a chip from the bag while Jack snatches it back although too late. “True.” Your boyfriend says and with a side eye, you’re suddenly reminded of his presence. “Oh! Jack, Luke, I don’t think I’ve ever introduced you to my boyfriend! This is Dallas.” You say, motioning your hands to him as he waves a hand hello.

“Nice to meet you.” He says and extends a hand out in greeting. The two boys look at each other in a way you can’t describe and hesitantly reach out to shake his hand. As you watch them talk to each other, you spot Ellen in the corner of your eye and walk up to her to say hello.

“Oh! Y/n! I haven’t seen you in a while!” She says with happiness evident in her voice as she hugs you. “Mrs.Hughes! I missed you!” “Hun, you can call me Ellen” slowly letting you go so that you can say hello to Jim as well, you tell Them about how college is going for you, letting them know all the details they please.

As they get wrapped up into another conversation with someone else, you take a seat on a chair that’s been left alone and take in the sight of everyone getting along infront of you.

You only get about 5 minutes to relax before Quinn pops up beside you, not saying anything because he didn’t want to interrupt your focus. You turn your head to look at a tree and magically see Quinn and he smiles at you.

“Hey.” “Hey!” You two say to each other and laugh. “You okay? Everything alright?” “Yeah, this is great. Thanks for inviting me, Quinnifer.” You softly grab his hand and he can feel heat rushing to his face. “You’re welcome” he mumbles and you let out a toothy grin.

You’re enjoying the comfortable silence with Quinn, letting the conversations near you two and the wind blowing do all the talking for you two. Quinn’s mom calls him over and he nods to you in a ‘I’ll see you later’ way while you wave him goodbye.

You’re left alone again sitting in silence, when suddenly a dark shadow is casting over you. You look towards the cause of it and there stands your boyfriend—unhappy and irritated.

“Can I help you?” Brushing the hair out of your face, you look him up and down and it’s as if he’s had enough. he grabs you by your arm, yanks you up, and pulls you farther outside where nobody can see you two unless they go looking.

“Actually, yes you fucking can, y/n.” He snaps and you mentally roll your eyes at what could have possibly happened in the 10 minutes you were gone.

“You think I didn’t see that? That little thing you and him did? I’m so tired of you sitting here and pretending like nothings going on with you two.”

“Pretending what’s going on with us, Dallas? There is nothing going on.” Leaning on the tree to your right, you can see the anger rising in his face.

“Oh yeah, act oblivious like you always do. You know, if you were gonna sit up here and be a whore in front of my face, why did you even invite me here?” He yells, the wind blowing harder and the leaves shaking under their wrath. “Dallas, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just wanted you to come here because I know all of our friends are here and I didn’t want you to feel left out simply because it’s at Quinn’s parents house.”

“Go to hell, y/n. That man is in love with you and you have the fucking audacity to invite me here? Fucking bitch.” Your throat closes in on you when he steps closer to you, eyes black and unreadable.

“If you hate him so much why did you come! Just because I invited you doesn’t mean you had to say yes! I’m so sick of these petty arguments!” Standing up straight to walk away, he slams you back into the tree. You wince in pain, your back taking most of the damage.

“Dallas, let me go” you whisper, and his grip on you only tightens. “Or what? What are you gonna do, y/n? Call Quinn over to help you? I’m so fucking sick of your mouth.” Roughly gripping your chin between his fingers to force you to look up at him, the only thing you can feel is fear.

“Hello? Anyone back here?” A voice calls out, and you can immediately tell right off the bat it’s Quinn. In the moment of your boyfriend’s distraction, you make a run for it. Bolting out of the tree he had you against and running straight into the house.

You got a few concerned stares speeding up the stares, and the anxiety in your stomach stirred harder when you heard your boyfriend and Quinn arguing outside.

You ran right into Quinn’s room and slammed the door, heavy breathing and tears streaming down your face. After what felt like a minute to you but in reality was about 15, you could hear steps outside of Quinn’s room and the door slowly opening.

It was Quinn. It’s always Quinn. You can’t control the sobbing when you see him and he doesn’t hesitate to softly close the door and comfort you with gentle words and a grounding hug.

Your sobs simmer down into soft sniffles and Quinn has his arms wrapped around you tightly. No words said between you two, but a knowing understand.

After wiping the remaining tears off your face, you can see the softest look on Quinn’s face when he looks down at you. “Why didn’t you tell me he was like that?” He whispered and despite the heaviness of the situation, you let out a dry chuckle

“It was different this time.” You croak out. “It was like a different version of him. I mean, we’ve been having issues a lot recently but he’s never reacted to it like this.” Snuggling you closer to him, Quinn tucks your face into his neck and rubs your back.

He freezes when you let out a small hiss, moving his hand off your upper back to see a few bruises forming from his treatment of you earlier.

“Did he fucking hit you?” He states quickly, to which you might’ve taken a second too long to answer because you can see the confused-angry-sadness rise onto his face.

“H-he didn’t like hit me! Like, he slammed me into the tree and grabbed me really rough, which I know isn’t-“ “y/n. I just want you to be okay.” Letting out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding, you melt into Quinn’s chest and he presses a small kiss into your hairline.

“I am okay.” You breathe out and he closes his eyes to properly collect himself. “Has he ever done that before?” “…..he’s never hit me before. He’s broken a lot of stuff before. That was all. I irritated him a lot, and maybe I should’ve-“

“Don’t you even dare to think that anything he did was your fault.” Cutting you off and looking you dead in your eyes, you give up on your words and just slump against him in silence.

You two stay there for a while, just sitting against each other and you’re taking in what truly happened.

The months are seeming to move quicker. Before you know it, Quinn’s being drafted.

He’s moved out, the apartment you two shared being eerily quiet as you sit down in the living room, watching the tv on a low volume.

Pictures of you and Quinn are still up on the walls, and everything Quinn left behind hasn’t been touched since he left you. It’s not like you two stopped talking, but it’s definitely been less since the distance between you two.

Playing with an abandoned string on the side of your cardigan, you realize it’s too quiet. And it’s making you sad.

As if he knew what was happening, your phone lit up with Quinn’s contact on your phone. You picked it up immediately and his voice came through the speaker.

“Hey, you okay?” “Yeah, ‘m fine.” “What’re you doing? Taking good care of the apartment?” You can hear rustling in the back of the call, which makes you smile a little

“Everything’s fine. Stuck right where you left it, Quinn.” You whisper, and he frowns on the other side of the line. “What’s wrong?” “Nothings wrong.” “Somethings wrong, y/n. You don’t call me Quinn unless you’re upset.”

Biting your bottom lip, you hesitate for a moment before whispering a very quiet “just miss you.” The phone barely picks it up but Quinn can hear it, and it tugs at his heart.

After the incident at the New Year’s party, you two grew impossibly closer. This was his first time being so far away from you in a long time and he knew how badly it was affecting you.

“Miss you too. If your schedules still the same, I might be able to come see you? I have a little off time.” He can hear you jump over the phone, immediately booking a ticket when you let the first letter of please come out of your mouth.

“I’ll come see you on Wednesday, how does that sound? I’ll stay until Sunday.” And you’re blocking out all plans on those days, a bright smile on your face.

Your nerves eat at you for those two days you had to wait until Quinn arrived, Nearly jumping on him as soon as he touched down in the airport. You were near him a lot, and when you were scared you were being clingy he shut those fears down immediately and told you how much he missed you too.

“You really did leave everything the same, huh? Guess my artistic skills are so good there’s nothing to change.” He jokes and you scoff “well… I did take down that hideous curtain design you chose.” Giggling when he gasps in fake offense.

“I miss this place a lot, you know? It’s always like I’m home here.” “Well before you get comfortable, take off the shoes. I don’t need dirt on my floor.”

You two sat on the couch and talked. You two talked for hours, as if it was a part of normal routine for you two.

“How’s Vancouver? Heard it’s nice” you mumbled, and he smiles softly. “Good. It’s good. Would be better if you were with me, though.” Grinning you nudge him and he looks at you with an undistinguishable look.

“I’m serious. You always told me how you were looking to be in the medical team for the nhl, and the canucks need a new team member. I think you should come with me when I go back so I can introduce you to the team-“ “what? Quinn, you can’t just surprise me with that!” Sitting upright, he laughs as if he wasn’t trying to literally convince you to move.

“Where would I even stay-“ “stay with me. I’ll always let you stay with me, y/n” “I’m not gonna burden you with that.” “How would it be a burden if I’m offering it to you?”

Eyes softening, you’re left speechless. Taking your silence as a nudge to continue, Quinn lets his truth out. “I know how hard it is for you staying here. Kidra told me you were crying a few days ago because it was too lonely for you. I know you miss me, and I really fucking miss you, y/n.”

You two stare at each other for a second, and before you knew it your lips were on his and all the breath you had in your lungs were knocked out. “Come with me, come with me and I swear to everything you won’t regret it. I want you so badly, and my family already thinks we’re basically dating.”

The soft brown locks of Quinn’s hair between your fingers becomes more apparent when you come back to reality. “I want you too. And I want to come with you. I’m scared, Quinn.” “Don’t be. I’ll be here with you. I’m willing to do anything with you.”

The warm summer air is flowing through your window, sending a shiver down your spine. This is your chance. This is what you’ve thought about since he’s left. Wondering when you could be with him again.

“Yes. Yes I’ll go. Fuck, should I pack a bag? I need to book a ticket. Are we going now? What’s happening-“ with another kiss to your lips, you two lay on the couch enjoy each others presence once more.

“We’ll figure it out in the morning. Right now, I just want you in my arms.”

Very abrupt ending but I genuinely wanted to post today. Going on break soon, so more fics coming very soon!

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miryum · 1 year

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Sleepless in Monaco (Charles Leclerc x Reader) royal!AU

Hi! This is my first F1 fic so I hope you guys enjoy. I worked really hard on this and am pretty proud of it!

Warnings: Swearing, implications of sex, insomnia, nightmares, death, parents in the military, and any others I missed

Word Count: 10.4k

Disclaimer: I know nothing of how the monarchy works. Take my words about the inner monarchy with a grain of salt. I took the British monarchy and twisted it to fit my needs for this work of fiction, so all of this is highly unrealistic. For example, an heir cannot abdicate before the monarch’s death, but for the sake of this fic, in Monaco, they can. No other country has as strict coronations for their monarchs as Britain does, and even there it’s usually months after a monarch is dead, but I wanted to speed things up!

Also, all of these people are exactly that- their own person and I am simply using their names and faces for a story.

Enjoy!

Countless studies showed that sleep was necessary and the more you got, the better off you were. Still, you didn’t like going to sleep. It felt needlessly unproductive. The nights were bouts of insomnia, and if you were allowed to sleep, it was always riddled with nightmares.

The most frequent nightmare started off in a meadow of dead flowers. It lulled you into a false sense of security, although being surrounded by death left worried butterflies in your gut. It was then followed by falling. You weren’t sure what you fell into, but all you knew is that it must be bottomless. As the helplessness and impending doom reached a climax, you woke up.

As a child you could always run to your parents, but now, as an adult, you had no one to run to. You were alone.

Tonight was like every other. You had trouble going to sleep, and when you finally did, you fell. You fell into the bottomless pit surrounded by dead flowers. And then you woke. The clock read only 1:44. As if on cue, the phone rang. It was your burner phone and the number was easily recognizable.

“Hey Arthur,” you ran a hand over your tired eyes.

He asked immediately, “did I wake you?”

“You know me; I’m never asleep.”

“Ah yes,” the youngest Leclerc brother clicked his tongue. “We share the same crazy sleep schedule.”

“The one thing that brought us together.” It was true, of course. Your nights in the castle had been just as sleepless as ever, and it was one night when you were roaming the halls that you bumped into the small prince. You had dropped into a messy curtsy (you were still learning how- you were only five at the time) but Arthur had laughed and said whoever was up at that time of night didn’t need to bow to him. It had then become a tradition. Whenever one of you couldn’t sleep, they would find the other and the night would usually end passed out in front of a blaring TV screen with dripping bodies from a rendezvous at the indoor castle pool. Alas, as the two of you got older and you moved out of the castle for school, your late-night meetings turned to late-night phone calls.

“Did you ever go to sleep?” You ask. “You sound wide awake.”

“No, I did not,” Arthur drew out his words, awaiting your reprimanding. You were too tired to do so, however, and just rolled your eyes. “Hey, you’re on summer break, right?” He switched the subject, “I have a proposition for you.”

You groaned. “What is it? Do you have another girl I need to chase away?”

“Carla and I are going strong, thank you very much,” Arthur said. You could feel his drama through the phone.

“Then what is it?” Arthur stalled and a sinking feeling pulled over you. “Arthur,” you demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong!” He said quickly before pausing and letting the next words coat over you. “Lorenzo just abdicated the throne.”

“What?!” You worried you had woken your neighbours up, but the shock was too strong that you couldn’t refrain from yelling. “Why?!”

“He was fed up,” Arthur simply said. “He didn’t want to be a part of this life.”

“But Charles…” You couldn’t imagine what he was going through. His life had just been upended. He was always content with being second. Content with being a prince without having the responsibility of the throne on his shoulders. Now he had to toughen up and prepare to rule after his father. Unless he wanted to leave the throne to Arthur, and you knew he could never do that to his younger brother, Charles was stuck. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I want you to come back to Monaco,” he said.

“Why?”

“I think it would be really helpful for Charles and I to have you around again,” Arthur explained. “You were always such a good friend and were able to handle and control our craziness. Charles could really use an anchor such as you. I could get a position on my staff so you would have income, but-”

“You don’t need to convince me,” you smiled softly. “I’ll always come back.”

“To Monaco or to the Leclerc’s?” Arthur teased you.

“Whichever needs me first,” you laughed.

“Fantastic.” Arthur was giddy at the prospect of seeing his best friend again. “The plane is already at your airport.”

“What?” You jumped out of bed and searched for your suitcase. “What if I had said no?”

“Come on, Y/n. It’s impossible for you to say no.”

As it turns out, the poor pilot had been waiting for over two hours, just at the prospect that a random girl might say yes to the prince’s pleas. You had apologised profusely to him before cracking open a book as you were flown to Monaco.

After you landed, you were shuttled to the castle in a black van that bore the flag of Monaco. The few pedestrians that were out in the early morning gawked at it, wondering what a member of the royal family was doing out this early, but you simply shielded away from the tinted windows. They would hear the news soon enough.

You had just opened your car door and were stepping onto the gravel driveway when Arthur burst out of the castle doors and greeted you with a tight hug.

“Geez, lemme get out of the car first!” But nonetheless, you squeezed him back. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s been too long,” he agreed. “You won’t believe all the shit that’s been happening.”

“I haven’t read any tabloids just so I could hear all the gossip from you,” you said, laughing.

“Good, because they’ve all fucked the story up.” Arthur didn’t laugh along. You frowned slightly and took your luggage from the valet. It must be serious.

Arthur walked you inside, taking your bags like the gentleman he was. He explained, “I’ll get you all caught up later, but I need to go talk to Lorenzo quickly. Charles is out exercising in the gardens. He’ll want to see you.”

“Do I have to act differently around him?” You ask, “is there any strict protocol when talking to the next-in-line?”

Arthur looked at you, face scrunched in bemusement. “It’s not like he’s grown a tail, Y/n. It’s just Charles. And you never acted differently around Lorenzo than you did I or Charles.”

“True,” you conceded.

You and Arthur parted ways and you marvelled at how quickly the layout of the castle came back to you. It had been so long since you were last here, but you remembered it like yesterday.

Your feet took you to the gardens, and like always, you were blown away at the serenity of it all. Rows of bushes and hedges of all different types of flowers and plants spun out around you, twisting and weaving like a dancer as far as the eye could see. You knew that at the centre of it all was a magnificent fountain and on the outskirts were rows of apple trees. Your favourite spot was a weeping willow next to a small pond that was fed by a brook. You remembered countless hours spent on a tire swing your dad had hooked up, playing and laughing with the princes.

A wistful melancholy grew over you, but instead of wallowing in the sadness of the past, you decided to rejoice in its happiness.

But you couldn’t deny that you had missed Monaco. And it’s people.

Speaking of which, a figure was making their way through the garden. You recognised the silhouette instantly. “Charles!” you yelled.

The running figure stopped for a moment, staring at you, before starting up again, spriting your way. “Y/n!” It was clear he had been on a run, wearing black shorts and an athletic white t-shirt. Working out was a way Charles relieved stress, and you had no doubt that he was under a lot of stress right now. Charles swept you up in a monstrous hug, clinging to you like a lifeboat on stormy water. Your feet dangled in the air for a moment before he gently set you down. But the hug didn’t stop. His head was buried into the crook of your neck. “I missed you so much,” he whispered and his breath sent goosebumps along your skin.

“I missed you too, Charlie.” Charles’ heart jumped at the childhood nickname. “Arthur called me and told me what happened.”

“Please don’t talk about it,” Charles muttered.

“Okay,” you hummed, just letting the poor boy embrace you. After a moment, you realised that the hug had exceeded the socially acceptable time for friends and cleared your throat. “Okay, sweaty-pants, you’re gross. Get off of me.” You pulled away and patted his chest.

“Why’d you come back? I thought you were off at school.” Charles looked at you with puppy-dog eyes. It made you melt.

“It’s summer break,” you shrugged.

“So you didn’t come back for me?” Charles pouted, even though both of you knew the real answer.

“Nah, I don’t care about you at all.” You shook your head. “I just came back for your brother.”

“Which one?!” Charles asked you as you stepped away. You laughed loudly and started walking back to the palace. “Which one?!” Charles shrieked, running after you.

“Your Majesties,” you cursitied lowly in front of Hervé and Pascale Leclerc.

Pascale rolled her eyes from her throne and smiled softly. “Y/n, please stop with the formalities. It’s a pleasure to have you back with us in Monaco.” Per tradition, you were thanking the King and Queen of Monaco for welcoming you back into the country. Charles and Arthur stood off to the side, Lorenzo nowhere to be found.

“And how are your Majesties faring?” you asked politely.

“Everything will turn out wonderfully,” Pascale said, although you knew you and her would be talking long into the night about the events that had transpired. “Are you staying with your brother, my dear?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “He recently bought a new home with his family and I don’t want to intrude.”

“Well then, you must stay with us!” Pascale beamed. “Did neither of my sons extend the invitation?”

“No, your Highness, they did not.” You grinned, knowing full well what was to come.

“Boys!” Pascale glared at her two youngest who cowered away from their mother’s sharp gaze.

“Mama!” Arthur whined in protest.

“Y/n is always welcome to stay with us. I expect you two to be on your best behaviour.” Arthur mumbled something to Charles that you couldn’t hear. The crown prince blushed and pushed Arthur away. “Isn’t that right, dear?” Pascale turned to her husband.

The king smiled kindly at you and whispered hoarsely, “always a pleasure to see you, sweetheart.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my King.” You bowed your head in acknowledgment and reverence. It was well known that King Hervé’s health had been diminishing the past few years. As his age increased, his intellect and memory decreased. Though whatever his conditions, you still treasured childhood memories of him laughing at your father’s jokes, picking you up to dance at royal balls, or, if time allowed it, coming to play with you and the princes.

“And I don’t want you working at all while you’re here,” Queen Pascale wagged her finger at you playfully. “You are on vacation. Don’t let Arthur rope you into being an aide.”

“I won’t, your Highness,” you snuck a glance at Arthur but instead locked eyes with Charles. He winked at you and you knew that someway or another he would rope you into some dirty work.

“How long are you staying?” King Hervé asked and you snapped back to him.

“I’m not entirely sure,” you admitted. “School starts in September, but I could always postpone it for a semester.”

Charles cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Chérie, did you know that the castle could easily employ anyone of any talent and prestige? You must remember our tutor?”

“Charles, what are you suggesting?” Pascale lifted an eyebrow.

“All I’m saying,” Charles tried to look as innocent as possible. “Is that we haven’t seen Y/n for a while. If she wanted to, we could simply bring her schooling here. I’m sure her university would love it if they had an international student studying under the royal family.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what the boy was doing. “We’ll talk about it later,” Pascale assured him. “Y/n, come with me,” she smiled softly. “I’ll walk you to your room. As much as I love my boys, I can’t wait for a little girl time.”

She stood and glided down the steps. She held her arm out to you and you looped yours through it. “And may I just say,” you added, “I love your outfit.” She was wearing a light purple pantsuit with a skirt flaring out from the waist.

“Thank you so much, dear! I saw this dress the other day and it reminded me of you; you must try it.”

“Of course.” You and the Queen stayed in frequent contract, her sending you photos of cute outfits (she had sent you a picture of an adorable blouse last weekend) and updates of the boys (you were surprised she wasn’t the one to call you with the news of Lorenzo’s abdication) and you sent her memes and cute videos of pets you found on the Internet.

You were sure that if the princes or the Queen’s private secretary found out that you were constantly communicating, the former would be freaked out and shocked and the latter would be aghast. It was very un-queen-like to be texting pictures of baby ducks to a girl that was half her age. And what son wants their mother to be chatting with their friend?

Once you and the Queen left the throne room, you immediately asked, “how are things going? No one’s told me the whole story.”

Pascal sighed heavily, clearly burdened with things beyond her control. “I’ve seen it coming for a long time. Lorenzo has waged this battle for years within his mind, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.”

“I never knew him to be unhappy,” you said.

“That’s because no one ever saw him,” Pascale shrugged. “He was always hidden away, studying to be king. He never had a true childhood. Everything he did was scrutinised as people picked apart their future leader. He was only a child. He never wanted to let people down, but I believe the breaking point was last year when Hervé got terribly sick.”

You had heard about that. Arthur had called you in a frenzy, worrying himself into a spiral that you calmed him down from while you were miles away. Charles had called you much later that night and you two had engaged in quiet conversation about the affair.

“Lorenzo realised the full magnitude of the situation,” Pascale continued. “And he didn’t want it.” She simply stated the facts, knowing that Lorenzo was the only one who could explain the reasons behind his actions. “He called the whole family into the sitting room last night and informed us of his decision. It was released to the public this morning. Poor Fernando and Nico stayed up all night composing the perfect speech,” she said, referring to the palace communication advisors.

“And Charles?” you asked.

Pascale huffed and shook her head. “The boy is stupid,�� she said bluntly. “He won’t take anyone’s advice and is pushing people away so he can cope on his own. That’s why Arthur brought you in.” She glanced at you, smirking slightly.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, come off it, dearie.” Pascale rolled her eyes. “We both know my son has a sweet spot for you. Do you remember when you were eight and Charles was having a tantrum over the tiniest of thing? He wouldn’t come down for dinner, but when you went up to his room and talked to him, he came right down after you, trailing at your heels like a lost puppy?”

You shook your head and ignored the blush coming to your cheeks. The Queen didn’t miss it. “All I’m saying,” she declared as you reached your temporary room (which happened to be right next to Charles and Arthur’s), “is that although your Arthur’s best friend, my middle son has taken quite a liking to you over the years.” She turned on her heel, leaving you to your thoughts. Over her shoulder, Queen Pascale called to you, “food for thought,” before disappearing around a corner.

“Charles! Come on!” Arthur was swimming laps in the lake on a blazing summer day. You waded next to him, trying to get used to the colder water. Lorenzo was taking a break from his studies and lounging on an inflatable tube.

“I’m coming! Give me a second!” A thirteen year old Charles was still tugging off his socks. “Oh, I forgot my swimsuit!”

“Dude, how?” Lorenzo laughed. His sunglasses sat comfortably on his face as he relaxed. “We’re swimming. You need a swim-suit.”

“I don’t know, this was an impulse decision!” Charles was right; during breakfast you’d off-handedly proposed the idea and it was readily accepted.

“Just use your underwear.” Arthur shrugged.

“Oh my gosh look at this little crab!” You gasped and held up your hands. A small crab danced its way over your cupped hands.

Charles shook his head wildly. “No! I’m not going to strip down to my underwear!”

“Charlie,” you glanced at him before turning your attention back to the crab. “You would be showing the same amount of skin as if you had your swimsuit. It’s fine!”

“But,” he hesitated. “I don’t know, it just seems so much more intimate.”

“We’ve all seen each other naked,” Arthur pointed out.

“We were six years old!” Charles blushed furiously.

“Then leave your shirt on,” you said. “But come in the water. It wouldn’t be any fun with you staying on the shore.” After a second thought, you added, “Please, Charles?” You gave him a look you knew he couldn’t resist. You had the boys wrapped around your finger.

“Fine,” Charles smiled as your grin grew at his response. He could never stand to see you sad, especially if it was his doing. “But when we get out, I am stealing an extra towel.”

When the four of you were finished swimming, Charles stole Arthur’s towel and the latter dripped water all over the castle carpets. The cleaning crew was not happy.

“Hey, Charles?” You knocked on his door softly. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he replied. You opened the door to see him slouched in a chair before his desk. It was littered with papers and textbooks. Charles looked more tired than ever and you were worried that he hadn’t slept last night. Granted, you couldn’t chastise him for it. You were up worrying as well.

“What’re you doing?” You came to stand behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, peering at the documents splayed before him.

Charles leaned into your touch, his heart fluttering. He had missed you so much. He wasn’t about to derive himself of your comfort. “I’ve been trying to catch up on the years of studying Lorenzo had. Turns out there’s books on foreign policy and economics he had decades to read. I only have a couple months.”

“What about your father?” you asked, “He’s doing well, no?”

Charles tilted his head back to look at you and lifted a brow. “Come on, Y/n. You’re not naive. Maman knows she’ll have to plan his funeral soon. I only thought I would be watching my brother pledge himself to Monaco- not me.”

“I’m so sorry.” You hugged him the best you could in your position. “I know that I can’t help you much, but I want you to know I’m here for you.”

“That’s all I ever need.” Charles was worried you hadn’t heard him when you sat down next to him and pulled the books towards you, intent on helping him in any way you could. He knew that with his eventual coronation (god, that was a terrifying thing to think about. How did Lorenzo ever keep his cool?) the kingdom would pressure him to find a wife and carry on the Leclerc bloodline. He wasn’t forced to marry someone with status, just so long as the person could handle the public eye and the inevitable scrutiny. He wanted to form a connection with the woman and have the most normal relationship he possibly could.

“Why do you have to learn how to start a revolution?” You flipped through one of the textbook pages. “Wouldn’t you need to know how to quell one? This is so confusing.” You slam the book shut, bored after only three seconds. How could Charles have stayed up all night doing this? “Okay, what is something productive, yet fun?”

“Do you want to listen to a meeting about military strategies?” Charles suggested. “Dad wants me to start sitting in on meetings of state to make up for the lost years.”

“No,” was your immediate reply. “As much as I love you, Charles, that sounds like the most boring thing in the world.”

“It’s what I’ll be doing the rest of my life,” Charles grumbled.

“And Arthur and I will be with you every step of the way.” You baulked at the lifelong oath you had just promised. But you couldn’t take your words back now. Charles needed you to be his rock, and what good were you if you yourself were slipping under the tide? While Charles was drowning in the sea of uncertainty and pressure, you were drowning in the sea of hopelessness and love. “Do you feel bitter about it?” you asked quietly, wanting to change the subject but also know the truth. “Do you resent Lorenzo for what he did?”

“I want to,” Charles admitted. “I want to force him to take the crown back. I want him to get his ass back here and sit on the throne. I want to hate him. But I can’t. Because I get it. I understand what he’s feeling. He was already under the dissection of the press and public. Now it’s ten-fold. He didn’t do it to get away from the public eye, because let’s be honest, none of us will ever be able to truly escape. He’s doing it to be his own person. Lorenzo is taking the chance I wish I had.” He chuckled sourly, “Lucky bastard.”

“And I know you giving the throne to Arthur is out of the question,” you said.

“Of course,” Charles nodded along solemnly. “I would never do that.”

“Lorenzo did,” you whispered, giving him the tiniest of shrugs and smiles.

He shook his head. “No, it’s out of the question, Y/n.”

“I know.” You never wanted any of this for any of the Leclerc boys. They were too innocent and sweet to be criticised at any turn. “What are you going to do?”

For as long as you had known him, Charles had never looked so scared. “My best.”

The dining room was filled with the quiet scraps of silverware on china. It was almost quiet enough that you could hear reporters shouting from outside. Luckily the castle walls were strong enough to block them out. It had been an awkwardly stressful dinner, each second passing adding to the seconds it was already too late to say something. King Hervé and Queen Pascale sat at the head with Lorenzo and Charles to their right. You and Arthur sat across from the older boys. Rows of empty seats followed after you. You remembered when you and your family were invited for dinner along with other military personalities. The long table was filled with chatter and buzz, the King and Queen looking lovingly down at their employees and subjects. You always sat by Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur, laughing away at whatever stupid joke was being said.

It was a stark contrast to what you were experiencing now.

You had expected some hostility radiating from either Charles or Lorenzo, but both were filled only with sadness. Arthur, always needing to be on the move, was tapping his foot up and down and up and down and up and down until you shot him a look. Queen Pascale was looking lonely and King Hervé sat blissfully unaware of the matters around him.

You were just about to excuse yourself when the King set his knife and fork down and stood. “Y/n, sweetheart, can you come help me?”

Your eyes dashed towards Pascale to make sure you weren’t the only one who heard him. Pascale was confused, but ushered you to his side. You obeyed, standing quickly and going to support him.

“Come along,” he led you out of the room and to a short hallway. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you said.

“Can you look after Charles?”

The King’s question shocked you. “Of course, your Majesty.”

“No, Y/n.” The King stopped and faced you, looking you in the eye. You immediately looked to the ground, then to the wall behind him and finally back to him, all while mustering up the courage to meet his headstrong gaze. You felt exposed as the monarch of your country stared you down. “Take care of him, just as he takes care of you. You and Arthur are brilliant friends, but we both know your relationship with Charles is deeper than friendship.”

“Your Majesty,” you cut him off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My relationship with Charles is the same as my relationship with Arthur.”

“If you believe that, dear, then you may need to do some soul searching.” The King had an odd twinkle in his eye, one that could only be held by a person who had learned the lessons of the world. “I’m asking you for this favour. I don’t have a long time left on this Earth. I need to know my son’s in good hands. With this power and expectations unexpectedly thrust upon him, he’ll need someone he can come to with his worries and troubles. Someone he can be himself around. You were always that person.”

“King Hervé, I’ll try my best, but eventually we’ll need to go our separate ways,” you said, trying to gently show the king the inevitable truth. “I want to continue school and Charles will have to get married. His wife will take on the responsibilities of his confidant.” You didn’t add that you would be leaving Monaco the moment Charles showed romantic interest in someone.

The King hummed and started walking once again. You led him to a wooden door that entered his chambers. “The Queen of Monaco would get excellent schooling,” King Hervé offhandedly commented before opening his door and leaving you alone in the hallway.

You stood there, stunned. In two days, both monarchs of Monaco had pushed you into the arms of their middle child.

King Hervé couldn’t be suggesting what you thought he was. Could he?

“What did dad talk to you about, Y/n?” Arthur found you in the gardens. You were wandering aimlessly and ended up at the weeping willow that was cemented in so many of your memories.

“He asked me to look after Charles.” You sat down, legs folding under you like a stack of cards. Arthur plopped down next to you.

“Well, that’s easy, right? Just stick around a while more and he’ll be fine. Your job is literally to give him hugs.” Arthur laughed.

“Arthur, does Charles like me?” You asked suddenly, twisting your body to look at the boy. He sat back on his hands, getting comfortable under the cool summer air.

“What do you mean? You're his best friend. Other than me, of course,” he grinned at his last words. “And Lorenzo. So you’re maybe third or fourth on the list. After the dog. You’re definitely after the dog.”

You slugged him in the arm, matching his smirk, saying, “but seriously though, both your mum and dad hinted that Charles liked me. In a… more than friendship way.” You felt as if you were back in primary school by using that phrase.

Arthur sighed heavily, “oh god, Y/n.” He scratched his neck. “This isn’t my confession to make.”

“So he does like me?!” you cried out.

“But you like him back, right?” Arthur shrugged. “It was so obvious. Our entire childhood, you and him were always stuck together. You and I hung out too, but he was always the one you ran to when you were hurt or sad. I was the third-wheel and Lorenzo, when he had time, was the fourth. Wait-” he paused, realising his analogy didn’t work out. “You and I hung out at night, but I’m confident that if Charles was up at the same time, you would’ve roped him into our adventures. There was this… connection that neither Lorenzo or I could achieve with you. A small part of you was only for him and vise-versa. You should’ve heard the things he said about you when you were gone. It was always, ‘when’s Y/n coming back?’ and ‘I miss Y/n’. Honestly, it was annoying.” He shot you an exaggerated side-eye. You chuckled quietly, shaking your head. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “I’m not jealous. You and I had many special memories without my ugly older brother. Remember that one time where in the middle of night we went bowling and practically woke up the entire castle?!”

You joined him in laughing hysterically. You remembered, “my parents were so mad!”

“But my dad insisted we finish the round,” Arthur added on. “And then everyone else started playing as well.”

“That was a good night,” you agreed.

“My point,” Arthur brought you back to the topic at hand. “Is that you and Charles like each other and if I’m the one to make you realise your feelings, then that’s a problem. My parents clearly picked up on it and are now making sure that you and Charles get together before they’re gone.”

You sat in thought for a moment before saying, “I never asked how you and Carla are doing.”

The boy smiled lazily. “It’s going really well. She’s really sweet and cares about others. You’ll love her.”

“I’m sure I will.” You nudged your arm with his. “Any girl that can put up with you is worth keeping.”

“Piss off! I have half a mind to throw you in the lake!”

“Don’t you dare, Leclerc. I swear to god I will murder you.”

“That’s an act of treason.”

“Charles can pardon me.”

“I’m sure he will.” Arthur rolled his eyes, “I’m sure he will.”

Three teenage princes barged into your room without so much as a knock. “Oh my god!” you cried, “What are you guys doing?!” You were laying on your bed with your computer which continued playing Rise of the Guardians. Jack Frost had just been kidnapped by the Easter Bunny.

“Where have you been?” Arthur jumped on the bed with you and yanked the covers over him. You growled and yanked them back. “Geez,” he muttered, squirming around to get comfortable. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“The blood currently exiting my body,” you retorted.

“Ew!” Arthur jumped back and off the bed, a shiver going up his spine. “You could’ve told me that before!”

“It’s not fucking contagious,” you said. “Unless you suddenly grew a uterus I didn’t know about.” Lorenzo laughed at your response. “What are you pricks doing here?”

“We were going to go horseback riding,” Charles explained. “We wanted to ask you to join us, but now that’s out of the question.”

“Oh. Well, you guys go without me,” you said. “Give Loki a sugarcube for me, will you?” When you were kids, the four of you had all named your horses together. Lorenzo's horse was Stark, Arthur called his Wanda, and you and Charles decided on the names Thor and Loki.

“But you’re not feeling well!” Charles protested, his brows furrowing. You shifted in your bed as a wave of cramps came over you.

“I’ve done this a lot. I’ll be fine.”

“Move over,” Charles sighed and climbed into your bed. He threw off his shoes and sweater, leaving him in an undershirt and sweatpants before pulling the covers towards him. He leaned back on your pillows and slung an arm over your shoulders.

“What’re you watching?” Lorenzo asked, sitting on your other side with his legs crossed.

“Rise of the Guardians,” you replied.

“With Sandy?” Arthur shoved Lorenzo over and cuddled into the spot next to you. You pushed the computer away so they could see easier.

Pressing play, you said, “Yeah, with Sandy. What other Rise of the Guardians do you know of?”

The movie continued and both you and Arthur cried during Sandy’s death. Whenever your cramps were acting up or your back hurt, you would fist Charles’ shirt in your hand and try to snuggle closer to him. Charles frequently drew circles on your arm or pressed a kiss to your hair.

Lorenzo and Arthur exchanged a look. How could you two be so dumb?

The field looked an awful lot like the one in the castle gardens. Some flowers wilted under the harsh sun and you made a mental note to tell Lando about it. He would be devastated to lose a plant.

It was a serene day, but you were forgetting something. You couldn’t remember what. It gnawed at you like it was at the tip of your tongue and wanted to burst out, but something was blocking it.

Suddenly, the ground caved out from under you and you started falling. You cried out for someone- anyone to come and save you.

You braced for the end. For the inevitable crushing end that would end in writhing pain or the quickness of death. Which would be better?

Just as suddenly as you fell, you woke up. It was just a dream, you kept reminding yourself as you hurried out of the now scarred room.

You didn’t want to see if Arthur was awake. If he was, you would prompt him to go to sleep. He needed it.

You weaved through the castle before stopping at a familiar painting. It used to be your favourite as a kid. A Huguenot, as it was titled. The full name was A Huguenot, on St. Bartholomew's Day, Refusing to Shield Himself from Danger by Wearing the Roman Catholic Badge painted by John Everett Millais.

You had learned about it from your art history tutor. The Leclerc boys didn’t care for the class, but you found it oddly fascinating. When you had learned about the Huguenot it instantly captured your attention.

You remembered your tutor saying, “The painting depicts an incident occurring on St. Bartholomew’s Day, when a massacre of Protestants by Catholics took place in Paris during the Wars of Religion. The white band the woman is attempting to tie around her lover's arm was an act to shield him from harm during the coming massacre and an identifier of Roman Catholicism. A small number of Protestants escaped from the city by wearing the white armbands.

“The young man gently pulls the armband off with the same hand with which he embraces the girl. Having to choose between religion and love, the man’s refusal of this badge would result in certain death,” the tutor concluded.

You had always loved the painting, feeling a sense of desperate longing from it.

“Y/n?” A hushed voice called to you. Charles walked up to you, still in his sleepwear. He paused and looked up at the painting. “Your favourite, huh?”

“Yeah. What’re you doing up?”

“Haven’t been sleeping well,” the boy brushed it off. “Are you still having those nightmares?”

“How do you know about that?” You were pretty sure you’d only told Arthur about those.

“I found you and Arthur one morning sleeping under a pool table. When I asked him about it he said you kept having nightmares and he was trying to help.”

“Ah,” you cracked a smile. “Yeah, they haven’t gone away.”

“Truth be told,” Charles was still admiring the painting. “I always envied you and Arthur. In the morning, Lorenzo and I would wake to some new inside joke that had transpired the previous night. I wanted to feel that close to you as well. I would try to stay awake all night so I could be part of the adventures, but I always fell asleep.” He chuckled at the memory.

“Charlie,” You gushed at his confession, leaning against him. “You and I will always be close. You don’t have to be sleep deprived for that. Arthur and I’s relationship was a purely platonic thing built on laughter and escapade. Ours was built on trust and caring. Not to mention all the mischief we got ourselves into.”

Charles laughed loudly at your words. “We once rigged the intercom to play polka music all day and night!”

“The nannies were so mad!” You snickered at the memory.

Charles hummed and fixed his sight on the painting once more. “The man is going to fight for his religion, right?”

“You remember?” You were surprised he was able to recollect the knowledge.

“Of course!” Charles smiled widely and his voice raised a couple notes. “You blabbered about it whenever we passed it in the hall. You always had to stop and stare. Why wouldn’t I remember something so important to you?”

A warm feeling rose up in your chest. “Come on, Charlie,” You looped your arm through his and directed him away. “Let’s go watch Megamind.”

“Okay, chérie,” Charles squeezed you in a side-hug. “But I want popcorn.”

“Stove-made?”

“Is there another kind?”

King Hervé and Queen Pascale walked into the family room the next morning to find you splayed over Charles on the couch. Charles was drowsily awake and waved to his parents in a morning greeting. His other hand was lazily stroking your arm.

“I’m going to give him my wedding ring tomorrow,” Pascale whispered to her husband.

King Hervé died a week later.

You woke to a sharp knocking. A housekeeper entered and said, “Miss. Y/n, I regret to inform you that King Hervé passed away last night in his sleep.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“King Hervé has died. Queen Pascale is requesting your presence in the sitting room.”

Your first instinct was to ask, “how are the princes?”

“I’m not sure,” the housekeeper admitted. “Do you need assistance getting dressed?”

“No, but thank you.” You jumped out of bed and hurried to the sitting room. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Hervé was dead. He died. You were never going to see him again. What happened now?

You picked up the pace and soon you were running down the castle halls, still in your pyjamas. Servants in black clothing stopped as you dashed by, some even bowing at the waist. You burst into the sitting room to see the Leclercs there. Arthur was slumped on the couch, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looked up when you came in and the tears started to fall. Lorenzo was standing by the window watching the people below already beginning to lay flowers for his father. A withered Pascale sat in a plush armchair, fingers to her lips as she hummed a sad tune. Her face was devoid of any emotion and her eyes were dry. And Charles sat hunched over, elbows to his knees as he stared a burning hole into the wall opposite him. His hands were clasped together and you could see the large ring with the royal insignia emblazoned on it.

You slowly knelt in front of Pascale. “My Queen,” you murmured. “My deepest condolences. I know words may never be enough and they can never bring back what’s missing, but he was a wonderful man and a wonderful king. All of Monaco will miss him.”

The Queen began to cry. “Thank you, Y/n, but I’ll be alright. He’s in the hands of God and I know he’s safe and happy. I just miss him is all.”

“It would be wrong if you didn’t,” you tried to alleviate the pain in any way you knew how, but you knew it wouldn’t help. When your own parents had passed, you had stayed in your room for days, a blank-eyed zombie of the person you used to be. It was only when your brother came in to see you that you broke down crying. Charles and Lorenzo had held your hands during the funeral.

You then hugged Lorenzo tightly. He let out a shuddering sigh at your embrace. You always knew the pressure on him was high, but it was as if he was finally releasing it. You knew that he would be okay eventually.

And finally, you sat in between Arthur and Charles. “Come here,” you whispered to the former who fell onto your shoulder, crying quietly.

“Is this how it feels?” The youngest Leclerc brother asked you in a voice so unlike his own. “Is this how it feels to lose someone you love? Why does anyone love when it hurts so much?”

“I don’t know, Artie.” The childhood nickname slipped past your lips. “I don’t know.”

Charles let out a shuddering breath and Arthur pulled away from you, nodding his head at you to comfort Charles. “Mon bonheur,” you wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

That’s when Charles let out a broken sob and curled himself into your lap. He buried himself into you, tears soaking through your nightwear. He sounded like a crushed man, his cries turning to a need for love. “Papa,” his voice broke. “Why does everyone have to leave?”

“No one is leaving you, mon bonheur,” you reassured him.

“Yes, they are!” he protested, “Papa left all of us and now you’ll leave too and I… I can’t let that happen.”

“I’m not leaving you.” You couldn’t help but smile sadly. “Artie’s been helping me think it through and I’m going to move back to Monaco. I’ve missed you guys too much to leave again.”

“Really?” Charles sounded like a lonely child.

“Really,” you confirmed it with a nod of your head. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, as will your family because we love you.” You rested your cheek on his hair. “It’ll all be alright. This is the hardest part of it all.” All the Leclerc’s were listening in, hoping for some way to cope with the loss of their husband and father. “But it’ll get easier. One day you’ll wake up and not think about him at all. Then you’ll go to bed and realise it and feel bad, because you think you need to remember him everyday to honour him and all the happy times together. But then someone makes you laugh and you feel back to your old self for a second. Then you’ll realise it’s what he would want. He would want you to laugh and love and live. Just because someone is gone doesn’t mean you can stop living. Every once in a while you’ll see something that will remind you of him and you’ll think of a good time together. Everything will turn a shade of melancholy for a while, but you’ll see your family and they’ll lift you up again. No one leaves you. And the reason why it hurts so much, Artie,” you direct your words to him, “is because you loved him. To be human is to love and to lose. And it’s terrible. And we hate it. Losing someone is an awful thing to go through and there’s nothing that anyone can do or say that will make the pain go away. But you still have each other,” you shrug. “That seems like a pretty sweet deal.”

“You were always the best at pep talks,” Lorenzo huffs a small laugh. “Could always make me feel better after a hard day.”

“We should employ you as our personal pep-talker,” Arthur added, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“How much would I get paid?” you retorted, trying to bring humour to the situation.

“As much as you need to keep you here.” Charles immersed himself in you. He loved the way you smelled, the way your skin sent shivers up his, the way your heart beated, and everything else about you.

“Come along, boys,” Pascale stood up suddenly. “There’s a lot that needs to be done.”

The next days were a blur. You hardly remembered any of it. Pascale was in charge of planning Hervé’s funeral, and when it got too overwhelming, Arthur took over. Your hours were filled with planning the coronation. Luckily, most of it was protocol and out of your control, but swabs of fabric and long guest lists were still shoved your way. Mercifully, Lorenzo assisted you with the intricate monarchy procedures. Charles was off doing who knows what and who knows where. Some nights you would peek into his room and find him sprawled out on the bed, snoring softly. You would ease his shoes off his feet and carefully loosen his tie before sneaking out of the room.

Overnight, it was as if the castle had transformed. The flags were all drawn at half-mast, yards of black fabric covered the windows, and everyday at noon, the bells would toll endlessly.

You weren’t allowed to walk with the royal family at the procession, but instead with the long lines of servants that came after the guards and knights. Crowds gathered in the streets to watch their beloved king parade pass in a suffocating, but ethereal and eternal coffin. You wanted to cover your ears as bells rang and rang and rang as the procession went on.

During the funeral, Arthur brought you up to the front so you could take your rightful place among the family. Charles instantly gripped your hand.

This wasn’t like your parents funeral, both of whom had died in combat when a stray bomb had blown their lives away. They were buried in a small military cemetery on the outskirts of Monaco where you were handed two Monégasque flags as the next-of-kin. That’s what had broken you on that day, being reminded of how your parents died. Of course, the press didn’t care, hounding after their next story of Monaco Royal Family Seen at Random Funeral or We Invade Someone’s Mourning Time to Get Pictures of our Monarchs or New Girlfriend to a Monégasque Prince Because They Were Seen Holding Hands at a Sad Event? Lorenzo and Charles had given the press a good talking-to.

King Hervé’s funeral was in a grand church where he would be buried in a stone mausoleum after the traditional prayers. Queen Pascale laid a red carnation on his coffin before it was lowered into the hauntingly beautiful mausoleum.

Charles let out a low sigh and when you glanced over you saw him crying silently. You knew no words could help him at that moment. It was as if you could feel the sadness radiating off of him. You would take it all away if you could. Anything to help him.

Charles had the same thought during your parents’ funeral.

His coronation was three days later. Arthur had found a loophole in the ceremony and instead of sending you an invitation, wrote you down as his plus-one, therefore earning you a seat in the front row. You had puzzled over what to wear that day, finally settling on a red gown for the colours of Monaco. Arthur and you entered behind Lorenzo and Pascale as the Monégasque anthem played.

“Oh my gosh,” Arthur muttered to you. “So many stuffy people in stuffy clothes.”

You shushed him, “quiet!” Arthur gave you his signature side-eye and you wanted to burst out laughing. You tried to hold it in but a snicker got past you. Arthur let out a giggle at that. Pascale held a finger to her lips, hiding a smile of her own.

The priest marched down the aisle and as he reached the altar, the organ stopped playing. A choir started singing, everybody stood, and Charles entered the church.

You almost stopped breathing.

You had never seen him look so regal. Charles was adorned by the coronation robes and crown jewels. His hair was styled to perfection and his shoes shined so brightly you could see your reflection in them. He was celestial.

“Close your mouth,” Arthur bent over and whispered to you. “You’ll catch flies.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed.

“Swearing in a house of God?” Arthur hissed. “Heinous.”

As Charles passed, people bowed. When Charles glided by the first row, Lorenzo and Arthur bent at the waist while you curtsied deeply. Pascale stayed upright but placed a hand over her heart. Charles climbed the steps and knelt before the priest.

The priest gave a long speech and you could practically feel Charles’ irritation rolling off of him in waves. His knees must be hurting by now. Finally, he was to recite his vows.

“Is your Majesty willing to take Oath?” the priest asked.

“I am willing,” Charles’ voice reverberated through the hall. Something stirred in your chest. You knew he was telling the truth.

The priest outstretched the royal sceptre towards Charles. “Will you accept the responsibilities as king for as long as you shall live?”

“I do,” Charles gripped the sceptre and held the cool metal in his palm.

“Will you solemnly swear to govern the people of Monaco and promise to execute Law, Justice, and Mercy in all your judgements?”

“I swear,” Charles repeated.

“Will you to the utmost of your power,” the priest declared, “maintain the Laws of God and its true profession? Will you maintain and preserve inviolably the settlement of the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government thereof, as by law established in Monaco? Will you preserve all such rights and privileges of the people of Monaco, as by law do or shall appertain to them?”

“I do swear by all.”

“Will you to the utmost of your power hold true peace under your rule?”

“I will,”

“And you,” the priest raised his arms and addressed the church. “The people and subjects of Monaco, all who so desire, say together: ‘I swear that I will pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs and successors, according to law, so help us in the name of our country.’”

People all over Monaco joined together to say, “I swear that I will pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs,” Arthur nudged your arm at that and you pinched him. “And successors, according to law, so help us in the name of our country.” Charles bowed his head as he listened to his people.

“Do the people of Monaco accept Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc to be crowned as their king?”

“We do,”

“Will the princes and heirs of Monaco please join us at the altar?” Lorenzo and Arthur stepped out into the church aisle and Charles stood and turned around. His robe curled around his feet and the spectre gleamed in the stained glass light. He caught your eye right away and you sent him a wink, lips curling into a smile. The new King of Monaco blushed and glanced at his feet. Pascale beamed at the exchange.

“Please kneel at the feet of your King,” the priest asked of the Leclerc boys. They did as they were told. Charles outstretched his hand which wore the royal ring. “Do you swear to aid your King in any way possible? Do you swear, in case of harm, to assume the position of monarch of Monaco until your King is married in law and love?” Charles’ swallowed and his stare remained firmly on the ground.

“We swear.” They both took turns grasping Charles’ hand and gently placing a kiss on the ring.

“You may return to your seats,” the priest allowed.

Arthur stood back next to you and said, “My mouth tastes like metal.”

“Sucks to be you.”

The priest concluded, “Let us rejoice in our new sovereign king of Monaco as he pledges to serve and protect us all.” The priest turned and lifted the Crown of Monaco from an altarboy. “Let Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc be crowned as the King of Monaco.” And he placed the Monégasque royal crown on Charles’ head.

Charles embraced the thunderous applause of his people. A swelling pride erupted in your chest. You had never been so elated.

“Then let this joyous day be celebrated across the land in the eyes of God,” the priest called out loudly and Charles stepped down the altar stairs and into the role of King.

“Where’s Lorenzo?”

“I don’t wanna know.”

“You don’t think…”

“Oh, I know! I saw him going off with a daughter of a duke a couple minutes ago.”

“Ew!” You groaned, shaking your head furiously, knowing the next time you saw Lorenzo, you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye.

“What do you expect?” Charles whispered in your ear, body pressed up against yours. “This is Arthur’s seventeenth birthday. We’re all legal now.”

“And are you going to exploit your legality?” You smirked, tilting up to look at him.

Charles hummed lowly and you could feel the vibration in his chest. “Maybe. Are you?”

You thought about your next words. You were sure he could feel your heart; it was banging like a drum, erupting with butterflies, and fluttering with worries. If you responded with a nod, where could it take you? If you shook your head, would you spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been?

And did you want this?

Did you want Charles?

… Did you even like Charles?

Charles picked up on your hesitancy and said quietly, “there’s absolutely no pressure, but I want you to know that my room is always open to you.” You glanced at him, noting the double entendre, before letting your eyes rest comfortably back on his chest. It was emblazoned with medals and sashes, akin to his brothers.

You gave him a single nod- one that only he could see. A secret between the two of you. In response, Charles pressed a kiss to your forehead.

That night, you paced outside his room for quite some time. Fear eventually overcame you and you hurried back to your room. You couldn’t go in. Charles sat awake, waiting all night with the hope that you would come to him.

The next weekend you left for college. You didn’t see him again until Lorenzo’s abdication, but it was as you never left.

“May I have this dance?” You turned to see Charles standing behind you, smiling cockily. He had changed out of his robe for a much more modern black tuxedo, paired with a red pocket square.

“Of course, my King.” Charles’ eyes darkened at your response and he raised a brow. “But are you sure you want your first dance to be with me?”

“Who else would I dance with?” Charles wondered. “I’ve already danced with my mother. I want the next to be with you.”

You let the king sweep you out onto the dance floor, letting the years of training take hold of you. Effortlessly, the two of you were able to float along and keep up conversation.

You asked, “how do you feel?”

Charles shrugged. “No different from when I woke up. Must I say, you are looking radiant today.”

You dipped your head to hide your smile. “Thank you. I can’t remember the last time I got dressed up.”

Charles hummed, but didn’t say anything. After a moment, he said, “it was just procedure, you know that, right?”

“What do you mean?” Charles spun you around in a small circle before bringing you back to him.

“They still have that stupid line in the coronation vows. ‘Pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs and successors.’” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if I have heirs or not. They still have Arthur as next in line.”

You frowned. “I thought you wanted a family?”

“I do,” Charles stopped dancing. Your hand rested on his shoulder and his gripped your waist. Your other hands were entwined intimately. If he could, Charles would stay like this forever. No one else; just you and him. That’s all he ever needed. “I think I’ve made that clear.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” You wanted to step away from him. You needed to put some distance between the two of you, but you couldn’t. You could never leave him. It was like a magnetic force connected the two of you. No matter how long you were apart, you would always end up back in each other's arms.

“Fear,” Charles admitted. “I couldn’t handle rejection. It would break me. All my life I’ve known it’s her. Somewhere deep inside of me could tell. I can’t be away from her. I need to see her and make sure she’s safe. I need to hold her and love her. Whenever we’re apart it tears me up inside. If she were ever to refuse me I don’t know how I would go on. She’s my other half. My lasting pair. Ma chérie.”

People were stopping and staring at the King and you. Lorenzo poked at his mother who stifled a gasp.

Arthur asked, “why aren’t they dancing?”

“I don’t know,” Lorenzo sounded panicked. “The press are going to have a field day.”

“Don’t you boys see?” Pascale was grinning. “They’re in love and finally realising it. Who cares about the press? This is about them.”

“You were always one for romance, mama,” Arthur said.

“Charlie,” you said. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Charles beamed and did as he was told. You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around his neck. One of his hands cupped your cheek while the other settled on the small of your back, wanting you closer still. It was a tender kiss, and long overdue. It was like kissing was created just for the two of you; just so you could experience each other. If deities were real, you were sure Aphrodite had smiled down from the heavens and chosen you and Charles.

When you broke apart and the cameras continued flashing, Charles said, “ma chérie, I cannot tell you how long I’ve waited for that.”

“I hope you weren’t disappointed?”

“With you? Never.”

It was a quiet morning. You had woken up a few minutes ago but decided to stay in your husband’s warm embrace. Charles’ arm was wrapped tightly around your torso and you could feel his breath on your bare shoulder.

Charles shifted softly and groaned, “good morning.” You would never get used to his morning voice.

“I’ll never get used to your morning voice.” You rolled over to greet him. Charles smiled lazily and stroked your cheek lovingly.

“Hello my beautiful Queen.”

“Hello my handsome King. Did you sleep well?”

“With what little sleep I got, I slept wonderfully.” He winked, referring to last night’s activities.

“What do you have planned for today?” you asked while reaching for his hand. Charles gladly gave it to you and interlaced your fingers.

“Just a couple of meetings with the Board. Then I’ll have the rest of the day to spend with you and Liza.”

“That’s nice. She’s been wanting to show you her new tricks on Danvers.” You referred to your daughter’s horse.

“She’s going to surpass me someday.” Charles jokingly shook his head.

“Hate to break it to you, but she already has, old man,” you teased.

Charles gaped at your words. “Old man?! If that’s true, then you’re calling yourself an old woman.”

“I’m not an old woman,” you explained. “I just married an old man. I’m in it for the money.”

Charles laughed loudly. “Well, I hope you’re happy with your old man, ma chérie, because he’s not ever letting you go.”

“I’m very happy with him.” You grinned and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

Before Charles could chase after you with the complaint of wanting a real kiss, the door to your bedroom banged open.

“Maman! Papa!” A little voice called out.

“Is everyone decent?” Arthur yelled out from around the corner. He stuck his head in the room, eyes firmly closed. “‘Cause I still have the last image burned into my retinas.”

“You only saw my butt!” Charles scoffed.

“It was plenty,” Arthur drew out the last word. He shuddered from the memory.

Eliza jumped on the bed and into Charles’ arms. “Uncle Artie and Grammy are gonna take me to London!”

“What?” You sat up and quickly grabbed Charles’ discared shirt that still lay on the floor from last night. Buttoning it up, you demanded, “Arthur, come here.”

Arthur’s face morphed into one of fear. “Mama was the one that suggested it!” he defended, “and Liza promised not to tell.”

“That’s worse,” you pointed out.

“Do you have to work today, Papa?” Liza asked Charles.

“Only a little in the morning,” Charles said, settling her on his lap. “Then I’m all yours in the afternoon.”

“Can we go swimming?” Eliza asked.

“Yes,”

“And horseback riding?”

“Of course,”

“And can we have a tea party with Grammy and Daniel?” Liza gasped, thinking only of her grandma and favourite castle guard. Their connection had begun early on when you found Daniel playing with Eliza one evening. You had apologised profusely, but he simply scooped her up and promised it was no big deal. They had become quick friends.

“Only if there’s donuts,” Charles bargained.

“Only if we can have it in your room under the painting.” She pointed to A Huguenot which had presided over your room ever since you moved in with Charles.

Charles thought for a moment before sticking his hand out. “Deal.” He and his daughter shook hands.

“Liza?” You kissed her forehead and asked her, “why don’t you go play with Uncle Artie for a while until your Daddy and I can join you for breakfast?”

“Okay!” The girl happily jumped off the bed and ran out of the room.

Arthur scampered after and yelled out in warning, “I better not hear any other cries for ‘Daddy!’”

You rolled your eyes while Charles restrained from cursing at his brother for fear of his daughter hearing him. You leaned back into Charles’ chest and he laid his head on yours. After a moment, he whispered, “you’ve been sleeping through the night.”

“I have been.” You nodded. “I think I’ve had the perfect person to help me fall asleep.”

“Or maybe you’re just too tired after each night.” Charles started kissing your neck, slowly starting to suck a hickey.

You let out a soft moan and clutched his hand. “Charlie,” you murmured through gritted teeth. “Liza’s expecting us.”

“She can wait.” Charles laid you down softly on the sheets. “I love you, ma chérie.” He pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

“I love you too, mon bonheur.”

People in the F1 world I wanna be friends with but am too scared to message: @leclsrc @hey-kae @vinvantae @schuvries

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st4rg1rl-16 · 2 months

Text

━━ ✶✶˖° 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗫 | 𝗡𝟰𝗦.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ━ 2019 to 2023!11 grid x driver!female oc

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━ mattia calls for a meeting to talk about the relationship between his drivers, after it nick becomes suspicious about his feelings towards arabella

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 ━ 2019, 10 april

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ━ shanghai, china

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ━ anxiety, anxiety attack, sexism (there’s going to be a lot of this in this fic) mattia binotto slowly starting to show his true colors, kids being little shits to our babygirl

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━ i was going to post this yesterday for valentines but since I’m single af and I was tired and bored of seeing all those people in love I tried to do my own bangs and guess what? i fucked up HAHSHSH so I was sad (I still am, I hate my hair so much right now) btw the parts in cursive like this are flashbacks or little previews of the future, keep that in mind!!!

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ━ @namgification @louvrepool @d3kstar @omgsuperstarg @whoselly @yl90 @wcnorris

• — need for speed’s masterlist

“OH, I also receive threats from tifosi. Things like "You are a traitor, you have left Ferrari for the enemy."

"Why did you leave Ferrari?" The interviewer, sitting in front of her but out of the eye of the camera, asked her.

The twenty-two-year-old Arabella let out a laugh in a snort raising her hips to get more comfortable in the armchair “Ferrari was not very... kind to me so I stopped being kind to Ferrari”.

Two, almost three, years earlier, an eighteen-year-old Arabella was sitting in an uncomfortable chair without being able to avoid comparing the beginning of her day to that moment. The cold office did not look anything like the warm room, the uncomfortable chair could not be compared to the comfortable and soft bed and, of course, the look that Mattia Binotto was giving her was the opposite of the affectionate and warm look that Charles had given her when she had woken up in his arms.

She looked up at her manager, who watched her standing behind Ferrari's boss, with his arms crossed over his chest and serious face. Next to him was Charles' manager.

She looked down at her hands where her fingers had begun to play with the rings that occupied the opposite fingers. She wanted to look at Charles to see a smile, a look or at least feel his hand against her giving hers a squeeze trying to say that everything was going to be fine but she preferred not to do it.

"I'm going to get straight to the point, I don't want to waste some time we need" The Italian's black curls peeked out under the red cap when he shook his head looking at his wrist where a watch was. He looked up to the front again to see his drivers “Are you dating, yes or no?”.

A deep silence crossed the room after the question while the three "adults" looked at them expectantly. The silence was clear but for Arabella there was a lot of noise in the room, she could hear her heart beating in her ears, Charles' breathing next to her, the annoying noise that Binotto's fingertips made when he hit the glass of his desk.

When he saw that they didn't answer, the Italian let out a sigh “I need you to tell me the truth. It's not that I care who you sleep with but the men above seem to care and they don't find it funny their drivers dating” He looked at them desperately “You can lose your seats in Ferrari because of this, guys”.

"It would be a breach of contract," Nicolas, the manager of the 16, said in a sigh. He looked at his client with severity “Not only would you lose your position in Ferrari but you could be sued”.

An alarm began to sound non-stop in the head of the youngest in the room, suddenly she felt a dizziness and her chest contracted. She thought of her parents, of her brother, of her eleven-year-old self. It would be a disappointment for them.

Everything she had fought for would go to hell in a second.

She dared to look at Charles sideways and when she did she had to take a breath, he was already looking at her. She separated her gaze from his and lowered it to the ground, her hands began to play with each other again before she squeezed her jaw and looked up: looking, for the first time since she had entered the room, at their boss.

"We're just friends, can't friends hold hands?" A crooked smile slipped down her lips while she shrugged "I'm sorry, I can't help it, I'm very affectionate. You can ask Carlos, Lando or anyone, I'm always holding hands with them or hugging them”.

The eldest of the room turned to her manager looking for confirmation and when he saw Nick nod he let out a sigh of relief that almost went unnoticed by the others present. He turned his gaze to the young duo in front of him and nodded to himself "Well, then there's not much to say. You are free to go”.

The first to get up from the chair was the girl, who began to go to the glass door wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. She heard the chair in which Charles was sitting crawling on the floor and a short time later she felt his presence behind her. She placed her hand on the doorknob ready to leave but the voice of the team boss stopped her.

"Avoid expressions of affection in public, please. We can let it go once, but twice...”His tone was calm but it hid something behind his words, the girl didn't want to jump to conclusions but could swear that it was a threat. She knew that the words were for the both of them, but then, why did she feel his eyes only on her?.

She heard Charles' voice respond with a "Yes, sir" while she turned again to get out of there once and for all but then she heard her name with a slight Italian accent overflowing through the white walls causing her hand to freeze on the doorknob, she closed her eyes strongly waiting for the worst.

"I'm sorry for what has happened in Twitter, the advertizing team has already taken care of everything. I can't even imagine what you've been through” His words were nice and even somewhat kind but the tone with which he had said them made it clear that those were not the feelings he really felt towards the girl. She looked at him over her shoulder, ignoring the questioning expression on Charles' face and the frown of her manager, and nodded before running out of there.

She passed through the garage aware of the not at all disguised looks of the team on her, she accelerated the pace wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

She needed to be alone, get away from reality even if it was for ten minutes. She felt that at any moment she was going to faint.

She went to her driver’s room, she was mentally grateful that the area of the rooms was empty, she hurried to close the door but Charles' foot in the middle prevented her from doing so. She looked up slowly over the boy's leg until she reached his face, she snarled.

"Move”.

“No”.

"Charles, move” She pushed the door but with the boy's foot in the middle it didn't move too much. She looked at him angrily “Remove it or I'll destroy your foot”.

"We have to talk about what has happened, Bells" He looked at her pleadingly but she still didn't remove her expression from her face.

"There's nothing to talk about" She snarled, squeezing her grip on the doorknob "Everything has already become clear in there”.

The Monegasque bit his lower lip, this could not be happening. Only four hours ago they were lying in bed kissing until they were out of breath. He looked at her face, her precious face, and cursed himself for having fallen into her charms. Because of them, they were now on a thin line that threatened to break. He felt guilty, he was the one who had kissed her, he was the one who was looking for her, he had started everything.

On the other hand, he was angry, with Binotto, with him and right now with her. Why did she have such a hard time talking about things? Why did she run away at the first change? He thought that maybe it was because she was younger than him, after all, they were three years apart and she was only eighteen, she was a still a kid.

He sighed leaning his forehead on the door “Whether you like it or not, we have to talk”.

A silence formed between the two that was soon interrupted by the girl's sobs trying to escape through her throat, he heard her sip her nose.

"What do we have to talk about, Charles?" She no longer sounded angry but sad and hurt, her voice trembled "We can't be together, if we do we will lose our seats. Everything is against us”.

A puncture made a hole in the male driver’s chest “So that's it? Don't you want us to be together?”.

She opened the door and pushed him into the room, closed the door quickly. Unfortunately, now they couldn't risk anyone seeing them arguing or anything. Now they would have to think very carefully about what their interactions would be like both in public and in private, you never know because as her grandmother said "the walls have ears and eyes."

Charles dedicated himself to observing her, her green eyes were already injected with blood and her cheeks wet. Her nose was red. He felt even worse because he knew it was his fault.

"It's not that I don't want to be with you, it's that I can't!" She exclaimed frustrated. She was tired, she felt that all this was way big for her. Her anxiety didn't help the situation too much and that she had little experience in couple arguments wasn't very helpful either. She moved her hands in front of her showing her frustration, she didn't really know how to express her feelings or her thoughts “I can't risk everything I've achieved, everything I've suffered for”.

"And you think I haven't suffered?" He looked at her in disbelief "I have also suffered to get here. It took me a long time to get here, you know?”.

An ironic smile stuck on her lips as she snorted “You have grown up with money, with friends and a dick between your legs. I didn't. I hardly had any money to eat, the other children didn't want to be my friends and I was a girl. You don't know how difficult it is to be a girl in this world and much less in a sport in which there are only men. So yes, it may be that you have suffered, but I don't think you have suffered the same as I did”.

"I understand, but you can't run away just like that" He tried to touch her arm but she moved away, he licked his dry lips and frowned feeling rejected "What did Mattia mean by what happened in Twitter?".

He observed how the color went away from her skin and how her face deformed showing several emotions that he didn’t know how to decipher although he could differentiate the fear from the others before faking a look of indifference “I don't know”.

"Yes, you do" He raised his arm pointing to her face "You have it written all over your face, don't lie to me”.

"I'm not lying to you”.

"Then tell me!".

"There's nothing to tell".

Both began to raise their voices, one more fed up than the other of the conversation. It was clear that neither of them wanted to have that conversation but, unfortunately, you don't always have what you want.

Charles' face began to take the same color as the red that decorated some of the walls and objects of the room, a vein began to take shape on his forehead “Let me help you, Arabella! I'm here for you, it's not that hard, fuck!”.

"Maybe not for you, but for me it is!" She shouted back, her eyes getting redder and red as tears ran freely down her cheeks. She put a hand to her chest and pulled her shirt “I feel like I can't breathe every time I want to explain how I feel and you want me to let you help me because...don't you feel connected to me or something like that?! I'm sorry, okay?! I'm sorry I'm not like the other girls you've dated, I'm sorry I can't tell you at all times what I'm thinking or feeling!”.

Finally the silence was present between them, the only thing that could be heard was the girl's quick breathing and how the boy absorbed his nose from time to time. Both were with red eyes and soaked cheeks.

Finally she let out a sob breaking the silence, wiped her nose with the sleeve of her red sweatshirt and gave him a sad smile “I'm sorry, but I can't risk it”.

"Ma belle, I..." The angriness that ran through his body was still there but now Charles felt bad, bad because she was right.

She took a breath of air feeling an anxiety attack cover her body, squeezed her lips trying to swallow the sob that was on its way down her throat and looked at him with her eyes bathed in tears "Everything has gone very fast and look at us" She pointed between the two while shaking her head "Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. We should give ourselves some time”.

And with that she turned around and, again, she ran out of there, leaving Charles trying to pick up the pieces of his broken heart from the ground.

“ELVIRA, Elvira...” The tall man's gaze moved non-stop throughout the red garage, trying to find the black and smooth hair between the sea of red shirts.

He clicked his tongue rolling his hand in the bicep of his little girl's engineer, Alexander raised his neck to look at him curiously.

"Have you seen Elvira?" He asked urgently to which the eldest smiled broadly, kneeling his index finger in the chest of the tall one, he looked at his finger frowning before turning his gaze to the man.

"I knew that there was something between you two" He also clicked his tongue shaking his head while the blond looked at him as if a second head had come out on his shoulder.

He began to question whether that man was in a good mental state to be a Formula One engineer but he ignored it, it was not the time.

"Have you seen her yes or no?"

"Ah, yes, yes" He took off his glasses and wiped them clean with the edge of his red polo shirt before pointing in the opposite direction "I think I saw her go around there”.

He sighed a thank you before starting to jog in that direction. He felt a bad feeling on his chest, he knew that something was not right as soon as he left the office of the head of the team. Had he heard wrong or had Binotto threatened Arabella? Well, technically he had threatened both of them but while he was doing it, he could see his gaze on the girl more than on the monegasque.

He moved in the direction of the cafeteria, he lightened his step when he saw the black, long and smooth hair move on one side on the fabric of the red polo shirt that covered Elvira's back. He approached her exclaiming her name, making her stand in her place and turn to look at her.

"What did Mattia say?" She asked him once he was close to her. The publicist observed him worried because although she knew Arabella for a short time, she had taken affection for her and was worried about her.

He took her by the elbow and started pulling her “Come, we have to talk somewhere where they don't hear us”.

The woman's frown furrowed as she looked at the back of the blond's head, beginning to feel anguish in her chest “It was that bad?”

He pulled her until he found a small space between garages, they both got into the small "alley" hoping that there was no one nearby to listen to them.

"Nick, can you tell me what happened?!" Elvira was already hysterical, her coworker was getting on her nerves with so much secrecy.

He raised his hands trying to calm her down "Well, okay, okay" He put both hands on his hips and took a breath “I have the slight suspicion that Binotto has threatened Arabella”.

"What?" She looked at him strangely "What do you mean, has he threatened her?".

"He was scolding them over the photo that has gone viral but his gaze was on her all the time, it was as if Charles was not present. And in the end he said something like "it can't be repeated again" and, seriously, Elvi, he just looked at her!”

"But, it doesn't have to. Arabella hasn't done anything wrong”.

"Not everyone likes a woman in Formula One, Elvira. Mattia may be one of them”

"But he has been treating her well so far”.

"Maybe he was trying to be professional until he saw the opportunity" He sighed running his hand over his face showing his frustration.

Maybe they were taking things out of context but when there was as much money involved as there was in Formula One, neither of them was surprised that the situation was true.

Both remained silent, weighing the situation and the consequences it would bring with it if it were true.

The woman with pale skin like milk bit her lower lip “Do you think she has noticed?”.

"I know she did. Arabella is an observer, of course she has noticed” He nodded, turning his head to look for something to sit on. There were a couple of boxes so he took a few steps back and sat on top of them, he really needed to sit down. He felt that his blood pressure was raising.

"And what are you going to do?".

"For the moment, try not to get her into some scandal that involves Leclerc, keep an eye on Mattia and pray that these two years will pass quickly and without any problems”.

"And when her contract with Ferrari ends?".

"Last month Toto Wolff made it very clear that he is interested in Arabella, Zak and Christian are also looking to sign her" He denied with a smile on his face, but it was not a smile of joy but one of incredibleness.

"Horner? I don't think it's a good idea for her to go to Red Bull, not when they have Verstappen”.

He nodded in agreement with her “Yes, they would belittle her as they do with Pierre but if she goes to Mercedes they would do the same, they have the five-time champion as the leading driver”.

"Valtteri doesn't seem very unhappy" She crossed her arms resting his back on the wall.

"This sucks" He let out a sigh, throwing his head back "When she was in Formula Two, everything was much easier. I miss that”.

She looked at him with empathy “But now she is in Formula One. She is going to be a star, Nick”.

"But the stars fall from the sky and I don't want her to be hurt. You've already seen what they say about her on the internet, she's just a little girl!” Unintentionally, his head revived yesterday when his was in his hotel room watching a chinese romantic comedy and suddenly his phone seemed to explode from all the notifications he was receiving. He almost started to cry when he read the things people said about Arabella.

"She is a little girl who drives a car at three hundred kilometers per hour defying death every weekend. She is a little girl who has entered in Fotmula One, something that no little girl has been able to achieve for many years” She approached him looking at him with sadness because she knew it hurt. I knew that the girl was the closest thing he had to a daughter “You know she's not just a little girl”.

"But it's been so recently that her race suit was bigger than her" An expression of melancholy crossed his face as he remembered a little Arabella fighting with her race suit so that it didn't fall off her waist.

"I know that you've known her for many years and that you see her as a daughter and that's why it hurts you that all this is happening because you know that it also hurts her, but it's her dream, isn't it?" She looked at him expectantly and after a few seconds he nodded.

He began to play with his hands, a bead bracelet, clearly made by a little girl, peeked out of the sleeve of his left arm attracting the woman's attention. It was seen that it was old because the beads were white but with pieces of colors staining them indicating that they had lost the color and the rope on which it held itself seemed to be struggling for every second of it’s life.

She was able to appreciate the letters forming a 'Nicky ♡'.

"I have shed sweat, blood and tears for that girl since I met her ten years ago" He began to play with the bracelet, an act he did every time he was nervous "And I have never asked for anything in return, only that nothing ever happened to her but now there are fifty thousand people saying dirty shit about her on twitter, her boss seems to hate her and I don't know what to do. I always know what to do but not now” The air got stuck in his chest and his voice trembled becoming hoarse “And I can't ask her because she has trouble letting people help her, now I never know what she's thinking and I know that her anxiety is not helping. And I'm afraid because I'm the one who must protect her, her parents gave me that honor and now I can't do it”.

She stroked her arm to tell him that she was there for him, she felt a tear running down her cheek "You're doing well, Nick. Just... talk to her and make it clear that you are there for her.”

The man let out a little laugh “I wish it was so easy”.

“AND Arabella Torres crosses the finish line two minutes apart from Marcos Gómez!

From ear to ear, the smile of the eleven-year-old girl couldn't be bigger. From the podium she looked at the audience and smiled even more –if it was possible– when some hands showed up in front of her and extended the trophy. Her small hands took it between tremors, she analyzed it for a few seconds before lifting it over her head. She looked at her podium teammates waiting to see their smiles but it wasn't like that, both children looked at her seriously before looking at each other sharing a look of displeasure.

Suddenly her smile no longer reached her ears.

She lowered the trophy and after the photos she got off the podium, trying to find her parents. She pulled the brilliant trophy without much desire going to where they decided that she would meet with her family after finishing the race.

"I'm sick of her" The voice of the second winner of the day filled her ears, she frowned and hid behind a wall of one of the trailers.

Listening to other people's conversations is wrong, Arabella. Her mother would have said but she couldn't help it.

"I don't understand what she is doing here" Another voice joined him "She's a girl! This is not for girls”.

"My father said that they let her win because her family is very poor”.

"In addition to the fact that she is very annoying, I hate her. She gives me a headache just for listening to her”.

"She's not even good at driving”.

"She thinks she is a big deal for being the only girl but she'll never get to anything”.

Maybe she should have thought more about what her mother told him and not let curiosity win her over. Because as they say, curiosity killed the cat but this time it killed the heart of little Arabella.

A pout began to threaten to be present on her small lips, she released the trophy and turned around ready to run away but her body crashing into a larger one prevented her from doing so.

"I'm sorry" She murmured, passing her small hand formed in a fist through her eyes, trying to wipe away the tears.

"Don't worry" The man bent down to see her better, he extended a tissue to her "You're today's champion, right?".

She frowned slightly when she heard him speak in english and let out the smallest of sighs, it's not that she was bad at english but she still didn't speak it fluently and it was a little tedious for her to have to be speaking in another language being sad.

She looked up a little, enough to see the tissue in his hands and accepted it murmuring a "Thank you" before wiping her face, once she did she looked at the man.

"Sebastian Vettel" A gasp came out of her little lips when she realized that he was the Formula One driver. She couldn't believe it, it was Sebastian Vettel!

The german laughed "Yes, that's me. What's your name?”.

"Arabella" She said and he extended his hand to her, she looked at him curiously.

"Nice too met you, Arabella” Between his gigantic hand he took hers and waved them up and down "Now, can you tell me why you were crying? Are you lost? I can help you find your parents”.

"No, no, I know where they are" The tissue moved with every gesture that the little girl made and Vettel smiled again, the girl seemed adorable with her big green eyes and dressed in her little race suit.

He had always wanted to have a daughter, he was still very young but he was sure of it and even more so after seeing little Arabella.

"Well, then?".

He regretted asking because he quickly noticed that she was uncomfortable, he squeezed his lips in a thin line waiting for the girl to say something. He opened his mouth to talk because it seemed like she wasn't going to tell him anything but he shut up when she suddenly answered.

"The other children hate me for being a girl" She shrugged, looking down at the tissue in her hands, began to play with it while a sad smile stuck in her lips "It’s okay, not always people have to like me”.

A puncture made a hole in the blond driver's chest. How is it that a little girl of nine, ten or eleven years old –he wasn’t very sure about her age– could speak like that? He grimaced by responding to himself, probably because she was already used to being rejected.

He looked at her with sympathy “That's true, not everyone will always like you and that's why you don't care. You have to ignore what they tell you or think, the only important thing here is you”.

Arabella looked at him with bright eyes and admiration coming out of every pore of her body because one of her favorite Formula One drivers was there in front of her giving her some advice. A piece of advice that she would take very serious.

"Seb, Seb!" A blond boy with blue eyes shouted the german's name as he ran towards them. Arabella looked at him cautiously, she didn't want another boy to make fun of her, much less in front of the next Formula One champion.

The older blond turned as soon as he heard the boy's voice and could swear that if he had looked in front of a mirror he could have seen a light bulb light up above his head. He smiled at the boy when he finally arrived next to them.

"Seb, dad is looking for you" He said between accelerated breaths, swallowed saliva and looked up, colliding with that of the mysterious girl who was with her father's friend. He frowned.

"Yes, I'm coming" Even without erasing his smile, he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and brought him closer to him "I want to introduce you to someone”.

"What are you doing?" He asked in german to what Sebastian looked at him badly.

"She's Arabella" He pointed to the girl, making him to look back at her. He observed her, she was a little taller than him and his green eyes attracted more attention than his blue ones. She was in a red and blue rice suit and a trophy was lying on the ground, not far from her, he deduced that she was the champion of the race. She sent him a smile to which he replied blushing, she was beautiful.

Sebastian's smile got bigger “He is Mick and I think you are going to be great friends”.

She hid her face between her arms and squeezed her grip on her knees more, bringing them even closer to her chest if that was possible. She let out several sobs, one stronger than the previous one, almost drowning with her own tears.

She cried for herself, for her family, for the boys and cried for Charles.

She had screwed up everything and she didn't know how she was going to fix it or if she could fix it.

She regretted everything and for a moment she wanted to go back to that moment when she decided to sit for the first time in that kart that was not for her and avoid it, if she had not touched it maybe now she would be in college and would be a normal girl with normal problems or maybe she would be unemployed struggling to find something to put in her mouth, she didn't know but at that moment anything seemed better than the present.

At what point had she stopped being in a hotel room living a honeymoon moment with Charles to have broke up with him, to have been threatened by her boss to fire her and be sexualized on twitter?.

"Oh, tyttö" Little girl. She heard someone's voice bringing her back to reality, she still didn't raise her head because her body had stopped working, she didn't feel anything. "What happened to you?".

She heard a few steps and then a presence near her, she felt like some hands made her raise her head, finding Kimi Räikönnen's cold blue eyes looking at her with some concern.

She couldn't answer, when she tried to speak her lips contracted in a pout and another sob ran away for them. The blond frowned, holding her head.

"You have to breathe, tyttö” He said but he didn't get an answer. The girl in front of him really looked like a corpse. He moved her head between his hands “Eh! Tyttö, are you listening to me? Breathe with me, c’mon”.

He began to do breathing exercises trying to get the girl to follow him, his heart jumped in his chest when she began to follow him. They stayed like that for about fifteen minutes until she stopped crying and was able to keep her head high on her own.

Once he separated from her, an uncomfortable silence embraced them. The eldest looked at her “Eh...Do you want to talk about it?”.

The girl shook her head and he felt a little relieved "How did you know what to do?".

"I'm a father, tyttö." He raised the bottle of water he had left on the floor as if he were toasting and drank from it "I know how to do everything”.

She let out a small smile at the finn's attitude and began to play shyly with the zipper of her jacket. The blond looked at her curiously.

"Is this for Binotto?" Arabella raised her head looking at him surprised.

"How...?"

"I'm friends with some of the engineers. I heard them talk about the twitter thing and Binotto scolding you and Leclerc”.

She let out a moan taking her gaze to her shoes “Great, so everyone knows”.

"You should not care, you shouldn’t give a fuck" Before the expression the girl laughed covering her knuckles with the sleeve of her jacket and passing the fabric over her cheeks to wipe the tears that silently continued to fall. The blond looked at her from above “You know what? I thought you were tough, I guess I was wrong”.

"Excuse me?" She looked at him somewhat offended.

"I thought you wouldn't care so much about what they'll say" Kimi was trying to get a reaction from her and Arabella, unconsciously, she knew it but still couldn't help but feel his words.

"Well, sometimes you can't take it anymore" She shrugged, looking away from him.

"I know you can do it, but you can't yet" He pointed out "The first day I saw you, I knew you were going to be big, you know? I knew you were going to change things, that you were going to make history" He drank from the bottle of water as if nothing had happened while Arabella looked up to him with her mouth open, was this really happening or had she become unconscious thanks to the anxiety attack?.

She wanted to laugh, the situation literally seemed surreal to her.

"You have a champion's face, so don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Don’t mind them, do whatever you want. Win races, get on the podium and show everyone who you are. If they are going to hate you okay, but give them a reason to hate you: be the best” The finn spoke with passion and knew that it was because he had experienced hatred first hand. He had been in that world for many years, he had seen many friends suffer from the hatred of the public eye but none of them were like her. He knew it was different because she was a woman and very young. She had achieved what many men hadn’t been able to but, right now, before him she was only a scared little girl.

Maybe he wasn't aware of what he was saying to the girl, much less about how her skin had bristled or how something had "clicked" on her head thanks to his words. But he still continued “Make them get bored of seeing you win, I know you can do it but remember that after all not always people like you”

That phrase reminded her of an old friend.

A phone rang, causing him to separate his gaze from her. He looked for the device in his pockets and when he found it he looked at the screen. He raised his head to look at the girl, who was looking at a fixed point in front of her “I have to go. Will you be okay?”

At his question, she raised her head and Kimi could swear that there was something different in her gaze. She gave him a small smile of gratitude “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Räikkönen”.

"Call me Kimi, tyttö”.

And with that he turned around and left, leaving the girl alone again.

She licked his lips observing how the figure of the Alfa Romeo’s driver disappeared in the distance. She tested the salt of her tears on her lips and sighed before moving her hand down her leg, looking for her own phone. She took it out of the pocket and after unlocking it she went to the contact app, her eyes moved all over the screen in unison with her finger, looking for the right name. Once she did it, she pressed the call button.

She put the device in her ear and waited for it to sound “Hey, uhm. I miss you, do you think you can come to the next race?".

161 notes · View notes

dear-bunnyboo · 11 months

Note

Hi I absolutely love your writing! 💗 I don’t know if you’re accepting requests, but I had an idea for a Jack Hughes imagine based on the song “Only Angel” by Harry Styles. Maybe friends to FWB. One night they hookup and he’s cocky and thinks he’ll have to teach her so much but, “ it turns out she’s a devil in the sheets”

hey love! thank you so much 🤍 i do take requests and it’s always open and you just gave me the biggest inspiration with your request. i am simply obsessed with this song hope you enjoy this, it’s hot hot hot.

inspired by only angel by Harry Styles, i recommend listening to the song while reading ;)

you guys need holy water after this one i am not kidding 🥵

❝𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 || 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒 18+❞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Jack Hughes x Best Friend!Reader

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 - 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jack swore he met an angel the second he laid eyes on his best friend but after years of friendship he realizes he doesn’t know everything about you.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content, smut, dirty talk, cursing, sexual tension, jealousy, possessiveness, friends with benefits relationship, friends to fwb to lovers? sex, oral, slight degradation, spanking, hair pulling, choking, spitting, raw fucking (wrap it before you tap it folks), kinks, filth, filth, and more filth (+ some fluffy and cute moments)

If you are below the age of 18 and or you are not comfortable with the warnings above, please don’t read this!

𝐍𝐇𝐋 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Angel

It’s what Jack would call you ever since he met you.

It happened when your family moved next to Hughes family, 7 year old Jack first laid his eyes on 7 year old you who was hiding behind your father’s legs, your grip tight— Jack spotted the curly pigtails you had your hair styled in, two pink ribbons decorated them both.

Jack then moved to your face. He watched your big doe eyes moved back and forth from his parents and yours who were too lost in their own conversation.

“This is our daughter, Y/N. She just turned seven a month ago—say hi, darling.” Your mother ushered you.

You slowly looked up from your feet and moved away from your hiding place behind your father’s legs— you were sporting an all pink tutu dress to match your little pink ribbons.

“Hello” a small timid voice came out of your mouth making the adults chuckle in awe.

“Hi, Y/N! These are my sons; Quinn is the oldest, Jack is your age, and Luke the youngest.”

Quinn and Luke simply said a polite “hello” just as shy as you were.

“Hi, I’m Jack! I like your dress.” Jack said moving closer to you.

Redness spread across your cheeks at the compliment and at the attention of everyone who were now watching you and Jack.

“T-thank you” you mustered out.

“Mom, doesn’t she look like an angel?” Jack turned to his mom who was gushing along with the rest of their parents.

“She does, sweetie.” Said his mom.

“That’s so sweet of you, Jack.” Your mom cooed.

Jack nodded at the approval and smiled at you again.

“Angel. That’s what I’ll call you.”

You and Jack’s relationship has always been the same.

After years and years the dynamic never changed.

Jack was always Jack— the confident and cocky one out of the two. While you were always “the angel” as Jack would have put it.

You and Jack were inseparable, in school he would always wait for you so you both can go to recess or lunch together. He would defend you from the boys who would pull on your pigtails or ribbons.

“I’ll tell the teacher about them. Don’t worry, angel.” Jack said as he tightened your ribbons on your hair after they were loosened by those boys.

“They probably were just teasing, Jacky.” You said with a shrug not at all bothered by those boys.

An angel that’s what you were— some people would call you naive or stupid but you were nowhere near naive or stupid, you were the smartest in the class, always on the top— you just didn’t like conflict and prefer giving people the benefit of the doubt.

Jack always thought you were too sweet for this world.

He would protect you from the people who just look at you funny.

Once you both got into high school he would scare away the guys who would try to get close with you.

Saying the same thing he always says when you question him about it “they don’t deserve someone like you, angel.”

You would support Jack with all his endeavors. All the school hockey tournaments you would watch, you would always be the one with the loudest cheer and the biggest smile whenever he would return.

Jack in return would watch your ballet recitals, watching you in awe.

When he got in the USA development program for hockey you were the most ecstatic.

When you got your first boyfriend he can’t understand the feeling he felt in his chest but he pushed them aside for you— you were happy and that was enough for him.

Then your first heartbreak.

The said boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend had the audacity to cheat on you with a bottle blonde bimbo from the cheer team.

You cried on his shoulder and clung onto him— promising yourself you would never put yourself through that again.

You did the same for him whenever he had worries, or whenever he lost a game, and whenever he would break up with one of his girlfriends. You were supporting of your best friend but that doesn’t stop the green eyed monster from creeping up the surface.

You were there when Jack got drafted first pick. You were there for every milestone of his career, on his first NHL game, his first NHL goal, his first NHL injury— you were there, as he was for you.

You’re each others’ biggest fans.

Once Jack moved to New Jersey the distance was the biggest problem. You both have not been far from each other for long, it was an adjustment but you two always made it work.

You would meet each other and hang out like you always did. You met his friends, his teammates— his friends found you adorable, how you still blushed over a dirty joke one of them made and how cute you looked in your favorite sundresses and little ribbons.

When you got an opportunity to work at the biggest ballet company at New Jersey, you just knew that it was meant to be.

As cliche as it sounded in your head, you knew you and Jack would find your way towards each other again and once Jack found out he immediately started looking for apartments for you— he wanted you to stay with him but you strongly opposed, you didn’t want to intrude his roommate Ty’s boundaries.

Everything was back to the way it was— like it was back home.

Endless movie marathons after Jack’s practice and morning skate, watching his games, Jack watching your recitals, Jack being your honorary ‘bag holder’ whenever you went out shopping, and parties whenever they end another hockey season.

Which brings you to today.

It was one of the end of the season parties the Devils have with friends, families, and the WAGS who all mutually decided you were a part of them no matter how hard you reiterate you were just Jack’s best friend—they would always giggle and brush you off, not believing one bit.

You can say it was the peak of the party. The music was getting louder, the people were getting rowdier and drunk.

You were very much sober.

You told Jack that you would be the designated driver so that he can celebrate properly for his achievements.

So here you were in the middle of the dance floor after being dragged by one of the wives who was continuously praising your movements.

“You know how to move those hips, girl damn.” She gushes from behind you.

“I dance for a living. It’ll be bad if I was terrible.” You joked.

Growing up ballet was your first love but you would join hiphop, jazz, and even contemporary workshops— you just loved to dance.

“Don’t look now but your man is burning holes at the back of your head.” She giggled whispering in your ear.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Jack is not my man.”

“I didn’t say Jack but okay.” She smirked before nodding towards the direction behind you.

Turning around you were met with Jack Hughes in all his glory standing with Nico and Ty as they tried to talk to him but his eyes were trained on you, a bottle of beer on his hand— the same one he has been nursing the entire night.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again, that man wants you. End everyone’s misery and just get with him already.”

“He doesn’t want me like that.” You shrugged maintaining eye contact with your best friend who refused to back down.

“Y/N, you are a smart woman, don’t be dumb.” She said exasperated.

You couldn’t even respond back to her because she was right— you were not dumb, you read people the best and you knew for a fact that Jack’s constant flirting and possessiveness was not because he was ‘being a good friend.’

As good as you were at reading people, you were also good at playing dumb.

You brushed off every lingering touch and looks, the flirting because you didn’t want to be wrong.

You hated being wrong.

You didn’t want to assume he wanted you.

That would not only ruin your ego but your friendship with Jack as well.

Jack’s figure staggering towards you broke you out of your thoughts not even realizing your friend backing away from you before whispering, “Lock in that man, girly.”

“Hey, you.” He smiles down at you.

“Hi, Jacky.” You smile back at him

He placed himself in front of you chugging the last remnants of his drink before setting it down on the bar before wrapping his arms around you, caging you between his arms.

“It’s getting late, the others are starting to leave. Do you want to go, angel?” he asks slowly swaying us side to side.

“Yeah, I miss my bed.” You said seriously looking up at his baby blues.

Jack chuckled as he removed his jacket, placing it on your bare shoulders before escorting you out of the bar.

You and Jack promptly said your goodbyes to the guys and girls who were still there before driving off in Jack’s car— who insisted on driving since he wasn’t at all drunk.

You both were sitting in comfortable silence as Jack drove to your apartment which was not far from his. Jacks left hand on the wheel while the right was on your thigh which was normal for you two.

“Can I stay with you tonight? I’m pretty sure Ty brought a girl back at the apartment and I’m not trying to be there for whatever the hell they are planning to do.” He grimaced making you laugh at the face he was making.

“You know you can stay at my place whenever you want, Jacky, we can even watch Netflix.” You proposed as you turned to him watching his side profile.

Jack caught you eyeing him and gave you a smirk and a squeeze on the thigh.

“And chill?”

“What?” Here you were again, acting dumb.

“You said we’ll watch Netflix, is the chill part included?” Jack teased as he parked his car in front of your apartment complex.

“Yeah we can chill.” You giggled.

Stop acting dumb.

“You do know what Netflix and chill means, right?” He squinted his eyes at you.

“Of course i do.” You said nonchalantly before opening the car door, racing towards your apartment with Jack in tow.

You were walking in haste, your cheeks red, not bothering to even look at Jack who was right on your heels.

You head to the empty elevator, Jack stoping the doors closing, leaving the two of you alone in the elevator with thick tension looming around you two.

“You do?” Jack ask in doubt.

“Do what?” You blinked up at him.

Dumb

“You said you know what Netflix and chill means.” Jack pushes as we walk out the elevator, headed towards my apartment.

You jiggled the keys on the keyhole, opening your apartment for the both of you to go in.

After Jack walks in, his eyes still staring at you like you were his prey, you met his eyes and took off his jacket that he made you wear and placed it in the coat hanger.

Fuck it

“Yes, I know what Netflix and chill means, Jack.” I sighed.

“Yeah?” He closed up on me, his breath now hitting your face— the scent of beer lingering.

Fuck it

“Yeah” you managed to breathe out as Jack continued to back me up against the wall.

“Are you sure, angel?” He asked gently caressing the side of your face, tucking the stray hairs away.

Fuck it

“Yes, please.” You begged.

Jack’s eyes darkened with lust as he lifted his hands to cup your face in them— his eyes darting all over your face memorizing every little detail about you.

As his eyes moved from your body to your lips, his eyes darted back to your eyes before devouring your lips in his. Jack’s lips were soft and tasted like alcohol, he was gentle and slow as both your lips fought for dominance.

“I’ve always fantasize about doing this, angel.” He mutters against your lips, pecking them over and over again before crashing them down together again. He nipped the bottom of your lip, releasing a small gasp from you before he shoved his tongue against yours.

You could feel a whole zoo inside your stomach, you were tingling everywhere especially between your legs making you squeeze them tighter.

Jack’s had you against the wall as his hands lingered all over your body, his lips tracing wet kisses against your neck, peppering them with licks and bites.

“You smell so good, angel.” He smirks at your flustered face.

“My sweet angel, we can go slow. Don’t be scared, I’ll teach you everything you need to know— I’ll take good care of you.” He teases as he started to unzip the back of your dress with one hand, his lips marking your neck.

There it was. Jack being his cocky and overconfident self— you loved that about him but maybe it was time to show him that you are not the angel he claims to be.

Fuck it

“Fuck me, Jack.” You demanded.

Jack froze, his hands stopped midway, pulling his head away from your neck.

“What?” Jack ask you as if you grew three heads.

Fuck it

It was like a switch flicked inside your head.

Your eyes darkened and narrowed at him like he was your prey— the same way he looked at you not long ago.

You took one step closer to him and continued to unzip your dress where Jack left off— the little black dress slowly fell on the ground puddling around your feet. Unraveling your red lace set that you had underneath, Jack is still frozen watching your every move, his eyes trailing on your body, shocked by your sudden behavior.

You wrapped you arms around him, watching him with heat in your eyes before nuzzling your face in his neck licking and marking him like he did to you before landing on his right ear.

“Fuck me, Jacky.” You whimpered understanding at that moment that Jack had a kink for you being submissive to him.

Jack got out of his trance and gripped your hips tight, pulling you against him— his hardness rubbing against you.

“What has gotten into you?” He ask still confused at the sudden turn of events.

“Well, I was hoping you would get into me.” You joked as you unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his chest as you do so.

“Angel?” He demanded.

“You don’t like me like this?” You pouted acting dumb again knowing damn well he did.

“I do, baby. Fuck, I do— it’s just a shock to see you acting like this.” Jack groaned, as he watches you maintain eye contact as you slowly kneel before him.

“The me you knew was your best friend, Jacky. Think of it this way— we just reached a new level in our relationship. You want me, I want you. New level means a new upgrade, you’ll still get to see the ‘me’ who was your best friend but you also get to unlock a version of me only a few have seen.” You explained as you palmed him against his jeans, watching grow with your touch.

“What version is that?” He muttered eyes still looking down at you as you unbuttoned his pants.

“The version you get to fuck.”

With that you pulled his fully erected cock out and licked him like a lollipop.

Jack braces his hand against the wall behind you as you shoved his cock inside your mouth. Your head moving up and down as you moaned against him.

“Fuck, baby. That’s it, right there, angel.” Jack moans his hand gripping your hair helping you bob your head up and down his shaft.

Going down on Jack deeper as you choked on his cock before pulling away.

You wiped the drool dripping down your lips, eyes staring right at the brunette before spitting on his cock.

Your soft hand tightening around him as you jerked him up and down— your other hand skillfully removing your bra, revealing your perky breasts.

“Goddamn, Y/N. You are fucking stunning, baby— get up here.” He commanded as he pulled you up in your feet before hoisting you up.

You wrapped your legs around him, your arms doing the same around his neck as you kissed him like there was no tomorrow.

Jack walked you two towards your room and as he was doing so you were grinding your hips up and down making Jack spank you hard on the ass.

“God, your fucking desperate for this cock huh? Your a bad fucking angel, yeah?” He throws you on the bed before slowly crawling on top of you.

“Jacky baby, please. I need you in me, please fuck me. I want you so bad.” You mewled watching as Jack removed your panties with his teeth, revealing your bare pussy.

“Yeah? You want me, baby? Want me to fuck you?”

Jack was stroking his own cock and made you watch as he watches you unravel.

“Please, Jacky. Fuck me hard and raw.” That must did it for Jack cause pounced into you his cock teasing your entrance.

“You sure, baby?” He asks softly. Jack ever the gentleman always making sure you were okay.

“I’m on birth control. Please, baby— I’m so wet for you.”

Jack went in and bottomed out inside of you making you both groan from the feeling.

“You’re so tight, angel.” Jack moaned out before slowly moving in and out, eliciting a euphoric feeling out of you two.

“Shit, baby. Ugh! m’so full, you feel so good, baby— harder.” You gripped onto Jack, your nails digging against his back as he rocked in you.

Jack grabbed both your legs before splitting you open with his cock.

“You feel that, baby? That’s what you do to me. You’re such a fucking good girl for me.”

Jack was in cloud nine as were you. He flipped you around pushing you in all fours as he gripped your hips, entering you once more and pounding into you.

The sound of clapping and moans filled your room.

“Jacky, fuck just like that! Right there! Faster!” You screamed backing up on him as he gripped your neck pinning you up against him as he continued to pound you from behind.

“Yeah? That feel good baby? Yeah. You’re mine.” With his hands on gripping your neck, Jack angled your head to face his as he placed another wet kiss on your mouth.

As he pulled away a string of saliva connected from both of your lips was seen giving you another idea. With you head still angled towards Jack, you opened your mouth with your tongue out looking at your best friend straight in the eyes.

Jack understood immediately and gripped your cheeks before leaning closer and spitting in your mouth, still looking at him as you swallowed.

“Fuck! You’re a dirty fucking girl, huh? My dirty fucking angel.” He roared as he fucked you harder his thrust getting sloppy which means that he is close.

“I’m yours, Jacky. Please— gonna cum, please let me cum.” You moaned as your eyes rolled back from the intense feeling.

“Cum with me, baby. Cum.” Jack groaned as he thrusted harder a few more times before coming inside you making you undone as well.

As you both finished, you both fell onto your bed. Jack resting with one arm behind his head and the other caressing your bare back as you laid on top of his chest.

“You were so good, baby.” Jack coos as he places kisses on your head.

“Mm, you were too.” You mumbled tired and sore, slowly feeling the effects of your extracurricular activities.

“Who knew my angel was a devil in between the sheets.” Jack let out a throaty chuckle before the realization dawning upon him.

“Wait– you said only a few people got to see this version of you. You mean?” Jack said darkly.

“That I’ve have fucked other people? Yeah. They were just one night stands, Jack don’t go psycho on me now. You don’t see me complaining whenever you had a new girlfriend.” You sassed at him.

“Only I get to see that version of you from now on. You’re mine, angel. Mine.” He hugs me tighter against his chest.

“Yeah? Well you have to unlock another level for me to be yours.” You said planting the idea in his head.

“Does that new level give me the girlfriend version of you?” He plays along.

“I don’t know, you’ll have to find out I guess.” You shrugged before closing your eyes to get some sleep, a smirk littered on your face as Jack watches you amused.

“I’ll guess I’ll find out tomorrow then.” He says out loud and clear making you smile before placing another kiss on my forehead.

“My angel.”

dividers: @cafekitsune

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cultofdixon · 11 months

Text

Please, don’t leave

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Falling in love has its moments. With you and the youngest Dixon? Neither of you knew the other’s feelings. Life started to block that out…until the outbreak shook everyone still standing. Then as the gates opened, there you stood. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Anxiety Attacks / Past Abuse / Injuries / Scars / Canon Violence / Messy confessions • Flashbacks

Requested by: @ravenrose18

Once Y/N had finished barricading the door, she dropped her pack up against it before finally relaxing after running from a few mercenaries—at least that what she thought they were, and an approaching herd. Hence the barricading of the house she’s held up in until it passes.

She tiredly threw herself onto the couch in the room she was in, finding herself staring at the ceiling for an unknown period of time. Her exhaustion was starting to get to her the longer she laid there.

“Remember runnin’ from my old man?”

“How could I forget?” Y/N laughs bringing an arm behind her head for support. “Running from your dad was easier compared to mine. He didn’t like you”

“Mm. Yeah but at least I didn’t break your cheekbone before prom night” the youngest Dixon sat himself up against the couch fiddling with what looked to be a piece of tied string but it was a friendship bracelet he refused to wear. “Yea think you’ll make it out of here?”

“I’m still looking for you aren’t I?”

“Wouldn’t have to be looking if you didn’t run away in the first place” His words hurt, even if they were hers as she slowly fades into unconsciousness. “I’m still out there, bunny”

“You’re still out there…”

The youngest Dixon, Daryl Dixon, had one best friend in the world. Y/F/N Y/L/N. As sad as it was, you shared a lot in common with the whole abusive parent(s) making your life a living hell. But you had each other. It made life worth living having someone who understand and a gateway from the harsh reality.

But one night, Y/N ran away. From all of it. Leaving Daryl alone in the world to end up helping his brother with his illegal nonsense up until the outbreak happened. When he lost him too, he thought this was it for him.

Especially when his own arrow impaled him and the blood loss was too much.

Daryl did his best to keep awake, even if the world was sort of spinning due to the blood loss. He laid back for a moment, just a moment.

“You seem to be in a bit of a pickle, baby brother” Merle laughs kneeling to his side and resting his head in his hands. “Is this for Y/N? Searching for her again like you did countless times before we got stuck with this group”

“We…weren’t stuck with this group…they’re good people”

“That’s good. You deserve good people”

Daryl turns to the opposite side of his brother finding Y/N looking at him with that beautiful smile of hers.

“I came out here…for Carol’s daughter. She’s lost…and I can’t find her”

“She’s somewhere, D” Y/N reassures, at least what he needs to hear. “You’ll find her. And me”

“Why’d you leave” Daryl sobbed laying back into the dirt. “Why’d you leave me all those years ago…”

“Oh Daryl…” Y/N frowns bringing herself close to Daryl resting her hand on his chest. “You’re only going to hear what you want to hear…which will only be a possibility”

“Please don’t die…” He sobbed and next thing he knew, he was fighting off a walker.

The hours turned into days as Y/N didn’t know she was moved from her spot. Surprised she was even found. But when a certain someone who’s known to get in and out of places without a trace comes through the neighborhood in search for items, he managed to get into the house she barricaded herself in.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was waking in an unknown location without most of her clothes and an IV in her arm. Which only made her panic and rip the thing out. Because it’s the apocalypse, she hasn’t ran into those bastards yet. But she can believe that there are some sick fucks experimenting on healthy individuals with the undead walking around.

It didn’t click to Y/N that she wasn’t wearing pants and a shirt when she ripped the IV out and sprung up out of bed because again, she thought she was being experimented on. Being a horror fanatic in the old world sucks now. So when she stumbled out of the building…or trailer she was in. The community outside in that moment stared at her in her underwear and tank top which lead to her realization and quickly stumbling back into the trailer.

“Where the fuck am I” Y/N frowns pressing her back against the door before spotting a pile of neatly folded clothes on a chair. Something better not burst out of my chest (Alien) She thought as she approaches the clothes finding a note along with the pile but she ignored it to get re-dressed. Or a fucking little reptile jumping me and eating me alive (Jurassic Park) She groans realizing her arm was bleeding from her stupidity ripping the IV out and took note that she was in the medical trailer.

Once Y/N patched her arm up, she finally read the note that instructed her to go to the only actual house in the community to talk with whoever saved her…and more.

“Ah! You’re awake” The unfamiliar man rose to his feet approaching Y/N when she entered the Barrington House. “I should probably explain how you got here”

“If I had my knife I’d threaten it on yea to tell me that information. But I honestly just wanna know where the fuck it is” Y/N frowns as the man quickly drew himself back to the couch he was sitting on and picking up her belongings handing it all to her. “Okay…maybe I won’t threaten you for how nice you’re being. But I have questions”

“Okay, I’m here to answer them”

“Your name?”

“Paul Rovia, but everyone here calls me Jesus” Jesus smiles sitting on the arm rest of the couch watching Y/N hug her backpack. “Uhm. Yours?”

“Y/N. Just Y/N…uh. How did you find me?”

“My group and I were on a run to look for medicines and frankly anything that could help us. We have a garden going on but you can’t speed the growth to those things so yknow. Scavenging. But I went to this one house that was barricaded. Only the front door was so I found my way in and saw you lying unconsciously. You looked like you were in poor condition and we have a doctor here.” Jesus explained watching her tense shoulders relax. “Yeah he’s an OBGYN but yknow you have to go through—-“

“Residency so you explore your options before picking a specialty.”

“Well we are certainly benefitting by your presence if you are also a doctor”

“I dropped out of med school, but I know enough” Y/N shrugs. “And what makes you think I want to stay here…I…I’m kind of looking for someone” she frowns realizing how impossible that’s going to become as she makes her way to sit on the single loveseat diagonal from Jesus.

Jesus noticed the change in emotion as he thought of something that could lighten her mood. “How about we make a deal? You help out with the community, and you can come on runs with me. During those moments we can look for whoever it is that you’re looking for”

“It’s gonna be hard”

“How so?”

“He knows how to be untraceable. He’s a hunter”

“Your husband?”

I wish

________

“Why are you giving me this?” Y/N laughs a bit confused and not entirely surprised that her best friend gave her a survival multi-tool with the signature piece being the knife.

“Self defense from that bastard of a father you’ve got” Daryl scoffs taking a hit from the blunt they were sharing, as he kicked his feet at the end of the dock.

“I will keep this in mind when he hits me next…but I know I can’t win those fights”

“Well yknow to run away to the lake house if yea need me” He nudges her gently, handing the blunt to her as she took the offering then a hit after.

________

“Is he alright?”

“Just adjusting to the new people. He said he needed a minute alone” Carol tells Rick as the two were watching the archer sit in the middle of the field looking up at the stars. “I’ll check on him in a bit”

“Alright…I’m gonna turn in, keep me posted” the retired sheriff squeezes her shoulder on his way into the prison leaving her to continue watching her best friend sit alone.

Daryl frowns thinking about how she could be out there…scared and alone for all he knows. His anxiety started to eat at him while he unconsciously tugs at the bracelet he was wearing.

“Merle’s gone…you can’t be gone too”

“Who can’t be gone?”

Half expecting Carol, but was met with Carl and his curious self. Daryl shook his head ignoring the young Grimes as he plopped himself down beside him.

“How’d yea go unnoticed by Carol?”

“Oh. So you know she’s stalking you?”

“Wouldn’t call it stalkin’. She’s worried about me, I know that much”

“What exactly does she have to be worried about?” Carl asks, even more curious as he sits beside Daryl at a respectable distance. Eventually looking up at the stars and finding how calm it is.

“Promise yea won’t say anything” Daryl asks listening to the quiet yes from Carl before getting into it. “I wanna leave. Not forever. But just until I find someone”

“You lost someone out there?” Carl frowns looking at his friend watching him nod. “But what’s the issue? Knowing you it wouldn’t be that hard”

“The thing is kid? I’ve been looking for years. Way before the outbreak” Daryl frowns continuing to tug at the bracelet. “So it wouldn’t be smart to just. Wander aimlessly in a walker infested world.”

“…You think that this person is looking at the same stars we are? I can find comfort in that”

“Sometimes, yer smarter than yer old man.” Daryl laughs slightly, laying back down in the grass staring up at the stars.

“How’d you get up here?”

Y/N turns to Jesus as he found her on top of the trailer she’s currently living in. She smiles with a small laugh as she returns to looking at the stars.

“I’m not revealing my secrets”

“Well guess I ain’t sharing either cuz I think I know. Given I got up here” He laughs bringing himself to sit beside her staring up at the stars. “You thinking about that special someone?”

“Yeah. Hopefully he’s looking at the same set of stars as I am”

“Cheesy. But I like it” Jesus smiles laying back to look at the stars a bit better. “You know. Ever since you came here, you’ve been a big help with thriving the community. Maybe when this other half of yours comes by, he’s willing to also help”

“Maybe” Y/N smiles continuing to look at the stars, watching Jesus point out a shooting star.

“I bet I can guess yours and this guy’s wish”

I wish to see her again

I wish to see him again

________

As Daryl drives his truck into Y/N’s neighborhood, half expecting no activity at the hour he came by in. The other half expecting Y/N to be waiting for him on the curb. But once he turned into the cul-de-sac he was met with police sirens in front of her home. He decided to pretend he was just somebody using the road to turn around in but as he got slightly closer he noticed her mother sobbing and her father yelling at the cops they were talking to.

Even if they were abusive to the only person he cared about on the planet, Daryl couldn’t help but feel for them and realize.

Y/N chose one of her nuclear options.

It didn’t take him long to get to the lake house they would sneak off to to escape the world. Given he didn’t care for traffic laws. She didn’t have a car so that couldn’t give her away, the hue of little light they’d have from lanterns wasn’t noticeable, and honestly every sign he tried to come up with that would tell him she was there—-weren’t there.

“Y/N!” Daryl yells upon entering the place as he immediately went to the living room, then the outdoor porch, and even ran to the end of the dock. Not like it wasn’t obvious when someone would be there, but he went down the mental list of where the two hang out most.

Upon re-entering, Daryl finally noticed the little light coming from a small lantern in the kitchen. He quietly approaches it and the moment felt staged. The light hit a note written to the youngest Dixon as it was accompanied with one of those string friendship bracelets that he told Y/N a number of times that he would never wear it. But he ignored that for the time being and read the note.

I’m tired, D. I couldn’t take it anymore and I had to leave.

I love you and I’m sorry

Y/N

The tears came on strong, burning his eyes, and making him want to rub at his eyes until they stopped. But they never did.

She’s gone

________

Gone forever…huh

Jesus, of course, gets himself into trouble and especially with the main group that aren’t going to trust someone easily anymore. But with the promise of going to his community, came a road block of a few of his own getting into an accident.

“If this is another trick, hear for my whistle. And then shoot him” Rick tells Maggie watching her nod before entering the building first as the rest follow.

Leaving the two alone for a moment.

“I didn’t mean to get in trouble with your leader. My community just. Our leader got stuck in a predicament. Lost some people and supplies”

Maggie frowns lowering her weapon knowing internally he wasn’t going to do anything. Expect stand there with her, waiting for her group to help with part of his.

“You look tense. More than the start of the ride over”

“My best friend was in this group. She’s one of the only good fighters we’ve got…I’m just afraid that something worse happened to her after getting out of the crash. I made a promise to her. It will eat me alive if she died and I didn’t give the one thing she wanted out of years of knowing her”

“My family knows what they are doing”

Jesus turns to Maggie with a small smile and hoping even harder that nothing happened.

His people were simply hiding away for a moment, in hopes more of their own would come and get them. Thankful for the people that Jesus ran into.

“Come on, let’s go” Daryl tells one of his people as he held his hands up to him and Glenn but didn’t budge.

“I can’t leave without my friend. She got hurt in the crash” He nervously states watching the two look at each other for a moment but they knew they weren’t leaving without all Jesus’s people.

Abraham’s mind has been in a fog for a while that when he ran down the hall to take out a walker. He was met with a woman cowering slightly with his intense presence, especially when her life was almost met with an end.

“Sorry”

“It’s cool. I’m a. Used to it by now” Y/N’s body continued to shake as she was dealing with a bit of road rash and a head lac.

“Come on!”

No…

“Abraham, let’s go. Carry her out if she’s in shock” Glenn chimes on his way past following the man Y/N was currently fixated on the voice. Before Abraham could grab her, she immediately ran after the first voice she heard other than the man that almost killed her.

Once Y/N stepped out of the building, looking a bit like Carrie with the amount of blood on her. Most was hers. Other was…well, they are stuck in the crashed vehicle. Jesus instantly beamed.

“Oh thank fuck you’re okay Y/N”

Y/N. Wait a fucking minute Daryl quickly whipped his head toward the woman slowly and cautiously approaching him. She hasn’t really changed…except for a few more scars and her hair being longer. She was still his Y/N.

“I thought you were dead…after the first few years, I really thought you were—-“

“Daryl…I don’t. My adrenaline is fading…so it’s kind of really hard to…believe this is…real or another hallucination” Y/N stumbled a bit and before she completely collapsed, Daryl quickly caught her picking her up bridal style and going back to the RV to let Harlan take care of her with what he has.

Daryl’s eyes haven’t left Y/N’s person the entire ride back to the Hilltop. Of course the two reunite when something bad happens to one of them. But he knew she would pull through from this, she’s a fighter.

Once the RV reached the walls of the Hilltop, the group stepped out and followed Jesus inside as Daryl followed Harlan the entire time he picked up Y/N, got her out of the RV, and started to make his way to the infirmary trailer which he informed Glenn and Maggie about on the ride over. Part of Daryl stuck with his group but his mind was elsewhere when he entered the Barrington House. Expecting Jesus to point it out, Maggie did.

“Go to her, Daryl. We’ve got this much covered” Maggie tells him as his eyes looked over to Rick watching him nod. Not that he needed permission. But it was a new community to them. He also wanted to meet this leader…that was problematic all on his own.

Right as Daryl approached the trailer door, Harlan stepped out and quickly gave the archer a smile.

“Just the man I’m looking for. At least, by patient’s request”

“She’s awake?”

“Yeah and you were the first thing she asked about. She also made me make sure she wasn’t concussed…but she is a bit. So. Don’t pinch her if she asks “are you real?” or not. She’s taken more than just a head lac and road rash” Harlan warns mainly for them to be a bit careful with a more conscious reunion.

As the doctor stepped away from the trailer letting Daryl step in and stare at Y/N like he’s seen a ghost. She had the same stare toward him before breaking the silence.

“I really thought you died. But uh. Not until after a year in the outbreak”

“…why’d yea leave?” Daryl frowns, immediately touching that topic as he leaned against the adjacent wall from her seated position on the cot.

“I mean…we are adults. I shouldn’t have to sugarcoat anything to you”

“Did your dad hurt yea badly again? Or your mom? Is that why you left”

“Yes…and no. I was…heartbroken and dealing with more than just that. That I had to leave. I know now how selfish that can be given I could’ve just gone to you and we would’ve…I don’t know”

“We would’ve found a way out together” Daryl states avoiding the distance and sitting beside Y/N feeling her hand instantly rest on his knee as the look of relief in her face washed over her. He’s real. This isn’t you saying what you want to hear.

“My dad found out that I broke up with his best friend’s son, and the reason why I did…because I obviously didn’t love him or even liked him for the matter…” Y/N frowns keeping her eyes toward the ground to avoid his. “He…pulled my arm out of my socket when I tried to run away the first time. To avoid anything further, once I got it put back in…with an injured healing arm I got the fuck out of there. Couldn’t call you because I left my phone at home. Left everything he and my mother could find me with and just. Went West until I came back in hopes to talk to you…then the outbreak happened”

Daryl felt her hand tremble slightly as she pulls away but he carefully took said hand that was once on his leg and into his hand for her to squeeze.

“What was the reason…cuz yer old man would’ve just found another suitor”

“I was in love with my best friend” Her words hit him like a truck as he squeezed her hand carefully, feeling her other rest on top of their conjoined ones. “Of course he thought I was gay and I know his homophobic ass wouldn’t like that. But I corrected him. Because I wanted my family to know who my best friend was and how important he was to me that he stole my heart instantly…I was just too afraid to say anything until now”

“why didn’t you say anything sooner…or runaway to me?”

“When you go to the lake house, and hear your best friend in the throws with another woman.” Y/N felt the tears slowly fall off her cheeks as Daryl tried his best to ignore his threatening his waterline. “You didn’t want to tell him that you left for more than just your parents. You left because…you thought you would never be good enough for him”

“You’re good enough for me, you’re more than good enough” He scoffs. “I’ve always been in love with you, I was too coward to say anythin’”

“It’s been years…and you still do?…as much as me?”

“More even” Daryl lifted his head to look her in the eye as she knew she was crying but notice the stray tears that fell here and there from his own. “I never stopped looking for you. Only times I did was when I was runnin’ from the horrors of the old and new world. But you never left my mind. All I wanted was to be with you.”

“And here we are” Y/N sobbed pressing her forehead against his, feeling the cot shift when he brought himself closer wrapping his arm around her. She eventually brought both her arms around him moving her face to the crook of his neck as Daryl caged her in his embrace keeping mind of her injuries even if she first didn’t care about them.

“Please, don’t leave me again”

“I’m stuck to you like glue, D. I’m never leaving again”

#the amount of times I deleted and re-write this one #I deserve a reward #jk jk #I’m just happy I finally got a route I liked for this #cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - Epilogue

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 7k Warnings: Family reunion, pregnancy, references to deceased spouse/child, cemetery visit, character death, vague afterlife references. Summary: Jack’s birthday on the ranch is celebrated with a new surprise. Notes: This story has been so near and dear to my heart, and my absolute love of one sweet cowboy has made it even more precious. A few people have asked and there is always a possibility of coming back to revisit our soulmate pairs, so we’ll just have to see if these two have any more stories to tell in the future. Until then - stay tuned for a preview of the next soulmate story - The Viper’s Bride - later today!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

"Grammy! Grampa!" The shout goes up through the house – two little voices in unison as the front door of the ranch house swings open and two sets of stampeding feet come thundering toward the front hall at top speed. Even though you and Jack are moving a bit slower these days, it's nice to see family, especially for an occasion like this one. The fact that all the two of you have to do is show up is something of a fringe benefit. The other half of your entourage is right behind you, as Jackson won't let you or his father carry your bags into the house from the truck. He's greeted with an equal screech of "UNCLE JACK!" and your two grandkids veer slightly off course immediately to launch themselves at their uncle.

“Already replaced.” Jack pouts, rolling his eyes playfully as the kids clamber all over the youngest. “Jane still loves us. Jane? Honey? Where are you?”

"We're not as fun to climb on as Uncle Jack is," you chuckle under your breath as your younger child stands tall for his two nephews to climb all over like a tree in the yard.

"Dad?" The voice from the kitchen is loud enough to be heard over the din without shouting. "Mom? I'll be right out; I'm just putting the finishing touches on the cake!"

Jack chuckles when your face falls, obviously hoping to get here before she had made dessert. “You know it’s coconut cake.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to your leathery cheek. The years have been kind to you, still as gorgeous as the day he had tucked tail and ran from you.

"Of course it is. My baby knows what she's about." That sense of pride in your children is as bright as it was for their first smile, first laugh, first step, first word – first anything. Jackson might be the one running the restaurant with you now, but his older sister is something of a miracle in the kitchen in her own right.

"You made it!" When Jane appears from around the corner a second later, her apron is covered in all the evidence of an enormous project gone very right and there's coconut flakes still under her fingernails, but she's smiling as wide as can be and holding out her arms to hug both of her parents at once. "Happy birthday, Daddy."

“Thank you, honey.” Jack doesn’t deny his birthday anymore, doesn’t insist that it’s not to be celebrated. The parties that have been held have been a joyous reminder of the life he has now, a bittersweet remembrance of what could have been, but the ache has lessened over the years with the annual visits to Daniels Ranch. “Kacey still workin’ or is he around?” He asks.

"I barely got him inside twenty minutes ago, so he should be out of the shower soon." Jane squeezes you both tight and smiles, happy despite being tired. That's motherhood in a nutshell. "His family should be on their way right about now. They didn’t want to overwhelm you by taking over the house right when you arrived but they promised not to be late for dinner."

“Hope he’s ready to drink some whiskey and lose money to me after the kids get to bed.” Jack chuckles, having brought a few bottles from the distillery.

"Kayce's on a budget this year." Your daughter rolls her eyes fondly and laughs. "I don't need him losing the house during the poker party after I just redid the kids' bathroom."

Jack snorts and grins at his eldest child. The long-standing joke about betting the house always amuses him. Jane had found she was soulmates with Aiden’s grandson when they were just nine and ten years old. So every summer they had come back, making sure the young soulmates had a solid foundation and the boy liked ranching better than farming. He now ran Daniels Ranch and the board had been dissolved just a few years ago.

"What can we help with, sweetheart?" Despite Jack teasing you that it's perfectly okay to slow down and even consider retiring now that you've officially passed into senior citizen status, you just can't help yourself. No matter where you are or what you're doing, you have to dig your hands in.

“Nothing.” Jane is just like you, a consummate entertainer. Loving to provide good food and good times for those she loves.

"I don't know how you do it." You shake your head and give Jane another hug just as you hear footfalls on the stairs in the next room. "When you and your brother were that little I was throwing potlucks and pool parties. You've got your great-grandma in you. She could do absolutely anything with perfect style."

“Mom, come on.” She snorts rolling her eyes. “The only reason you did that was because dad put his foot down about you not running yourself ragged.”

"Then somebody ought to tell that husband of yours—" The exaggerated words come with a smile, knowing Kayce can hear you from the stairs. "That he ought to be helping out, too!"

“Sorry.” Kayce rubs a hand through his still damp hair and grins sheepishly. “Had a problem with the calves out in pasture twelve. They keep escaping and turning up in the creek.”

"Don't trouble yourself, honey. We just got in." It's not that you have favourites by any means – but if you could have chosen a son-in-law by hand, you certainly couldn't have chosen anyone kinder or more loving for your only daughter than Kayce. "The boys are already climbing on their uncle, and Janie didn't leave a thing for me to help with. So I have nothing to do but give out hugs, I suppose."

“Well, I can accept one of those.” Kayce holds his arms out and wraps them around you for a hug. “Thank you for coming. It’s so hard to get away. And I know this is tradition.”

"We wouldn't have missed it for the world." Turning around to find where Jack's gone, you smirk when you see that he's snuck into the kitchen to admire his birthday cake and swipe a finger through the frosting bowl.

“Daddy!” Jane huffs, turning around to see where you are looking. “What?” Jack cries, pretending he hadn’t just stolen some frosting. “I had to test it! You know that’s my role.”

"He's worse than the kids," you laugh, shaking your head at him before looking back at Jane and Kayce. "At least let me help set the table? Don't make your Mama feel useless."

Jane narrows her eyes at you for a moment before she sighs, relenting. She knows how it can be to want to help and be told it’s not necessary. All while watching someone run around. “The birthday china.” She gestures towards the large cabinet along the wall.

“The birthday china.” Grateful to not be relegated to the position of old lady who sits in a chair just yet, you hustle into the kitchen while you listen to Jack play with your grandsons out in the other room. What the family calls ‘birthday china’ is actually the beautiful china dinnerware that Jack and Abigail had received as a wedding gift that had been relegated to the house’s cupboards and left behind when Jack left for Louisville so many decades ago. Now it is used consistently, every time there is an adult birthday to celebrate on the ranch.

Jack walks back into the dining room to watch you fuss over the place settings with a fond smile. Wrapping his arm around his daughter and squeezing her against him. He might not be as strong as he had been when she was a little girl, but he is thankful that Ginger has managed to keep all of you spry. “Thank you, honey.” He murmurs softly. “This is just what we needed.”

“You can come up as often as you want, Dad. You know that.” Jane settles against her father comfortably, always having been a bit of a Daddy’s girl and enjoying the comfortable presence of having him close by. “You are retired now. Even if Mom refuses to.”

“I know.” He shakes his head. “Still can’t get her out of that kitchen. It’s her baby now that you two are grown.”

"It was her baby even before we were born," she laughs softly. "That restaurant is my older sibling, and also somehow my brother's baby." The Rabbit-Hole, she always says, is just another member of the family.

“It’s woven into the fabric of our lives and most of your memories.” Jack admits, praying that his children are happy with their lives. He had given them the opportunities to do whatever they wanted and yet each of them had chosen a path that was damn near a family legacy.

"And some day when Jackson finally finds his soulmate, it'll be part of their kids' lives, too." It's more or less an open secret in the family, what Statesman is all about. And because they are so aware of the inner workings, Jackson always likes to say that his soulmate must be one of the agents. Who knows whether or not it's true, but it certainly does speak to his mischievous heart.

“That boy is just as stubborn as I was.” He chuckles, shaking his head as he looks over at where he’s rough housing with the boys.

"If we thought he'd be happy without knowing them, that would be one thing," Jane shrugs with sympathy in her eyes. "But I know he wants to find them. It'll happen eventually." After all, she knows how lucky she is. If Kayce hadn't broken his arm when he was ten, they might not have known they were soulmates until they were much older.

“He would be. He’s a romantic at heart.” Jackson doesn’t say much about it, but Jack knows the boy’s worried. He doubts the kid doesn’t have a soulmate, he’s just sure they’re playing hard to find.

“It’ll happen.” Jane hums confidently, always seeming like she knows something the rest of the family doesn’t. Her Mona Lisa smile always keeps everyone guessing. “Why don’t you get settled, Daddy? Aiden and Sheila should be here soon and we can all tuck in to this big birthday dinner.” She grins at him. “I’m gonna tell Kayce to get the grill going.”

“Shit.” Jack pouts at his daughter. “I’m gunna drink a beer and advise the boy on how to cook those steaks perfectly.” He teases with a wink. He tries not to interfere, but he’ll give his son-in-law a hard time on principle alone.

“Shocking that you would do such a thing,” Jane teases, waving her father off to follow the sound of roughhousing so she can say hello to her little brother. Though adulthood has kept them apart for a few years now, they still talk mostly every day and remain as thick as thieves.

Stopping by the fridge, Jack grabs two beers, knowing Kayce will want one as well. Grilling is horrible thirsty work and it seems only right to do it with a beer in your hand. Stepping outside, he watches as the younger man lights the grill. “Reports from the ranch have been really good.” He offers, striding over to hold out the beer. “Seems like everything’s going alright?” It’s a statement and a question. Giving Kayce an opening to talk about anything that’s on his mind.

“Can’t complain.” The younger man takes the bottle that’s offered to him gratefully and nods, looking out over the back yard of the much-larger ranch house since he finished the last set of renovations. “We just hired on two more permanent sets of hands.” He looks to his father-in-law curiously. “You remember the Pruitt family? They say they’ve been in the valley as long as the Daniels have, but that could just be big talk.”

“Pruitt...Pruitt…” Jack hums as he thinks back, looking over the yards towards the barns and bunkhouses. “Think I remember them. Seems like they were always kinda down on their luck?”

"Long as I've known them, yeah." Methodical in his work, Kayce goes about setting up the grill while the two men talk. He'd always thought of Jack Daniels as an unofficial uncle right up until the day he realized he was in love with Janie, and it had saved him a whole heap of fears that seemingly all of his friends had gone through with their own fathers-in-law. "Anyway, the two boys are just out of high school. They've been helping us during the season for years and gettin' pretty good with the work, so we were glad to take them on full time."

“I trust you made a good decision then.” Kayce has always had a good head on his shoulders and thought about the future. “You’ve done a damn fine job runnin’ this place.”

"We need everything to be running smoothly." The sheepish grin that Kayce flashes his father-in-law is broad. "Three kids is going to be a lot of energy running around this place and until they're old enough to be helping hands themselves, Janie wants to make sure I have the hands I need."

“Three—” Jack stops, a grin immediately blooming across his face and he reaches out to slap Kayce on the back. “Pretty soon you’re gunna have your own baseball team out here.” He chuckles, proud about another grandchild. “Anyone else know yet?”

"Not yet." Puffing up proudly, Kayce leans back on the porch railing and lets his smile take over. "Jane wants to tell everyone at once, but I figured...it's your birthday. Getting to be the first to know is like an extra gift."

“It damn sure is.” Jack beams, nodding in agreement. “‘Though I’ll let her think you didn’t say a word.” He promises, looking off towards the Daniels plot. Where Abigail and Timmy are resting. “Been thinking about things for a while.” Jack admits after a moment of silence between them. “I want to make sure that the trust for the ranch is in yours and Jane’s hands. Completely take it over.”

He wants to say that it isn't necessary. That he doesn't mind working for his wife's father. Because he doesn't – not really. It's a big company and a big responsibility to have the running of the whole thing. But Kayce also knows he can manage it now. After a whole childhood of watching his father run the family farm and being privy to all the ins and outs of Daniels Ranch, he and Jane can handle a big family and an even bigger business. They have the right know how and support system for that. "I'm honored that you trust us with the legacy," is what is says instead, looking to Jack with a nod. "This place is a hell of a responsibility and you know we take that seriously."

“I know you do, which is why you and Jane are the right fit for this place.” Jack huffs. “Something about working for yourself that makes it extra satisfying too. You – you have the spirit of a Daniels.”

"It helps that you were there every summer while I was growing up." Though the visits were never too long they always happened, and the two families had been close for practically Kayce's entire life. Getting visits from his grandparents' good friends had just been a thing that happened and it never seemed odd to him – and then he broke his arm in peewee football and all hell broke loose in their families as people started celebrating the fact that he'd have a scar from the surgery to fix it.

“It took a long time to be able to come back here. Your granddaddy’s sister used to love this place.” Of course Kayce knows the family history and respects it. “Figure that same blood runs through your veins as well. It calls to this place, and I’ve never had a doubt in my mind you were the perfect match for my little girl.”

"That little girl is a mischievous woman now." Moving while he talks means Kayce is pulling steaks from the cooler and counting things out to make sure he has enough of all the right cuts for the adults before he starts pulling out burger patties for the kids. "She's dead set on playing matchmaker for her brother. I keep telling her it'll happen when it's meant to."

“She just wants to see him happy.” Jack can’t blame her. She’s so settled in and focused on her life and the joy that she obtains from it, it’s not hard to want that for her little brother. “Plus, she likes to meddle. Too much like her mama.” He chuckles, turning and admiring you through the glass.

"Nothing wrong with that." After all, Jane's similarities to her mother were obvious just as easily as looking at her. "And I think...with being expecting again and all...she's enjoying the domesticity of the thing. First trimester's been a hell of a lot easier this time than with the boys, which has her thinking it might be a girl."

“A little girl.” Jack smiles and chuckles. “Oh I can’t wait to spoil her then.” He enjoyed having a little girl, and he knows Kayce will too.

“We won’t know for sure for a few weeks.” It doesn’t matter though; he knows he’ll love any child that he and Jane welcome into their family. “If it is, she’ll have two very protective brothers looking out for her.”

“Yes she will.” As rough as the boys could be, they were equally protective of each other. He has no doubt that would extend to another sibling. “She’ll hate it when she’s older.”

“She might,” Kayce admits with a laugh. “But her mama and I sure won’t.”

Jack can’t deny that, humming happily as he watches the meat sizzle on the grill. Life is damn good, especially for a man who never envisioned having this at one point in his life.

"You boys plotting the crime of the century out here?" When you stick your head outside to see how things are moving along, it's obvious that Jack and Kayce are just enjoying the afternoon together in peace, something that you're pleased to see every single time. "Kayce, your parents just got here, honey. Grandparents are on the way, they said."

“Yes ma’am, thank you.” Kayce nods towards you and then closes the lid on the grill. “We might as well go say hi. It’ll be a while.”

"Known the boy since he was in diapers, and he still calls me ma'am." You shake your head as Kayce walks past you into the house and hold your hand out to Jack. "Everything going well?"

“Everything’s coming up roses, sugar.” Jack hums, moving over to take your hand and pull you into his arms for a kiss. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

"Only twice." Decades later, you still melt a little every time Jack holds you tight. But it's still always so easy to tease him. "You're slipping a little, honey."

“Damn, I’ll have to tell you again.” He presses his lips to yours gently. “I love you, sugar. I wouldn’t have this life without you. I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you.”

"Happy birthday, Jack." Every year it got a little easier, until the bittersweet memories turned nostalgic and the day was no longer one to dread. Now it's a day for smiles and cake, for presents and playing with the kids – and then grandkids. It's a day that he's happy to wake up on instead of dreading. "I love you. So much."

“I love you too, sugar.” Jack promises, smiling at you. “And you’re gonna love our present today. It’s something for both of us.”

"Oh yeah?" You laugh a little, nudging your nose against his. "Did they replace the sleeper sofa with a great big, fluffy mattress for us?"

Jack snorts, shrugging. “I don’t know, that sleeper sofa is comfortable. And I’m not letting our daughter try to take it again.”

"I'm going to remind you that you said it was comfortable when you back hurts in the morning." It's just a little tease, but you can't help it. Enough years and decades with Jack and the joy in being together still hasn't faded from your relationship.

“I don’t think I’ll be complaining this time.” Jack predicts with a grin. “Only complaint you’ll get out of me is if she can’t have coffee in the house anymore.”

It takes a second, but your head tilts curiously just in time for the shit eating grin to spread across Jack's face. "No?" You're beaming right along with him in no time. "Number three? Really?"

“Just told me.” Jack nods. “He’s about to puff up out of his chest he’s a proud as a peacock.” He chuckles, knowing he had been just a proud when you were pregnant with Jane and Jackson.

"Are we the last or the first to find out?" Jane and Kayce have always been so proud of their family each time it's grown, you can't imagine that they wouldn't make a very big deal about letting people know. Kayce must have been busting at the seams to tell someone.

“The first.” Jack admits. “Kayce told me it’s because it’s my birthday.”

That earns him an amused giggle from you, and you shake your head fondly. "Granddaddy's privilege, that's what that is. Come on, love. Your daughter wants to know what else you want to do this week but hang around the house with the boys."

“Do you want to go with me to visit them?” Jack always asks. Even now. Never wanting you to feel uncomfortable, so it’s always a question. You’ve always come with him, but he won’t be upset if you wanted to stay and visit with Jane and the kids this time.

"Of course I do." He always asks, and your answer is always the same. "I've got to keep her updated on all the things you leave out of your stories." The gentle smile on your lips tips upward, and you lean forward to press your forward against his. "I know she's up there with Timmy and Grandma Jane and my parents looking down on us, but I still only get to talk to her once a year. It's tradition."

“It is tradition.” Jack smiles softly. “I want to be buried here.” He admits. “With you, if you want it. Surrounded by my soulmates.”

"I guess I always assumed you would be." In fact, no other alternative had ever really occurred to you. Not in all the years that have gone by. "It's your whole family up there. I always figured we would join them eventually."

“I didn’t know if you’d want that.” Jack won’t disrespect your own wishes. You have a say in this too.

Your fingers lace through his as easily as they did the very first time, and you let that soft smile warm through you. "I want to be with you. In this life and for whatever happens next."

“Whatever happens next.” The commotion inside causes him to turn towards the door and he grins. “Looks like Aiden and Sheila are here. Want to go say howdy?”

"We better, before Jane comes to get us." There's time to steal a quick kiss, but you're still smiling excitedly. "If she's waiting to tell everybody all at once, she'll be itching to give the news as soon as she can."

“Remember to act surprised.” Jack smacks your ass playfully as he guides you towards the door. “And I still want some birthday sex later on.”

He manages to get a little chirp of surprise out of you, and you just laugh. "Of course, cowboy."

“Damn straight.” Re-entering the house to join the chaos, hugs and back slaps are exchanged. Aiden’s claims that Jack’s getting old are countered by good natured ribbing about how only one of them is a great-grandparent. A testimony to how far Jack had come in his journey to healing from the loss of Abigail and Timmy.

You help Jane pass drinks around, still an entertainer at heart, and pretty soon even the kids have settled a little. "So, of course we know that everybody is here for Dad's birthday dinner," she beams at her assembled family, smile burning even brighter when you go to sit next to Jack and Kayce takes your place by her side. "But we just wanted to say thank you for coming and...give everyone a little bit of news."

Jack manages to school his expression to look just as expectant as everyone else around the table. “What’s goin’ on honey.”

The boys look positively bored, but Jane smiles at her young sons and beams out at the rest of her family. "Well..." She blows out a breath and squeezes her soulmate's hand. "In about seven and a half months...Jamie and Carter are going to be big brothers."

The squeals of happiness and gawfs of surprise are loud, making it a rush to jump up and hug Jane and shake Kayce’s hand or slap him on the back. The comedy of the scene is your two young grandsons clamoring to get to their mother as soon as possible, with five-year-old Jamie placing both hands on Jane's belly and informing his three-year-old little brother in his wisest tone possible that the baby can hear everything as long as you talk right at Mommy's belly button.

"At least he's chosen that as the speaker and not something else," you joke, going to put your arms around Jane and give her a tight hug. "Congratulations, Janie. You must be completely over the moon, huh?"

“Excited and wondering what the heck we were thinking.” Language is censored for the boys, considering Jamie had informed the youngest that ‘son of a bitch’ was the pain when you hurt your hand.

“You were thinking how much you love the baby phase,” you stifle a laugh so the boys don’t overhear. “They’re adorable before they learn ‘no’.”

“That word is going to be banned.” She rolls her eyes and laughs, still beaming as her hand caresses her stomach.

“I’m going to take you out for a little pampering while I’m here,” you promise her, remembering how much work two little ones was. She’ll be in it deep with three. “Shopping, eating out, even a pedicure while you can still see your toes. Mom and daughter day. What do you say?”

“That sounds wonderful.” Jane would never suggest that you leave Kentucky, the restaurant still your baby, but sometimes a girl just needs her mom. Especially when she’s pregnant.

“A whole day. Your Dad and brother can hang back with the boys or help Kayce out on the ranch.” Laying a kiss in her hair, you end up sniffling back a few proud tears. “You’re an amazing mama, Janie. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, mom.” Jane hugs you again. “I will take that as the highest of compliments coming from you. You set the bar very high.”

“We come from a long line of good moms. We got lucky that way.” Pressing a kiss to her hair, you step back before you can get too emotional, and wipe an errant drop of water from your cheek. “Gettin’ sentimental in my old age,” you joke. Everyone is well aware that you’ve always been sentimental.

“I want you and dad to come out when the baby’s due.” Jane automatically requests, just like you have been present for the others. She knows it’s a given, but you also don’t push and want her to call the shots.

“If you want us there, consider it done.” You hadn’t missed the births of your first two grandchildren and you certainly wouldn’t miss the third.

“I do.” Jane grins. “I think this might be the last one, from us anyway.”

“And three is a wonderful number. You’ll always be busy and you’ll have a house full of love for a very long time to come.” The way she just radiates happiness doesn’t make the wheels turning in her mind, though. You’re her mother. You taught those wheels which direction to move in. “But go easy on your brother, okay honey? He’s doing amazingly at the restaurant and he’s happy there.”

“I won’t say a word.” She promises. “I’m just worried about him.”

“I know, honey.” Spending half your lifetime always worried about your children because you love them means you have complete sympathy for that. “But he’ll find who he wants to be with. Soulmate or otherwise.”

“You’re right. I know.” Jane looks over at where Jackson is talking to Kayce’s grandparents and smiles. “As long as he’s happy.”

******

It’s that evening when you park the truck on the hill on the east side of the property, absorbing the last of the August sunshine as you both step out of the cab to visit Abigail and Timmy. It’s almost like going to see an old friend after so many years of this, and you still take Jack’s hand in yours to give it a supportive squeeze before stepping up to the matching headstones.

There is now a bench off to the side, allowing for a lengthier visit, or for Jack to sit down if his back is sore. “Hey, sweetheart.” Jack smiles as he sees how neatly Kayce has kept the family plot. He and Jane had taken over the flower gardens planted around the two headstones since Aiden wasn’t able to come out as often as he had when he was a younger man. “Told you that we’d be back.”

He says it every time, as though Abigail was there raising an eyebrow in surprise to see him, and you always chuckle a little. “Brought you a daisy,” you murmur as you put the flower down - your own tradition that has never faltered. “And some news.”

“Of course you’re gunna tell on me.” Jack teases, although he’s very aware of what news she’s bringing. “Timmy, you’re bein’ good for your momma, aren’t ya?” He asks, his heart aching like a tiny little arrow pierced it at the thought of his first baby boy.

Sometimes over the years, you could have sworn that a breeze came at just the right time to be an answer, or that you felt a flash of cold even in the August heat. Sometimes you could have bet your life on hearing a faraway voice. But it’s always a comfort to be here for your visit. “Of course he is,” you nod, squeezing Jack’s hand.

“I know.” Jack murmurs softly. “Wish I coulda seen what kind of man he woulda become.”

“He’d be thick as thieves with his brother and sister, and a mountain for his nephews to climb on, just like Jackson.” Of course Timmy would be older by now – outgrown the nickname and become Tim or Timothy – but you can’t help picturing him the same age as your own two kids.

“Yes he would have.” Jack chuckles and closes his eyes, imagining it as he holds your hand.

"Not a whole lot has changed this year, Abby." You've taken to speaking to Abigail so conversationally that sometimes you slip a little and call her Abby like an old friend. "But Janie just let the family know that she's expecting again. It'll be all any of us talk about for the next seven months."

“We’re getting older too.” Jack admits, feeling his age today for some reason. He’s lived twice the years without his first wife and son than he had with Abby. “Slower. You’d laugh at my groans getting up.”

"He sounds like a creaky mattress," you tease, imagining that you can hear the sound of a laugh in the wind.

“It’s what happens when you put my body through the rigors of being an agent for so long.” Jack rolls his eyes but he’s grinning at you. “Still think both of you would be given me hell if you knew one another.”

"I have no doubt." Lifting your connected hands, you press a kiss to Jack's cracked knuckles. There’s more time spent, laughter shared and small snippets of life from the Statesman grounds. Nearly an hour passes before you say your goodbyes and Jack leads you back to the truck.

"Gets harder to get into this thing every year," you laugh, letting your frustration at having to hoist yourself into the tall truck roll off your shoulders instead of getting upset about it. Approaching old age is a privilege that you don't take lightly.

“We might have to get one of those trucks with the fold down steps.” Jack snorts, smirking at you.

“Or convince our daughter to have one vehicle on the ranch that is less than five feet off the damn ground,” you huff good-naturedly. “I might never have been an agent, but I’ve still done a number on my knees.”

“All that runnin’ around in the kitchen.” Jack pats your knee fondly and looks at you before he starts the truck up. “I love you, sugar.”

“I love you, too, honey.” It’s not as easy as it used to be to lean over and give him a kiss, but you still manage it. “Let’s go back home and see the kids.”

“Yes ma’am.” He smiles softly and puts the truck in gear after he starts it. “Been thinking about maybe sneaking you off to the old foreman’s cabin.” Jack hums playfully. “Since it’s empty now.”

“Oh yeah?” The suggestion makes you chuckle, so glad that the attraction between you has never waned. “We could do that.”

“Yeah.” He might not be able to set a pace that completely wrecks you or pushes your – no longer needed – IUD out of place, be he can still make you shake in pleasure.

You hum, watching him as he drives back down the hill toward the main house. "I guess I know what we're doing tomorrow then."

“Still not too old to chase you around the bedroom.” Jack teases, winking at you playfully. His dark hair is nearly white and his craggy wrinkles are much deeper than they had been when you met, but he’s still the same cowboy.

Kissing the back of his hand again, you sit back in your seat and chuckle softly. "I sure as hell hope not. Though I don't know how fast I'm up to running these days anyway."

“It’s been a good day.” The setting sun off to the west is always a view he has loved, going back to when he was just a little thing running around this land. “The perfect birthday.”

"You say that every year." With varying degrees of sarcasm at certain times, of course. But today he seems as sincere as ever. And he's right – at least this time. It really has been a fairly perfect day.

“I mean it to.” He insists. “I’m a blessed man, sugar.”

"You're just excited to have a new grandbaby," you tease, giving his hand a squeeze. Of course you believe him - that he loves his life and feels blessed by it - but you also know for damn sure that a good part of his giddiness comes from that good news. As it should. Being a grandparent agrees with Jack.

“Of course I’m excited to have a new grandbaby.” Jack huffs. “I never expected to have a baby for the longest time, let along three grandbabies. Especially not with another soulmate. I’m damn blessed by you.”

That softens you and you lean against Jack's shoulder as he drives. "I love you, too, honey."

The silence between you is soft, welcomed like a warm blanket. So much time together had been spent that he can almost hear your thoughts. “When we find out what they are having, I want to see what kind of specialty dessert you’re gonna make for the restaurant.” Every one of the kids and grandkids have their own dessert that’s featured during their birthday month.

"Janie said she's been craving onions." Both of you chuckle as he pulls the truck into the driveway of the main house. "So I don't know if it will be a dessert this time. Maybe a tart or an onion tarte tatin."

“Interesting.” Jack chuckles. “If it’s a little girl, she’s gonna be a spitfire.”

"Because would be so unusual for a Daniels." The expression on your face is nothing short of amused. All of you are well aware that spitfire is a description that could apply to anyone in your family.

“Absolutely.” He agrees. “We’re just so…boring.” His eyes slide over to watch your reaction. “No passion.”

"None." You shake your head as solemnly as you can manage, barely keeping your face schooled into something serious. "We are a complete blank canvas. No emotions or opinions whatsoever."

“That’s us.” His chuckles can’t be contained now, rolling out freely as both of you describe everything the Daniels family is not.

"Come on, my love." Unbuckling your seatbelt and stretching, you lean over the center console again to kiss him. "I want to cuddle up with my passionless husband and watch a movie with our kids before bed."

“Sounds like the perfect ending to the best day.” Jack hums, counting his blessings for how lucky he is.

******

In the years since Jack had died, it hadn't made any sense to stay in Louisville. Working the line – or even front of house – at the restaurant was too physical to be sustainable for you and the place was running brilliantly in Jackson's capable hands. It turned out that his soulmate really was a Statesman agent, and you had watched your son take on much the same life that you had lived happily, with his husband.

Retirement had given you options, of course, but you hadn't wanted to be apart from Jack, so you had readily become a full-time grandma on the ranch in Montana. Every day saw another trip to the cemetery on the hill and spending time with your growing grandchildren. Six years went by almost in the blink of an eye, except for the ache of missing your soulmate. That never seemed to dissipate no matter how many wonderful memories you held on to. It lived in your heart each day to be swallowed down like a bittersweet pill, until the day that you had laid down for an afternoon nap and closed your eyes for the very last time.

“Hello sugar.” Jack’s smile is brilliant, young. The lines old age had given him are smooth, the dark spots on his skin clear, his stooped posture straight as he stands in front of you, looking just as hale and hearty as the day he had met you. Holding out his hand, he helps you up from the bed and pulls you into his arms. “I have missed you. So much, but I’ve been watchin’ over you.”

“Jack.” When you can practically jump up out of the bed and into his arms, there is no question of what’s happened. The moment holds only the barest pain, knowing what you’re leaving behind, but the joy you feel at being reunited with Jack completely outweighs it. “Honey, I missed you.”

“I was with you every step of the way.” Jack promises, right before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss that has been sorely missed in the past six years. Watching you and ghosting a kiss over your skin isn’t the same as you knowing it’s him.

“What happens now?” If you had ever worried that you would feel fear in this moment, that worry is soothed instantly by the fact that it’s Jack here to show you what comes next. Or maybe this is all it is, and kissing him really is your own private heaven like you always said.

“Well…sugar, there’s someone that wants to meet you.” Jack murmurs, pulling away and looking behind him with an equally brilliant smile.

“Finally.” A sweet, soft voice has a hint of a happy giggle in it. Abigail steps forward, looking beautiful and healthy although she is not rounded with child. She had appeared to Jack as she had been before the pregnancy. “I have so much to thank you for.”

“Abigail!” There is no question of who this is – you had seen so many pictures of her in your life that you recognize her as an old friend as the two of you fall into a deep embrace. “I didn’t think— maybe I should have— I’m so glad to finally meet you.” Though you can feel sobs shake you a little, there is no sadness. It’s more of a powerful wave of relief that washes over you in this moment.

“I wanted to come. I needed to make sure you know how much I appreciate you.” There’s no jealousy, no bitterness that you spent more time with Jack than she had. There is nothing but joy and elation at finally greeting the woman who has shown her so much kindness and respect. Abigail pulls back and smiles at you while Jack watches the exchange.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit, feeling a little overwhelmed by the moment. Without fear, you’re left to simply adjust to whatever this next step is. “I’m just glad it’s the two of you here.”

Nodding, she steps back and allows Jack to take your hand. “Sugar, we will always be here.” He promises, and points with his other hand to the side. “And we can always watch over the kids and grandkids.”

You nod, taking Jack’s hand firmly in yours before reaching for Abigail with your other. Though you had never expected her to come, it’s an enormous comfort that she’s here. “I’m ready.”

Jack grins at you and winks. “Ready to go down another rabbit hole with me, sugar?” He asks, overjoyed that he gets to spend eternity with both you and Abigail. His soulmates.

“As long as I get to be with you, we can go anywhere you like.” It’s what you hoped for, when you thought of this moment, and the fact that it’s come true means you’re ready for anything.

“Then let’s get this train a movin’.” Jack squeezes your hand. “Heaven awaits.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #tw death #afterlife

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imagine-lcorp · 1 year

Text

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa (One Shot)

Request

Can you do something absolutely adorable with " I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus" where either Lena or Reader dresses up as Santa at Christmas night to hide presents under a tree and their child sees one kissing the other in a santa suit and comments on it the next morning at breakfast. Maybe the adults do more later. The child is asking if their parents are breaking up because somebody kissed Santa. Cue awkward Lena x R trying to either avoid or come up with an explanation to what the child saw.

A/N: Hello, my darlings! So, i guess Christmas time has officially started, and here it is to the last month of this year. Thank you for this great request, just in time for the holidays, I hope you enjoy it! Love y’all!

Lena Luthor x R//Word Count: 3,181 -------------------------------------------------------

"Why am I doing this, again?" You asked as the cold winter wind made your teeth rattle.

"Because you love our kids and you want to see them happy." Your wife answered with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"I'm starting t-to question that."

"No, you don't." Lena chuckled.

"No, I don't." You sighed and smiled.

It was a little past midnight when you found yourself walking outside your home, trying not to slip and fall on your face. You felt your body shiver, your fingers were cold, and you couldn't feel your face even when you were engulfed in a Santa Claus costume. Red suit, velvet cape, red and white hat, black boots, and a thick white beard that covered half your face, and you carried a bag with the gifts you had prepared for your kids. Still, couldn't feel warm.

But you only had yourself to blame for that.

The winter holidays had started a couple of weeks back. You and Lena had made plans to be able to spend as much time as possible with your two little kids at home. You had been enjoying yourselves so far with your own little home rituals, coffee and pancakes for breakfast, finishing chores during the morning until it was time for lunch, playing with your kids outside after it, watching movies in the afternoon, and playing some more until It was time for bed.

You had also spent so much time decorating your house and setting your Christmas tree. Lena had bought an excessive amount of decorations since your kids were babies because she wanted to make the holidays super special for them always and, needless to say, your kids were always excited by all of it.

However, they were their mother's children and something started to occur during this particular Christmas This time around they had started to question the nature of Santa Claus himself and Lena, who had dedicated her life to science and truth, was pretty adamant about keeping the illusion for the sake of your children's dreams and hopes. That's when you came up with the brilliant idea of catching Santa.

The plan was simple, you would put a camera on the living room during Christmas Eve, go to sleep and, while your kids waited for their gifts to be dropped, you would have video proof of Santa working his night shift. Very simple indeed, but people had their doubts.

Your children complained first. Little (Y/D/N) was the first one to come up with questions. She was your eldest child and the most cautious, most like Lena, who wanted to observe as Santa visited your home. She wanted to stay awake the whole night, hiding in the shadows were she could watch the whole thing. Sweet (Y/S/N), your youngest, seconded his sister's ideas. He too wanted to stay awake and watch how Santa used his powers and, of course, what he had brought to him as he had been a really nice boy, only bothering her sister once in a while. Lena also had her doubts about your plan but she wasn't about to discuss them with you in front of her kids.

After putting your kids to bed, that's when the real conversation started. Lena was on interrogation mode the moment she closed your room's door behind her.

"So, what are you exactly planning?" She had asked with a raised brow.

"Okay, just hear me out." You had raised your hands at her. "I got an idea."

She had been skeptical at first but she warmed at the idea. You were going to put a camera on the living room looking right at where your chimney was placed. There was a window close to it, so you would use it to enter the house. With a costume and the help of her image inducer, you would pretend to be Santa and edit a video with you falling from the chimney, leaving the gifts, eating a cookie and leaving. Just like Santa would do. Easy peasy.

What you forgot to take in account was that you would have to sneak around your own home, in the middle of the night with a blizzard outside, just to reach a window.

But you didn't mind because, like your wife had said, you wanted to make your children happy.

"Remember, you need to stand by the chimney so the camera spots you." You heard Lena over your earbuds.

"Got it." You replied and followed your plan.

You walked slowly, rounding your house, trying not to trip on the snow. A few lights were on in the living room so you could see in and out of it, making it easier to sneak inside the house. When you reached the window closest to the chimney, you left the gift bag on the floor for a moment and took a deep breath. You raised your hands towards the window, searching for the lock and tried to pull it open. Once, twice, thrice, until it was clear it wasn't going to open. You couldn't figure out if this was due to your cold fingers or if the window had been closed shut without you noticing.

"Love?" You called your wife.

"Yes?"

"Did you close the window?"

"Close? No, I checked it twice before we went to bed. Try again."

So you did, but it didn't open.

"It's stuck." You sighed, feeling a bit tired already. "Love, I don't feel my fingers anymore so, do you think you can come and help me?"

"Oh, darling. Of course, on my way."

"Love you, thank you."

"I will have to go to the window in the dinning room, I don't want the camera spotting me too." Lena whispered as she opened the door to the hall, walking on her tip toes, trying not to wake up your kids.

"Okay, gotta walk a little more." You said as you grabbed the gift bag.

The dinning room window wasn't far from where you were, only a few meters away. When you got close you saw Lena's shadow behind the curtain and you smiled as she approached. She pulled the curtain aside just in time to see you walking straight towards her.

"Oh goodness, it's freezing." She said as she opened the window, letting the cold wind rush inside.

"I know." You say letting out the steam of your breath.

You raised the gift bag first, moving it slowly inside. Lena helped you with it and then did the same with you as you jumped inside. She grabbed your hands and felt how cold you actually were. Another minute outside and you would have been turned into an icicle. She kept her hands on yours, trying to give you some warmth.

"Thanks." You shivered. "Are they still upstairs?"

"Yeah, sleeping like rocks". She smiled and moved her hands to rub your arms.

"Good, I just need a minute."

"You're going to need more than a minute, darling." She smirked. "But if you hurry, we can do something to warm you up in less than that."

You stopped for a moment, processing her words. She didn't need to say more. "Gotta work."

You pulled her towards you, giving her a quick kiss on the lips, smiling and pulling away to take the gift bag again. As you turned around with a smile on your face you headed towards the chimney, ready to complete your task. You could heard your wife chuckling as you marched on, activating the image inducer and transforming yourself fully into good old Santa.

You walked into the living room, placed yourself near the chimney and, like an action stunt, you rolled on the floor near it. With a little jump, to give it an extra effect once the video was edited, you stood on your feet and approached the Christmas tree. No present had been damaged in the process and you proceeded to pull and place each one of them underneath the tree. In less than a minute you were done and, with a satisfied smile, you went to take a cookie from the plate your kids had set on the coffee table, with a handwritten note that indicated such delicacies were destined for, and only for, Santa. You laughed the traditional ho, ho, ho's, ate the cookie and finally turned around.

"How did I do it?" You asked once you were back into your wife's arms.

"That was pretty impressive." She said smiling.

"Now that the deed is done, I remember you saying something about warming up in this cold winter night."

"I did." Lena nodded and leaned to give you a long sweet kiss on the lips. It was enough to feel the heat blooming under your skin.

A moment later, while you moved through the house trying not to make any noise, you reached your bedroom, closing the door behind you. Your wife helped you get off the Santa costume between kisses and before you went to bed you asked her if the video would be ready for the next day. She assured you Hope, her AI, would get it ready in no time.

Needless to say, with that settled, you had a great Christmas Eve. Then Christmas morning came in the blink of an eye.

It was the screaming and jumping that woke you up first.

(Y/S/N) had entered your room, jumping into your bed as you laid still in your wife's arms.

"Santa was here! Santa was here!" He chanted as you felt his little body fall on yours with the force of a hammer.

"Easy, buddy, easy." You said with a groggy voice as you tried to seat. "What are you doing so early?"

"Santa brought us gifts!"

"Yes, he did, my darling. " Lena caught him in her arms, she dragged him between you two and started to tickle him for a second, causing him to burst out laughing.

"Where did you left your sister?" You placed a kiss on his head once he calmed down. "Hope she isn't opening her presents without us."

"She's in her room." He answered.

"Still sleeping?" You looked at Lena with a raised brow.

"What if you go and wake up your sister, then you can see what surprises Santa left for you." Your wife prompted your son.

"Yeah!" He beamed and, after turning to hug you both, he went to wake up her sister.

You kissed your wife good morning, not really wanting to get up. You were still dwelling on the night you had with her, a very wonderful, magical and warm night that could only be compared to paradise. But duty called.

After leaving your bed, you and Lena headed to the kitchen. As you poured some coffee for the two of you, Lena checked on Hope, her little device placed on the kitchen counter, to see if the video was finished. It didn't disappoint. While you watched a few seconds of the video, you could almost swear that wasn't you but the actual Santa coming down the chimney with his bag of gifts.

"What do you think?" Lena asked as she held the tablet with the video playing.

"I think we caught Santa." You stood behind her, leaning with your chin on her shoulder. You smiled then and kissed her cheek, hoping it was enough for your children too.

A moment later, you heard your son walking down the stairs with another set of steps right behind. You walked to the living room, waiting for them. Your son was still jumpy, while your daughter, that seemed unusually tired, was rubbing her eyes.

"Merry Christmas." You said as you waited for them.

"Merry Christmas!" Your son exclaimed launching himself towards you. You hugged him and kissed his little head again.

"Merry Christmas." Your daughter replied and stood awkwardly at the end of the stairs.

Your son then went to hug Lena and she lifted him in her arms.

"Are you ready to open your presents?" She asked your kids.

"And then we can watch Santa!" Your son but screamed at your wife in excitement.

"Oh, yes." You smiled. "Seems we caught something on camera, but first your presents. Let's see if you were a good boy this year."

"I was!"

"Of course you were, my darling." Lena kissed him one last time before putting him down and he ran towards the Christmas tree.

"What are you doing, sweetheart?" You said looking at your daughter, who approached you shyly. You took a step towards her, grabbing her head and placing too a little kiss at the top of it. "C'mon, let's see what Santa brought you."

You let her go to join her brother and looked at Lena with a questioning look in your eyes as you daughter sat silently near the Christmas tree, watching her brother grab his presents. Your wife seemed as confused as you but she didn't voice her suspicions, so you had no other choice but to join your kids in the living room, wanting to see their reactions to the gifts you and Lena had prepared for them. You hoped your daughter's expression would change after opening hers. Lena sat on the couch nearby and you sat with your children on the floor.

(Y/S/N) was the first one to open his presents. He teared the wrapping with his little hands and screamed once again after seeing his long waited green lightsaber. He had become a fan of sci-fi movies recently and wanted nothing more but to be one of those intergalactic warriors so, to prepare him for her cosmic duties, you and Lena had agreed that would be a good present. Thankfully, he loved it and started to play with it right away. Other gifts were temporally forgotten as he ran around the living room.

On the other hand, (Y/D/N) seemed a bit hesitant when she started to open her first gift. It was a big box and she started to tear the wrapping little by little, as if afraid she would break whatever was inside. Her eyes were bright and a wide smile appeared on her face when she realized what was inside, a pair of skates she had been asking since the summer. However, her smile didn't last long.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Lena finally asked, watching her daughter's expression change so suddenly. "Isn't this what you asked Santa for?"

"Don't you like them?" You asked too.

She nodded but said nothing, something that finally made your parent instincts kick into action.

"Hey, what's wrong?" You approached her and repeated the question as you caressed her cheek. "You know you can tell us anything."

Lena had already seated herself at the edge of the couch, waiting for her answer while your son, unaware of the tension you were feeling, played with his new toy on the other corner of the room.

She looked at you both, fear and uncertainty clear in her eyes. "I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus."

You were startled for a moment. That was not an answer you had been prepared to hear and you found yourself confused.

"You saw your mommy kissing Santa Claus?" You raised your brows in surprise and turned to look at Lena, who had the same expression. "Like when? How?"

"Last night. I wanted to see Santa, so I came down the stairs when I heard the noises. He was there and he gave mom a kiss." Your daughter said and pointed at the exact spot where you and Lena had been.

You let out a long sigh after realizing what had happened. (Y/D/N), your precious and smart little girl, had sneaked the night before, surely standing in the stairs without you noticing as you played your part and, after that, she had seen you kiss her mother. She had returned to her room after witnessing such thing, that's why you didn't see her when you and Lena went back to your own bedroom.

"Are you breaking up?" Your daughter looked as if she was about to cry.

"What? No, no, no." You closed the distance between you and your daughter and wrapped your arms around her.

"Of course not, sweetie." Lena left the couch, seating next to you.

"Then why was mom kissing Santa?"

"Well, uh..." You looked at your wife, trying to come up with an answer but she returned the same look.

"Mommy kissed Santa?" Your son had stopped playing with his lightsaber and was very much aware now of what was happening.

"Well..." You started and you children stared at you expectantly. "Remember Santa has superpowers, right?"

Two little heads nodded at you and you looked at your wife for some help.

"Like superspeed, so he can deliver his gifts all over the world in one night, or when he comes down the chimney when he's really big?" She added as she gestured your son to join your little circle on the floor.

Again, two nods.

"Well, he has more superpowers and one of them is, uh, he may kiss you to make you forget...that you saw him." You said with a shrug and you looked at your wife who was amused at your answer.

There was a moment of silence in which your children seemed to ponder what you had just said. While your son looked a bit confused, your daughter frowned and looked at the floor, probably trying to make sense of that new little piece of information she had about Santa Claus.

"So, mom doesn't remember?" (Y/D/N) turned to look at your wife.

"I remember having a weird dream." Lena hummed. "But nothing about seeing Santa last night."

"Then, why Santa didn't kiss me too?" Your daughter inquired.

"Maybe because he didn't realize you were watching him, darling."

"And good thing he didn't. We don't want you kissing an old man." You added with a serious tone.

"Ewww." Your kids said in unison.

Lena and you laughed at that but, after it, your daughter looked like herself again, all signs of worry gone from her little face.

"Can we watch Santa's video?" Your son asked, reminding you of the video Hope had been editing all night.

You and Lena agreed. She went to take the tablet and you and your kids watched in wonder as the video played exactly as you had planned. Hope did a wonderful job at detailing your costume and at showing all the magical things Santa was supposed to do. You let your kids repeat the video as many times as they wanted, and with the crisis averted, you grabbed your wife's hand and kissed her knuckles.

"So, you don't remember kissing Santa, uh?" You said playfully and in a whisper.

"I don't." Lena smiled. "But I do remember having a wonderful Christmas Eve."

"As you should, and I'm going to make sure you too get a Christmas you will never forget." You said as you leaned to kiss her.

Having this moment with them was the best gift you could ever have.

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor imagines #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x you #lena x you #request #one shot #i saw mommy kissing santa #christmas #lena x reader

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milks-thoughts · 5 months

Note

Rottmnt x human sister reader, splinter decides she should go to a human high school so she could be around her own kind and learn more. And the bros are all pretty protective over this and are worried about her being in human school.

I’m trying out a new header style! Tell me if you enjoy it or if I should go back to the color strips!

Summary: Reader goes to school, hell ensues

TW: vomiting, a nasty panic attack in a public space, talk of animals insides

Notes: anyone mentioned in this that isn’t from Rise is an oc of mine! Please don’t use them in any works without explicit permission

Study Sessions

You stared at your father as he called a family meeting, usually, these go horribly wrong. Especially as of recently, when your father decided that you, the youngest and the only girl (other than your older sister, April) should go to school…and not the school Donnie and (as of recent) Draxum have been teaching. No, human school. A human high school. You sat down at the table and hugged your knees to your chest, Donnie leaning on the wall, Raph and Leo sitting in the chairs and Mikey sitting on the counter. Splinter smiled but before he could speak Red spoke “ Pops- if this is about school I’m sure Donnie could teach her about algebra and..whatever else human kids learn! “ Donnie snarked “ I could teach her rocket science! “ Splinter nodded “ I’m sure you could purple but, she needs to be with other humans, learn to socialize “ you looked away as he slid papers on the table “ April’s parents did me a favor and enrolled her with Casey Jr! “ you felt doom and anxieties cloud your chest, you took the papers and read it, the papers were illegal documents that Donnie made…you read through each line before getting your schedule. How fun. It was seven classes a day with each class being an essential skill…apparently. What I’m the actual fuck is Home Ec.

The next few weeks came quicker than anticipated. Donnie made you and Casey matching bracelets, they were emergency bracelets (ignoring that your ninpō could just…tell them if something was wrong). And of course they were genius tech! He was making an empire after all! You did clothes shopping with April and also learned how to be socially acceptable with not only April's help, but also Sunita…and finally, the dreaded day. You and Casey stood shoulder to shoulder and stared at the high school, it was bustling, a few interesting faces but mostly everyone already knew each other. There was a larger group, of about seven people. You noted how one had a pretty sapphire necklace and a prosthetic arm that was so fluid it rivaled Donnie’s own he made for Leo. You gave Casey a hopeful smile and walked into the high school, you were immediately overstimulated. Going from a rather empty sewer to a high school was anxiety filling. A blonde haired girl bumped into you, when you turned to apologize for being in her way she immediately apologized. She was probably 5 '6 with sea green eyes and blonde hair “ my names Nyssa, you two seem a bit lost- do you need some help? “ Casey immediately nodded, Nyssa smiled and held out her hand “ oh right! They/Them! "Oops. You smiled and spoke your name, Casey following your lead. Nyssa led you two to your first class “ Your schedules are exactly the same, I didn’t know they could do that. You may get separated when testing comes up, you could be boosted into honors or lowered to just skills class “ Nyssa stopped at the first door. How amazing, math at 8 AM.

When the class finished you saw the white haired boy meet up with a brown haired girl with a tiger eye brooch. All the jewelry you’ve been seeing was very similar to Sunitas cloaking device, the brown haired girl seemed to be a senior based on how old she looked and sounded. You smiled and led Casey to your other classroom. Science.. how lovely, you knew you’d get this fine. Casey had a bit less of knowledge than you, they didn’t exactly have a need for schooling in the apocalypse. While you…well your brain has been nurtured by your older brother since the both of your youth. You could speak four different languages fluently, you could do some math that college students learn, you could do most things. Your biggest problem? American history. You learned Japanese history, your father telling you myths and legends that he learned. And you knew a bit of history from China. A sudden electrical feeling ran through you and Casey, it was simply a blue warmth, less like a fire or a sun and more like an electric heat. You were more than happy to welcome it into your ninpō, walking with it through your science class. It was simple biology, you slept through most of it with Casey and answered any questions sent your way. It left soon after second period and left you alone during third.

Then it was time for your language class…you spoke flawlessly, holding a full conversation with the teacher in Spanish before halfway switching to Japanese to see if the teacher could too. He couldn’t. Casey suddenly spoke up next to you and you turned, the two of you happily chattering in Japanese, sometimes clicking at each other before you realized that was weird, so you continued in Japanese. Yes, both you and Casey are fluent in the “ turtle language “ but shhh that doesn’t matter. Language class moved quickly and then off to fourth. You met Nyssa again, they said hello as you sat down next to Casey in biology. It was announced that you’ll be dissecting something. When you questioned what the teacher smiled “ oh! we’ll be dissecting something super exciting tomorrow, a red eared slider! “ you felt queasy. Quickly shooting up your hand to ask for the restroom, you sped off and found yourself emptying your stomach in the school hallway, a trash can in your hold, your ninpō going crazy and altering not only all of your brothers of your panicking but also a feeling…someone who was spewing mystic energy somewhere in this school, and no, it wasn’t Draxum. His mystic powers felt a certain…way. It wasn’t long before Casey found you and rubbed your back. The feeling of Raphs sturdy ninpō wrapping around your panicking one helped calm you down. You breathed and wiped your mouth with a sanitary wipe Donnie was demanding you keep with you. Slowly you and Casey went back to class, you still looked clammy and jumpy as you sat down and looked anywhere but the board that was a display of snapping turtles insides, Casey was holding it together, but barely. Like an overstuffed suitcase. The bell soon rang after that.

You made your way to lunch where you spoke to Draxum a bit and then was swept away by Nyssa. Brought to a table with the same few interesting people you’ve seen that day. When you really got closer to them, most of the jewelry was spewing mystic energy…cloaking devices. The brown haired senior was named Bellezza, there was a tan girl with short curly hair and a seal coat named Öskra, a blonde senior with blue eyes named River, she had a opal gemstone in a choker on her neck. A brown haired girl named Ésme who shared a ruby ring with the white haired boy (whom you learned was named Mason) and was the only one who didn’t buzz with mystic energy. And the last person, a black haired boy with burgundy eyes named Alexander, he had a garnet bracelet on. They all seemed to be able to pick up on your free flowing ninpō, and how it was prickling from previous panic. You were stuck close to Casey as you rested through lunch, your ninpō reaching and searching for two in particular. One that kind of felt like Mc Donald’s sprite and the electrical warmth. They both responded immediately, their ninpōs like two cats curling around a scared kitten. Your ninpō is the metaphorical kitten.

You didn’t eat lunch that day, moving into fifth period, ELA. The teacher gave you a free period and you simply slept. Your lashes attached to your cheek before you woke up with a startled noise, your eyes wide before looking up. There was your purple clad brother, staring at you as you looked at the ceiling tiles. You glared at him, before looking around and getting yourself into the roof quickly “ what are you doing here?! “ you hissed “ I’m just seeing how my dear sister is doing! and if this school is really better than my teachings! '' you sighed “ it’s super easy right now- “ Donnie laughed “ of course it is! He said confidently “ you smiled at your brother and sighed “ How’s everyone holding up at home? '' Donnie hummed “ Nardo has been fighting Raph to not just portal in this school and hunt you down. I didn’t let him come! “ you stared at him dead panned “ and you can? '' Donnie stared and then slowly backed away into the shadows of the dusty air vent. You dropped down quietly after that and slipped back into your seat, knocking dust off yourself. The bell rang again…god you were tired of that damn bell. Time for sixth period.

Next was a world history class. The teacher had turtles as a class pet, you were immediately drawn to them. Casey watched as you quietly chirped and rumbled at them. The turtles craning their heads closer to you as you made noises at them, their quiet voices responding. You quickly scampered to your seat, far away from Casey. Squished between two boys that made your ninpō scream and demand you return to Casey’s side, anxieties pulling your brain into mush. The teacher put on a video about ancient Egyptian mythology. Stuff you already knew. Your eyes grew heavy as you fell asleep, halfway through your rest the sound of a large bang startled you awake.

You whipped back with a noise and fell out of your chair. Backing up a bit, you didn’t see a classroom. You saw the tunnels, kraang infested as they chased you and your brothers. Raph missing. That was your whole mission, to retrieve your oldest brother. Leo and Casey Jr got separated. Mikey and Donnie hid in the tank. Leaving you, to get stolen away. You fumbled and looked around for something, anything to fight the kraang. Someone grabbed your arm and you started hitting it, the arm didn’t relent, it was softly pulling you away from the tunnel. The whole…incident… was traumatic for you. any really, everyone. You, Casey, Raph, and Leo got the nastiest of the flashbacks. The yokai therapist that the family got said they were classified as panic attacks. Even as the soft arms pushed you to the floor you continued hitting and thrashing, pausing when the feeling of something wrapping around your ninpō entered your brain. Your body is basically shocked to real life. Casey was holding you by your arms, you had hot tears running down your face and hurt vocal cords. You stared at him and blinked before letting out a quiet sob and leaning forward, him just holding you throughout the entirety of sixth period.

You guys didn’t go to seventh period. You just sat in the corner of a hallway and breathed, at some point the same blonde senior, River, came and sat down with you two. And after that? Mason, the albino boy, and Bellezza the senior with auburn hair joined her. They were all siblings, Casey theorized that they were wolf yokai based on how they flocked like a pack. Seventh period ended quickly, when April came to get you guys she immediately noticed the tense mood from you two, walking back to the sewers…she could only wonder how the brothers would react. When the three of you walked in, Raph was the first to notice you being back, he looked at your and Casey’s sour faces and lowered his snout so it rested on your head and hugged you, chuffing hard enough your entire body vibrated. You made small similar noises, but they were weak and halfhearted. Raph was so worried about what happened to you at school. Leo and Donnie soon returned to the main area and joined the upwards cuddle session, Casey and April being pulled into it as they all wrapped around Raph to feel his churrs, Mikey soon attaching to Raphs shells and starting to chur as well, you forgot how amazing it felt to be held like this. You took off your cloaking device and the scars that were hidden from the public eye became known. Oh how much they wanted to ask about school, why your ninpō wailed in pain, why your chirps that normally sounded so nice were half hearted and deflated

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt x you #save rottmnt #angst #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #this is all purely platonic #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #platonic #I PUT MY ENTIRETY IN THIS.#2088 words.#holy fuck #please god let people want more of this. it’s so fun to write

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bad268 · 1 year

Note

Hi! Could you do a enemies to lovers with Minho. You guys were both taken by WICKD at a young age and became pretty good childhood friends and then later you started dating in your teens. Minho was then taken away and you rebelled with Thomas and they sent you up. In the maze you don’t get along with Minho but then suddenly you both get a memory of you two dating from before the maze. Angst and you don’t get together until scorch trials? Jealous Minho lolol. Love ur work!

It’s Always Been Minho (TMR Minho X Reader)

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Requested: Clearly

Warnings: WICKED

Pronouns: She/Her

W.C. 5124

Summary: Minho and the reader were together before the maze. What will happen in the maze and after they get out?

As always, my requests and ships are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Google/Wiki fandom)

I couldn’t see. The last thing I saw was the WICKD workers taking me out of the little cave I called home after my parents went crazy. They caught the Flare.

I couldn’t remember all that happened. I recall them saying I would be safer with them rather than on my own. They said they wanted to help find a cure. They said I was immune. I didn’t know what that meant. I was four.

My head hurts. I think I was screaming. It could have been someone else. Who knew? It has only been a week since I followed those WICKD soldiers out of my cave. They took me to their facility. There were more people there. I didn’t get to meet any of them, but I saw them when I first walked in. I was the youngest. I didn’t like it.

They told me it was a simple test. They wanted to see my brain waves when I did puzzles. Then, they knocked me out, and now, it hurts. There’s a boy in the bed next to me. He stopped screaming a while ago. The nurses and doctors refused to come in while we were screaming, and he learned that the hard way.

By the time I stopped screaming, another person a few rooms over started. “I hate this. It hurts.”

“Tell me about it,” the boy said, turning to glare at me. “You didn't have someone next to you screaming their head off for the last hour.”

“My bad,” I sassed, looking over to meet his gaze. “By the sound of it, everyone reacts this way at first.”

“You’d be right about that one,” he laughed. “Last time a nurse came in here was to drop you off. That was a few hours ago.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“Since yesterday,” he signed, flipping over to his side. “Said I could leave this morning but never told me anything after that.”

“I’m sorry. Probably my fault. I’m (Y/N).”

“Or they’re just jerks,” he laughed again. “I’m Minho.”

~4 years later~

There was knocking. I was sure of it. A few minutes passed by before I heard it again. This time, I stood up to open my door only to find Minho leaning against the wall.

“Took you long enough, sweetcheeks,” he whispered.

“Are you insane?” I seethed, moving to pull him into my room. “Them WICKD workers could kill you for sneaking out.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, rhetorically as he moved towards my bed. “What good’ll that do them? They need us.”

“Point is that they’re sticklers for rules, and one of the main rules is to not leave our rooms after lights out.”

“Again, what’ll they do? Kill me? Doubt that,” he smirked as he wrapped his arms around my waist to pull me down to the bed on top of him as he laid down. “Plus, I got news.”

“What kind of news?”

“Good news,” he smiles. “Everyone’s merging.”

“Like everyone everyone or most of us?”

“Well, obviously the golden four won't be with us, but I heard we’re gonna be allowed to eat together, go to classes together, and we’ll have roommates.”

“They would never room you with me,” I laughed at his statements. “They’ll stick you with Newt and me with Harriet.”

“Unless they group us in those two huge rooms by the stairs,” he offered. “Maybe they’ll split us into the groups they’re prepping us for.”

“If they do that, they’re probably going to split us by gender,” I countered. “I heard group A was going to be the guys and group B was the girls.”

“Well, I guess I’ll be sneaking into the girls’ room every night.”

“Take a lady to dinner first.”

“I literally eat with you at every meal!”

~4 years later~

I couldn’t sleep. I just couldn’t shut down. This room was too big, too echo-y. Every little sound caused anxiety to rise in my chest. I didn’t like this new room. I missed my isolated cell. I miss Minho randomly stopping by and talking for hours. It’s been years since the merge, but I still do not like it.

Then, I heard the door close. I pretended to be asleep, in fear of the WICKD guards catching me again. The footsteps echoed through the room, but they did not sound like the boots of other WICKD workers. They sounded like someone was being careful of where they were going like they were searching for someone.

“Pst,” they whispered. “I hate that you guys can’t stick with one format. Like they’re just beds! Why do you have to rearrange it so often?”

“Maybe you boys are just boring,” I laughed in response, immediately recognizing the voice as Minho. “Why do you come in here every night?”

“Maybe I just want to see you, sweetcheeks,” he teased as he continued to move around the room blindly until he tripped over something on the ground. “What's with all this clunk?”

“Shut up, Minho! If you want to hang with your girlfriend, take her out and let us sleep!” One of the girls exclaimed. With a groan, and probably an eye-roll, he got up and found my bed.

“Finally,” he let out a breath. “Now, you want to get out of here?”

“Take a lady to dinner first,” I laughed.

“What if I want our first date to be a walk in the park?” He offered before pausing, “or facility. We don't have a park.”

“What if I said yes?”

“Then, I will take you out right now.”

“Okay,” I giggled. “Let me grab a jacket and my shoes real quick.”

“Here,” he said, taking his hoodie off, revealing a long sleeve WICKD shirt underneath. He helped me put it over my head once I sat up in my bunk. “Take mine. I bet you’d look cute in it”

“Oh, smooth, Min,” I replied, sarcastically. “Now, lead the way.”

He grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the large room into the hallway where we met up with Alby.

“Took you bloody long enough,” Alby complained. “We almost got caught twice!”

“Didn’t take you as a stickler,” Minho shot back.

“Last I thought, you were just going in and getting the girl,” Alby laughed as he pushed himself up from where he was sitting on the floor. “Didn’t realize it’d take you 20 minutes.”

“Okay, shut up both of you,” I stated. “You need to pack your patience.”

“And you just got shut down by a girl,” Minho laughed. He pulled me along, leaving Alby behind. “Let’s go, you lazy shanks! We’re going to kidnap Thomas and Teresa.”

“That was the plan?” I wondered. “How are we going to get them to follow us?”

“Just say we found something cool,” Alby laughed. “They’re probably bored as heck in their rooms all day. They don’t get to see anyone besides the doctors and each other, so anything is better than nothing.”

“Exactly,” Minho agreed as we continued down the hallway towards their respective rooms that were at opposite ends of the hall. “We can also show them what WICKD is trying to get us to do. Show them what kind of experiments they are doing to us.”

“I’ll get Teresa, you guys get Thomas,” I said, stopping her room, as the others continue to the other end. I raise my hand to knock, and almost immediately, Teresa opens the door. “Come on. We’re gonna take a tour.”

“Anything to get out of this room,” she laughed, closing her door behind her, and we started heading down to Thomas’s room. “Do you know where?”

“Not exactly, but knowing the boys, it’s probably the ‘super-secret hiding place’ they found last week,” we laughed. “Did you get Thomas yet?”

“Yeah, he’s talking with Alby,” Minho answered, leading us over to the rest of the group. “Now, let’s go before someone sees us on the cameras.” Teresa walked ahead to meet up with the only other person she knew in the group while Minho and I stayed a few steps behind the rest. “Are we going to the place?”

“Yeah,” he responded, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “We’re gonna show them exactly what they are feeding.”

“Is that so?” Another voice asked, causing us all to stop as another group of WICKD workers came out from behind the corner we were about to cross. “Why don’t we show you what we’re trying to do?”

Without an escape, we all follow the workers, and we are met by a few other people at the elevators. I could only recognize two of them: Dr. Paige and Chancellor Anderson.

“We are going to show you exactly what we are keeping you safe from,” Dr. Paige explained.

“Oh, we finally get to know what happens when someone gets the flare?” Minho exclaimed sarcastically. “I’m shaking in my boots.”

I turned to slap his arm as we got into the elevator and went down. Chancellor Anderson and Dr. Paige just shook their heads in response as we rode down in silence. We just awkwardly looked around at each other. Despite having done this many times, this is the only time we have been caught. Probably because this was the first time we brought Thomas and Teresa with us. Finally, after what felt like forever, we stopped at the last level. Dr. Paige led us out with Alby, Minho and I walking out first while Thomas and Teresa followed behind us with Chancellor Anderson after them.

We walked down a dimly lit hall to a large metal door at the end. Thomas and Teresa were taken another way with Chancellor Anderson doing who knows what. Once we approached the door, Dr. Paige turned to us slowly as one of the workers began opening the door. “This will, hopefully, put into perspective what our mission is, and why we do what we do.”

“Keep your mouth shut, Min, and let’s just get this over with,” I stated, turning to send a glare at Minho before moving to go into the room first. I am immediately met with a large room that looked like a forest. The next thing I noticed was the groans. I looked to the side to see Randall Spilker. He had black veins spreading around his body, blood flowing from his mouth, and the tips of his fingers were gone. “What happened to him?”

“The flare,” Randall answered. “Don’t you understand? This is what they are keeping you safe from. They are trying to keep you safe from people like me. To find a cure.”

“It’s not like we were going to leave,” Alby responds.

“Yeah, we were going to show Thomas and Teresa all the work they’ve been putting into this place,” Minho added. “We saw those huge areas you’ve been building, and wanted to show them what’s been going on.”

“Minho, respectfully, shut up,” I hissed. His big mouth was going to get us into more trouble than we already were.

“All I’m doing is defending us,” He responded.

“And because we want to get our message across, Minho, why don’t I show you around this room first?” Randall offered.

“Is that even safe?” I nearly shouted.

“We would never let the cranks harm any of you,” Dr. Paige said. “However, we will throw you in to understand them.”

Before Alby or I could register what Dr. Paige said, two other workers pulled us back out of the room, leaving Minho with the cranks. Out of the room, down the hallway, and back to the elevator; we were dragged. Once in the lift, the workers pulled out these syringes before plunging them into our necks

I wake with a start, tied down to a hospital bed in my old room. Thomas is next to me, shaking me awake. I groaned before squeezing my eyes closed to block out the white lights of the room. “What the shuck, Tom.” I slowly opened them again to take in the boy in front of me. He looked nothing like earlier. He looked a few years older. “How long was I out?”

“They’ve been keeping you in an induced coma for the past three years,” he explained. “They started sending people to the maze after you got caught. Alby went first, then Newt, Minho, Gally-”

“Hold up, what maze?” I was so confused. I could not register it all at once.

“The groups they separated us in. The gigantic structures in the basement. Those are mazes like the ones we did in class. They want to monitor our brainwaves to see if they can find a cure,” he explained once again.

“How do mazes and puzzles find a cure for a DNA-altering disease? Doesn’t that seem fishy to you?”

“That’s why I woke you up,” he whispered. “They don’t know. They gave me access to all floors and rooms once Teresa and I agreed to help them, and I need backup.”

“What kind of backup?”

“Okay, so I want you to find out exactly what they are doing with the tests,” he explained. “If anyone can figure it out, it’s you. Once you find the results and their intentions, we can get them out. You also need to hide from anyone besides me. Again, I’m the only one that knows you’re awake.”

“Got it.”

It has been a few weeks of me sneaking around the facility, taking notes on every little thing I believe would be helpful to Thomas. I have been writing as much as I could, sliding the pages under his door, and hiding in one of the back closets.

Today, I was going to try and get down to the basement to see the mazes. Looking over the building plans, there was a small passage from the stairs to a platform that looks over one of the mazes. By the looks of it, it should be an easy thing, especially at night.

It was nearing midnight, and I know the majority of the staff is off to bed. I make my way down the never-ending staircases to reach the last floor before turning off towards a door that leads to the passage. The narrow hallway twisted into a spiral staircase. Once I got to the top, I opened the door to see a gigantic enclosed yard.

“Holy crap,” I whispered to myself as I looked at the field. From where I was standing, I could see a few people walking around the perimeter, and in those people, I saw Minho. It was him, Newt, Alby, Ben, and Gally. I had no clue what they were talking about but they were laughing at something, then Alby slapped the back of Minho’s head. I jotted some notes about what the place looked like and what they were doing into the notebook I snagged from one of the supply closets. I hid the book in the back of my shirt and turned to leave, but the sound of the passage door locking.

I took off running down the normal entrance/ exit stairs despite knowing it would be completely open; if I was going to get caught, I needed to make sure Thomas knew what was going on in the mazes. I took off running up the stairs, hearing the pounding of multiple sets of footsteps following behind me. I took a shortcut up to Thomas’ room. I needed to get these to him without the guards noticing.

I turned the corner to his room before throwing the entire notebook under the door and taking off toward the only exit I knew of. As I got to the last door, I opened it using a key card I had stolen from a desk, but when the door opened, I was met by Janson.

“Who woke you up?” He teased me. “Last I checked, you were unconscious.”

“I woke up myself, Ratman,” I laughed in response. “Just you wait until I tell everyone in this facility exactly what you are doing with us. I saw those grievers. You are literally trapping us and not letting us leave! I have seen seven people get killed by those grievers directly, and another ten from getting stung. I will make sure that everyone knows about the cruel punishments you put us through!”

“Maybe, but you’re not going to remember what you saw,” he responded. I was not able to respond before a doctor came up behind me and injected me with something.

I couldn’t tell where I was. I couldn’t see, but I could tell that I was moving. Very fast at that. After my eyes adjusted to the dark area, I could make out that I was in a small room with boxes surrounding me. I went to go over to the crates but fell down as the room came to a sudden stop.

The top of the room opened, and I had to squint my eyes as the bright light evaded the area. Once I was able to see again, I noticed a group of guys huddled around the opening.

“What the shuck?” One said.

“Since when did they send girls here?” Another said.

“Oh great,” A third said with an eye roll, “stick her with Fry. I’m not dealing with her.”

“What is this place?” I asked. “Who are you?”

“You’ll learn with time, greenie,” The second guy said, jumping into the box. “I'm Alby. I run this place. It’s the Glade.”

“What did I miss?” A guy walked, more like limped, over from a building. “Wait, they sent a girl?”

“Yeah, Newt. What does that mean?” The first guy that spoke said.

“I don’t know,” Newt responded. He and the guy he was talking to walked over to the end, and the other jumped in with Alby and me while Newt stayed at the top.

“Minho, take her and show her around,” Alby commanded. Minho went to protest, but Alby stopped him. “Newt would, but his leg is still healing and walking ain’t doing him any good.”

“Fine, let’s go, greenie,” he huffed, climbing out of the box.

“Who are you calling greenie? What is a greenie?” I responded, following him out. “Last I checked my name was (Y/N).”

All of the guys gasped in surprise and started talking among themselves. Alby climbed out as well and pulled Newt into a side conversation while Minho just stared at me like I was crazy.

“You know your name? Already?” He asked, curious as to why the creators would send someone with at least partial memories.

“Yeah, you think I’m dumb?” I snapped.

“No, just no one remembers anything when they get here,” he snapped as well. “And until you can prove that you’re not useless, you’ll just be weak to me.”

It has been a few months in the glade. I have not remembered anything other than my name, but I moved past that in order to prove myself to these boys. The only people in this place that did not question my worth were Alby and Newt even though I have worked my way up to being a builder and occasional runner.

Minho had some weird vendetta against me. He thinks I am out to get him or something stupid like that. It’s almost like he doesn't understand that I am just doing my part.

“Why don’t you let the stronger guys take care of that,” Minho sneered, poking at the fact that I was carrying wood to the area where we would have the bonfire. “Look like you’re struggling there, shank.”

“Minho, respectfully, shut up,” I growled, “Let me do my job in peace. I don’t run into the maze to bug you.”

“Hmmm, yeah you do.”

“Not on days that I’m not allowed,” I snapped. “Even then I’m not near you and Ben. I’m off on my own.”

“Hey, (Y/N), get back to work,” Gally shouted, “Those logs ain’t gonna move themselves.”

I was about to respond when the box sounded that a new shipment was in as well as a new greenie. We all went to crowd around the box, and when it opened, I recognized the person. I could not say from where, but his face looked familiar. He didn’t give anyone a chance to say anything before he jumped out of the box and bolted towards the doors of the maze. Minho and I took after him, but we didn’t need to run for long as the greenie tripped. Once we got him into the slammer, I knew I wanted to talk to Alby about making him a runner.

“That’s a suggestion you need to bring up with Minho,” Alby said. “It’s his section.”

“You know he’d never listen to me,” I started. “Plus, he’d never let a newbie into the maze.”

“Here, we will have a meeting, and we’ll vote on it.”

“No.”

“We already voted, and we need more runners,” I reasoned. “You’re not even running with him. I’m the only one that doesn’t have a partner.”

“Still, I’m the keeper of the runners, so I get the final say, and I said no,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Just let it go, and leave me alone.”

“I’ll leave you alone when you respect democracy, you slinthead.” I continued following him as we approached the bonfire. Gally was already throwing hands with Ben, Winston and Fry already had Gally’s concoction and Newt was talking with the greenie. “All I’m saying is to give him a chance.”

“Fine, he got one day to prove himself, and I’m not handling him, is that clear?”

“Crystal,” I spat with a tight-lipped smile before turning away from Minho to approach Newt and greenie. However, the greenie was being pulled into the ring by the time I got to them. I looked over to Newt to see him looking nervous. “This is initiation. He’ll be fine.”

“Were you able to talk sense into Minho?”

“Yup, he’s got one day to prove himself,” I stopped, hearing someone hit the dirt. I saw the new guy on the ground, but he did not get up right away. Just as Newt and I were about to react, he jumped up screaming his name.

“Thomas!” He exclaimed. “My name is Thomas!”

“Alright, Thomas,” I paused out of breath. We had just gotten closed into the maze with Minho and Alby. Minho and Alby ran together today since Ben was sung yesterday, but now, Alby was also stung. No one had ever been locked in the maze, and now the four of us had to survive together. “We just killed ourselves.”

“No, I’ve got an idea,” Thomas started.

“Thomas, no,” Minho snapped, propping Alby against the wall. “We are dead. There is no way we can survive the night with the grievers and Alby being stung. We. Are. Dead.”

“No, I have an idea. We could tie Alby to the vines and hang him up,” Thomas explained as he pointed up the wall. “We just need to work together.”

“Thomas, hate to break it to you, but Minho hates both of us,” I responded bluntly. “So while I might help and it might work, there is no way we would ever work together.”

With that, Thomas and I started wrapping the vines around Alby. We worked together to secure the vines and pull to hang him at a safe height. All the while, Minho sat and watched. Just as we finished, the sound of gears and scraping got louder, almost as if it were right around the corner. Once we secured Alby in the air, we took off in different directions instead of sticking together.

I could not tell how long I had been running, but eventually, I found a cliff and a small hiding place. I threw myself into the hole as the griever came around the corner. Thankfully, it did not see me, but another set of footsteps turned around the corner. It was Minho, but the next thing I knew, the griever was on top of him.

I did not really want to help him since he would not do the same if I was in his shoes, but I also could not let him just get stung. Thus, I jumbled out of the hole, grabbed a vine, and whipped it at the griever. “Over here, griever!” I shouted.

Minho had already been stung, but he looked over at me with a glazed look before passing out as the griever walked up to me.

“I clearly did not think this through,” I mumbled to myself as I took off running in the other direction. I, quite literally, ran into Thomas before scrambling to get up, pulling him with me. “Run!”

“What?” He trailed off but followed closely behind once he saw the griever on my tail. We ended up splitting up, me going right, and Thomas going left. I ended up doing a circle which worked out since I was able to get Minho hidden in the hole, so he would not die. He stirred as I dragged his body toward the hiding space, and he started mumbling pieces of a conversation but still not opening his eyes.

“Golden four,” he muttered. I listened curiously as there was a break, but he picked up after a second, almost as if he was having a real conversation. “Split us into groups…Sneaking into the girls’ room every night…I literally eat with you at every meal.”

That last sentence sparked something in my mind, it was like the floodgates opened, and it’s like I could remember most of my life before this maze. I do not remember specifics, but I do remember running around a huge facility with a small group of people. There were three boys, Newt. Alby and Minho, and one girl. We would cause trouble in the cafeteria, roan the halls, and run from guards. That was about as specific as I could get.

Leaving Minho where he was, I took off to find Thomas. Finding him relatively quickly with a griever pinning him down, I grabbed a vine yet again to whip at the machine. This time, instead of it just coming back at me, the vine wrapped itself around the legs of the griever and tripped it. Thomas scrambled from underneath it to stand beside me as the griever began tearing through the vines. It stood menacingly in front of us before, almost like a switch, just turning around, and leaving us without a thought.

“Minho got stung,” I told him as we started walking back to the doors. “I hid him.”

“Why would you do that? Not to be mean or anything, but you guys hate each other," Thomas asked as we dragged Minho out of the hiding spot. “He would’ve just let you did probably.”

“Regardless of our hatred, I am not letting anyone die in this maze. Not on my watch,” I replied seriously as we approached the doors that were just opening. We propped Minho against the wall as we got Alby down. Thomas carried Alby while I dragged Minho closer to the doors as they finished opening, and every glader was standing, waiting for us. I leaned closer to Thomas, whispering, “I’m not a monster.”

~~ It’s been nearly a week since we got out of the maze. Three days since we got out of the glade. Minho and Alby survived, but Gally and Chuck died on our way out. Now, we were all separated, well most of us were. The boys got to stick together, and Teresa and I stuck together. I’ve got a bad feeling about her, but I’m apparently the only one.

Minho, on the other hand, has been avoiding me like the plague. I know he’s asking about me because Thomas and Newt still talk to me, but anytime Minho sees me around them, he turns the other way. I want to know what he remembered, but I know that is something he would never tell me.

One night, I got curious. I wanted to know where the “safe” people were going, so I stole a key card and snuck through the vents to reach the backrooms. I was not expecting to see hundreds of teenagers strung up, hooked up to a multitude of machines. I found a couple of loose guns, so I grabbed those, hoping the guys would bust out with me. If not, oh well, I have a weapon now. I crawled through the vents to reach the boys’ room. I heard them talking quietly, so I waited for a break in the conversation.

“You’re not making any sense,” Newt said. “What do you mean you remember her?”

“When I got stung, I remembered a conversation and we were talking about a merge,” Minho explained. “Like I think we were here for a long time and then the WICKED people put us into the groups. Y’know, Group A and Group B, but she should’ve been in Group B. Why was she in our group?”

“We do not have time to focus on that,” Thomas reasoned. “We need to figure out exactly how you know Y/n and how we get out of here. Seriously, I have a bad feeling.”

“I think we were together,” Minho mumbled. The rest of the guys gasped, and I let out one quietly to myself. None of them heard it as they continued the conversation. “I don’t know what to think.”

“Well, how do you feel?” Newt pressed. “You wouldn’t be so caught up if you didn’t feel something for her.”

“Maybe I do!” Minho exclaimed. “She literally saved my life, but she hates me.”

“Minho, trust me,” Thomas speaks up, “she does not hate you. When she was talking about saving you in the maze, she did not look like she hated you. There’s no way.” It went silent for a while, so I decided to put aside my shock and make an appearance. I knocked on their vent. I could hear them jump before Thomas lifted it. “Oh, what’re you doing here?”

“You won’t believe me, but we need to get out of here. Now,” I pressed. “They’re stringing us up. There is no safe haven. They’re killing us.”

Running through the halls with Ratman chasing me did not bring up the best memories. I remembered waking up after Minho was sent up to the maze, and Thomas recruited me. Not the best time, but I pushed through. At one point, I tripped. I thought I was dead. However, to my shock, someone stopped.

“You’re not dying on me. I won’t let you go now that I remember,” Minho. It was Minho. It’s always been Minho.

~~~ Part 2 ->

~~~~~

#the maze runner #tmr minho x reader #tmr minho #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner minho #the maze runner minho x reader #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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oheck-trainwreck · 21 days

Text

I can’t sleep so I’m thinking about my catastrophe crew au again.

I think the main cast would looks something like this:

Badboyhalo: initially an average channel 11 camera man who was assigned to the news helicopter, who becomes the helicopters reporter after tragedy and/or upper management befalls several of the replacements. He is kind of the head of the crew, in that he often comes up with the insane solutions to the problems they face (a reference to his big-finding skills on the Qsmp), but he always assists the others when they need it (after some teasing and being mischievous). He has a son, Dapper.

Tubbo: the helicopter pilot, and the youngest of the crew. He’s very smart and insightful, giving the crew advice and inspiration, and sometimes straight up solutions based on his observations. He’s very good with technology and mechanics, but since he’s too busy flying the helicopter, he doesn’t use those skills too much. Despite being fairly young, he has an adopted daughter, Sunny, who he takes care of when he’s not at work.

Bagi: the copilot. She takes over flying when tubbo is incapacitated or doing tech-y stuff elsewhere. She does copilot things (I don’t know how helicopters work) but she also has incredible deductive skills and logical reasoning. She’s very good at connecting the dots, and ends up finding out how the disasters that the crew faces are all related. (At the beginning of the show, she does not yet have Empanada).

Aypierre: the crew’s technician and mechanic. He stays on the helicopter to fox anything that breaks, and bring out odd little inventions to help with whatever bizarre situations the crew finds themselves in. He co-parents his daughter pomme with a number of other French people (they live in the same apartment complex as Bad and Dapper, which leads to Pomme seeing Bad as a father as well)

Tina: I don’t know what her job title would be, but she manages the broadcast of the sound and video from the helicopter to the newstation. She controls whose voices are broadcast on the air, which she occasionally uses to mess with people (I don’t know a whole lot about Tina, but I’ll probably come up with more details for her later)

Recurring side characters:

Cucurucho: a higher up (but not the highest up) at channel 11 news. He is the boss of all members of the crew, and is/was responsible for putting the crew together. He is mostly impartial and mainly focused on efficiency, but there are situations where they base decisions on their own desires.

Skeppy: the other reporter for the catastrophe crew, who stays within the channel 11 building. (Tbh also don’t know a lot about him. He’s probably beefing with cucurucho tho)

Relationships:

Bagina: the only relationship that will be canonized within the show. They are gay disasters around each other for a bit, flirt, date, and end up getting married and going on honeymoon right before thing get VERY BAD. Let’s go lesbians.

Cucuhalo: cucurucho has a crush on bad. Bad is dense as rocks. Cucurucho sometimes abuses his power for the sake of this one sided crush, like when he had skeppy relocated (to be further away from bad). Maybe they also live in the same apartment complex, next door neighbors or something.

Skephalo: you know how they are (probably). As the two reporters/anchors, they often have a bit of banter as the newscast switches from one to the other. They work very well together, but can’t work nearby to each other due to the jealousy of cucurucho.

Cucurucho and skeppy work in much closer proximity than either does with bad, so they have little passive aggressive interactions sometimes. Bad is also oblivious to this, and thinks that everyone should just get along.

#that’s all for now.#maybe next I tell you the general plot #qsmp #qsmp catastrophe crew #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp tubbo #qsmp bagi #qsmp aypierre #qsmp tina #qsmp cucurucho #qsmp skeppy #qsmp au #qsmp cucuhalo #qsmp bagina #Qsmp skephalo #writing this at 3am and it shows :/

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twisted-lover-boys · 6 months

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hello! Loved your Headcanon for my request! ❤ And thank you for providing me a new artist to follow their worked didn't even knew that it existed but overall I hope you have a wonderful day and great Life that's all!

ah also If you're still taking requests May I asked if you can do a brother rook reader fic?(if you're comfortable you can do headcanon or whatever you think suitable) where the reader just mischievous and tricked the 1st year since they didn't know rook has brother better yet attending the school, thinking his the real rook because of his unique power being available to copy anyone by appearances or their voice you can decide what happened in the end

I think I’ve said this before but I’m not a huge fan of the “reader is [blank] sibling” type of writing but, since I like Rook’s character, I’ll do it

Also, you didn’t really ask for anything specific so I’m just gonna make this a special event

{not proof-read}

✨✨✨✨

==================================

I feel like being on of Rook’s siblings is pretty chaotic since he’s the youngest of 7?? I think??? I don’t remember, it was mentioned in book 7. So now adding you, making you know the youngest of 8 feels even more chaotic

It’s canon that his older siblings like to travel a lot and aren’t normally home all the time so you were mostly raised by your parents + Rook. And don’t worry, they took extremely good care of you

You ended up being more mischievous than your other siblings and often got into trouble with your little pranks. You never went too far as you didn’t want to hurt any of your siblings

They eventually learned how to avoid your pranks but Rook was the quickest. Guess that’s why you both make such a dangerous pair

Let’s say that you’re a first year in Pomefiore, so about 2 years younger than Rook so it was almost too easy to prank others with your unique magic

Speaking on that, having the ability to copy anyone’s voice or appearance is pretty cool but, since we don’t want any over powered magic, let’s say there’s a time limit and you can only copy one person at a time and you can only copy the last person you touched

But, let’s be honest here, being able to copy your bother seems badass because of how notorious Rook is for “hunting” other students. You walking down a hall could easily push students out of your way

Anyway, planking your freshmen friends as different people is definitely funny. They don’t know who you’ll copy next and usually end up second guessing which has gotten them I’m trouble before

To be fair, you’ve probably been reprimanded by the other dorm leaders + your own and Rook as to why doing such things is dangerous. Eventually, you did stop and just ended up cloning your friends and copying their movements and voices. It was much funnier

That’s the pranking aspect of it. When it comes to battles/practical usage, it’s super helpful. You could easily blend into a crowd and escape detection or even divert attention. It’s super good for spy work, imo

Your freshmen friends did end up getting used to your jokes and would even try and prank you back, especially Ace. It was honestly just a bunch of fun

Or even doing funny impressions of them or others can get them riled up, especially if you do it in a satirical way. Just don’t tell Vil you copied him and made him say that he likes Neige…

==================================

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst x male reader #I know its super short #but I genuinely had fun writing this #like #the unique magic idea is actually really cool #I kinda wanna use it #but I don’t wanna without your consent #I mean #you made the idea #you get rights to it #but I had fun with this nonetheless #jin asks #jin talks #also sorry for the wall #I haven’t done special in a while lol

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lost-girl-2021 · 11 months

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I'd love to hear more if you find any new ideas!

Part Two (really Part one) of my Metkayina Headcanons

Spider’s around the same height as Tuk, who is around 8-ish as far as I remember. Consider the Metkayina guys knowing he’s a child, but assuming he’s way younger than he actually is because of how small he is (in comparison to the na’vi). Like, I imagine they haven’t had the type of non-violent interactions with humans that the Omaticaya people have, so they don’t have a lot to go off of. I also think this would make Ronal and Tonowari a lot more angry at the Sully’s for leaving him to fend for himself, because he just can’t be older than ten or eleven.

When Spider is taken into their family, I imagine Aounung and Tsireya would be protective of him. He already knows how to swim, but they’d teach him about all the different plants and show him how to use a spear and all that. I also think this would prevent him from getting bullied the other teenagers, because everyone just kind of assumes he’d a little kid and it’s kind of embarrassing to bully a baby. And Aounung doesn’t know how to interact with anyone new without hazing, so he kind of channels that into going Big Brother mode. (In case it wasn’t obvious by now, I’m a sucker for the Protective Older Sibling thing). I mean, he probably still teases him, but it’s definitely not bullying and if Spider shows a hint of getting actually upset, he’s quick to take it back.

I also like the whole sleep pile thing, with the youngest ending up in the middle. Either the whole family, just the parents, or just the siblings, any work with me. Maybe on special/sad occasions, the whole family sleeps practically on top of each other, but otherwise Aounung and Tsireya think they’re ‘too old’ and sleep on their own pallets. Maybe Spider bounces from Aounung to Tsireya to their parents each night, always ending up with a Na’vi snoring above him and holding him close.

At first, Spider thinks it’s because he’s just a guest, so they don’t have a place for him to sleep. I can see him coming up with little excuses to make the situation make sense, because he can’t really understand that they just want to take care of him for the sake of taking care of him. Like, they need to keep a close eye on him (there always seems to be someone nearby whenever he goes anywhere, obviously they’re worried he’ll do something crazy) (what’s actually happening is that they think he’s this little guy and want to make sure he’s okay). Ronal always makes his plate for him at mealtimes, because she thinks he’ll be greedy and try to take too much, surely (actually, she’s just worried he won’t know what foods he can/can’t eat as a human, so she makes up his plate every time they eat).

Next part up later!

#atwow spider #spider avatar #miles spider socorro #avatar #avatar way of water #spider #atwow fanfiction #atwow #avatar fanfiction

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xandertheundead · 4 months

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When someone said they came from a big family the usual number was around six to eight people in the immediate family, branching out past that to other relatives could make that number climb even higher.

It took awhile for Panchito to understand that and why people gave him such shocked looks when he told them exactly how big his family truly was.

Panchito was the middle child of seventeen, but calling him a middle child was pretty vague since he shared that title with fourteen of his other brothers and sisters. If he wanted to be specific, he was the seventh oldest even though he was laid two days after his sister Isabella Andrea but hatched sooner. After you branch out from there the number easily climbed into the hundreds.

Growing up in a coop, even on sprawling land, with that many chickens could sometimes be overwhelming. Having to go out on the land to watch the cattle for the day was honestly a godsend when you were ready to tear the feathers out of your siblings for sitting on your guitar like it was a chair.

So when he left his home and joined The Three Caballeros Panchito was excited about being one of only three and it was wonderful!

What he didn’t expect was the quiet moments at night while traveling where he had his own cot/hammock/bed or seat and suddenly felt like there was too much space.

He tried to shove those feelings down, after all Panchito was the life and voice of the party, one didn’t dwell on sad things when they had a job to do. It had kept everything to himself, only letting those thoughts and feelings take over when José and Donald were asleep and he could clutch at the ratty stuffed doll his youngest sister Elliana had given him before he left without anyone seeing.

Until one night, when he had sworn both his friends were asleep, while he clutched the doll tight and his eyes grew wet he felt a warm hand on his back and José’s quiet warm voice behind him.

“Everything alright, meu amigo?”

He had never cried in front of his friends before, why would he have? But the way José pulled himself closer when Panchito couldn’t hold back a sniffle and started to coo in a soft comforting way like his Mamá had when he got hurt made the tears finally spill over. It was embarrassing, but he couldn’t stop and was grateful that José said not a word as he pulled Panchito into a hug and let him cry all over his sleep shirt until the sun rose.

The next night after lights went out and Panchito gripped the doll tight, he was surprised when José suddenly climbed into his bed with him.

“Que?” He squeaked. “What are you doing, José?”

José gave him a slow smile and settled on his side so he could face Panchito. “I was feeling homesick, my dear Paquito.”

“Eh?” Panchito frowned. “But you don’t have any siblings.”

It was out of his mouth before he thought about it, wincing at unintentionally bringing up the fact that José had no grown up with a traditional family. Lost at a young age, finding a family instead of being given one, José’s experience was so very different compared to Panchito’s but he had never thought less of José for it.

He turned quickly on his side as well to face José, hand reaching out to rest on José’s arm.

“Sorry! I did not mean it like that.” He apologized, worry dying down when José gave him one of those dazed happy looks that made something in Panchito chest grow tight and shook his head.

“No worries, Pancho.” José reassured gently, reaching up to take Panchito’s hand that was on his arm and hold it between them. “And one can be homesick even without a family.”

He chuckled at the confused look Panchito must have been giving him and shook his head gently. “I’m homesick for my beautiful Brazil, meu amigo.”

That was how it started.

Them climbing into each other’s beds when they needed to, talking all about the people, the food and the culture of Brazil as well as all of Panchito’s siblings favorite books, how his parents would dance around the kitchen with one another and how his older brother had taught him to play guitar. They were special moments that Panchito held dear, even when Donald had somehow fallen into the bed with them at times, being tucked behind José and his back warm from Doland’s it was easier for Panchito not to long for home.

It worked even now as Panchito looked at the calendar on his phone, touching the date when he and José would fly to Mexico to visit his family. It was two weeks out and he hadn’t seen them in months, but instead of cry, he turned his phone off and turned to the lovely sleepy parrot in bed with him. He smiled and moved to wrap himself around José, loving the unconscious pleased sound his cariño let out at his touch. He placed his forehead against the nape of José’s neck and took a deep breath in, any sadness he might have felt years ago now quiet because while he was not at home with his parents, he was at home with his amor.

#panjosé #panchito x josé #panchito pistoles #josé carioca #donald duck #three caballeros #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #drabble #IM SICK SO HAVE MY THOUGHTS

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we-were-beautiful · 10 months

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The Fox and The Hounds pt. 4

A/N: As I live and breath I have finally finished up chapter 4. Sorry that it took so long to get it done. I love these two awkward dog parents. Up next will be my newest Poly!Feysand fic and then the next portion of love and shadows. There is some mention of violence in this one. I will also accept people who want to beta read this for me to help me find silly mistakes that I know I miss. Also all of the photos in the moodboard came from pintertest

Summary: Its autumn court tradition to give your mate a fox kit before your ceremony. after years of knowing the Vanserra’s a mating bond snaps between the Autumn Heir and a well known smoke hound breeder

Warning: Mentions of violence and Beron being the father of the year

WC: 2.6k

We had winnowed to a cabin deep in the forest of Autumn. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but the beautiful home in front of us was not it. When I had been told of this trip Eris had mentioned that it was his personal hunting cabin not elaborating further than that. Maybe I had been expecting the single room open floor concept cabins that my brothers had for hunting, but this fairy tale cottage nestled in the trees is anything but. The two story cabin is made of stone and dark wood and a porch wraps the whole way around the home. The barking of dogs draws my attention away from the home. All around the small clearing our hounds run freely with one another. I let out a small sigh of relief. We had shared concerns that the hounds wouldn’t get along with each other; however, it seems like they were unfounded. It is endearing to watch them run and play with one another; to watch Ramiel be reunited with one of her pups. Paprika wiggles in my arms to put her down. I gently put her on the forest floor still keeping a tight hold on her leash. I didn’t quite trust that she wouldn't just sprint off into the woods

“This is my private home.” Eris’ voice pulls my attention back to him. “ I spend my free time here when my presence is not required at the forest house.”

“It is beautiful, Eris.” and it's the truth, this is the kinda place that mothers tell their babes about when reading bedtime stories. A cottage like this is where a princess would live before being swept away by her prince charming. Eris holds out his arm for me to take. I gently thread my arm through his as he leads me up the walkway.

“So will this be our main residence after the wedding?” After our mating ceremony. It seemed like a safe question to ask, in all honesty I would rather be here than trapped in the massive forest house and bound to court decorum. The jewels and finery were lovely, but I would much rather be comfortable in working clothes surrounded by my hounds

“Yes, I try to keep out of the forest house as much as possible. I’m there when Father demands it but I want to keep my private life private.” His voice did not waiver. It was no secret that Beron was cruel; he kept a tight hold on the court and an even tighter one on his family. I had unfortunately witnessed this on several occasions when my family had been summoned to the forest house. One memory had burned into my mind and it was hard to forget it. The high lord had pitted his second born against the youngest, and I think the only thing that stopped them from killing each other had been their mother desperately begging her husband to make them stop. We had only been children at the time. I remember watching in horror, clinging to my own mothers skirts. Eris had stood beside his fathers throne, the vision of the perfect heir. He had been the one to rip the second oldest off of the youngest, but only on his fathers command.

“I would never subject you to more of that place than absolutely necessary.” His voice pulls me out of my memories. The tension had become so thick between the two of us the silence deafening and uncomfortable.

“Are there kennels for the hounds?” I asked desperate to break this uncomfortable feeling.

“I am looking into having some constructed, but honestly I tend to just keep them in the house.” He seemed almost sheepish with his answer, red tinting his cheeks “But with 20 it may not be the most manageable.”

“I only ask because I imagine that feeding time is going to be tricky. Not to mention night time routines” I respond unconsciously, taking a step closer to the fiery haired male. “ I honestly would rather keep them in the house, but…” I trailed off. Most families kept their hounds in kennels overnight. They let the beautiful creatures roam the house during the day but come nightfall they put them into kennels. I honestly felt safer having one or two of my hounds in the house with me at night but it wasn't normal.

“It is whatever you wish my mate. If you want kennels built I will have some built; if you are fine with the dogs having free range of the house that is what we will do. This is to be your home and I would have you comfortable. If there is something that needs to be changed, then I will seek to remedy whatever it is.” He seems so much softer now that it is just the two of us. I have seen him be so cruel in our lives, but here and now when it's just the two of us he's a different person.

“I would rather keep them in the house.” I pause “I feel safer when they are close, and if you get called away I would rather them be here with me.” to keep me safe they were the unspoken words. My hounds could be vicious when threatened, but Eris’ were on a whole different level. I had been grateful when he introduced me to his hounds that they had taken to me. It had been tense at first but by the time I was to leave the forest house I always had one or two of them trailing after me. The thought of having all of them when inevitably I am alone here put my mind at ease.

“Then in the house they will stay.” I swear that I could see just a hint of a smile forming on his lips as we entered the home. The inside was surprisingly homey, it was a stark contrast to the cold formality of the Forest house. The main living room had two large comfortable looking sofas facing each other; a large overstuffed armchair in a worn brown leather sat facing the massive stone fireplace. Massive windows lined one wall giving a breathtaking view of the forest behind it, another wall hosted massive bookshelves filled with books. The coffee table between the two couches was a rustic affair carved of an old massive oak. Dog beds were scattered around the room along with various toys. For this being Eris’ private retreat it looks very well lived in. The whole space was very masculine, but I had a feeling that I could bring my own touch to the place and it would be perfect. I take a seat on one of the couches gathering paprika in lap unclipping her leash as she settles in for cuddles.

“After the ceremony I figured that you could go through and make any changes to the place that you wish. Or we could travel to town tomorrow?” as he takes a seat on the sofa across from me.

“I wouldn’t mind going to town. It is very homey here, but we might need to make some adjustments to make it our place.” compromise is what makes a marriage work. We have to work together and make decisions as a team.

It settled into an awkward silence between the two of us. Neither one of us really knew what to say. It really hit home that this was our first time alone with no chaperones. No strict parents, no nosy brothers, no courtiers in our business. I feel like I couldn’t move under his gaze; I knew Eris’ reputation. He had been nothing but polite and respectful while we were in public and surrounded by people. That could all change now that we are in private. A loud crack of thunder broke the silence and I jumped in my seat.

“We should probably bring in the hounds.” I break the silence and an uneasy laugh escapes me as I turn my eyes to the windows storm clouds rolling in.

Eris stands up from his chair moving to the double doors, he opens both doors and lets out a long whistle. Within seconds all of the hounds come running into the house; suddenly the house becomes alive with noise with the jingle of tags and the clicks of nails on the hardwood and barking. It is a laughable situation as all 18 trip over one another as they run into the living room. I feel the cushion next to me dip as one of the 18 dogs hops up next to me; I grimace as I feel a wet tongue lick at my face, I run a hand down the hounds back relishing in the warmth radiating off of its silky fur.

“The pride of the Autumn court, vicious killers, the lot of you, tracking down your enemies with lethal accuracy and ripping them to shreds. And yet you act like puppies.” I laugh as the dog attempts to sit in my lap on top of poor Paprika. The fox kit scurries out of my lap with an indignant yip as the fully grown smoke hound attempts to fit on my lap.

“Ichabod! Down.” Eris snaps at the dog who had crawled into my lap. Ichabod on the other hand showed absolutely no signs of moving. I laugh and wrap my arms around the hound.

“He’s fine Eris.” I rest my chin on Ichabod, giving him scratches “He’s just a big baby”

“Yes, a big baby whom I have seen rip a male to shreds.” Eris sigs before taking a seat on the opposing couch again shooing away one of the hounds that decided he needed the whole couch. Paprika perks up at the sight of Eris sitting down darting over to take up a seat in his lap since hers was so rudely stolen. He laughs long fingers gently scratching at her soft ears.

“I’m just glad that your dogs get along with mine and they seem to like me. I would hate to imagine what would have happened if we couldn’t integrate them.” to say that the smoke hounds were territorial was putting it mildly. It wasn’t uncommon for smoke hounds to attack unfamiliar hounds, I had heard horror stories around the court of what could happen when trying to integrate two kennels. It was why Eris and I had taken major precautions after the bond had snapped. We would introduce one or two dogs at a time supervised and on leads at all times. We had finally got to the point last week where we let all of them out together at the forest house.

“I would rather not think about that. While I have no doubt in your skills as a breeder, that you could breed a wonderful replacement. I would hate to lose any of our hounds. Yours for their sheer pedigree alone and mine…” he pauses for a second “I raised all of mine, trained them. They work so well together. I can’t fathom what I would do If I lost one”

Eris loved his hounds just like I love mine. We had bonded over it years ago but to hear him say it was enlightening. It was deeper than I knew before and it warmed me to my core the amount of love this male has for his hounds. I smile at the scene in front of me as Eris is surrounded by three hounds begging for attention as Paprika gets in his face demanding that he pay attention to her. I let out a laugh which caused him to look up at me. Cinnamon eyes met mine. I feel a slight tug on the bond from his end, my eyes widen as a smile grows on his face. The two of us had not really explored the bond since it snapped, there were a few times that I could feel some intense emotion from his end while we were separated and a few times where he had used it to check in on me when we were forced to attend public events. But a solid pull like this neither of us had been brave enough to try.

“I guess I should give you a tour of the house, not just sit around playing with the hounds.” Eris moved to stand up gently placing Paprika on the floor.

“A tour would be nice” I nudged Ichabod off my lap. He jumps down to the floor quickly running off to play with another one of the hounds. Eris had moved to stand in front of me offering his hand. I take it and stand. I had never noticed before how warm his hands are; it was almost as if fire he wielded was coursing through his veins. He moved my hand to rest in the crook of his arm as he led me through the house.

I found myself enjoying this time with him, watching him show off his home…or rather our home. For the most part the cottage was not decorated, a clear sign that a single male had resided here. One room stuck out to me on the tour; Eris kept an office here. Papers were scattered all over the large oak desk that dominated the room.

“I apologize for the mess in here.” He seemed almost sheepish. “ I wanted to make sure that I had all of my work done before I came to get you so that I could focus on getting to know you and not work.”

It warmed me to hear that he had wanted to make sure that he was able to spend this weekend getting to know me rather than finishing up work. I knew first hand what it was like, my father depending on the workload from the forest house would sometimes end up sequestered in his office for days on end.

“Thank you, I know this whole engagement has been rather hectic. So for you to make the time to get to know me means a lot.” I gently squeezed his arm.

“We need all the time we can get because in two weeks we will be bound together.” he solemnly responds “I’d rather know you and at the bare minimum be your friend. We can learn to love each other later.”

He leads me away from the office showing the many guest rooms. They are spartanly decorated with just a bed and nightstand. “You can change these rooms however you please. I had no true need for them and didn’t feel that it was necessary to decorate.

I couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that. It had been such a male answer, something that I had heard before when Mother and I had visited the Illyrian camps years ago. Seems like males will have similar responses to decorating no matter what court. He stops in front of two closed doors.

“This will be your room during your stay here.” He opens the door to reveal a cozy looking room. The room is dominated by a large bed centered on the right wall, covered in a deep maroon duvet and cream colored accent pillows. The chest of drawers and night stands were carved out of a rich walnut. Dog beds were scattered across the floor. Some one had put the time in to decorating this room “My mother decorated it for you. If you don't like it we can change it.”

“No, no. It is perfect Eris.” I am quick to cut him off “I love it”

“Mother will be glad to hear that. My room is across the hall.” he points to the closed door. He runs a hand through his hair. “I will leave you to get settled. The servants should have dinner ready in a few hours so I will let you rest.”

I nod and take a step into my room “Thank you Eris.” what I am thanking him for I don’t know after I close the door I lean against it letting my head fall back. This is going to be an awkward weekend.

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acosf #acofs #acowar #autumn court #the fox and the hounds

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thetomorrowshow · 10 months

Text

the gambler, he broke even

cw: major character death, grief, heavy amounts of grief, talk of death, references to dead bodies

"I don't want to," Scott says, turning back to his work.

Ilphas sighs. "My lord, I understand that this is a difficult moment for you. However—"

"Don't give me that 'difficult moment' bit," Scott says, a little more venom in his voice than intended. "We don't know that—"

"The facts of—"

"There aren't any facts, it's all speculation—"

"The facts of the matter are," Ilphas says over him, "that you need new mourning robes. Whether or not the Codfather has passed."

"But he has not passed," Scott insists. "If he had, our enemies would boast of the victory! I am certain that he—"

"My lord, the Ocean Queen requested the body this morning."

Scott's breath freezes in his lungs.

He can't make his voice work. He can't ask the questions that are suddenly barreling through his mind.

What does Lizzie know?

What did the enemy tell her?

Will he truly have to face the body of his betrothed?

"Did—" he manages, before his voice gives out.

Ilphas, somehow, knows exactly what he's trying to ask. They shake their head just slightly. "No response yet. But sire, the Ocean Queen is already in mourning, despite your lack of conviction. You must think of how your people see you."

Scott honestly couldn't care less about how his people see him. He opens his mouth to say something of the sort, but Ilphas cuts him off.

"If you are not in mourning, they will believe that you care not for your own betrothed, sire. How do you think they will perceive your care for them?"

Ilphas is right, of course. They're rarely wrong.

It just already hurts so much. Scott doesn't want to acknowledge that Jimmy might be—that—

He can't think on it or he'll cry again, as he already did this morning.

And he knows that fitting for the dark robes will be even worse.

"Can I not just wear the clothing from my parents' death?" he asks, his voice thin and unfortunately pitiful.

Ilphas shakes their head. "The death of a betrothed is entirely different from the death of a parent," they say patiently. "The clothing will be different. Besides, I recall hearing that you . . . burned that set."

True. He forgot he did that.

He's not going to get out of this, is he? His advisors have been pushing for him to recognize Jimmy's . . . to recognize it for the past three days. He's thus far been able to redirect the conversation to more urgent matters, what with there being a war and whatnot, but Ilphas cornering him in his office wasn't a move he expected.

He doesn't have time to argue about this. He has a war to fight.

"Fine," he says after a moment. "When should I call for the tailor?"

"I, of course, know not your schedule," Ilphas says dryly. "But the tailor is already at the palace, waiting for you to see zem. Would you like to send a messenger with a time for today?"

He might as well, Scott thinks dully. After all, if Lizzie has requested a body, then she expects to meet with Mythland within the next week. He'll probably need to accompany her.

"Send a messenger, tell zem I'm available at any time," he waves off.

He thinks the conversation is over. It really ought to be, with the way he picks his pen back up and stares down at whatever this supply plan is that he's meant to be reviewing and signing off.

But Ilphas lingers, half-turned away. "I am . . . truly sorry, my lord. Your rule is too young for wars and pains such as these. If there is anything we might do to ease your burden. . . ."

"I'm not a charity case," Scott mutters. "I'm the king."

"With all due respect, you are a person," Ilphas says gently, "just as any other person. And you have lost more than many persons."

Scott doesn't respond, and after another moment, Ilphas bows and shows themself out.

They're right. Scott's the youngest ruler Rivendell has ever had, forced into the rule by the early deaths of his parents and the banishment of his brother. Their deaths, his frequent 'illnesses' and 'accidents' (read: assassination attempts by his brother) when younger, and now this war and its consequences.

He has to practice thinking it, at least.

Jimmy is—

Jimmy—

No. It—

He swallows back the lump in his throat, angrily dashing a hand across his face when a tear spills from his eye. He's fine. Everything is fine. He just has to get fitted for mourning robes for his fiance, is all. He's fine.

Who is he kidding?

Scott slumps over his desk, doing his very best not to cry all over these official papers. He's not the first person to lose someone. And he's not the first person to fight a war. He certainly isn't the first to do both at once. He's nothing special.

As much as he tells himself that, it doesn't make it hurt any less.

He allows himself a single, tearless sob before sitting back up, straightening the papers before him. He needs to sign off on this supply plan. He sequestered himself in his office to do precisely this and nothing else, because it was technically due before he returned from his tour of the country, and it's several days overdue now.

Unfortunately, the plan is about seventy pages long, and he's only halfway through, and he can't just skip to the end because there are random pages throughout that need his signature and seal.

So Scott turns the next page, even as his heart crumbles a tiny bit more.

Before he can finish, he's summoned away for fittings, and he leaves his office feeling much too young to be in such a position, and much too old to feel such sharp pain.

Two days later, Scott and Ilphas and his small guard sail (accompanied by Ocean Kingdom dolphins, for speed) to the Crystal Cliffs, to meet with King Sausage of Mythland.

The Crystal Cliffs had been the decided-upon meeting place by Lizzie and Sausage, after Gem had offered it up as a temporarily neutral ground. The meeting is officially occurring to discuss 'eventualites and possibilities for the future of the Codlands', but everyone knows that it's really just an inquiry after the fate of the Codfather.

Scott arrives at midday (he's greeted in the hall of the school of magic by Gem, who hugs him and whispers "you are so strong" in his ear) and barely has time to change into his newly-made mourning clothing (a soft, black robe with a high collar, puffy sleeves that gather at the wrists, a black leather waistcoat and a matching open-front surcoat—and there would usually be a veil, too, with his specific situation, but the court still hasn't ruled as to whether or not he and Jimmy were still betrothed) before he's whisked away to the meeting room.

Lizzie's already there, sitting at the head of the table, a green-skinned woman whom Scott assumes is one of her counselors sitting beside her. She holds her head high, face stern and hair pulled back in a tight bun under her coral crown, her dress made of layered shades of grey.

Scott nods to her, self-consciously adjusts his signet earring (all other jewelry having been discarded as part of his mourning vestments), and takes a seat at her open left hand (a chair made specifically for him, missing its back to make room for his wings), Ilphas sitting beside him.

Nobody speaks, even when Gem slides into the room alone and sits across from Ilphas. Scott stares straight down at the dark oak table to avoid looking in anyone's eyes. He doesn't want to see pity in Gem's eyes, nor see Jimmy in Lizzie's.

He swallows.

He wishes, harder than he's ever wished for anything, that he didn't have to be here.

And then the doors open, and two guards of the Crystal Cliffs escort King Sausage of Mythland (followed by two Mythland knights in full armor) into the room.

He's dressed in black and red, accents of gold thrown in here and here. His tunic is black, a gold belt cinching it around his waist, a red surcoat laced up over it. A red cape hangs from his shoulders, chunky pieces of gold clasping it around his chest. His crown, golden and polished, sits purposefully a little crooked on his greased-back hair.

Nobody rises to greet him. They sit and stare as the man nods to each of them, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

Scott has never wanted to kill anyone more.

And that's saying a lot, because he saw fWhip push Jimmy off the edge of the world, and he wanted to kill that man pretty badly then.

Scott forces his hand—resting flat on the table—to stay still. If his fist clenches, it'll only give Sausage the satisfaction of knowing that Scott is angry but can't do anything. He isn't going to give up that power.

Sausage takes his seat at the opposite end of the table from Lizzie, leaning back as if he owns the place. Gem rolls her eyes.

"How's it going, guys?" Sausage says cheerfully.

Scott could dive across the table and throttle him right now. He could stab him through his stupid red surcoat, knock the shining crown off his head, slit his throat and watch him choke on his own blood.

They're nice things to imagine. Scott rather thinks those images keep him calm better than any other self-discipline.

"Thank you for joining us, Sau—Lord Sausage," Gem says stiffly, turning to face the man. "I believe Aundrea of the Crystal Cliffs Academy will be taking notes on the meeting, is that acceptable for all involved?"

Lizzie nods primly. Scott purses his lips, gives a short nod. Sausage shoots a thumbs-up.

One of the Crystal Cliffs guards steps forward and takes a seat, setting down some paper and a pen in front of herself.

"All right," Gem says. "Present at this meeting is me, the Wizard Gem, and two knights-slash-students of the Crystal Cliffs Academy, Aundrea and Matteo; her majesty Queen Lizzie of the Ocean Kingdom and a member of her council, Kilisaltana; his majesty King Scott Smajor of Rivendell and a member of his council, Ilphas; and his majesty King Sausage of Mythland accompanied by two Mythland guards, Ephraim and Levi. Are all present ready to begin?"

More nods around the table.

Gem nods as well. "All right," she says again. "Remember that I am a neutral party in this discussion, and I am only here to mediate. Lizzie, if you—"

"We're meeting about the future of . . . the Codlands, right?" Sausage interrupts, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes," Lizzie says, speaking for the first time. Her voice is cold, controlled. "I am inquiring—"

"Right," says Sausage. "I figured. You want the Codlands, don't you? Since it's basically a part of the Ocean Kingdom, anyway?"

Scott stares at the fingers of his left hand, still relaxed on the table. The Codlands, of course, is not a part of the Ocean Kingdom. Sausage knows exactly what he's doing. It's petty and ultimately will achieve nothing to snub the Codlands, but such is politics.

Lizzie, of course, keeps her cool. "Oh, of course—as one from Mythland, I wouldn't expect you to know much of the developed lands beyond your borders. The Cod Empire is its own kingdom, ruled by the Codfather."

Scott's eyes flick up to watch Sausage. Sausage's lip curls just the slightest bit.

"I don't know about any Codfather right now," he says, tone airy. "It looks like I'm the one ruling the Cod Empire."

"It appears so," Lizzie says, with a brief inclination her head. "And what," she says carefully, face stoic, "has happened to the Codfather?"

Scott takes a slow, silent breath at the way his heart jumps. Here's the confirmation. This is the question that all his hopes and fears rest upon.

He doesn't want to hear the answer. He doesn't want to know, he doesn't want confirmation, he wants to live in this horrible purgatory forever where he never knows if Jimmy's alive but at least there's still a possibility that he isn't dead.

Sausage stares Lizzie in the eyes, gaze piercing and dark. "He's dead," he says simply, obviously forcing away a grin. "My armies killed him and vanquished his people."

Scott's stomach drops out of his body.

No.

No no no no no—

Lizzie clears her throat. "As his next of kin, I request the body of the Codfather."

Gem blinks.

Sausage gasps, then giggles. "Wait, you guys were related? That makes so much sense!"

Lizzie doesn't move. She waits, eyes hard, until Sausage gets over his surprise. Scott isn't really sure why he's surprised. He's fairly sure Jimmy mentioned their relationship at the wedding. Of course, it's just like Sausage to not listen.

Jimmy's never going to make a speech again.

No. This can't be true, this has to be one of those horrible nightmares—

"I don't have it," shrugs Sausage.

He doesn't have—he doesn't have the body? How can he not—

"I know for a fact that he's dead—saw the body myself—but we made a mass grave and threw all those Cod savages into it. If you want to go digging around until you find a maggoty Jimmy, be my guest!"

Scott's going to kill him he's going to vomit he's going to break down right here—

"Use his proper title," Lizzie snaps. "He is the Codfather, the ruler of the Cod Empire, and will be respected."

Sausage raises an eyebrow. "Right," he says, voice dripping with doubt. "We all know his claim to the throne was . . . less than legitimate. And I have the Codfather Head, so that makes me ruler, right?"

Nobody responds. Scott swallows, trying to calm his rebellious stomach, trying to hold back tears.

He flexes his fingers, just slightly, just enough that his hand doesn't curl into a fist and sock Sausage in the jaw.

Sausage has conquered the Cod Empire. He is, technically, the ruler, as much as Scott hates to admit it.

"So," Gem says, after the silence grows too long. "Queen Lizzie, what is your suggested plan for the future of the Codlands?"

Lizzie steeples her fingers, leaning on the table. "My suggested plan," she says, voice once again calm and careful, "is the release of the Codlands into my stewardship, with the promise that those people will not take up arms against Mythland for the remainder of the war. In exchange, I will release those of Mythland that the Ocean Kingdom has claimed as captives."

Sausage clicks his tongue. "Hm. How about you surrender to the Great Ruler Xornoth, and then we'll give you minor reign over both the Ocean Kingdom and the Codlands, reporting directly to Xornoth?"

It's Lizzie's turn to raise a brow. "In your dreams, respectfully," she says, precisely and politely.

"In Scott's dreams, more like," mutters Sausage. Scott just swallows again, stares hard at a point above Lizzie's shoulder. He'd known that those had been more than dreams.

Xornoth has the power to invade his dreams, fight him without even crossing the border. How are they meant to win?

"Well, if you won't accept that, how about you give up all captives of Mythland, the Grimlands, and the Lost Empire?" suggests Sausage.

Lizzie frowns. "Neither Count fWhip nor Emperor Joey are present at this meeting, and I will not bargain with them."

Beside her, Kilisaltana nods approvingly. She leans over to Lizzie, whispers something in her ear.

"Lord Sausage of Mythland," Gem addresses, "are there any other conditions that you will accept under this compromise?"

"Nope!"

Kilisaltana leans back; Lizzie nods and shifts her attention back to Sausage. "A different compromise, then," she says. "Mythland maintains a presence in the Codlands, but the empire is technically under my government and the people of the Ocean Kingdom and of the Codlands may move freely between the two empires. Additionally, the return of my Mythland prisoners."

Sausage's lazy smile doesn't drop. "I don't think so," he says. "Y'know, I kinda like ruling those swamps! We're going to turn the people into respectable, educated folks—we don't need the Ocean messing that up. How about this, though—I'm in charge of the Cod Empire, but trades remain open between the Ocean Kingdom and the Codlands, and you return my loyal Mythlanders to me!"

Again, Lizzie confers with her advisor—and surprisingly, Ilphas pushes back their chair and quickly steps over to join the quick little council. Scott leans in as well.

"He needs the trades," Ilphas whispers. "Mythland alone cannot support a war-ravaged country."

Kilisaltana nods. "We can bargain him down to just the trades, then?"

"I believe so. Perhaps more."

"Counter-proposal," Lizzie declares to the table. "The trades remain open, and a prisoner exchange commences—you return to me my subjects, and I return yours. Would that be sufficient?"

Sausage's lips twist down a little, clearly displeased, but he actually pauses to think.

It's a good compromise, even if it's not what they want. It benefits the both of them, while opening up a route for escape for the Cod.

Sausage nods shortly. "I have the Codlands, you have trades, we both have our soldiers back. It sounds . . . acceptable."

"Perfect," Gem says, clapping her hands together. "For the remainder of the meeting, we will work out some of the simpler matters of the trade arrangement, then adjourn. We can hold more meetings over the next week to get the details down, and then commence the arrangement once that is complete. Is that possible for both involved parties?"

Both nod.

"Why is Scott here, then?" Sausage asks innocently. "Here to surrender?"

Scott doesn't allow his fingers to curl into a fist. He forces his hands and shoulders to stay as relaxed as possible.

Thankfully, Ilphas speaks up. "His majesty Lord Smajor has the right to assist the Ocean Queen in the rites and stewardship of the Codfather and his possessions, and as such is present."

Sausage rolls his eyes, looks to Scott.

When Scott speaks, his voice doesn't shake. He doesn't stumble over his words. He doesn't lose his composure.

"I am here, Lord Sausage, to confirm the fate of my betrothed," he says, colder than Rivendell on a winter morning. "The Empire of Rivendell declares its loyalty to the Ocean Kingdom and the Cod Empire—and their successive, rightful leaders, as Queen Lizzie is and Codfather Jimmy was—forever. And," he continues, and he has no idea where these words are coming from, from some power beyond him— "by burying the body of the Codfather in an unmarked grave, you are in violation of section 4 subsection D under the heading 'Respect' in the House Blossom Peace Accords, where it states that, dead or alive, in war or peace, the rulers of the twelve empires must be granted full respect. That is all I wish to say at this time."

Sausage harrumphs. Gem, not quite smiling, gives Scott a subtle thumbs-up.

"Thank you for your comments, Lord Smajor," she says. "And I will be following up on that law with Lady Katherine of House Blossom personally. Shall we move on?"

The meeting wraps up after nearly half an hour of Sausage arguing against every one of Lizzie's suggestions, with barely any progress made. But they both agree on a day for the meeting this week, and Sausage is escorted out by his two guards and Gem's two knights, waggling his fingers at them over his shoulder.

Gem gathers up the papers that Aundrea had left behind. Lizzie stares at the closed door.

Scott looks down at his relaxed hand, cold and pale on the table.

He's not sure if he's looking for comfort or to give it, but after a long moment of silence, he reaches forward and takes Lizzie's limp hand in his own.

He squeezes tightly, even as Lizzie doesn't move, trying to send every thought that he's thinking her way—an endless stream of I know I'm here it hurts I'm here please help we have to go on I know.

Lizzie sits motionless, expression stony, and as Scott watches, a single tear rolls down her cheek.

Jimmy's gone. He's really, truly, gone.

Buried indistinguishably among the bodies of his people, in one grave together.

And really, Scott thinks, while he would've wanted to honor his fiance, he thinks that Jimmy would prefer it like this. He'd never been one to raise himself above his people. He'd never seen his own worth as greater than anyone else's.

Scott wonders, suddenly, if Jimmy had any sort of funeral arrangements made. Surely the Cod Empire has traditions for their rulers, but was there anything specific that Jimmy wanted during the memorial service? A particular song sung, or speech given?

Where will such a service be held, in the middle of a war, when the land of the deceased has been conquered?

He's crying, Scott realizes vaguely, nose burning and face wet.

He just grips Lizzie's hand tighter and lets his heart shatter.

And Lizzie, after a moment, squeezes back.

"When are you leaving?"

Scott tugs at the itchy high collar of his mourning robe. "Tonight, if possible. Tomorrow morning if the seas are rough."

He doesn't mention why the seas might be rough. Gem, tactfully, doesn't either.

"Do you think you have time to check out something I found?" she asks, finishing up the braid in his hair before starting on another. "I was going to call Katherine down to look at it with me, but I could definitely use your help."

"Check out what?" Scott says suspiciously. He adjusts his position a bit, trying to keep his legs from falling asleep.

He and Gem are in her room, Gem on the bed, Scott kneeling on the floor beside her, while she braids his hair. Ilphas had initially refused to let Scott out of their sight, but it had only taken one glance at Scott's tired, teary eyes for them to sigh and nod.

"I found . . . a library," Gem says eventually, combing her fingers through his hair to pull out the braid she'd been working on, then starting anew. "Crystal Cliffs has always been a place of knowledge, you know? We collect history and magic from all over the world. And this library looks old. Like, centuries old. And you're looking for an old book, right? To defeat Xornoth?"

Scott nods, then freezes when it tugs on his braid. Gem tsks and starts over again.

"Yes," he says. "I've searched every library in Rivendell, however, and all of those would be about that same age. I can take a look before leaving, though, if you like."

Gem hums in affirmation. "We can go before supper. You can bring a guard if you need, it isn't a secret. Knowledge should never be a secret."

Some knowledge ought to be a secret, Scott thinks to himself, remembering the revelation he'd had while traveling.

He's Aeor's Champion, probably.

Best to not think about that when he knows Xornoth has direct access to his brain, is it?

So, something else. Something else to think about.

Right. There's really only one other thing to think about.

"Jimmy braided my hair, once," Scott says quietly.

Gem's hands stutter, but she doesn't say anything. She just keeps working, fingers gentle in his hair.

"It was when we were betrothed," Scott continues. "It had been a long day, and I told him I was tired, and he had me sit on the bed and he stood behind me and . . . he just braided. Really intricate braids, too. They were beautiful. I left them in for three days."

He kind of wants to cry.

"I didn't know he could braid," Gem murmurs.

Scott shrugs. "Me neither," he says. "He told me it was Cod tradition, and that there are people who actually work as just . . . braiders. There's different kinds of braids for different occasions. He said he only knew how to do a couple kinds. He was . . . he was embarrassed. Because—because he did birthday celebration braids in my hair."

He doesn't know why he's saying all this. A tear drips down his nose, and he leaves it there.

Gem giggles a little. "So you walked around for three days with the Cod equivalent of a birthday hat on your head?"

"Well, nobody saw it," Scott defends himself. "I was wearing my betrothal veil. But—" and now he's really starting to cry, chest shaking with the effort of repressing it— "but he said that he would learn the marriage braids. So that—so that when we got married, we—we wouldn't have to go to a—a braider. Because of—of the veils. So that no one—no one would see us before the wedding."

"Oh, Scott. . . ."

"Sorry," he manages, wiping a hand across his face. "I'm fine, I-I promise, it's only. . . ."

"It's hard," Gem says, tying off the braid. "It's okay. I can't even imagine what you're going through right now."

Scott takes in a shuddering breath, trying not to make any embarrassing sounds. "Do you—do you think," he asks after a moment, "do you think he's . . . in a better place? Do you think he's—he's h-happy?"

"I think so. I think he's right here watching over you, telling you that it'll be all right, that he'll see you again one day. What do you think?"

Scott sniffles. "I—I hope he's not hurting anymore. He was—he was always hurting. I hope—I hope his scars are gone, and, and his scales are back, and he's happy."

Gem cards her hands through his hair, soft and careful. "Me too," she says, her voice shaking just the slightest bit. "He deserves it."

Scott nods vigorously, the lump in his throat suddenly too large to speak. If anyone deserves it, Jimmy does.

He really hopes he's happy.

He just wishes that would be enough.

It's elvish belief that there are different levels of an afterlife, with the most restful and happiest being only open to elvish royalty and legendary heroes—the stars of whom make up the Crystal of Rivendell constellation in the skies.

Even if Jimmy is happy, Scott will never see him again. Not unless an exception is made, and one never has.

Jimmy wasn't a legendary hero.

He wasn't elvish royalty.

He was just Jimmy.

Scott lets himself cry, feeling as if his heart is being torn out of his chest, for several minutes there on the floor of Gem's bedroom. He lets it hurt. He lets it wash him away, lets himself sink into it, until nothing exists but the pain.

It's cathartic, or something like that. Jimmy deserves the tears.

"You did amazing, earlier," Gem tells him when his sobs devolve into hiccups, when he starts to pull himself back, his head barely above the sea of pain again. "During the meeting. If I know Sausage, he was hoping for a big reaction. You and Lizzie were incredible in there."

Scott manages a wet chuckle. "I just imagined killing him," he admits. "It helped quite a bit."

"Oh, I used to do that all time in Wither Rose Alliance meetings. Super therapeutic."

Scott wipes his eyes on the stiff fabric of his sleeve cuff. He's not done crying, by any means. He probably could cry all day and not run out of tears.

But he has responsibilities to take care of.

"So," he says, after a profoundly teary sigh, pulling himself up to sit beside Gem on the bed. "Where's this library?"

They meet Katherine there, an hour later, halfway up one of the cliffs that the empire is built around. She squeals when she sees Scott, gives him a hug.

Scott has never hugged Katherine before in his life. He'd laid down the ground rule early on that he wasn't okay with hugs, and she'd accepted that immediately (unlike Gem, who had never seemed to learn).

But he's gotten more accustomed to physical touch over the past months, and he barely even freezes up before returning the hug, squeezing her tightly.

"I didn't think you'd still be here!" Katherine says excitedly when she pulls back. "Is Lizzie still here?"

"No, she left already," Gem cuts in. "Scott's leaving after supper, I just wanted him to see the library."

"Oh, right," Katherine says. "Scott, I've been looking through all of the libraries in my empire, and I haven't found anything."

"That's all right," Scott tells her. He'd asked her, months ago now (as well as every other empire he was allied with), to search for anything that could destroy the demon. "I haven't found anything, either."

"Well I found this library!" Gem says proudly. "I've already started looking through it, but I felt like three heads would be better than one."

And with that, Gem goes behind a boulder. "This way!" they hear her call faintly.

Scott looks at Katherine, then the two guards who had accompanied them, then back at Katherine. She shrugs, gossamer wings fluttering behind her.

Nothing left to do but go in, Scott supposes. He moves past Katherine, ready to squish through the tiny entrance that Gem had gone through, but Katherine catches his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, Scott," she says, and to his surprise, there are already tears gathering in her violet eyes. "We weren't very close, but I was one of Jimmy's first allies. Do you know when the funeral will be?"

Scott bites his lip and shakes his head. "There's . . . there isn't a body," he says after a moment. "So Lizzie may put it off for some time. Thank you."

Before she can say anything else, Scott turns away and starts moving through the strict passage between the boulder and the cliff face.

It's tight, and his feathers get pushed all the wrong ways, but Scott scrapes through, heaving and pushing against the boulder until he finally manages to come out the other side.

On the other side is a dark tunnel through the cliff, a little patch of light visible at the end.

Scott reaches out blindly for a wall, fingers landing on roughly-hewn stone.

He follows it along, twenty, thirty, forty strides, as the light looms larger and larger, and then he's stepping through the other end of the tunnel—

Whoa.

This—this is a library.

This is an old library.

It's a dimly-lit, dusty, high-ceilinged area, shelves going up twice as tall as Scott, books crammed into every space available. He maneuvers his way between stacks of books and curling parchment paper, through a tiny footpath that leads deeper into the library.

It gets more claustrophobic the deeper he goes, wings held tightly to his back to avoid accidentally knocking something over, like one of the lamps hanging from the sides of the bookshelves. That would be bad. Or one of the precarious piles of books next to the lamps. That would possibly be worse.

He passes by hundreds of books, the titles on the spines in languages that he doesn't speak and several he doesn't recognize, and the titles he can read are old and rubbed-off—Great Tales of Haddenbur, one reads, yet on another he can only make out F l di a r or el.

He can't figure out a system. One book looks like a collection of adventures, and the next one like a cookbook. It's not alphabetical, either—he sees a Z title right next to a D, next to an H.

It's confusing, and strikingly mazelike, and Scott mentally marks a couple of notable-looking books (overly large, or brightly colored, or hanging dangerously off of the shelf) as landmarks, a way to get back to the entrance.

He finds Gem fairly deep in, between two rows of shelves that form a little alcove against a wall. She's flipping through a book, and when she sees Scott, she holds it out.

"Can you read this?"

Scott inches sideways past a stack of parchment rolls and straightens out in the alcove, gingerly taking the book from her.

It's a form of elvish, but not exactly like Rivendell's. The words on this page make some sort of sense if he stares at them long enough—that one surely says 'herb' and the one beside it looks kind of like 'medicine', so maybe some kind of healer's guide—but the characters aren't quite right. To his surprise, it's recognizable as Old Elvish.

He's run into a couple of books like this in his searches, most of which are sorted into their own sections, with Old Elvish scholars from the university available upon appointment to read them aloud to library patrons when necessary.

He'd gone through every Old Elvish book that he could find in the City, having the titles and chapter headings read to him, and occasionally passages. None of them had proved fruitful, despite them being the most likely place to find any instructions on how to defeat Exor and his champion. The older the book, the better the chances.

Scott wishes he'd paid more attention in his youth. He had taken Old Elvish classes as part of his childhood tutoring, but he hardly remembers any of it.

He knows enough to slowly decipher titles, though—enough to, at least, know whether or not it would be relevant to his search—and with time he could sort through all of these books and decide which ones might be useful.

And he wants to, as well.

Something feels different, here.

"Do all of them look like this?" he asks, flipping open the book.

"Look like what?" asks Katherine, coming up behind him.

"All the ones in this section," Gem answers. "It's some kind of elvish, I can't read it."

"It's Old Elvish," murmurs Scott, closing the book and tucking it under his arm. "I can kind of read it. I'll need time."

Gem grimaces. "You have to get back to Rivendell. Maybe—"

"I can stay three days," Scott decides on the spot. "I think . . . I have a good feeling about this."

He can't describe it further than that. He just feels . . . a pull to these books, a spiritual connection that he can't explain. There's something here that he needs to find, something too important to hand off to someone else.

Aeor wants him here.

"That's—that's great!" says Gem. "Should we go get supper, then, and start on it tomorrow? Do you need to call your council?"

He doesn't want to leave. Not with this pulling at his soul. Not with this invisible string tying him to something here.

But he does need to call his council, quickly tell them his visit has extended, and then hang up before they can complain. And he's pretty sure his communicator doesn't have any connection out here.

"Supper, then return tonight," Scott says decisively. "Can we do that?"

So, that evening, after messaging his council to tell them of the extension and then turning off his communicator before getting a response, Scott and Gem and Katherine head up to the secret library to begin the search, accompanied by four guards assigned to sit in the dark passage and wait.

Scott quickly sequesters himself in the Old Elvish section (or, the section that seems to be majorly Old Elvish, with random other books thrown in where there's extra space), handing a book in Old Elvish each to the girls so they can search the rest of the library for matching letters.

Then begins the long and laborious task of reading what he can of the titles and chapter headings of every single book in the section, in addition to the occasional one that Gem or Katherine carries over.

It's exhausting, and his eyes burn, and he feels too warm in all these layers, but he leafs through page after page and forces himself to focus.

Scott makes it through maybe twenty useless books that evening before the other two drag him away from his work to go to bed.

He does kind of need it. Maybe he can attack the books with a renewed vigor in the morning.

He hadn't brought a change of clothes, so Scott wears his travel clothes to bed that night and puts his mourning things back on when the dawning sun wakes him, too bright in his still-burning eyes.

He eats breakfast alone, Gem and Katherine in some official meeting that hadn't pertained to him. They join him when it's time to head to the library, bright and early, both hopeful and smiling beside Scott's dark presence.

It feels strange.

It feels sad.

Scott spends hours alone that day, skimming through books upon books upon books, interrupted every once in a while by Katherine having him get up and walk around for a minute, or Gem telling him it's time to go eat. The three of them usually fly down for meals, leaving the library guard to change out while they eat. Then they fly back up, eliminating the fifty or sixty minutes it would take to climb back up. They don't have much time, after all. Every minute saved is priceless.

And those priceless minutes find Scott sitting on the hard stone floor, staring at books about every possible subject except the one that he so desperately needs.

And his soul still itches. There's something here. Buried among these thousands of books is something useful.

So he keeps looking.

It's getting to be late that evening when Scott, setting a book into his pile of discards (there's only two books that he's set aside to take home, neither of which look very promising), stands to get the next book and pulls a tome off the shelf that doesn't look at all right.

It's old, certainly. Scott's no scholar, but he'd probably date it back around a thousand years. It isn't bound with leather, but with something grey and oil-stained, the pages stiff and a pale green. The writing on one of those old pages (so old that Scott has to take extra care so as not to break the page, as brittle as it is) is blue, hard to see.

And Scott doesn't recognize the letters at all.

"Hey, Gem?" he calls (his voice breaks a little on her name, but he swallows and pushes through), after staring blankly at it for several moments. "Can you come look at this?"

He hears shuffling of piles and a book fall over, which means she's on her way. Scott closes the book, turns it over in his hands.

No title on the cover—he's found that only about fifty percent of the books he looks at have anything on the cover. Unlike anything he's seen so far, though, hanging from the spine by a cord is a drawstring pouch about the size of Scott's palm, made of the same material as the book.

"What do you need?"

He looks up, sees Gem smiling tiredly, Katherine standing behind her. He hands her the book.

"Do you know these letters?"

Gem opens it up, frowns. Looks closer. Turns the book upside down.

Scott waits patiently.

"It kind of looks . . . Oceanic," she says after a minute. "Just from how big it is, and how strong the lines are. And this kind of looks like glow squid ink, and maybe a seal cover. Should we give it to—oh!"

As she turns it back upright, a thin book falls out of the back and tumbles to the floor. Scott picks it up, carefully flips it open—yep, same make and script, but clearly a different author, and maybe a bit more recent.

"Right," Gem says, and Scott realizes she's peering down at the smaller book as well. "Should we give these to Lizzie?"

Scott puts them both in his satchel with a nod, then goes to grab the next book—but Gem catches him by the arm.

"Let's go to bed, how about," she suggests. "You have two more days to find it. Maybe it would be best to come back in the morning with a fresh, well-rested mind."

She's probably right.

Scott just feels that if he doesn't totally exhaust himself, he'll lie up all night, trying hard not to think about why his bed feels so lonely.

But he packs up the two Old Elvish books he'd found, and then puts away his discard pile (after marking with a slip of paper stuffed between books where in the shelves he'd left off). Then he follows the other two out, taking a moment to stretch his stiff wings before taking flight and returning to his suite of rooms.

And just as he assumed he would, he lies awake in bed for hours, until he finally cries himself to sleep.

As it turns out, he doesn't have two more days.

His council contacts Gem, and tells her in no uncertain terms that Scott had better be on a ship to return the next morning or they'll crown a new king.

Scott's pretty sure they can't do that, but it's best to play it safe.

So he puts on his mourning robes again (they smell fresh and are folded when he picks them up, which means that Gem had found a way to have his laundry done overnight, which might just be the kindest thing ever and no Scott isn't crying—) and skips breakfast to go to the library early, Katherine and Gem reluctantly grabbing food for the road.

He's been working all day—he also skipped lunch to keep it going, brain absolutely melting as he stares at another page of a language he doesn't really understand—when he hears his name in the girls' quiet conversation that's become background noise.

He freezes, cross-legged on the floor with a book in his lap, and strains his sensitive ears to listen.

"—is he doing?" Katherine's saying.

Gem sighs. "He's not doing great," she says. "I don't think I've ever seen Scott cry, you know?"

"Me neither. That just sounds . . . wrong."

"Mhm. He didn't cry at all for that . . . that stupid meeting, though. He and Lizzie both. They just sat there, all . . . cold, and imposing. Have you ever seen Lizzie angry?"

"I don't—wait, yes, at the End. She was scary."

A little chuckle from Gem. "Yep. She was like that—worse, maybe. But after Sausage left, she and Scott just kind of . . . held hands and cried. It was bad."

"Wait, so what's this about there not being a body? Scott said something about it, about how the funeral might be delayed?"

"Yeah, because Sausage is an idiot," Gem says heatedly, then quieter, "I don't know why he did it—he should be smarter than that—but he just—he just threw Jimmy's body in a mass grave. Like he wasn't even an emperor. Like he wasn't anything."

"Wait, that violates the House Blossom Accords," Katherine says instantly. "Under 'Respect', section—"

"Yep, Scott brought that up. But Sausage was just—ugh, he was being so weird and racist! He basically said because the Cod people are 'savages' and 'uneducated', they didn't deserve better than a mass grave."

"Gross. Jimmy's been—or, Jimmy was a ruler almost as long as he's been one, he should know that they're not any different from other people."

"Right? Sausage never used to act like that. I don't know what happened to him." She huffs, and Scott hears a book get set down. "Anyway, I'm not going to ask Lizzie or Scott to dig through a literal pile of bodies to find Jimmy, you know? Especially since it's been at least a week, and bodies start to decay pretty quickly. . . ."

"Totally. It's going to be hard without a body, though."

"That's what I was thinking. I think—not that Scott has to move on right away or anything, but I think it'll be really tough to do it without a body to bury."

"He needs that closure."

"Mm."

They fall silent, and Scott looks down at the book again to see a tear fall on the decrepit page. He whispers a curse, presses his cuff to the splash of water.

He would feel offended that they were talking about him behind his back, but he mostly feels embarrassed. And sad.

They're right. Scott hadn't even thought about it, but he thinks that if he had Jimmy's body, he wouldn't feel quite so large a hole in his heart. At least then he could say goodbye. At least then, he could maybe fix his hair so it isn't sticking up like it always is, grip his lifeless fingers one last time—

Scott swallows back the sob, letting out a little shuddering gasp in its place. He can't—he can't cry here, when Katherine and Gem are right over there and he has very limited time to find a very important book—

"Let's give him some space," he hears one of the girls whisper, then some shuffling and shifting of papers and footsteps.

"Scott, we're going to go get some fresh air," Gem calls from somewhere. "You should take a break at some point, okay?"

Scott doesn't respond, and after a moment, he hears their footsteps recede down the passageway.

He closes the book and sets it in the discard pile (it had been about grammar or something, probably something he needs but not at all what he's looking for), then clears a space on the floor and just lies there on his side, wings pulled tight against his body. He doesn't want to accidentally knock over any books or damage them by leaning on them or something, and he feels so tired, and he just wants to lay there and cry, and he doesn't have time for any of this—

A sob tears from his throat, and Scott covers his face with his hands, trying to stifle the sounds.

He shouldn't be this emotional, especially not in public. If he lets himself break down every time someone so much as mentions Jimmy, he'll be nothing but a weak wreck who isn't worthy of his rule.

And maybe it's a sign of his weakness that Scott lets himself cry a minute longer.

And maybe it's a sign of his unworthiness when he almost immediately slips into sleep.

Blood drips down his fingers and onto the shining white coat of the stag that he loosely clutches to. The stag walks on, carefully stepping around knobby tree roots and over lumps in the earth that might make the journey even more painful for his many wounds.

Scott's entire body hurts, pulsing from head to toe. He can feel a missing tooth, a broken rib. His left arm hangs uselessly to the side. His right arm is covered in blood.

The stag walks, undeterred, even as Scott's head slumps against its neck, even as his body becomes more like deadweight than anything else.

It's peaceful in his pain. Grass is pressed down into the ground with every footstep the stag takes, springing up behind it. There's the light tune of a chickadee singing somewhere in the woods, the rustling of a small animal in some brush they pass.

It's gentle, almost, and Scott sighs and just exists at the most basic level possible.

The ground becomes softer, the stag's hooves leaving imprints in the earth. Then there's a puddle of water, here and there, then mud squishing underneath each step. A bullfrog croaks off to the left, singing to the gentle song of flowing water and dripdrops from leaves.

And then the stag stops.

Scott really ought to look up, see why it's stopped. What it's trying to show him. But his head is too heavy, his body too pained.

He can't even begin to muster the strength.

The stag, then, tips its head down—down, down, until Scott's hand slips free of its tenuous grasp and his bleeding body starts to slide. He tumbles slowly, between the antlers, and falls, almost silently, into a dark pool of water.

Red billows up in clouds around him as Scott falls deeper, the cool water washing away so many aches and injuries. It feels nice, clean despite the murkiness. It's healing, and relaxing, and he can just release any breath in his chest and let the water take him.

He sinks in slow-motion, allowing the pond to carry him deeper, until his toes hit the sandy bottom and he hangs there, almost suspended.

Something swims up to him—a cod, he realizes after a moment. It pokes playfully at his nose, then swims above his head.

Scott's eyes follow it, then turn past it as he can see, standing on the distant surface of the pool, the white stag.

As soon as Scott is looking, the stag prances across the water, and he watches even as his eyes grow heavy and begin to close.

Still it prances, a tiny beast traveling across the inside of his eyelids—and when he opens his eyes, across an old, stone floor, up a pile of books and across a shelf, cantering along until it stops beside an unassuming brown leather-bound book.

It looks at the book, then back at Scott.

CRASH!

Scott starts awake, sitting up, frantically reaching out to catch whatever had fallen.

"Sorry!" Katherine whisper-shouts. "I knocked over some books, sorry. You can go back to sleep."

Scott rubs his eyes, blinking around at the dimly-lit library, Katherine and Gem standing frozen a couple of feet away from him.

"How long was I asleep?" he mumbles, pulling his knees up to his chest.

Gem exchanges a look with Katherine before shrugging. "Maybe twenty minutes? We were going to give you twenty more before waking you up, sorry."

"No, no—I need to be up," he says. "You should've woken me."

Another look exchanged. "Look, Scott," Katherine says gently, "we think you should maybe take a break? We could go eat something, come back for a few more hours before setting the library aside? Gem can keep looking, and you can come back in a couple of weeks—"

Scott stops paying attention, remembering the stag . . . across the floor, up the stack of books over there, across the shelf. . . .

Scott stands, trips over a book he'd left on the floor, catches his balance against a bookshelf before Katherine can rush forward.

"Scott, you need to rest," says Gem firmly. "I'll find an Old Elvish translation dictionary or something and go through these myself, okay? I want you to go home and take care of yourself."

Scott continues to ignore her, pushing past both of the girls, shifting aside a stack of books to find the shelf that he'd seen in his dream—

There's the book. Exactly as it appeared in his dream.

Scott grabs it, tugs it off the shelf, even as Katherine and Gem both voice their protests.

On the leather cover is a simple, golden stag.

Scott flips it open, barely registering as the other two fall silent. The title page is instantly familiar, one of few that Scott has actually seen in Old Elvish before.

The Tale of the Two Stags.

He pages through it quickly—it's long, far longer than the story usually is, and it's been annotated. There are handwritten notes in the margins, in a form of Elvish more recent than everything else here, close enough to the current form that Scott can mostly read it.

The mountaine in the este?, one note reads, underlining a sentence. How did Conal finte it? Will the same mountaine suffise?

These are notes from Alinar himself, Scott realizes, as he reads a few more, sudden chills encompassing his entire body.

Alinar held this book.

Alinar wrote in this book.

He flips to the final pages, those that would be blank, to find that they are covered with precise notes written by Alinar. He catches the word daemone several times, something about a cristyl, what appears to be some kind of a plan, complete with a diagram. . . .

"This is it," he says quietly. He looks up; Katherine and Gem are staring at him, mouths slightly ajar. He snaps the book shut, holds it up. "This is the book."

He knows it, too. Not just because Alinar had handwritten notes in it, not just because he was led to it. But he feels that pull, that spiritual connection. It's strong, unfathomably strong, binding him to this book in his hands.

"Scott, how . . . how did you know where that was?" Gem asks slowly.

"It was behind other books," adds Katherine. "In a section that you haven't even started on."

Scott shrugs. He really isn't sure how to answer without telling them that he thinks he might be Aeor's Champion, which isn't exactly something that he wants to be advertised. What if word got around, and then he utterly lost against Xornoth? He doesn't want to give false hope.

And maybe, perhaps more relevantly, saying it out loud comes with more revelations that he doesn't want to face.

"I had a good feeling, I suppose," he says.

Gem gives him a dubious look. "That's not a 'good feeling'," she says. "That's magic. Is that what elves' magic is like? Really good intuition? I've been trying to get an elven teacher for the Academy so that I can learn more about—"

"It's not really something we can teach, or learn," Scott interrupts. Maybe best to let her believe that it had been his inherent magic (which really isn't that impressive, seeing as all it really is is the ability to make some powerful suggestions or commands, and their promises are a bit more binding than others, the magic diluted as the generations pass from Alinar's rule, the last generation of great favor in Aeor's eyes) that led him to the book.

"Oh, so it's more instinctive! So is it a conscious—"

"Gem, how about we go eat now, and you can quiz me all about fae magic when you take me back to the Overgrown," Katherine suggests. "That way, Scott can get home before his advisors send assassins after us."

Right, he does need to get back home.

"And maybe he can get a change of clothes," adds Katherine.

Scott's stomach drops a little bit. There'll be another set of mourning clothes waiting for him, more likely than not.

And then there'll be other, harder things. He'll have to release some sort of statement of mourning, and if the court decides that he and Jimmy were still betrothed, he may have to declare a day of mourning for the entire country. He'll have to work with Lizzie to pull together some sort of memorial service, if possible. He'll have to sit through all sorts of official people giving their condolences. He'll have to run a war.

Maybe, if he asks nicely, Gem will let him stay a little longer.

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