#literally the night before he gets scooped. Insane.

[bravevolunteer]

i am once again thinking about night 4 of sister location

[pucksandpower]

Ties That Bind

Charles Leclerc x royal!Reader + Max Verstappen x sister!Reader

Summary: life as Princess of the Netherlands is pretty perfect but when health issues become a (literal) royal pain, you discover a familial connection that will change your life forever

Warnings: struggles with infertility, child abandonment, serious health issues, medical procedures and treatments

This is what happens when I’m insane enough to try juggling writing an 8k+ word fic with studying in medical school

The night was a cascade of ethereal snowflakes, each one glistening under the pale moonlight, landing gracefully upon the earth. The silver car glided along the road, its headlights illuminating the path through the thick curtain of snow, like two piercing eyes navigating through sorrow.

Inside, Prince Frederik of the Netherlands drove in silent contemplation, the weight of the day’s news pressing heavily on his heart. Beside him, Princess Marianne stared out of the frosted window, her reflection capturing swollen eyes that glistened with fresh tears. Her fingers trembled slightly, crumpling yet another now irrelevant medical report indicating one more failed IVF attempt.

“I thought this time would be different,” Marianne whispered, her voice quivering. “I truly believed it.”

Frederik’s grip on the wheel tightened. He turned to his wife, pain evident in his eyes. “I know, my love. I know.”

As they drove, Frederik’s eyes caught a glimpse of something unusual by the side of the road. “What’s that?” He murmured, slowing the car.

Marianne followed his gaze. “It looks like a bundle ... stop the car!”

Frederik brought the vehicle to a halt. They both jumped out and hurried over to the mysterious object. As they approached, Marianne gasped. “Oh my God, Frederik ... it’s a baby!”

She quickly bent down to scoop the tiny, shivering form into her arms. The baby’s skin was cold, blue lips barely parting for shallow breaths as the thin pink blanket wrapped around it did little to fight the chill. “Who could do such a thing?” Marianne cried, holding the child close for warmth.

Frederik’s face hardened. “We need to get her to a hospital. Now.”

Back in the car, Marianne cradled the baby, trying to transfer her warmth. “Stay with us,” she murmured, tears spilling. “Please, stay with us.”

As they sped towards the hospital, Frederik reached over and held Marianne’s free hand. “It'’s a sign,” he whispered. “After everything we’ve been through today ... finding her like this ... it’s fate.”

Marianne looked down at the baby, her fingers gently brushing the soft wisps of hair on the child’s head. “Our little miracle in the snow,” she whispered back.

Frederik smiled faintly, squeezing Marianne's hand. “Yes, our snow angel. We’ll take care of her and she’ll take care of us.”

***

“You know, every time it snows, it feels like the world is celebrating the day we found you,” your father, now King Frederik, remarks, gazing out of the vast palace windows at the flurries descending from the sky.

You smile, reaching for a delicate pastry from the breakfast spread laid out before you. “And every snowflake reminds me of the warmth of this family that saved me from the cold.”

Your mother, Queen Marianne, hair now threaded with silver, gives you a loving glance. “Our snow angel, right when we needed you most.”

“Speaking of snow,” you muse, “I’m thinking of wearing the ice-blue gown for tonight’s gala. Thoughts?”

Your father raises an eyebrow, “For the Children’s Foundation event? Perfect choice. It complements the theme and matches the tiara your mother has picked for you to wear.”

You grin, “Who knew you had such a fashion sense?”

Your mother chuckles, “It’s a king thing. But he’s right. And with your sapphire necklace, you will be the talk of the gala.”

You take a sip of your tea, thinking of the evening ahead. “I want to ensure my speech captures the essence of our foundation’s work. It’s more than just another royal event, this is about making a real difference.”

Your father nods, “It always is for you. That genuine desire to impact lives, it’s how I know you will be a great Queen one day.”

You blush slightly, “I learned from the best.”

Your mother, with a hint of mischief, remarks, “And speaking of learning, have you decided on a dance partner for the first waltz? There’s quite a line-up available.”

You laugh, “Oh, Mom! Let’s not start matchmaking before breakfast is over.”

Your father joins in the mirth, “Give her a break, Marianne. Our snow angel must not melt.”

***

The regal hallways echo with the gentle patter of your heeled footsteps. Lately, the palace, your lifelong sanctuary, feels more like a maze. A sudden wave of dizziness makes you pause, leaning against a gilded wall for support.

“You okay there?” a soft voice calls. It’s your mother, her face etched with worry.

“Just a bit dizzy,” you mumble, attempting a reassuring smile.

She hurries over, her gown flowing. “You’ve been looking pale these past few days.”

Before you can reply, a sharp sensation pricks your nose. Touching it, you’re shocked to see blood on your fingertips. “Oh no,” you whisper, panic creeping into your voice.

Your mother’s eyes widen. “We need to see a doctor.”

“But the gala—”

“Forget the gala!” She interrupts. “Your health comes first.”

***

Inside the royal clinic, the room is a tense silence. Your father paces while your mother sits beside you, holding your hand tightly.

The family physician finally arrives, his expression somber. “Your Highness, Your Majesties,” he begins, “we’ve run several tests.”

“And?” Your father demands, halting his restless walk.

You take a deep, shaky breath, bracing yourself.

The doctor hesitates for a split second. “You have aplastic anemia.”

The room seems to close in. The words hang heavily, turning the opulent clinic cold.

Your mother’s voice trembles, “What does that mean?”

“It’s a condition where the bone marrow doesn’t produce enough new blood cells. This leads to fatigue, higher risk of infections, and uncontrolled bleeding,” the doctor explains.

Your mind races. The symptoms make sense now — the fatigue, dizziness, the nosebleed.

Your father’s face hardens, searching for hope. “What’s the treatment?”

The doctor looks grim, “The most effective treatment at this severity is a bone marrow transplant. We will need to find a matching donor.”

Your mother’s grip tightens on your hand, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We’ll find one. We have to.”

Your father nods. “We will move mountains if we have to.”

You muster a small smile, drawing strength from your parents. “One snowstorm at a time.”

***

“How long does it usually take to find a match?” Youu inquire, voice trembling ever so slightly.

Dr. Van der Meer, the lead hematologist on your case, sighs, “It varies, Your Highness. Some find a match within their family, others from the global database. It can take days or even months.”

Your mother breaks in desperately, “But surely, with our resources, we can expedite the process?”

Your father adds, “Every avenue, every connection we have at our disposal is yours to use, Doctor.”

Dr. Van der Meer nods, “I understand the urgency, Your Majesties. We’ve already started to search within the national database. Meanwhile, we advise immediate family to get tested first.”

You interject, a sense of realization dawning, “But I’m adopted. Our genetic makeup differs.”

Your father and mother exchange a heavy look, the weight of your situation pressing down on them.

“We still have a vast network, a whole nation even,” your father muses. “Surely someone out there is a match.”

Dr. Van der Meer hesitates then says, “Actually, there has already been a hit from the database. A potential match.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Who?”

“We maintain confidentiality, Your Highness,” he replies. “But once we confirm the match and receive their consent, you will be informed.”

Your mother’s voice is tinged with hope. “So there’s a chance? A real chance?”

You lean forward eagerly. “When will we know more?”

Dr. Van der Meer offers a comforting smile. “Soon, Your Highness. For now, patience is our ally.”

***

“It’s been weeks, Doctor. Why haven’t we heard from the potential donor?” The frustration is clear in your mother’s voice.

Dr. Van der Meer looks up, choosing his words carefully. “The potential donor ... has some reservations.”

Your father’s brow furrows. “Reservations? Isn’t saving a life more important?”

The doctor clears his throat, “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Your Majesty. The potential donor is someone you’re familiar with.”

You lean forward, your curiosity piqued. “Who is it?”

There’s a momentary pause, the silence thickening. “Max Verstappen.”

Shock ripples through the room. The name isn’t just any name. It’s a name known to every Dutch citizen, celebrated in every corner of the nation.

Your mother blinks in disbelief. “The Formula 1 racer? We’ve met him multiple times at the Grand Prix. But why would he have reservations?”

Dr. Van der Meer hesitates, “There’s more to it. We ran some further genetic tests, customary for close matches. The results were ... unexpected.”

Your father leans forward in anticipation. “Go on.”

The doctor takes a deep breath, “Max Verstappen is not just a match. He’s ... he’s your half-brother.”

The room goes still. The revelation hangs in the air, too staggering to fully comprehend.

You feel your world tilt. “That’s impossible.”

Your mother’s voice is a whisper, “How can that be?”

Dr. Van der Meer clears his throat. “The genetic markers were unmistakable. Given the rare degree of compatibility and the markers we found, there is no doubt.”

Your father runs a hand through his hair, trying to process the news. “So all these years, at every Grand Prix, we’ve been cheering for ... family?”

You chime in, a flurry of emotions whirling inside, “And he doesn’t know, does he?”

The doctor shakes his head, “No, not yet. That’s the reservation. Revealing this ... it changes everything for him too.”

Your mother is contemplative. “We’ve celebrated his victories, felt the pride of having him represent our country. And now, knowing he’s family ...”

You interject, “And now, we need him more than ever. Not as a driver, not as a national icon, but as family.”

Your father’s resolve strengthens. “We need to tell him. He deserves to know.”

***

“How do you even begin a conversation like this?” You wonder aloud, staring at the blank screen of your laptop.

Your father, deep in thought, answers, “Honestly, directly, and with sensitivity. It’s uncharted territory for all of us.”

Your mothers adds, “Perhaps start by expressing your genuine feelings, without the weight of our titles or his fame."

You nod slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Dear Max,” you repeat out loud as you begin typing, then pause. “Too formal?”

Your father shrugs, “It’s sincere. And that’s what matters.”

Taking a deep breath, you continue:

Dear Max,

This isn’t a typical letter and I struggle to find the right words. By now, you might have been informed by the medical team about our unexpected connection. I wanted to reach out personally, not as the Princess of Orange, but simply as ... family.

Your mother reads over your shoulder, “That’s a good start.”

I cannot imagine how jarring this news must be. It was for me too. All these years, our paths crossed, shared smiles exchanged, never knowing the deeper bond we shared.

“Maybe mention the Grand Prix, how it has been a tradition for us,” your father suggests.

Every year at the Dutch Grand Prix, my parents and I cheered for you, felt immense pride in your victories. The realization that those cheers were for family adds a layer of emotion I can’t quite put into words.

I understand if you need time to process this. But I want you to know that this revelation changes nothing about the respect and admiration I hold for you. However, it does add a depth of connection, a newfound kinship.

Your mother, her voice choked with emotion, suggests, “Maybe let him know why it’s important now, about your condition.”

The reason I am reaching out now is not just about our newfound connection but also because of a pressing health concern I am facing. I need a bone marrow transplant, and as it turns out, you are my best match.

“Reassure him,” your father adds. “It’s a big ask.”

I understand the weight of this request. There is no obligation, only hope. No matter your decision, I want you to know that discovering this bond, this link between us, is a gift in itself.

Please take all the time you need. Whatever you decide, I respect and cherish the connection we have discovered. Wishing you all the best on and off the track.

Sincerely,

Y/N

Your father, visibly moved, murmurs, “It’s perfect.”

Your mother nods in agreement, tears shimmering. “It’s from the heart. Now, we wait.”

***

The roaring engines on the racetrack outside fade as the door to the private lounge close behind you. Max Verstappen stands there, his usual confident demeanor replaced with apprehension. The weight of the recent revelations is thick in the air.

“You look different without the crown,” Max remarks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckle softly, “And you without the helmet.”

The initial ice broken, the two of you sit. A beat of silence passes. Then Max, eyes searching yours, asks, “Why now?”

You take a deep breath. “I’ve always known I was adopted. Every snowy day, my parents would recount the tale of how they found their snow angel. I grew up surrounded by love and privilege, never lacking anything.” Your voice trembles slightly, “But there were nights ... nights I’d wonder about the person who left me there, in the snow. Why didn’t they want me? Why did they abandon me to the whims of a storm?”

Max’s expression softens, his own memories surfacing. “I grew up with my father’s strict guidance. Racing wasn’t just a passion, it was life. There was little room for anything else. I always thought I understood my family but this ...” He sighs, looking away. “It makes me question everything.”

You nod, shared uncertainty bringing you closer. “But through all this confusion, one thing is clear: we’re family. Blood, it seems, has a way of revealing itself.”

Max smiles ruefully, “You know, I have a sister, a full sister. Growing up, we were close but our paths divided. Racing consumed me. Now, discovering I have another sister, you, it’s ... overwhelming.”

You chuckle, “Two sisters. Lucky you.”

He grins, “Twice the protective instincts.”

The humor fades, replaced by raw emotion. “You know,” you whisper, tears brimming, “Despite everything, I’m grateful for our paths crossing like this. Even if it took a lifetime.”

Max reaches out, taking your hand. “Me too.”

The weight of the moment presses on both of you. You look at each other, eyes brimming with tears, souls bared.

In a sudden rush of emotion, you step forward, collapsing into Max’s embrace. He holds you tightly, as if trying to shield you from all the past hurts, regrets, and questions. The warmth of the hug contrasts sharply with the cold memory of that snowy night. In his embrace, the years of wondering, the pain of abandonment, seem to melt away.

Pulling back slightly, you look up into Max’s eyes. With a tearful smile, you whisper, “Brother.”

He grins back, “Sister. How would you feel about attending the next race, not as royalty but as my guest?”

You hesitate, the memories of previous races filled with formalities and protocols. “It will be different.”

Max wraps an arm around you shoulders, “Very. But I promise, you will see the world of racing like never before.”

***

The roar of the engines, the excitement of the crowd — it was all distantly familiar. Yet, standing beside Max, everything feels different.

As you walk through the paddock, Max’s pride is evident. “Guys,” he calls out to his mechanics, “Meet my sister.”

They look up, surprised, then smiles break out across their faces. “It’s an honor, Your Highness,” one of them greets.

Max nudges him, “Just call her by her name.”

You laugh in agreement, “It’s nice to meet you all without the formalities.”

Max continues his introductions, his enthusiasm infectious. When you reach Christian Horner, he looks pleasantly surprised. “It’s been a while,” he remarks, “Though our meetings were always, well, more formal.”

You nod, “It’s a different world from this side of the track.”

Max beams, “And she’s getting the full experience today.”

When the race starts, every moment feels magnified, more personal.

And then, the checkered flag waves for Max.

The Red Bull garage erupts in jubilation. During the celebration, Max, still in his car, locks eyes with you from across parc fermé. You can see the moisture, the emotion in his eyes. The moment he is out of his car, he races over, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“This win,” he whispers hoarsely, “it’s not just for me this time. It’s for us. For family.”

As the Dutch anthem plays during the podium ceremony, tears fill your eyes. The anthem, a proud symbol of your country and kingdom, now also symbolizes the new, ever-growing bond with your brother.

Max, standing tall on the podium, catches your eye and winks. And as the ceremony concludes, he suddenly turns, aiming his bottle of champagne right at you. The spray catches you off guard, laughter bubbling up as the cold liquid soaks you.

“You had to, didn’t you?” You laugh, wiping away the liquid before it can sting your eyes.

Max ruffles your hair, “It’s my new duty as your older brother!”

***

“Hey, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Max says, pulling you towards the thrumming heart of the afterparty.

The vibrant lights and chatter fill the room but everything seems to slow as you’re introduced to a lean figure with tousled hair and hypnotizing eyes. “This is Charles Leclerc,” Max grins, “One of the toughest guys I’ve raced against.”

Charles offers a charming smile, “Pleasure to meet you. Max speaks highly of you.”

You raise your glass in a mock toast to your brother. “Glad to hear that my bribe has been paying off.”

Charles laughs, “Well, considering today’s win, you might just be his favorite person.”

The two of you share a laugh, an effortless ease settling between you as you barely notice Max walking off with a wink shot your way.

“You’ve been to several races, haven’t you?” Charles asks, sipping his drink.

“In a more official capacity, yes. But today was ... different.”

He nods, his gaze intense, “Being family changes the perspective.”

Charles leans in, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now that you’ve seen me on the track maybe I should show you some of my other talents?”

You raise an eyebrow, the thrill of the night’s excitement mixing with his words. “Oh? What other hidden skills do you possess?”

His voice drops to a sultry murmur. “Well, I make a mean pasta carbonara. Maybe I’ll whip it up for you someday.”

You laugh, the warmth of the moment spreading through you. “I’ll definitely hold you to that.”

Max, watching from a distance, nudges Carlos, “Look at them. Told you they’d hit it off.”

“You know, I’ve always been curious about the life of a princess,” Charles muses, a playful glint in his eye. “Is it all tiaras and tea parties?”

You smirk. “It’s more boring than you would think. But for a driver like you, every day’s a thrill, right? Speeding cars, roaring crowds, adoring fans?”

He grins, leaning closer, the proximity making your heart race. “Most days. But some nights, the thrill is ... elsewhere,” his gaze deepening, locked onto yours.

The two of you are drawn into a world of your own, the party’s noise fading into the background.

He brushes a stray hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer. “Have you ever considered doing a hot lap? It’s quite the rush.”

You laugh, feeling the warmth of his touch. “I don’t know about getting in a race car but I can think of something else I’d love to ride right now.”

As the club’s pulsating music envelops you, Charles leans in, his voice husky over the beat, “Care for a dance?”

You accept, and as you both move to the rhythm, the world around seems to disappear. The close proximity, the electric energy on the dance floor, and the feeling of his body moving against yours is intoxicating.

“Right now,” Charles murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear to be heard above the music, “I feel like the winner tonight.”

You smile, your gaze locked onto his, “The night is still young. Let’s see where it takes us.”

***

“I’ve noticed you’re attending more races lately,” Max comments, a teasing glint in his eyes as you both walk through the paddock.

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Well, I’ve developed quite an appreciation for the sport.”

Max chuckles, “Or for a certain Ferrari driver?”

Blushing, you retort, “Can’t it be both?”

Before Max can respond, Charles approaches, his smile brightening as he spots you. “Good to see you again,” he greets, though his eyes convey a warmth that words can’t.

“You too,” you reply in a voice softer than intended.

The three of you share some casual banter before Max excuses himself, leaving you alone with Charles.

“You know,” Charles starts, “it’s become the highlight of my race weekends, seeing you here.”

You smile, “I’ve come to realize that there’s more to F1 than just the thrill of the race. There are ... other attractions.”

Charles grins, “Is that so? Any attraction in particular?”

You playfully nudge him, “Don’t get too confident, Leclerc.”

Weekends spent at circuits become a regular fixture in your life. While you’re initially there for Max, the increasing time spent with Charles deepens your bond. The stolen glances during press conferences, the private moments away from the limelight, and the late-night conversations make the connection undeniable.

One evening, after a particularly intense race, Charles pulls you aside, his face flushed from the adrenaline. “Every time I cross the finish line and look towards the other garages, I hope to catch a glimpse of you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “And if you do?”

He smiles, “It either makes victory all the more sweet or the sting of defeat not quite as painful.”

***

“You’ve made the front page again,” Max remarks dryly, handing you a tabloid during breakfast.

You glance at the headline, The Princess and the Racer: F1’s Fairytale Romance accompanied by a candid shot of you and Charles out to dinner.

Charles groans, “They make it sound like a soap opera.”

You sigh, “It’s the price we pay, I guess.”

As weeks go by, the media scrutiny intensifies. Every public appearance and every minuscule gesture, is analyzed, often blown out of proportion. The weight of the world’s eyes strains the joy of your newfound relationship.

One evening, after a particularly invasive article speculating about a rushed engagement, Charles pulls you aside, his face drawn with concern. “I noticed you’ve been pale lately, more tired. Is it the stress from all this media attention?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. The truth is, it’s more than just the media. Your health has been deteriorating and you’ve been trying to hide it.

“It’s not just the media,” you admit.

His eyes are filled with worry. “What is it?”

Max, overhearing the conversation, interjects, “It’s her health. She didn't want to worry you.”

Charles looks at you in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You take a deep breath, “I didn’t want to add to the pressures of the season, to be another burden.”

He reaches out, holding you close, “You’re never a burden. We’re in this together.”

You take a shaky breath, drawing strength from his words. “I’ve been diagnosed with aplastic anemia. It’s a condition where my bone marrow doesn’t produce enough new blood cells.”

Charles pales, “That’s ... serious.”

You nod, “After this race, I’m starting chemotherapy to destroy the dysfunctional bone marrow in preparation for a transplant.”

Silence envelops the room. Charles processes the weight of the revelation, the enormity of the situation sinking in. “Why now?” He finally asks.

“Timing is crucial,” Max chimes in, “She’s been putting it off, not wanting to disrupt the season. But we can’t wait much longer.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just wish you had told me sooner.”

You reach out, touching his arm, “I didn’t know how. Everything was happening so fast — our relationship, the media attention. I didn’t want to add more stress.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, his voice choked with emotion. “Promise me, no more secrets.”

You nod, tears streaming down your face, “I promise.”

***

“Are you sure you want to be here for this?” You ask Charles as you both sit in the sterile hospital room, awaiting the doctor who would be overseeing your chemotherapy treatments.

Charles takes your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Every step of the way.”

The door opens and the doctor walks in, a gentle but serious look on her face. “Before we begin, there’s something important we need to discuss. The chemotherapy might affect your fertility. It’s not certain but there is a significant risk.”

You freeze. You had expected side effects, the potential hair loss, the fatigue. But this? This was unanticipated. This ripped your heart out of your chest.

Charles tightens his grip on your hand, his face pale. “Is there ... any way to mitigate that risk?”

The doctor nods, “We can retrieve and store your eggs. It’s a procedure done before chemotherapy in some cases. You will need hormone injections for about 10 to 12 days to stimulate the ovaries.”

You look at Charles, your eyes filled with tears, “It’s another delay.”

Charles brushes a tear from your cheek, “We face this together. I am here for you no matter what you decide.”

The days that follow are a whirlwind. Charles is by your side every step of the way, providing both emotional support and administering the daily injections.

Each evening, he carefully prepares the hormone shot. “Ready?” He asks, looking into your eyes.

You nod, trying to put on a brave face. But the physical discomfort is nothing compared to the emotional toll. Still, with Charles by your side, each day becomes bearable.

One evening, as he administers the injection, he whispers, “I’m so proud of you. Your strength amazes me every day.”

Tears spring to your eyes. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth enveloping you. “You’ll never have to.”

***

“Are you sure about this?” Charles asks, his fingers brushing yours as you lay on the hospital bed.

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I am. It’s a step towards preserving a potential future, one I hope to share with you.”

His eyes soften. “Every step, I’m here.”

The medical staff move around in the background, preparing for the procedure. The hum of machines and the sterile environment contrast starkly with the intimate bubble you and Charles share.

As the procedure begins, Charles holds your hand, his thumb drawing comforting circles on your skin. “Remember our trip to Monaco?” He murmurs, attempting to distract you. “The sea, the laughter, the little café by the pier?”

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you nod for the OBGYN to proceed. “The one with the overly sweet pastries?”

Charles chuckles, “That’s the one. Imagine us there, a decade from now, two kids in tow, arguing over whether chocolate or vanilla is better.”

The image he paints eases your tension, providing a temporary escape from the clinical room. The retrieval is swift but the emotional weight lingers.

“You did great,” Charles murmurs, brushing a stray hair away from your face.

You smile weakly, “One hurdle crossed.”

The next phase comes swiftly the following day: chemotherapy. The treatment center is full of artificial warmth — the walls painted a deep yellow and the heater working overtime to keep patients as comfortable as possible — but it does nothing to counteract the chill of fear that has taken over your body.

When the nurse enters with the IV bag for your chemotherapy, Charles stands up, his stance protective. “How does this work?”

She explains the process, her voice soft, “The medication will enter her bloodstream and target the rapidly growing cells. There might be some side effects but we will monitor her closely.”

You feel a pinch as the needle is inserted and soon the clear liquid starts making its way into your veins. You blink rapidly, willing the tears away before Charles can see them.

Attempting to lighten the mood, he starts recounting some of his funniest moments from racing. You chuckle at his anecdotes, grateful for the distraction.

Hours pass. The room is filled with a mix of medical beeps and Charles’ voice, offering a counterbalance of cold reality and warm comfort.

As the IV bag nears empty, you feel a wave of fatigue. Charles notices. “Rest,” he urges softly, his thumb caressing your hand.

You nod, closing your eyes, “Thank you for being my anchor.”

He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Always, for every challenge, every step. Always.”

***

“I still can’t believe you made him go,” your mother murmurs from the chair next to you. The hum of machines and the sterile scent of the hospital room are in stark contrast to the roaring engines and burning rubber of the track that you can almost sense through the television screen.

You manage a weak smile. “He belongs on the track, Mom. This race is crucial for the championship.”

“He wanted to stay,” your father adds. “He’s racing with a heavy heart.”

“I know,” you whisper, a tear trickling down. “But he’s strong. And I want him to win, for both of us.”

The room falls silent, save for the rhythmic beeping of the machines. You can feel the potent cocktail of drugs coursing through your veins, sapping your strength but a necessary step to fight the disease within.

The TV in the corner broadcasts the race. You hear the commentator’s voice, “... Charles Leclerc, giving it his all today. You have to wonder where he’s drawing this intensity from.”

You know the answer.

The laps go by. With each turn, each overtake Charles makes, you can sense his determination, his desire to win not just for the title but for something else … someone else.

“You should rest,” your father advises, noticing your drooping eyelids.

But you resist, wanting to witness Charles cross the finish line.

The final laps are intense. Charles battles fiercely, and as he takes the checkered flag, the room bursts into subdued cheers.

“He did it!” Your mother exclaims.

You feel a swell of pride. “For us,” you whisper, before fatigue takes over and you drift into a deep sleep.

As consciousness slowly returns not too long after, the first thing you notice is the gentle vibration of your phone on the bedside table. Groggily reaching for it, you see a new message notification from a group chat with Charles and Max.

It’s a photo of Charles and Max, still in their race suits, grinning ear to ear. Charles holds up his first-place trophy while Max proudly displays his second. They’re both covered in champagne, evidence of the post-race celebrations.

These are for you. For our champion.

With shaky fingers, you type back:

My heroes. Thank you for being my strength. So proud of you both. Can’t wait to see you again.

Your mother, noticing your reaction, peers over your shoulder. “Those boys,” she says with a fond smile, “they really adore you.”

You nod, wiping away a tear. “I’m so lucky.”

***

“Hey, sis,” Max’s voice is soft, tinged with a mix of worry and hope as he sits beside you in the pre-op room, “Ready to share a bit more than just DNA?”

You manage a small smile, despite the anxiety. “As long as you don’t start claiming we share driving skills.”

He chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Promise.”

The doctor enters, clipboard in hand. “Both of you understand the procedure, correct? Max, we will be extracting bone marrow from your pelvic bone. It’s a relatively straightforward process but you might feel some discomfort.”

Max nods resolutely. “Anything for her.”

You swallow hard, emotions swirling. “Thank you, Max. This ... it means everything.”

He looks at you, eyes filled with a brotherly love that’s grown exponentially over the past few months. “We’re family. We look out for each other.”

As Max is wheeled away for his extraction, he offers a brave smile. “See you on the other side.”

Hours later, as you sit by his bedside, watching him slowly come around post-procedure, you squeeze his hand. “You okay?”

He groans, “Feels like I’ve done a doubleheader race without any breaks. But it’s worth it.”

Then comes your turn. Max, despite his exhaustion, insists on being present. The stem cells he donated are infused into you through a central line. It’s a simple procedure but one filled with so much hope and emotion.

Max watches closely, gripping your hand. “You got this,” he murmurs as the life-saving cells flow into your body.

You try to show a convincing smile before closing your eyes and praying to whoever’s listening that this works.

***

The pale blue walls of the hospital room have become all too familiar, the rhythmic beep of machines a constant in the background. You’re reclined on the bed, an IV line dripping nutrients and much-needed blood transfusions into your system. As your body adjusts to the new bone marrow, these are crucial.

Max is seated beside you, a crossword puzzle in hand. The chairs aren’t particularly comfortable but he’s still rarely left your side.

Max taps his pen against the paper thoughtfully. “Alright, here’s one for you. Seven letters: someone who is always there, no matter what.”

You raise an eyebrow, pondering. “Is it brother?”

He grins, “You’re getting good at this.”

You chuckle, “Well, I can’t help it when the answer is so obvious …”

He leans in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I snuck in some of those chocolates you like from that little shop in town.”

Your eyes widen in mock horror. “You rebel. We’ll be banished from the kingdom.”

He winks, producing a small box from his bag. “Worth it.”

As you both indulge in the illicit treat, you realize just how much these little moments, these shared smiles and inside jokes, make the ordeal bearable.

Max notices your contemplative expression. “Hey, what’s on your mind?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to have a brother who sneaks chocolates into a hospital for me.”

He extends his pinky towards you, “Always. Until the end of the race.”

You intertwine your own pinky with his to immortalize the promise, “And beyond.”

Just as the two of you are finishing the last of the chocolates, the door swings open quietly. Charles steps in, his eyes immediately seeking you out. There’s a bouquet of fresh flowers in his hand, their vibrant colors standing out against the sterile environment.

“You two conspiring without me?” Charles teases, setting the flowers on the bedside table.

Max smirks, “Just ensuring she gets her daily dose of chocolate, doctor’s orders.”

Charles moves to your side and presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better now that my two favorite racers are here,” you reply with a smile.

Charles laughs, “I see. Well, the doctor outside told me your blood counts are improving. Seems the new bone marrow is getting to work.”

You nod hopefully. “One day at a time.”

Charles moves closer, taking your free hand. “Every day is a step closer to getting you out of here.”

Max, sensing the intimate moment, stands up, stretching. “I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. Need to grab a coffee and give that crossword another go.”

Charles smiles gratefully at him, and as Max exits the room, you’re left in a bubble of comfort and warmth with your boyfriend.

***

“Grant our daughter strength and good news,” your mother’s prayer weaves through the tense atmosphere of the room.

Charles’ grip on your hand tightens and he whispers, “Whatever the news, we face it together.”

“Guide the hands of the doctors, let their knowledge lead to healing.”

Max, on your other side, offers a comforting squeeze, his face betraying his own anxiety. “You’ve come so far already.”

“And bless our family with your grace and protection.”

The prayer lingers in the air just as the door opens.

“Grant her the strength, the health, the life she deserves ...”

The doctor steps in, a manila envelope in hand. Everyone’s gaze immediately fixes on him, the room heavy with bated breath.

He looks around the room, making eye contact with each one of you, then finally says, “The results are in.”

You feel Charles’ hand tremble slightly … Max’s grip tighten … your father barely breathing behind you … a silent prayer still on your mother’s lips.

“The bone marrow has taken exceptionally well. All indicators and markers are positive.” The doctor smiles. “You’re officially in remission. You’re cured.”

A tidal wave of emotion crashes over the room. Tears immediately spring to your eyes, happiness and relief mingling in each drop.

Your mother’s whispered prayer crescendos into a heartfelt “thank you,” choked with emotion.

Your father, the ever-composed king, has moisture in his eyes as he holds you close, “Our snow angel, our miracle.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace next, his voice a shaky whisper, “You did it.”

Max is grinning from ear to ear. “Told you, sis. Until the end of the race and beyond.”

***

“Look at them,” Max says, nudging you as the camera pans over the pit crews, each member prominently sporting a bright red ribbon. “All in solidarity.”

Charles beams, joining the conversation. “It was Max’s idea. The ribbons. Both teams were eager to join in.”

You’re touched, tears threatening to spill. “It’s incredible. Both of you, your teams ... I’m speechless.”

The commentator on the screen picks up on the theme. “For those just tuning in, both the Ferrari and Red Bull teams are wearing red ribbons today in support of aplastic anemia awareness, a personal cause for them given the recent battle of the Princess of Orange with the condition.”

Mid-race, Max’s voice crackles over the team radio, “This one’s for you, sis.”

Charles, not to be outdone, pushes his car to the limit, the red ribbon painted on his helmet clearly visible every time the camera focuses on him.

Later, as you walk back out through the paddock, fans approach, many sporting red ribbons of their own. One young girl looks at you with stars in her eyes, “I wear this for my mom. She’s fighting too, just like you did.”

You pull her into a gentle hug. “She’s got this. I know she does.”

***

As soon as the statement goes live on the official website of the Netherlands Royal Family, the internet erupts.

The Royal House of the Netherlands is pleased to announce that Her Royal Highness, Y/N the Princess of Orange, and Mr. Charles Leclerc are officially courting.

Your phone buzzes incessantly with notifications. Charles, seated beside you, chuckles, “Well, there’s no going back now.”

Your father enters the room, a smile playing on his lips. “The people seem to be taking the news ... enthusiastically.”

Your mother, scrolling through her own device, adds, “And overwhelmingly positively. Listen to this: We’ve seen them together. Their chemistry is undeniable. Wishing them all the best!”

You exhale, a weight lifting off your shoulders. “I was so nervous about the reaction.”

Charles brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, “We’re in this together, remember?”

Max bursts into the room with his usual energy, “You two are trending. The fans are loving it!”

Screens across the nation flash images of you and Charles — at the racetrack, during hospital visits, candid moments captured by keen-eyed photographers. Talk shows and news channels dive deep into analyzing your relationship, piecing together any crumbs of insight they might have.

A popular racing pundit remarks on a live broadcast, “Their bond is evident, both on and off the track. Charles’ performance has been exceptional since they've been together. It’s clear that they draw strength from each other.”

The public’s fascination is insatiable. Magazines are splashed with titles like Love in the Fast Lane. But despite the media frenzy, what touches you most are the personal messages. Fans share artwork, write songs, and pen heartfelt letters, celebrating love and the winding path that brought you both to this moment.

One evening, as you and Charles sit on the palace balcony overlooking the city, he turns to you, “They’re acting like we’re some sort of fairytale.”

You lean into him, “Maybe we are. It’s our story and I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

***

“You know,” your father begins, a playful glint in his eye as he slices into his steak, “I had an amusing conversation with Prince Albert the other day.”

Charles, taking a sip of his wine, raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Your father chuckles, “He said Monaco might need to extend an invitation for our next state visit given that we seem to have shared interests now.”

The table erupts in laughter. Your mother adds, teasingly, “And here I thought we were simply bonding over diplomatic ties.”

“So,” Max leans forward eagerly. “Any embarrassing stories about Y/N? I have to make up for all of the childhood adventures I’ve missed.”

“Oh, there are plenty! Remember the time she tried to drive a lawnmower and ended up in the rose bushes?” Your father says, trying to look serious.

Marianne chuckles, “Don’t remind me! Those were my favorite roses.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “I was eight! And I thought it was a car!”

Charles grins, squeezing your hand under the table. “I can only imagine a mini version of you so determined behind the wheel.”

“And at her sixth birthday party,” your father recounts with a smirk, “she declared that she’d be ruling the kingdom by sundown and tried to hold a mock council meeting with her stuffed toys.”

Charles nudges you playfully, “Planning coups at six? Should I be worried?”

You swat him lightly, “It was a phase.”

As dessert is served, your mother turns contemplative. “You know, I’ve always believed in destiny. And seeing all of you here, witnessing the bonds and the love, it reaffirms that belief.”

Charles nods his agreement, “Life has a way of bringing the right people together.”

Your father raises his glass, “To family, in all its forms. To the journeys we embark on and the memories we create.”

The clinking of glasses has never sounded sweeter.

***

Charles, his face flushed with the victory of the 2025 World Championship, stands on the podium, trophy in hand. The cheering of the crowd is deafening but as he signals for a microphone, a hush descends.

“I’ve never done this before,” he starts emotionally, “naming my car, I mean. I watched Seb do it year after year and I always wondered what that felt like, to have such a connection.” He takes a deep breath, his gaze scanning the audience until it lands on you. “This season, I finally understood. My car, the one that just secured this championship, I named it after the most important person in my life.”

The crowd waits with bated breath.

“I named it,” he continues, his voice breaking slightly as he keeps his eyes locked on yours, “after you. After the woman who has been my anchor, my strength.”

You feel tears prickling your eyes as the sheer intensity of his words hits you.

Charles signals and you’re gently nudged forward, guided up to the podium. The world seems to blur, the noise, the people, everything fading until it’s just you and him.

“Every race, every lap, I had two goals: to win for the team and to make you proud,” he confesses, his eyes never leaving yours. “You are my world. And today, in front of everyone here, in front of the world, I want to ask you one thing.”

He gets down on one knee and your hands move of their own volition to cover your mouth. Producing a gorgeous ring, Charles looks up at you, his eyes shimmering. “Will you marry me?”

The world stops.

The deafening cheers of the crowd seem quiet compared to the beating of your heart.

Tears stream down your face as you nod. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

No sooner have the words left your mouth than Max and Lando, the other two podium finishers, gleefully seize the moment. With mischievous grins, they uncork their champagne bottles, dousing both you and Charles in a bubbly shower. The liquid gold sparkles in the sunlight, adding to the magic of the moment.

Charles pulls you close, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as you both get soaked.

***

The grand cathedral, bathed in the soft glow of a thousand candles, echoes with the hushed whispers of eagerly waiting guests. Roses, lilies, and orchids cascade down the pillars, their fragrance mingling with the scent of incense.

Behind the doors of the bridal suite, Max stands beside you, dressed impeccably in a classic tux. There’s a brotherly tenderness in his eyes as he reaches out, smoothing the delicate lace of your dress to ensure that every detail is perfect.

“You look breathtaking,” he murmurs, the emotion of the day making his voice waver.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, Man of Honor,” you reply, squeezing his hand.

As the first strains of the bridal march begin, the doors open, revealing the grand aisle, lined with well-wishers from all corners of the globe. Your father steps up and offers you his arm, his eyes glassy with pride and a hint of melancholy. “Ready, my snow angel?”

You nod, tears of happiness already blurring your vision. The world narrows down to the altar, where Charles stands, back straight in his crisp full dress uniform. As you make your way down the aisle, your eyes lock with his and the universe contracts to that singular point of connection.

Charles’ normally composed features give way as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes, also glistening with tears, convey a depth of feeling that words could never capture. Love, gratitude, wonder — all interwoven in that magnetic gaze.

His voice breaks as he whispers just for you, “You are my dream, my reality, my forever.”

Your own voice is thick with emotion, “And you are my heart, my soul, my love.”

As vows are exchanged and promises made, the world bears witness to a love that defied odds, overcame challenges, and brought together not just two souls but two worlds.

And as you both seal your commitment with a kiss, there is not a single dry eye in the cathedral. Because love, true love, is a force to be reckoned with, and today, it reigns supreme.

***

The soft whimpers of a newborn fill the air of the private birthing suite. Nestled in your arms, wrapped in a royal blue blanket, the baby prince stirs, his tiny fingers curling around one of yours.

Charles, sitting beside you, gazes down at your son with sheer wonder. “He’s perfect,” he says in a teary whisper.

You nod, tears streaming down your face. “Our little miracle.” The journey, the IVF treatments with your frozen eggs , the hope, the fear — everything culminated in this singular, beautiful moment.

The door opens gently, revealing Max, his eyes wide as they take in the sight before him, and your parents, their faces a canvas of joy and pride.

Max approaches tentatively, his usual confidence replaced by an awe-inspired reverence. “May I?” He asks softly.

You nod, handing over the precious bundle. As Max holds the baby, a bond forms instantly. “Hey there, little one,” he coos, “Your godfather is here.”

Your mother, tears in her eyes, leans in, planting a gentle kiss on your son’s forehead. “Welcome to the world, our precious grandchild.”

Your father, hoarse with emotion, simply murmurs, “An angel for our snow angel.”

And you know what? You decide that the fans were right. Your life really is a fairytale.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

doomsday ◦ h.j

—Sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind

@anon im so glad you requested this bc I literally loved writing it so much like it fr had my creative juices FLOWING so feel free to request anytime babes

Paring ◦ Han x reader

Words ◦ 5231

Genre ◦ Hurt and comfort, ngl this angsty asf

Warnings ◦ han is a dick at the beginning but he is redeemed, panic attacks, language (like fr so many fucks in this its wild), talk about wasting your life, anxiety, fear, han is such a cunt at first its insane, not edited, uhhh I think that's it.

A/N ◦ This one is chaotic asf so if you don't like my chaotic writing this is definitely where you might wanna click off 💀ALSO IF YOU LIKED THIS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME like it literally doesn't have to be much you can just be like it was pretty cool

~CookieCreates🍪

Sometimes it felt like Han gave away the numbers of the clock like dollar bills, bartering off a life that only ever seemed to be rushing away like a river roaring down the rocks too fast. He scoops little moments out from the shimmering rapids, but time still trickles between his fingers; the hours melting together like wax dripping down the spindly hands, its bony fingers-

reaching

reaching

r e a c h i n g

out to him, pulling him into a pool at the bottom of his feet, a pool of glittering, glowing memories.

Is this all life is?

Working

Stressing

Never sleeping

Never eating

Is the praise worth it?

Those hopeless nights, endless days, tired eyes, and a mind made of mush—was it all worth it?

Was any of it worth it?

The roar of the crowds drowning out the sound of the seconds-

tick

tick

ticking away, the shuffle of the sand seeping into the bottom of the hourglass—he taps the crystal dome, wondering how much of it is left—wondering when it all will stop.

When he can stop.

Han was a fizzing bottle of soda—shook for too long—today was hard; every day before a comeback is: producing, singing, dancing, learning, watching, waiting-

Checking off boxes on a list that never ended, so when he finally walks into the door of your shared apartment, a room he feels like he hasn't seen in weeks, he doesn't really notice you anxiously sitting on the couch, your knees bouncing on the floor mindlessly-

snapping

snapping

snapping

on the linoleum, something so simple shouldn't set him off, sure, but the sound was so familiar—so scary—it vibrated in his head, booming in his brain seconds-

ticking

ticking

ticking away

your feet

snapping

snapping

snapping on the ground.

He comes home to get away from the world rushing out from under him, so why were you sitting there being so fucking-

“Hannie!” You beam, sprinting over to throw your arms around his neck, breathing his scent in. It feels like centuries since you've seen him last. You vibrate with nervous, excited energy, practically bouncing up and down; but the thing was, right now he didn't want to be touched.

He didn't want to be held

He didn't want to have to talk

He didn't want to have to remember he had a life outside of the bubble that was his work. It felt like he was tending to gardens he didn't know how to grow. Your relationship had already sprouted; the seed planted a while ago, but even though the delicate stages of its development had passed, that didn't mean that it still didn't have to be cared for, and right now, he didn't care about anything. 

It was selfish, sure, but when you've spent your whole life giving parts of yourself away, selfishness seems so easy, at least while you still have small slivers of your soul left. 

He grates his teeth, everything seeming so wholly overwhelming, the walls encapsulating him in an unbreakable hourglass. He was so stressed, so tired, so done, so trapped. His breath stutters when you squeeze him tighter, nuzzling your nose against his shirt, staring up at him expectantly, eyes shimmering. 

"I haven't hugged you in forever I missed your face" you giggle voice like clouds of cotton candy but not quite sweet enough to dull the sour feeling settling in his stomach

He knows that love should never feel this hard, but right now everything he did felt hard, and the way you stare at him so longingly like you're going to combust if he doesn't perform, put on a fake smile, and act like everything is okay makes him feel like a fizzing bottle of soda with a lid screwed on too tight, and when you grip him tighter, trying to push an answer out of him

He flips his lid. 

"Holy shit, y/n, do you have to be so bombarding?" He snaps, pushing your arms away from him, almost looking disgusted. Your smile slips, staring at him in shock, still not really registering what he said. 

He doesn't know what feels worse—the way your features tremble with hurt or the way he knows he doesn't care. 

"I'm tired; I just want to go to bed, okay, and you are immediately rushing me; every day as soon as I get through the door, it's exhausting."

"You can't be serious," you whisper, genuinely believing what you said. He couldn't be serious. There was no way in hell he really believed that, but it didn't matter if he believed it or not; it all still hurt the same.

He wishes he could overlook the flames that flare in your eyes, consuming the stars that always seemed to shimmer.

What did he just do?

He sighs, collapsing onto the couch, digging the palms of his hands into his drooping eyes. He was so scared; the fear loosing his lips and everybody knows words of fear are the greatest lies. 

"Yes, I'm serious. Do you know how much work you are? I work all day, work, work, work, work everybody needs me always wanting, always needing something, something, fucking something," he growls, smacking his hands against his thighs, thrown into an unexplainable rage. "And as soon as I get home, you need me too; everybody is so fucking needy." The next words he says feel like an earthquake erupted in your soul, splitting your heart in two. 

"Your so fuckin' needy."

You flutter your eyelashes shut, pushing back emotions that boil in your brain. There are so many feelings fighting for the light, but instead of screaming, crying, or lashing out, you take a deep breath and fold your arms, calmly asking 

"Then why don't you just break up with me then?" There is nothing more terrifying than a woman whose fire rages behind a veil of ice, but when he looks up, watching the flames wrap around your posture, wisping around every edge of your bones, and even with the ashes of the love you once had for him fluttering in the wind, he still opens his big, fat, fucking mouth. 

"Or maybe I should have just never asked you out in the first place." No sooner did he spit the sentence out, did he want to shove it right back in his mouth. Your shoulders droop, eyes filling with an almost impossible amount of pain.

The earth crumbles, the walls of your shared home collapsing around you, rubble lost in all the memories that flicker away like embers floating from the burning configuration that was your relationship. It was ironic how the world worked; it took years to build up the love you felt and only a single sentence to wash it all away. You never thought you would see armageddon, but when those letters left his lips, you quickly realized sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind. 

"Okay," you croak, hot tears streaming down your face; a wobbly smile pulls at your lips almost out of habit, facial muscles forced out of memory. 

You have never once imagined yourself drowning under so many words left unsaid, sinking in the waves of tears you fought back, and as you trudged up the stairs, sinking into your bed, you wondered when you would hear the begrudging footsteps—the hesitant knocks. Wondered when you'd hear his soft apology—a voice racked with guilt—but your fantasy never came.

All you heard was the clicking of the clock behind you, counting down the hours where he disappointed you again and again

You don't know what got to you first—the peirce of realization that he didn't regret the bitter insults that left his lips so easily or when you saw the calendar that peaked from the corner of your closet-

5 days

5 days left unmarked

5 days left blank

5 days until you celebrated your 3 year anniversary

Han Jisung would never know you were counting down the days

Han should have runned after you, and in perspective, after a good night's sleep and a nice warm meal, he has never felt so completely stupid for not, but after you trudged up the stairs with a pained smile and glassy eyes, he was so starkly shocked he had said something so disgustingly distasteful his feet stuck to the ground, and finally, after hours of staring at the pool of time bubbling by his shoes, he drifted into a restless sleep. 

It was as though his terror tainted him, making the glassy parts of his heart dirty, and when he took the edge off, it was like a harsh wipe away at all the murk, revealing his jarring reflection in the pearly mirror.

He was such a jerk

He whimpers, running anxious fingers through his hair. He has no viable excuse, no good reason why he treated you so poorly—for someone so obsessed with time, he should know that you can't get your life back—can't turn the hands of the clock 

Push rewind

Hit replay

For what value would life be if you could just start it all over again? The impossibility made all the precious moments sweeter, but like every good thing, it made memories like these all the more foul.

You didn't deserve that

He didn't deserve you

and as you slink down the stairs, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He can't stop that booming voice biting at the back of his brain.

How long will it take you before you realize that too?

You flick your gaze to him, burning with loathing cloaked behind layers of indifference. It floors him—those subtle signs of hatred that swim in the back of your eyelids, hidden in small twitches of your features, your almost tangibly cut off, throwing up your walls, shutting him out in more ways than one.

He had always worried about the gardens he was growing; flowers that sprung around him rapidly, fighting to figure out which one to water first, and all while your petals wilted and your roots curled up-

You waited

You watched as he bled himself dry. He shutters, everything bursting before his eyes—the love you once had for him flickering like the last flashes of a dying star. You're a million miles away, dancing on the craters of the moon, fluttering around the twinkling rings of Saturn. He folds himself deeper into the couch, almost hoping it will swallow him whole—pull him into the burning inferno beneath—even hell would be cooler than the fire that was your gaze.  Han Jisung never thought he'd see the day when the galaxy would collapse, but staring at you, flaring your final goodbyes, he realizes that doomsday was closer than he thought. 

"Baby," he whispers, his voice heavy with guilt, how easy it is to start a fire when you don't care about putting it out, but now that the wisps of flame consume you, he wishes he had never given you the kindling. 

You don't look at him as you walk around the kitchen, pouring a bowl of cereal. He stands up hesitantly, anguish feeling like an iron rod through his chest. He creeps into the kitchen, stepping lightly into the room like it's laced with landmines. 

"Please." His voice cracks—splits right down the middle, a perfect reflection of the cleave that was his soul. "I'm so sorry."

You place the cereal back in the cabinet and open the fridge to retrieve the milk.

The silence is deafening.

The all too familiar-

tick

tick

tick

of time trickling away rings in his ears

How much more of it does he have left?

How much more of this silence can he take?

You ignore him, strolling right past his trembling frame, racked with regret. It pulsates off his in palpable waves. You're so nonchalant so careless. He almost wants you to turn around and smack him, throw that stupid bowl of cereal in his face. Instead, you jog up the stairs, slamming the door behind you.

Is that the only door you shut?

Han had always thought of the apocalypse as an idea only found in novels, tucked away behind the pages of a book, hidden in the comfortable corner of science fiction, because that's all it was, right— fiction? But as your dead eyes scrape his figure up and down, he realizes that Doomsday wasn't really fiction at all. Just like the world wasn't always a place, sometimes the world was a person, and right now his world was ravaged by a deadly disease, an illness that only infected the soul, an illness only transferred through the careless bitter words found in the English language. Fire was nature's greatest purifier, and sure, the walls of the home he lived in weren't warped with flames of your fury, but the home he had made in your heart was 

It's been 3 days

3 days since he's felt the touch of another human. 

3 days since he made the biggest mistake of his lifetime.

3 days since he dropped a devasting bomb on your relationship, and the shrapnel was finally hitting him; curled pieces of cold metal lodged somewhere in between the folds of his soul. 

3 brutal bone-crushing days of pure ear-splitting silence—It was almost scientifically impossible, just how quiet you were. It was an art really, every brush of anguish accurately painted on—every ignored apology, every piercing glare, every single star that flickered out in your eyes. You were strategic, meticulous, you were plain vicious-

and you had every right to be.

You were fully justified in your actions, and yet he felt like he was still teetering over the edge of madness. The thought of losing you like a noose snaking around his neck, choking him in an unadulterated form of terror 

He has been stricken by anxiety his whole life, but the thought of a world without you filled him with an inexplicable amount of fear—the kind that burrows in your bones, decaying in your soul—the kind of terror that your still stuck digging from your skin for centuries to come—the kind of fear that makes you simply

panic.

His hands shake as he pushes the door open, feeling like he's walking into an open war. The pages of a dystopia form walls around him, caging him inside a bombarding capsule of storming English. 

The harsh contrast of the hurricane in his mind and the indifference in your eyes sends him reeling. You were lying on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels, not sparing him a glance.

You were so beautiful so breathtaking, but for once, he wasn't admiring your beauty.

He was

falling

apart. 

Oh, fuck, he was freaking out. 

He had finally caved under the pressure of always having to perform a false, flimsy smile, wobbling on his lips, pretending to be okay as he watched the life drain out of your eyes; the passion seeping from his songs.

He loved making music, but what is art without chaos?

What is beauty without love?

What is the world without you?

He always had to be perfect; he always had to be put together. He was always running on all cylinders, always hanging on by a fraying straining thread, and finally, it snapped. 

The earth is

t i l t i n g,

flipping around,

turning upside down, and

i n s i d e o u t.

Guilt rips through his chest, yanking out harsh bouts of oxygen from his constricting lungs. 

He can't breathe

He can't breathe

He can't breathe

He can't fucking

b

r

e

a

t

h

e

He was going to die-

He was going to collapse into himself, busting into a flaring supernova. 

He was going to be his own demise-

Forming his own doomsday-

He has never thought of himself as an author, but before he could stop his mouth from moving, he was already caged between the sentences of his own personal apocalypse, living a waking nightmare.

He created a story with his stupidity, and now he has to pay the price. 

He was the end of your relationship-

what has he done?

He can't b r e a t h e

"Y-Y/n I can't," he choked on his words, watching the walls wash away like watercolor dripping down the page. 

He can't lose you

He can't lose you

He can't lose you

He's going to die

He stumbles into the living room, tripping over his feet, his breath staggering in his throat. He catches himself on the arm of the couch, digging his nails into the soft leather, gripping it like it was his tether, keeping him from floating into space—burning up in the atmosphere, his body bouncing around the icy rocks. 

"Fuck," he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and clawing at his chest, almost as if he scratches his skin hard enough, he can finally pull out the hourglass that keeps ticking his time away. His heart pounded wildly, almost begging to be free from the confines of his ribcage. The fact that it was still beating was beyond him. 

His heart only beats for you.

His heart will only ever beat for you.

How was he alive when you were drifting away? moon dust dancing in your lungs, would you become a ruler of the skies, while he was still stood still? 

"Han," your voice sounds like cotton candy kisses and honey dribbles. He never thought he would ever be so happy to hear somebody so alarmed, but right now that was the only thing keeping him from shattering. 

You jump up from the couch, your face pulled in concern. 

He doesn't deserve it

Doesn't deserve it

Doesn't deserve it

He's drowning in a pool of his self-inflicted sorrows. He's sinking, and the only thing that could save him was you. 

How do you save a man who won't take your hand?

"N-No, im okay," he barley pushes the words out, weaving between the thick lump that's forming in his throat. 

It was a lie

Everything was a lie

That's all he was

a liar

"Han," your voice is warm and inviting, sucking him in, wrapping around him like a blanket in the cold, a bowl of soup to a sick stomach. You healed him even when he was the one who created the wound. You pull him in, taking his trembling frame into your arms. Gentle fingers thread through his hair as soft lullabied wispers float through the air.

He feels so safe

So secure-

So loved-

He never thought he would feel the tenderness of your touch again, so when your comforting arms squeeze him right off the edge of destruction, 

He

c o l l a p s e s

crumbling into a million sobbing, sniveling pieces before you, he sinks to the ground, dragging you along with him. 

He always brought you down-

Always took you with him-

He was a disease-

An infection-

He was your armageddon

He sags against your body, limply moving like a rag doll. You let him curl into your chest, holding him like pieces of pierced punctuation. 

You guys were a shattered semicolon inverted and upside down. 

There was so much he wanted to say—so many apologies, so many explanations, so many different synonyms for sorry—but you didn't need them; you never needed them; you needed him, and there was nothing he could ever say that would change that. 

You hum, rubbing soothing circles on his back. You were always the perfect metaphor, a marveling form of pristine poetry. Your touch was like fleeting promises on the skin, the delicate tickle of a blooming flower, the comfortable heat of a burning star. You weren't just his world; you were his universe.

He pulls you closer to him, clinging like a desperate dying animal, nuzzling his face in your neck. 

"I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so fucking sorry!" He blubbers the sentences onto your skin, as though the deeper he burrows into your body, the faster they can travel to your heart. 

"Han," you lull, a small smile grazing your face, physically having to claw him off of you. He does begrudgingly, a minuscule whimper tumbling out of his throat from the lack of contact; he doesn't meet your eyes. He can't—not when the clock still ticks your time away, not when he's still not fully sure that you're willing to turn the hands back. 

He's devastated, his eyes red and puffy with tears that cascade down his cheeks, shining in the overhead light. 

"Please don't leave me." He sniffles, rubbing his nose against the fabric of his shirt, bottom lip trembling. "I don't want our time to run out. All my time is running out. Everything is running out. I can't, I-" he stutters, tripping over letters that latch onto his teeth like cactuses digging into his lips. 

You furrow your brows, tilting your head in sympathetic confusion. "What do you mean, baby?"

He screws his eyes shut, his hands shaking almost aggressively on his thighs. Why did he say anything? How does he explain something like that? He tries to form the words on his tongue, but they stick to the roof of his mouth like glue. Speaking it into the universe makes it so much more real, so much more raw, because now it isn't a metaphor, a fictional little whisper that fucks with his mind. 

The earth quivers in its orbit as he opens his mouth-

Was he really going to admit this?

Was he even ready to admit this?

"It feels like my life is running out," he stammers, the words tasting so sour on his tongue. "My life is so stressful; everybody always needs something from me, and sometimes it feels like I'm dishing out so many slivers of my soul that I don't even have any of it left." He lets out a shaky breath, attempting to get his heart rate somewhere that resembles normal. 

"I'm always up, always working, always doing something, and it's scary to think while I'm wasting my life working so hard doing something I don't really love." He aggressively wipes the tear that drops down his cheek with the palm of his hand. "It's so scary wondering if I'm ever making the right decisions." 

He feels so small under your gaze.

"A-And the other day was so hard," he cries, fresh waves of tears blurring his vision as he reminisces on the events. 

"Everybody was yelling at me, always needing something demanding so fucking much; they were playing puppet, forcing my hands in a way they didn't want to move; everybody was so just so needy-"

"And so was I," you whisper, filled with guilt. It breaks him. Your so understanding, so loving, so forgiving, so perfect. 

How did he even get you?

His heart wrenches as he dives into your arms-

"No, no, no, no," he shouts, shaking his head against your shirt. "No, love, you didn't do anything wrong; it was me. Me and my shitty mood—it was all my fault. I blew up at you. You were trying to be the amazing, loving girlfriend you are, and what I said was solely because of my fear. The exhaustion and anger didn't exactly help either"

"But there are no more buts," he pulls away, catching your eyes burning with sincerity. "There is no excuse for the way I treated you; there is no justification, just explanation."

You smile, tilting your head in adoration. You would be lying if you didn't say you were relieved, because you were.  You thought he believed the words he said—what feels like forever ago—that you were the annoying, needy girlfriend that only ever bugged him, but he didn't believe what he said. No, he was just a ticking time bomb waiting to blow—a ball of stressed and nervous energy channeled into the wrong source. 

"It's okay, Hannie, really, we're okay"

He was a supernova—a burning, bursting flame of bright, beautiful colors 

Han had once thought that the stars in your eyes had flickered away, but now he knows even the most enchanting things have to die before they can transform. 

He loves you.

He has loved you for 2 years and 363 days.

He will love you until the world goes up in flames. 

He will love you until the planet bleeds with the wounds of armageddon. 

"Does this mean we can still celebrate our 3-year anniversary?" He asks sheepishly, looking up at you through fluttering eyelashes. You perk up, visibly brightening. 

"You remembered!"

"I never forgot." he smiles, eyes shimmering with hope.

"I've been counting down the days," you grin.

"So have I," but he hasn't been counting down the days until you celebrate 3 beautiful years on this planet together. No, he's been counting down the days until his body slips into the grave, but as he presses his ear to your heart, it feels like the steady beats were a swelling symphony orchestrated just for him. He sighs contently, nuzzling deeper into your chest. The terrifying tick of the clock faded away, drowned out by the song of your soul whispering sweet promises into his ear. Sure, the fear still tickled the back of his brain, but instead of worrying that time was trickling away, he pulls you closer because with you, there was never a wasted moment. 

©CookieCreates (posted: July, 9th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately

~cookie🍪

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // twenty-two

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is the last part of s2!! ahh i am so excited for s3 and i hope you guys too after this part :)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

When you come to, the air is cold on your skin and it's mostly dark. You groan, feeling the sway of someone carrying you very quickly.

"Hey, love. Hey..." Coryo says, noticing you stirring in his arms. "We're almost home. Hold on, I'm gonna get you some water."

"O-okay..." You agree, reaching up to rub your eyes so you can better see where you are. It's still nighttime, and you're outside. Looking up, the stars have filled the clear sky.

Coryo looks down at you, and then up. "The stars are beautiful. You were right." He tells you and you smile.

"I know." You whisper. "I'm glad you got to see them."

"Me too."

You almost fell asleep in his arms on the way back to their house. You didn't ask why they didn't take you home- part of you didn't want to know. Every time you caught yourself trying to piece together what happened before you fainted, your heart rate increased again. It wasn't good- that was all you knew.

Sejanus opens the door and Coryo is quick to lay you in his bed, kissing you on the forehead and giving you a bottle of water before quickly leaving. You can hear him and Sejanus talking, but you can't make out what they're saying. It sounds like Sejanus is crying.

You want to get up and help, but you are just so tired. You end up falling asleep.

Coryo didn't sleep at all all night. He tried after getting Sejanus to finally go to bed he came and laid with you, but it was no use. What would they do with you? They couldn't just leave you here- whatever history you and Cole had would no doubt come to light very critically in the fallout of his death. He didn't know if anyone had seen you go in or seen you there that night. After the games, it would be so easy to point the finger at you and call you dangerous and insane.

The bottom line of his decision: he couldn't leave you behind in Twelve.

He had a tentative plan, and you didn't have much of a choice if you wanted to live, but the hard part would be convincing you to come back to the Capitol. Well, convincing your whole family to let you come back to the Capitol.

He waited as long as he could before he had to wake you up, getting up and packing all his things while Sejanus did the same. You looked so peaceful, so untouched by everything horrible that has happened to you in your short life. You didn't know he was about to ruin your life again.

Carefully, when he knew you didn't have another moment more to spare, he sat down on the edge of the bed next to you. "Y/N/N?" He whispers, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Love, you have to wake up. I'm sorry."

You hum in your sleep, rolling onto your back. Your eyes open, only slightly, and you smile. "Hi..." You mumble, trying to untangle your hands from the sheets to rub your eyes.

"Morning..." Coryo smiles slightly. You're so beautiful. It's almost easier for him to just scoop you up and bring you with him just like that- sleepy and untroubled. How he ever imagined leaving without you by his side he didn't know.

"What time is it?" You ask, voice raspy from having just woken up.

"Just past three, but we need to get moving. I'm so sorry, love."

You push yourself up, still rubbing at your eyes. "What? It's so early. What's going on?"

Coryo sighs, running a hand over his jaw. "Let's... Let's get you something to eat and then I'll explain, okay?"

You nod, yawning and he stands as you throw your legs over the side of the bed.

"Oh- oh my god." You mumble, quickly standing up from the old chair at their dining table. Coryo and Sejanus look at each other nervously.

"I didn't know that would happen, I didn't even know they were using the money to buy guns." Sejanus defends himself and you nod, hands placed over your face.

"I know." You reply, voice muffled by your hands. "I just... oh my god. I thought it was a nightmare. I thought I was just having another nightmare I-"

"I know, but it's okay. You're gonna be okay."

"His sword, death's stamp, where it did mark, it took. From face to foot he was a thing of blood, whose every motion was timed with dying cries..." You mumble to yourself, pacing now. "Deaths stamp. The reckoning."

Sejanus looks at his friend as you ramble, eyes wide.

"Y/N?" Coryo tries to grab your attention, but with how quickly you were clearly spiraling he didn't want to touch you. "None of what happened was your fault or ours. There is nothing we could have done."

"I know, I know, I know but I can't stop it either everything is falling apart and I am killing everyone and who is next?"

"No, hey, you didn't kill anyone. No one is next." He assures you quickly. "They can't charge anyone if they can't find the guns, no one can prove we were even there. We just have to act as if nothing happened."

You nod, shaking out your hands and trying to breathe. "Okay, yes. Yes." You press your hands onto your chest, clocking your heart rate. A panic attack wouldn't help. "I am having a panic attack." You state, looking toward the two of them.

Sejanus doesn't say anything, but looks quickly between you and Coryo.

"I know, love." Coryo replies. "But you're going to be okay. We're safe here, but we need to get moving so we have to relax. Okay?"

You take a deep breath in through your nose, closing your eyes. Everything is okay. You can't panic now, it will only make everything worse.

"I'm calm. I'm calm." You tell yourself, but it isn't working. Coryo chews his cheek. He still hasn't even told you that you'll need to come with them.

"What was that joke you told me? From that book?" Coryo asks, trying to distract you. "I think Sejanus would like it, would you mind telling him?"

"'I can see he is not in your good books' The messenger said," You recite mechanically. "No, and if he were I would burn my library.'" You furrow your brow, shaking your head. "No, that wasn't it. It was the one about Benedick and his horse."

"Yes, the horse." Coryo chuckles, trying to help you down. "Although, that is funny too."

"Okay, okay." You nod, taking another big gulping breath. "In our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one: so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature."

You finish, and Coryo smacks Sejanus's arm when all he does is give you a confused look, trying to track what is meant to be a joke.

Sejanus looks at him and Coryo nods toward you. "Oh! That... yes, that's very funny." Sejanus chuckles nervously.

"She's saying that you can't tell him from his horse because he's just about as smart as it." You explain, knowing he wouldn't have understood. "Well, he would be if she didn't let him keep one of his wits."

And just like that, you're breathing almost normally.

"Feeling better?" Coryo asks, approaching you carefully.

You swallow and nod. "Yes. Thank you." He takes your hand in his, gently rubbing the back of it under his thumb.

"Okay, now, this is the hard part."

You had agreed through tears. The idea of even setting foot in the Capitol again almost set you off, but you made it through. You knew it would be hard, terrifying even, but you would have Coryo, and that would help.

The three of you made your way back to your house in the dark, preparing for you to pack up your whole life in order to move in a matter of hours.

You sneak inside, closing the door quietly behind the three of you.

"Just wait in the living room." You whisper. "I'll start packing."

"Y/N, honey, is that you?" Your dad's voice shocks you, and your eyes shoot over to the clock. He hadn't yet left for work.

"Pa?" You walk into the living room where he is sitting, having his morning coffee.

"What were you doing out so late? Did you have fun?" He asks, and then his eyes go past you to the boys. "Oh, hello. Can't say we were expectin' company this early. Or late, I suppose, for you guys."

Your lip starts to quiver as you walk over to the couch. "What's wrong?" Your dad frowns, eyes back on you now as he puts his coffee down quickly, reaching out to rub your arms. "Did something happen?" He looks over to the boys, but they don't dare move.

"Pa..." You cry, sitting down next to him and he pulls you into a hug.

"Honey, what happened?" He frowns, holding you close. You wouldn't see him for so long, and it was breaking your heart.

"I..." You sniff, quickly running over your agreed story. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving? You don't need to go, you're safe here, Honey..."

You look up at him, trying to smile. "Can you get Ma? I need to talk to you both." You say, chin still wobbling with tears.

"Okay, stay right here. I'll get her." He promises, getting up and patting your head.

"Can... can you guys wait outside?" You whisper and both Coryo and Sejanus quickly nod, passing you to wait out back.

"What's happening, Y/N/N?" Your mom asks, brow furrowed as she pulls her housecoat tight around herself. "Are you okay?"

You nod, swallowing as you refresh yourself on the story you came up with. Your parents sit down, all eyes on you. "I..." You start, but you can't get it out without a sob. "I have to go back to the Capitol."

"What?" Your dad asks, brow furrowed as your mom already begins to cry. "They can't take you back, you won. Fair and square, you're home now."

"They aren't." You shake your head. "Coryo helped me apply to the university there and I was accepted. Our train leaves in a few hours."

Both your parents stare at you, absolutely in shock.

"I... What?" Your father asks again and you nod.

"Yes." You laugh slightly.

"But... You can't go, where will you stay? We can't afford any kind of school or even the food there." Your father shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I know you're happy and this is amazing but... that just won't work."

You shake your head again. "No, we thought of that. I'll stay with Coryo, and he will cover my tuition." This wasn't a lie, that's how he talked you into it, in fact- though you hadn't wanted to accept.

"Look, it won't be all bad. You can come to school with us, get an education. It'll be so good for you and your family." Coryo says, holding your hands between his own. "You can stay with me, I'll pay for everything with money from the prize. You gave it to me, anyways. I owe you that much."

"I can't take that from you... I can't leave them."

"I owe it to you, love. Besides, it's not forever." He promises. "You can come visit, and we'll pay for them to get a phone installed so you can call whenever you'd like. They even have these really nice ones with cameras, we'll get you one of those."

"The school won't take me, I don't have a Capitol degree." You sniff.

"Of course they will- everyone there loves you. They know how smart you are. You'll just have to do some testing first, and then you can major in whatever you like. Even literature."

"I can?"

"Of course you can. Whatever you want to do, anything in the world."

"What are you taking?" You ask, wiping your eyes.

"Political Science."  He answers. "But you could do... art history, creative writing, journalism, anything you want, love. Hell, you could even take mathematics if that's what you want." Coryo smiles, squeezing your hands. "You'll change your family's lives, and we can be together."

"Oh, honey..." Your mother cries, pulling you into her arms.

"He said we'll get you a phone, a nice one with a camera and I can call every day." You tell them through your tears, hugging her back. "And then I'll come back for you, with my shiny new education and neither of you will ever have to work again if you don't want to."

"I... I don't know what to say." Your father admits.

You laugh slightly, leaning into your mother's arms. "I don't either... I don't know."

You laughed and cried together, but you knew you couldn't tell them why you really had to leave on such short notice. They had to be happy for you to let you go without fear. Knowing anything about the truth would put their lives at risk. You cried harder when your father had to leave for work not long later; it would be a long time before you would see him again.

"Well." Your mom takes a deep breath in after a few minutes of your father being gone. "We better get you packed." She pushes herself up, and you join her.

"Ma." You stop her as she goes to make her way to the kitchen, no doubt to put on some tea for the process.

She turns, looking at you expectantly with reddened eyes.

"Lennox is going to hate me, isn't he?"

She frowns, pulling you into another hug. "No, honey. Never." She shushes you. "He may not like it at first, but he loves you so much. He could never hate you."

"You promise?"

"Of course, honey. Don't you think on it for even a minute. He'll miss you, but we'll be waitin' on you to come home. We'll be right here." She assures you. "And we are so proud. Don't worry about us, okay?"

"Parting is such sweet sorrow." You sniff, laughing slightly against her shoulder.

"This time, it is." She chuckles. "Now, let those boys back in and we can get moving. We don't want you to miss that train."

Somehow, you managed to pack everything up without waking your brother. You don't know if that was a good thing or not.

The sun began to rise as you made your way to the train station. Sejanus hadn't said a word since you left their temporary home.

"Y/N." Coryo whispers, and you look up at him. He's carrying one of your bags along with his, while you focus on the makeshift carrier in your arms that contains your cat. "When we get up there, let me do the talking."

You just nod, swallowing back another wave of tears. The guilt you felt was immeasurable, especially now that you allowed yourself to be excited. What if you did get into their school? Your whole life was about to change, but this time, hopefully for the better. But if it was all because of the deaths of three more District kids, how dare you think it may be worth it. Even if Mayfair was vile and Billy Taupe had an insatiable habit of cheating on Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray. You didn't even say goodbye to Lucy Gray.

She wouldn't handle his death well, you knew that. You would have to write her immediately. Maybe that's what you would do on the train.

You would miss her greatly, but she would understand. Same as your parents, she would be proud. And you'd tell her about their phone and you could call her anytime you wanted as well. It would all be okay.

The train was heavily guarded by peacekeepers- though it was likely less so than usual. All the others were probably out already searching for the guns that killed the Mayor's daughter as well as a peacekeeper. It was unlikely they cared about Billy Taupe. You wish you could have warned your family that peacekeepers may come knocking, but the less they knew the better.

When you see Lucy Gray standing back against the building, looking out seemingly for the boys, your heart feels heavier in your chest. You don't say anything to them before you run up to her. You call her name and she turns, smiling at you.

"Hi, Hun. I wanted you to come say goodbye with me but I couldn't find ya last night, you weren't home when I came by after the show or this morning. I was worried."

"Oh, sorry. I slept over at theirs." You nod back to the boys as they approach behind you.

She smiles, but something in it is sad. Her eyes are puffy, clearly she had been crying. It was about Billy Taupe, no doubt.

"Y/N, I got something to tell you." She says quietly, and you tilt your head at her. "Last night..." Her eyes well up with tears again. "Last night Billy Taupe was murdered. He was shot, at the Hob. And Cole was too. I'm so sorry."

Coryo just catches the tail end of it, stepping in next to you and carefully watching your reaction. Or, what you thought your reaction was supposed to be.

You're quickly handing your bag off to Coryo and pulling her into your arms. "Oh- I'm so sorry, Lucy Gray... I'm so sorry."

Coryo and Sejanus look at each other as she cries in your arms.

"I was mad at him... I was so mad at him and I never got to say that I'm sorry."

"I know... God, honey I'm so sorry." You rub her back as you speak, focussing purely on comforting her. You had been close with him too. You don't know if Lennox knows yet, but you know he will be devastated. Just because Billy Taupe was an awful boyfriend to her at times didn't mean he wasn't still like family. "Don't beat yourself up about it, okay? It's not your fault. He knows you love him, okay? He knows."

She sniffs and you can feel her nod against your shoulder. "Love is immortality." You tell her quietly, kissing the side of her head.

"Y/N." Coryo says, hating to interrupt but the train wouldn't wait for you.

"I know." You reply, nodding as you pull away and take her hands in yours. "Lucy Gray, I am so sorry but I have to go."

"Go?" She looks at the boys behind you and the bags they're holding, there are several more than what they had arrived with. "You're going with them?" Her voice breaks and you nod, swallowing back tears.

"Coryo helped me apply to the university and they accepted me. Classes start in a couple of weeks." You lie, you couldn't find it in your heart to tell her you were there when Billy Taupe was killed.

She looks confused, squeezing your hands tight. "I... why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to wait until we knew for sure. His cousin called last night and said the letter arrived, and it would have been so embarrassing if I didn't get in. I wish I could have told you sooner."

"You could tell me anything. You shouldn't have been embarrassed." She frowns, shaking her head. "I wish I had known- we could have had a goodbye party or something I just feel like you shouldn't be leaving just like this."

"It's okay, I don't need a party. You know that." You smile.

"I know." She sighs. "Well... I'm proud of you. I'm so proud of you. This is amazing."

"Thank you." You laugh slightly, realizing that the tears you were trying to hold back had started to fall. "I love you so much, I'll write you all every day and we're getting my house a phone so you'll be able to call too."

"Okay. We'll talk every day." Lucy Gray nods, sniffing. "I love you, Y/N." You give her another hug.

"It was so good to meet you, Lucy Gray. Thanks for everything." Coryo says as you let her go again. You take your bag back from him so he can hug her. "And I'm sorry about your friend..."

"Thank you... and of course, it was lovely to have some new faces here. I hope you'll come back sometime." She grins, wiping her eyes again as she pulls away.

When she looks at Sejanus who had been awfully quiet this whole time, you gently pull on Coryo's arm. "Let's give them a minute." You whisper and he nods, following you away. You can't look back, if you look at her again you aren't sure you'll be able to board the train at all.

"Excuse me." Coryo approaches the peacekeeper stationed by one of the train cars, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket. "My friend and I have tickets, back to The Capitol."

The peacekeeper takes it, looking it over. "You live there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then why did you come to Twelve?"

"Oh, our friend Y/N lives here. We came to get her, she is coming back with us." He explains, flashing a charming smile as he looks back over at you.

"There's only two tickets here, and neither of them has her name on them."

"Yes, so, we were hoping she could just tag along. She won't take up much room."

"No. District personnel can't just go to the Capitol, you should know better."

"I do, yeah." Coryo nods. "But maybe you'd recognize her, that's Y/N Y/L/N, Victor of the tenth annual Hunger Games. I was her mentor. Under the circumstances we were hoping you'd make an exception- we haven't been able to call home about her ticket but they need her back there. It's a new thing, they want to do a Victory tour, some interviews- that kind of thing. They're trying lots of new stuff this year."

The peacekeeper looks past him and eyes you skeptically. You smile, giving a slight wave as Tybalt squirms in the carrier. "Good morning, officer. How are you?"

"What's in the bag?" He asks, returning his attention to Coryo and completely ignoring your question.

"See, she really wanted to bring her cat. Since the games he's been a real comfort to her, Dr. Gaul, head of the war department and head gamemaker, said that the cat wouldn't be an issue as long as he's kept inside. He'll be an indoor cat only, officer."

"No animals." He shakes his head. "She can go, but a cat isn't necessary cargo."

"Okay, well..." Coryo sighs, looking back at you. You can see the panic shift in his eyes. There was no time to take Tybalt home, and you weren't going to set him loose here. Either Tybalt comes, or neither of you do, and that was hardly an option.

"Here," Sejanus mumbles as he rejoins you, digging in his pocket and walking past you and up to them. "No cat." He hands the peacekeeper a wad of cash so thick that it makes your eyes widen.

The officer chuckles, tucking the money into his own pocket. "No cat." He agrees. "Enjoy your ride."

Coryo smiles at you and motions for you to join him, helping you up the stairs onto the train with a hand on your back while you take another last look at the city you love so deeply.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @strawberryflavouredkisses

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[yarrystyleeza]

Happy birthday tomorrow Yuna! Hope you'll have an amazing day ❤️❤️

As for a request... When I saw you would write for Daryl, I knew I had to send you something. Season 1 and 2 Daryl lives rent free in my mind, so can I please request:

"when they tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear while you talk" and "brushing against each other, even if there is enough room"

Thank you in advance and again, Happy birthday 😁❤️🎉

Awww thank you my love, sorry for answering this late, hope you didn't mind it, it was stupid of me! 😅💖💖💖

I was stuck with the plot of the request for the last two months until last night, I literally wrote this in less than 10 hours lol 🤣🤣🤣 hope you enjoy it, though, and sorry for keeping you hanging! 💖💖💖 You're so welcome and thank you for dropping this request and for the birthday wishes! 🥰🥰🥰

Little Things (D.D)

Requested by @munsonownsmyass

Pairing and dynamic: Daryl Dixon x female! reader, idiots in love

Prompt: fluff, s1!s2!Daryl, tucking hair behind ear, brushing against each other even if there's enough room + petnames for the cherry on top!

Word count: 1.4k!

Writer's note: I loved writing this one so much! As you lily, season one and two Daryl is my favorite Daryl era (beside S8). Not 100% proofread but I hope you really enjoy it, have a great day! <3

"Hurt y'self, little thin'?" He teased, watching you lying on the forest bed after your foot faltered and slipped you into the bottom of the hill. Your brows knitted, you rolled your eyes, he chuckled at the face you made, "alright, I'm comin'."

He slides down, smoothly, and a little bit pompously—with a smirk on his face. You can't lie—he made you smile though you desperately wanted to punch him right in the face.

He offered his hand to you and you accepted his help. At first, he let you wrap your arm around his neck as he walked you towards the hill exit—but as it turns out, you sprained your ankle so bad it was impossible for you to take another step. He scooped you in his arms and carried you back to the quarry.

And that's how you met Daryl.

You can't admit he wasn't a pain in the ass most of the time—if not always, getting on your nerves and driving you up the wall, it was so constant you started thinking he was doing it on purpose.

It kinda was. Daryl had serious troubles with conveying his emotions, and that idiot had a sickening crush on you ever since he saw you at the camp with the girls. He wanted your attention and he only got it when he drove you mad, so he tooled it in his advantage.

You were his favorite. You're the only one he talks to—other than his brother, Merle—and you, too, are the only one who wants to talk to him.

You too had a crush on him. His silly fights and bickering became more amusing to you—sometimes you couldn't even contain the smile drawn across your face when he's mad about something so stupid and could be fixed in complete silence, and when you gave him your smug face—it always drove him insane. You learnt he's quick-tempered, but these ones were visibly made up just to get a chance to be with you.

Daryl reminded you of those little boys in the playground when they used to ruin the girls' sand castles or pull their braids and ribbons just to get their attention. Ever since you came up to this conclusion—life has never been easier!

But things changed a little bit after the attack on the quarry. Daryl turned from only being a hot-headed idiot to be completely protective of you, but that doesn't mean he stopped getting angry—God forbid he does! But he got more reasonable and collected—around you, at least.

As soon as you got to the CDC, he grew closer to you, more friendly, more worried, more caring. He barely slept the night you spent there, checking on you every thirty minutes to make sure you don't need anything—despite you being a wall apart. It was adorable, and it stirred something in you.

Same night at dinner, right before you went to bed, he sat beside you as you dined, he made sure your plate was full and that you'd eaten well because 'it's been a while since you got a decent meal', he says.

And in the middle of the chaos the following morning—he solely cared for you, and not a thing was going to stop him from smashing Dr. Jenner's head that morning if it wasn't for you calming him down.

The two of you escaped in his pickup truck. But despite the horror you had just fled, you couldn't stop stealing glances at each other, Daryl was focused on driving but you spotted him staring at you with soft eyes a couple of times. Both of you blushed, multiple times—vividly, but you couldn't stop. Something was so amusing and sweet about the way he was looking at you, and you were so tempting to him he couldn't stop staring at you even if he wanted to.

Now, staying at Hershel's farmhouse, Daryl turned out to be that sweet lovey dovey guy who'd absolutely melt under your touch—in complete opposite to the face he's been showing to everyone.

As you went out to search for Sophia, Daryl offered to accompany you. He kept brushing arms with you, pumping into your side, and gently holding your biceps to guide you as you walked. He kept putting himself between you and any threat, not letting you shed a drop of sweat—you were almost a passenger princess, but on foot.

But it was very obvious the night he got shot—your heart dropped when it happened, and when you learned it was your Daryl and not some misinformation. You couldn't watch as they took the bullet out, you couldn't watch him screaming in agony—yet you heard him from behind the door. It tore your heart into pieces.

The night fell as you sat on the chair next to his bed, your head dripping every couple minutes as you drifted in and out of sleep. Your head was heavy as a rock sinking in the ocean—yet you kept fighting Mr. Sandman back, shaking your head and rubbing your eyes and patting your face.

"Go to bed, pet," he softly demanded, "ye're tired from sittin' here all day," he extended an arm, gently placing it on your thigh and squeezing it chastely, "ya need some rest."

You shook your head, "I'm fine, Daryl," you shrugged, "it's not like it's the first time I stay up late."

Both of you stay silent, staring at each other with soft eyes. "Climb up in 'ere," Daryl says, his voice was tinted with plead "at least you won't have to keep droppin' yer head like a sippy chicken."

"No, Daryl," you shook your head in utter refusal, desperately trying to show him how awake you are despite craving a warm bed, "you need your own space. What if I accidentally hit your wound--"

"Come on, pet, you know you won't..." he softly smiles, shaking his head. You sigh and climb into the bed with him and he shares his blanket with you. He turns to face you, the moonlight is perfectly casted upon your faces, his blue eyes sparkled and reflected you like a looking glass. He grazes your cheek, tucking your stray hair back behind your ear and his fingertips linger on the skin of your neck.

"Get some sleep, love," he caresses your hair, "I won't need nothin' when ye're right next to me."

You woke up tangled up in his chest, it was warm and peaceful. You never wanted to slip out of his arms—if it wasn't for Hershel coming over to check on him and the men accompanying him.

Daryl got better as the days gone by. You started to see him in the kitchen fetching some biscuits or chips, he'd pump into you on his way out, brushing arms with you and glancing at you with his blueies and a smile. And if he's in the right mood, he'd take you off guard and peck your cheek, and you'd turn red and try to bite your smile. He caught it had quite the right effect on you, and he's been doing it ever since.

"Let it down, pumpkin," Daryl flirts as he snatches the scrunchie out of your hand as you tried to tie your hair, "love it when it's coverin' yer pretty face, gives me a reason to keep tuckin' it back."

"But we're going on a mission," you protest, "it would be dangerous for both of us!"

Daryl takes a run around the golden field and you chase him—but he overpowers you and you stop running, panting and clutching your chest as he giggles. He mischievously walks back closer to you, so you try to take it back, but he's taller than you, stretching his hand up with your scrunchie and shaking it to tease you. "Ya ain't tiein' it today, darlin'."

"Give it back!" you giggle as you jump to reach for your scrunchie, but he keeps stretching his arm above his head.

"Ye look so cute like that, pumpkin," he pulls a smug face as you lean forward against him, your chests compacting and you're an inch away from kissing.

"You could've told me you wanted to kiss me," you tease, not minding that he lowered his hand back down. He tucks your stray bangs behind your ear, ending up doing what he wanted to do all along.

"But it's more fun to watch ya tiptoe and lean on to me like that," he rounds you with his big arms, pulling you deeper into his chest with a Bastard smirk on his face, "it makes you even prettier, pet. These little things you do."

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for coming to my birthday sleepover celebration! 💞💞💞

[scarletttries]

How Succession Characters would react to getting you pregnant...

Pairings: Kendall Roy x Reader, Roman Roy x Reader, Tom Wambsgans x Reader, Greg Hirsch x Reader, Lucas Mattson x Reader, Stewy Hosseini x Reader

Author's note: Thank you for this fun request! Here is a little bit of thoughts on how a bunch of the Succession characters would react to finding out their partner (the reader) is pregnant ☺️

Kendall Roy

This man has had the importance of succession literally bred into him. His struggles with infertility and trying to be the kind of father he wishes he could be have taken a toll on poor Kendall, making him feel like he'll never have the family he's always wished for. That starts to ease when the two of you get together, slowly coming around to the idea that maybe he doesn't need anything else as long as he has you. But when your period is late, expect Kendall to notice, always keeping track of your body in the back of his mind in a way he just can't help but obsess over. He daren't say anything, certain that in the next week it will turn out to be nothing, his body once again failing to deliver him what he craves so much.

A few days later when you bring him lunch at the office he's all but pushed that hopeful thought out of his head until you present him a carefully wrapped box, inside of which sit a dozen positive pregnancy tests. He's in complete disbelief at first, eyes welling up and repeatedly asking if you're sure, and more uncomfortably for him, if it's definitely his. Once you've suitably convinced him of both of those facts, you'll get full, smiling, happy Kendall, scooping you into his arms and telling you exactly how 'fucking excited he is' loud enough that by 2pm that day everyone in the Waystar office has heard the news.

While you're pregnant Kendall can't stop telling everyone that the two of you are expecting, overflowing with pride and joy and love for your growing family. He's the kind of person to fly in the best midwife/doula/doctor in the world to make sure everything goes exactly to plan, making sure you don't have to lift a finger for the whole nine months. He'd also be an absolute menace for not being able to keep his hands off you, the way you glow as you start showing driving his little brain insane, wanting more than anything to just put baby after baby inside you.

Finally when the baby comes expect Kendall to be there. Yes he'll have a few wobbles and won't be perfect, the reality of his experience of fatherhood making him doubt he'll do anything good enough for this baby, but every time he sees the two of you, he knows he needs to step up and do whatever it takes for his little family, now that he finally has what he's been dreaming of.

Roman Roy

It's taken a long time for Roman just to get comfortable being intimate with you, a slow but not unpleasant journey that the two of you have been on since he first fell embarrassingly hard for you while working at Waystar. Given the months of longing looks and lingering touches it took to get to your first kiss, you never really thought about needing to use protection with Roman, until one particularly special night he finally wanted to try 'the whole thing' with you, surprised and delighted at how perfect it felt take make love to someone he truly cared for, allowing himself to be vulnerable in every way with you. As if wanting to make up for lost time, that night would lead to a real Honeymoon phase of Roman not being able to keep his hands off you, desperate to feel that incredible connection again and again.

You can hardly feel too surprised as the nurse confirms your suspicion, a follow up appointment made and a heavy piece of news on your shoulders as you ride silently in the town-car back to yours and Roman's home. He's his usual ball of emphatic energy as you step through the door, bounding up to you before stopping in his tracks at the clear weight on your chest. The words spill out before you can overthink it, watching carefully as you watch him process it all, slinking down to the floor and sitting cross-legged in silence as he contemplates. Roman had never planned to have a child, not ever expecting to find someone like you to share his life with, and he didn't exactly have the best relationship with the concept of fatherhood, a chill running down his spine at the thought of Logan ever laying a hand on his kid. Then a realisation began to calm him; that he was nothing like his father. And while he wouldn't be perfect, his immature brain sure to make mistakes along the way, he knew he would always make his child feel safe, something he wished someone had done for him all those years ago. So then he'd smile, and pull you down to the floor with him, and laugh his teary-eyed hyena laugh, and wrap you in his arms, protecting all three of you for the next chapter of your lives.

It's safe to say his family would be extremely surprised by the announcement, particularly Logan, who'd rejoice in a way that made Roman feel even more sure that he'd never be that kind of cruel, manipulative father that only wanted his children for what they could do for him. Throughout the pregnancy Roman would be up and down, jubilant and terrified, proud and ashamed, the whole thing trudging up more than its fair share of childhood trauma. But when it comes down to it, he'll be there to step up, immediately swearing to do whatever it takes to make sure your little one never feels the way he spent his life feeling.

Tom Wambsgans

Despite all the venom and acid that burned him in his first marriage (this one's for you team Tomshiv divorce), Tom is peak fatherhood material. You only have to look at the intensely caring way he talks about Mondale, the bizarre energy he's put into raising Greg, and of course, his absolute undying affections for you, to know this man would coddle a child like no one's business. You wouldn't even be scared to tell him, the news unplanned but certainly not unpleasant, the way this man fucks like a freight train clearly no match for the average condom.

You'd make an event of it, ordering balloons and cake and flowers to your shared duplex, so when he got home to a sea of congratulations there would be no doubt. A midwest man through and through, if you weren't already married he'd buy you a ring the very next day, the floods of happy tears stopping long enough to let him pick a perfect diamond. He'd spend half the week on the phone telling everyone he knows, so excited to grow your little family, and be the kind of man he'd been raised to be. He's definitely type to read an unhelpful number of articles to make sure he's doing everything he can 'to serve you and your growing child during this strenuous time', calling his mother to fly across the states to help out as you get closer to your due date. This man already has a short-list of the best preschools in New York by the time your bundle of joy comes in the world, ready to be a present father and husband, even if it means for once his career has to take a backseat.

Greg Hirsch

You had worked very very hard to make it crystal clear to Greg that whatever happened between the two of you was strictly on a casual basis, not wanting to get drawn into his complex family dynamics, or end up the centre of ATN news story. Despite his clear infatuation he had agreed, following every boundary and rule you set out to the best of his slightly clueless abilities. So when you triple checked the calendar and realised what had happened, you couldn't help but lock yourself in the Waystar women's bathroom and scream enough curses to make Kendall Roy blush. After deciding this was something you wanted, you'd finally let Greg buy you dinner, surprised by the calibre of restaurant he picked for what was really just a first date.

When you tell him the news, and make it clear you don't expect anything from him, you'd be pleasantly surprised by how loudly and excitedly he proclaims "that he loves kids!" earning a few uncomfortable looks from the tables around you. He'd be stressed and feel unprepared for sure, but he wanted more of a relationship with you and this was going to put that on the cards for him, plus he'd always wanted a family of his own so he couldn't wait to tell 'Uncle Tom and Great Grandpa Ewen' the news.

Realistically he'd be quite a useless partner, buying you your favourite sushi without realising you can't have it, and wanting to throw a party in your favourite bar to celebrate, forgetting you can't drink, but the thought would always be there. And if you need anything done, he's ready and waiting, even if he needs the clearest possible instructions and will end up having to call you for more information anyway. No matter how much trouble it gets him in with work/Tom he'd be at every appointment, proud to have a reason to pull himself together and excited to be a grown up, if it means being one by your side. Once you have your baby, he'd 100% bring them into the office, showing them around Waystar and being shocked at anyone implying its not appropriate to bring your baby to work, having Tom back him that it's important for all the Roy family to be there together.

Stewy Hosseini

Coming from the happiest family in the Succession universe, Stewy's often thought about having a family of his own, but his lifestyle of late nights and kissing boys on Molly means it's not something that he's ever really applied himself to pursuing. So when the two of you start dating he takes it seriously; he can tell he could have a real future with you, the type of warm, intelligent, kind person he's always wanted to find and settle down with. It wouldn't be long until you were introduced to his parents, watching over his nieces and nephews together and giving Stewy no choice but to pray you'll be the mother of his children. He'd want to go through the traditional order of things, getting married and building a home together before you started to grow your family, but when a happy night of too much rose in the hot tub on his balcony leads to a positive pregnancy test, he'd be absolutely elated. He'd call in every favour he was owed across the city to get your dream wedding together within a month, dragging you round viewings of townhouses with little gardens he immediately describes as 'perfect for the little one.'

Stewy would still respect your independence though, making his hopes and preferences known, but ultimately letting you call all the shots, just a helping hand and credit card to make whatever you're dreaming of come true. He's less protective than some of the others, but only because he knows you're tough as nails now and always, not wanting you to feels smothered and wrapped in bubble-wrap, still making sweet plans for just the two of you before and after the baby comes. Stewy would be such a happy and excited father, truly just a joy to be around.

Lukas Mattson (warning: darker themes, reader discretion advised)

Even just being seduced by Mattson would feel a little bit unsettling; uncertain of exactly how much of what he said he really meant, and what was all just charm and bravado that seemed to effortlessly ooze out of him. So when he insists that you don't need protection, or says he'll pull out but always does it a moment too late, you don't realise what he's up to until it's too late. You see from the moment Lucas met you, he knew you had to be his, and the easiest way to tie your lives together forever is to get you pregnant.

He'd pretend to be shocked by the news, like he hadn't worked night and day to baby-trap you, asking you sincerely if you want to keep it, and telling you you'd want for absolutely nothing if you just let him look after the two of you. He says it so sweetly, so sincerely, hovering his shaking hand just shy of your stomach and looking down at you with nothing but awestruck affection in his eyes that you can't help but fall for him, this image of devotion exactly what you want for your future. And as you say you want to keep it, and have your family with him, he'll fall to his knees and tear up, his whole life feeling like it lead to this moment, a child to make the best future he can for.

He'll throw himself into his work for a lot of your pregnancy, a new perspective on his work with AI, tinkering with the latest baby tech to make sure you two have everything you could possibly want to help you with this stage of your lives. You'll grow slightly more used to his intensity as he points it in a helpful direction, worshipping the ground you walk on and trying desperately to make everything as good as it can be for your little family.

[tswaney17]

I Do Bad Things with You - Part 48

One part left and an epilogue to go!! 🎉 What is lifeeeee? The fact that this story is literally almost over is just insane to me. Thank you to everyone who kept up with this one. I know it's been a long, long ride. Your patience and kind words have meant the world to me. 💜

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 8,481

Elain’s consciousness tugged at the front of her mind, slowly trying to pull her from her slumber. Warmth radiated from the other person she shared her bed with, his cedar and mist scent a balm to her soul. As she slowly came to, she realized that Azriel was not the only one in their bed that morning, her son’s voice catching her attention even though her husband tried to keep him quiet.

“Not so close, buddy,” Az murmured, and she felt Kaden’s small body being pulled slightly away from her. “We have to be careful of Momma’s tummy.”

A little body shuffling jostled her but she kept her eyes firmly shut, simply enjoying the tender moment with her boys.

“Like this, Daddy?”

Her heart melted. The night before came perfectly clear in her memory—how Azriel’s face morphed into quiet joy from Kaden finally calling him daddy. She saw every emotion behind his eyes, every prayer being answered: that their son would finally view him as his father and not just a guardian.

“That’s perfect, bud,” he choked out in a hoarse whisper. It was obvious how much it meant to Azriel to hear that name coming from Kaden’s lips.

Elain knew that her husband was aware of her being awake; he always seemed to sense her presence even before she opened her eyes. He confirmed it when Kaden tried to whisper, “When is Momma going to wake up?”

Az’s answering chuckle was the first indicator, followed by “Soon, I’m sure.”

She took that as her queue, stretching out her aching body—pregnancy really was a bitch—yawning until she opened her eyes.

“Momma!” Kaden shouted in glee, throwing his arms around her shoulders.

Elain let out an “oomph,” laughing as Azriel chastised their rambunctious four-year-old.

“Easy, Kaden.” He scooped his son back into his arms, kissing him all over his face and making him burst out into a fit of giggles.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, smiling at the sweet display. “What time is it?”

Az settled their son between them, his bright eyes glancing at her. “Just before seven. The Moonbeam twins will be here at nine to collect you and Kaden to head to the baby store in Hewn City.”

Elain could see the change in her husband as he spoke. How he wanted them to go with them and that it made him nervous to stay behind while they were in another territory. She reached out, cupping his cheek in her palm, and let her thumb swoop over the apple of it. “We’ll be okay,” she whispered, hoping to reassure him.

He sighed heavily, twisting his head to kiss the inside of her hand. “I’ll be better once you’re both home and safe.”

“Momma, I’m hungry!” Kaden announced, breaking the spell that had woven over them.

 Azriel rose from the bed, turning to face them. “I’ll make breakfast. What do you guys want?”

“Pancakes!” they said in unison.

Her husband huffed a laugh, eyes rolling because that’s what Elain always wanted for breakfast. “Why do I bother asking?” And then he swooped down to toss their giggling boy onto his shoulder. “Alright, free-loader… you’re going to help me make pancakes this morning,” he called out as he threw a still-giggling Kaden over a shoulder and muscled his way out of their bedroom.

“Bye momma!” their little boy called waving at her enthusiastically.

She wiggled her fingers at him, giving herself another moment to lounge in bed. One of the twins stretched out, their little foot pressing against the inside of her stomach hard enough to see the outline of it. She could even make out their little toes. Elain let out a breath, running her hand over her belly to soothe the child. “Make yourself comfortable, little one,” she teased in a soft breath. 

Shuffling herself off the bed, she waddled into the large bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

Forty-five minutes later, she padded her way downstairs to the kitchen in a pair of leggings, one of Azriel’s oversized sweatshirts—because it was the only thing warm enough that fit her at the moment—and sneakers. She found her boys at the stove, Kaden pouring the last remnants of the batter onto a hot skillet while Azriel flipped pancakes to perfection.

Elain took out her phone and snapped a photo of the two of them, intending on getting it printed and framed for the house. She glanced down at the finished pancakes, noticing the wonky shape from her boy’s pouring skills. Her lips turned up into a smile as she made her way to the fridge to grab the carton of orange juice for herself and milk for Kaden.

Azriel caught her movement, eyes quickly looking in her direction before returning to the stove. And then his whole head snapped toward her, taking in every inch of her and what she was wearing.

Truth be told, Elain knew what wearing Az’s clothes did to him. He had always had this masculine pride whenever she paraded around in his t-shirts and such. But she typically wore them around the house, unless he happened to drape something on her while they were out. His eyes darkened, and he stepped away from the stove to prowl over to her.

The look he shot her had a pleasurable chill running down her spine. How Elain could be seven months pregnant with fucking twins and still be turned on by this man was beyond her. But he took advantage of her raging hormones when they could.

A scarred hand reached out to run down the length of her sleeve. “You’re wearing this out?” he asked, voice low and sensual.

She felt herself twinge between her thighs. “It’s big and comfy,” she told him. “Is it all right if I wear it?” Elain knew the answer before he even voiced it.

A growl rumbled from the back of his throat. “Fuck yeah, you can wear it. Look at my wife, knocked up and wearing my clothes. Do you know the kind of message that sends to people?”

She huffed a laugh. “That you’re territorial and a caveman.”

Azriel claimed her lips in a heated kiss, stepping into her space until her rounded belly was pressed against his abdomen. It was obvious he wanted to finish what they started last night, the way his tongue slipped into her mouth and how his palms cradled her body indicated it.

Frankly, she did too. Elain didn’t think Az could be more attentive to her needs, but while pregnant, he managed to kick up his wicked talents until she passed out from coming so many times when they got hot and heavy.

His mouth moved dominantly over hers, prying her lips apart so he could stroke his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss.

It took a splat sound, followed by an “Oopsie,” from their son for them to break apart.

Azriel whirled around while she stepped to peer around his shoulder at their son holding the spatula in his tiny fist, a guilty look spreading across his face in the form of a blush.

Her eyes glanced down at the floor, finding a half-cooked pancake staining the wood.

“Kaden,” Az started, voice alight with humor. “Watcha doing there, bud?”

Those tanned cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink. “I was trying to flip, Daddy!” he says exasperated.

Her husband let out a chuckle, moving to help their son climb off the stool he was standing on. “Well, it looks like we might need to practice that next time. Go sit down at the table, Kaden.”

Azriel cleaned up the mess in their kitchen while she finished setting out dishes for breakfast.

Elain loved mornings like this. The three of them—soon to be five—sitting around eating their breakfast together. She wanted to make this a weekend ritual, especially when the kids were young. Weekdays were difficult to get all of them around the table and she and Az took turns preparing breakfast for Kaden before he went to school and they to work. Actually, Azriel typically took care of it most mornings now since she was running slower, but this, this sweet family time…Elain wanted nothing more than to have this with her husband and children.

The doorbell ringing pulled her from her reverie, Azriel announced he’d get it, then dropped a kiss on the top of her and Kaden’s heads.

She heard the tale-tell sounds of the Moonbeam twins entering their foyer.

“Good morning, Elain,” Fenrys bellowed, dropping a kiss to her cheek followed by his brother more politely. Both men ruffled Kaden’s hair and took a spot around their breakfast nook.

“Morning, boys. Thanks again for taking Kaden and me to Hewn today.”

Connall flashed a brilliant smile. “It’s always a pleasure, Elain.”

She gestured to the table still full of food. “Please help yourself to breakfast. Kaden helped make the pancakes this morning.”

Fenrys twisted to the little boy. “Kaden, you made the pancakes?”

Her son beamed at the question. “I did, Uncle Fen!”

He grabbed one of the oddly shaped flapjacks and bit into it, groaning. “Well, that’s the best pancake I’ve ever had, isn’t Con?”

Connall took one as well. “I think we’ve got a little chef on our hands,” he said, earning a little blush from Kaden.

She grinned at the conversation, loving how her boy had become more comfortable with their security team over time. One of the babies sent a swift kick to her lower stomach causing her to wince. The conversation stalled as all three men at the table took notice.

Az’s large, scarred hand slid across her belly. “Are they kicking?” he asked with a sweet, hopeful look in his amber eyes.

She nodded, a grin playing on her lips. “They’ve been making their presence known this morning,” she murmured, looking down at her pregnant stomach.

Fenrys rounded the table, looking at where the baby was moving beneath her skin. “May I?” he questioned.

Elain took his hand and placed it right where one of the twins sent two jabs.

The golden twin’s smile took up his entire face. “That’s a strong one you got there.” Both Fenrys and Connall had grown even closer to her since she got pregnant. They often asked to feel the babies kicking if they happened to be active whenever they were around. She was surprised that Azriel showed no displeasure or territorialism when they did. He’d been particularly protective of her, especially around others, and didn’t like when others touched her without asking first.

Rhys found out the hard way a few weeks back, having had his hand snatched off her by the wrist in Azriel’s brutal grip. “Ask first,” he growled at his brother, a lethal look in his eyes.

She had been a bit blind-sighted by the interaction, as was the rest of their family, but not a single one of them touched her again without getting her explicit permission first.

Luckily, both the Moonbeam brothers always asked and she never had an issue with them. 

The commotion around her fluttering belly grew the attention of Kaden who pushed his way around Fenrys’s legs. “Momma, can I touch your tummy too?” His little lip quiver had her reaching for him and tugging him closer.

“Of course you can, sweetheart.” Kaden was the only other person freely allowed to touch her stomach, Azriel often encouraging him to feel them or listen to her stomach so he could connect with his siblings early on. She gripped his small hand and placed it right where one of the babies had been kicking. Up until that point, Kaden had missed every time they kicked; the twins already giving their older brother a hard time.

His brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t feel anything,” he said, deflating.

Her lips quirked up. “Give it a second.” And as she predicted, a hard kick was sent straight to his palm.

He whipped his hand back, shock plastering his face. “Why are they kicking you, Momma?”

She felt the attention of her husband and security detail on them, listening to his curious mind. “They’re not trying to kick me, baby. They’re just trying to get comfortable with the little room they have in Momma’s tummy.”

His green and gold eyes dragged from her stomach to her face. “Can’t they come out here?” He threw his arms wide. “There’s lots of room!”

The adults chuckled and she reached out to lightly tuck a curl behind his ear. “They’re not ready to come out yet. But they’ll be here before you know it.” Elain tapped his button nose with the pad of her finger.

His face scrunched up adorably. “Why are they in your tummy, Momma?” he asked, head cocked to the side as he studied her moving stomach.

She leaned back in her seat. “Babies need time to grow big and strong. Mommas help them by keeping them safe in their tummies for a while until they’re all ready to come out and join us.”

He seemed to think about that for a minute, then asked, “How’d they get in there?”

Azriel choked on his coffee.

Silence descended upon the kitchen. She glanced at her security team across the table, both of them wearing shit-eating grins, and then her husband who looked conflicted in answering at all. Fucking traitors. “Well, Daddy put them in me so I can grow them.”

There, that was safe, right? Truthful but not explicit.

But of course, their curious son had too many questions and wondered about too many things. “How?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older, son,” Azriel finally swept in with the saving remark.

Seemingly appeased with that answer, Kaden leaned forward and lightly patted her stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you,” he whispered, kissing her roundness like he’d seen his father do so many times.

There was a collective aww from the group before her husband rose from behind her. “Come on, Kaden. Let’s get you ready so you and Momma can go with Uncle Fen and Uncle Con into the city.” He leaned down, whispering in her ear, “Nice save, Mom.”

She shot him a menacing glare as they strolled for the stairs.

Fenrys poured himself a glass of orange juice, snickering behind the cup. “Well, that was fun.”

Elain turned her glare on him. “Oh, yeah. So much fun for me. Thanks for the help, guys.”

“One,” Connall, started, flicking a finger up, “he’s not our kid. And two,” his middle finger joined the first, “I really wanted to hear the sexual education course from an actual doctor.” He took a bite of his pancake, smirking.

She groaned. “It’s far too early for the sex talk.” Elain threw back her orange juice like it was a shot of tequila. “Azriel can have the talk with the boys. I’ll give it to our daughter.”

“Unnecessary because our daughter is never having sex,” Az announced, striding back into the kitchen.

“Is that so?” she questioned, leaning back in her seat.

He nodded affirmatively. “I’m officially joining Cassian on the ‘our daughter is never dating’ pact.”

Elain rolled her eyes so far back into her head, she swore they nearly stuck. “You do realize you can’t physically stop her from having sex, right?”

A thick brow rose. “I’ll scare off anyone who so much as looks in her direction.” He said it so casually, she was starting to get concerned he was serious.

“What if he’s just like you?”

He let out a harsh laugh. “Then he’s definitely dead.”

Elain glanced at the Moonbeam twins for help, but they were dutifully ignoring her pleading looks. Yup, fucking traitors. She pushed herself from her seat. “Azriel, we cannot hold our daughter to a different standard than our son’s. That’s not fair and you know it.”

His eyes flicked back and forth between hers. “Fair enough.”

“Good.”

“None of them are allowed to date,” he announced like it was the most obvious answer.

“Azriel!” she hissed, swatting his shoulder. “You overbearing, protective man. Stop this.”

He tugged her in his arms, a grin fighting its way onto his lips. “I can’t help it, El. They’re my babies.”

She reached up to cup his stubbled cheeks in her palms. “They’re mine too. But they’re going to need to spread their wings eventually. We can’t protect them from everything and we can’t stop them from living their lives.”

“I know, I know.” He sighed heavily. “A man can dream, can’t he? That they’ll stay little and dependent on us forever?”

Elain laughed softly. “You’re a perfect father, my love.” She pressed her lips to his, sighing into his mouth when he deepened it.

It took a very subtle, but very prominent, throat-clearing to pull them apart. They turned to look at the twins, both wearing mischievous grins.

“Sorry, we weren’t sure if you wanted to give us a front-row seat to the live-action, baby-making ritual,” Fenrys tossed out.

“Jesus Christ, Fen,” Elain muttered while her husband shot him a death glare. “Where’s Kaden?” she asked him instead, regaining his attention.

“I left him to brush his teeth and get dressed. He said he could do it on his own.”

Her eyes widened. “Did you pull clothes out for him?” Kaden was in his stage of throwing on whatever he found first, which meant his outfits of choice would sometimes consist of long pants, a tank top, one rain boot, one flip flop, and the occasional beanie. And somehow, everything was always a different color.

A few weeks back, Kaden had decided to dress for school and ended up in a full meltdown when she said he couldn’t wear his pajama pants with one slipper and a light-up sneaker. She ended up being late for work and Azriel had to leave an early morning meeting from his home office to come help handle the situation when she grew lightheaded enough from the stress.

“His entire outfit is lying on his bed and I told him to put it on after he finished his teeth.” Az planted a kiss on her cheek.

“If he comes down in a T-rex costume, you’ll be dealing with it on your own.”

A brow raised. “Does he have a T-rex costume?”

She shrugged, sighing. “I don’t even know.” They really did spoil their children.

Fenrys and Connall snickered at the exchange. “Do you want us to take the SUV?” the latter asked, redirecting the conversation to her husband.

Azriel guided her back to her chair and helped her sit. “Yes, anytime they leave the city they must be in the SUV.”

Elain nearly rolled her eyes. A few weeks before they bought the house, she and Az had agreed to get a new car since their current one wouldn’t be able to handle the size of their growing family. Elain left it up to her husband, not caring about what he got, but he had some specific requests. It had to have high safety reviews, fit their whole family, and be luxurious. Frankly, she only cared about the former two, but he insisted they should always ride in comfort.

What she did not expect was for him to upgrade every window to bullet-proof glass. The damn thing was safer than what a president or the royal family would be escorted in.

“Just a precaution,” he had told her. “More like overly excessive,” she shot back.

She just huffed out a breath, finishing her juice. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she asked her husband, eyeing his casual attire.

He flicked her nose, making her hiss. “Meeting’s at ten. I’ll change when you guys head out.” Grabbing her dishes, he padded to the sink to wash them, always taking care of her.

Twenty minutes later, they were loading into the car, Az getting Kaden into his booster seat while she slid into the back. He kissed his son’s cheek, eyes finding hers. “Be safe. Call me if you have any problems.”

Elain offered him a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” He leaned farther in, stealing a quick kiss from her lips, then shut the door.

She watched him speak with the Moonbeam brothers outside of the vehicle, likely giving them the protection order for her and their son. After a couple of minutes and a few nods, they took their respective seats in the front.

Fenrys flashed a grin from the driver’s side. “Ready, fam?”

About an hour later, they pulled into a parking spot outside the large baby store Elain had been dying to get into. She tried to keep most of her purchases to local businesses in Velaris, but there were just some things she couldn’t get there and had to resort to one of the chain stores.

The minute the car was in park, the men jumped out, opening their doors. Connall unclipped Kaden from his booster seat and helped him out, taking his hand until they met on the other side of the car and she could take over.

Their focus was the double-seated stroller, but she did want to look at the pack-n-play for when the babies started to really move around. They still had their co-ed baby shower the following month at Feyre and Rhys’s for any last-minute items.

They slowly made their way into the massive store, Connall disappearing to grab a cart. As they walked, they passed the toy section, and Elain saw how Kaden’s eyes lit up like it was Solstice morning.

“Momma, can I go look at the toys, please?”

She glanced at the golden twin, then back at her son. “Sure, sweetheart. Why don’t you and Uncle Fen go pick out something small for your brother and sister?”

The little boy squealed, taking Fenrys’s large hand in his and pulling him away.

“We’ll be in the stroller area when you’re finished.”

She and Connall continued their perusal through the isles until she found what she was looking for—of course, the prams were at the back of the store. Elain already knew which one she wanted; the stroller was top-of-the-line, grew with the babies, and had the best reviews on the market.

But when they stopped in front of the shelves, she realized their mistake. “I think we’re going to need a flatbed. These won’t fit in the cart.”

Connall stepped up to her side. “Yup, I’m realizing that right now. Damn. Sorry, Elain. Let me go grab the other cart. You okay here?”

Elain huffed a laugh. “Well, I can tell you I’m not walking back to the front of the store and back, so I think I’ll survive the few minutes of your absence,” she teased, flashing him a cheeky grin.

He rolled his eyes at her, a smile toying on his lips. “You’re so sassy pregnant.”

“You’ll do well to remember that.”

Connall chuckled, heading back to the front of the store. He left the cart at her request, just in case she needed it.

She grabbed one of the large boxes from the lower shelves and yanked. The box barely budged. “Oh, come on,” she muttered, trying again.

“Can I help you with that?” a male voice asked, coming up behind her.

Elain whirled, taking an involuntary step back at his proximity,

His lips curled up in the corner. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Her eyes ran over the length of him. He was an attractive man. Older than her, likely close to forty if she had to guess. He was tall, well over six foot with golden brown skin and dark hair. He looked familiar in a way that tickled the back of her mind but couldn’t quite place.

He nodded at the stroller box. “Did you want me to grab that for you?” he asked again.

“Oh. Yes, that’d be great.”

The man stepped around her, reaching for the handle of the box and slid it out for her to inspect, the suit jacket he wore stretching over the defined muscles of his shoulders and back. “Here you go.”

She ran a hand over the box, double-checking the name and product code. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said, leaning a hip against the shelves and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “How far along are you?”

Elain tucked her hair behind her ear, looking back up at him. Again, the prickling sensation rubbed at her mind, almost like in warning. “Right around seven months,” she said. It wasn’t too personal to admit to a stranger. Carrying twins, Elain looked ready to pop anyway. “Is your wife pregnant? Girlfriend?” she asked, redirecting the attention from herself onto him.

His lips turned up again. “Sister-in-law.” He let his eyes rove over her form, sending a chilling sensation running down her spine. “I’ll admit it’s been a while since I bought anything from a baby store…any suggestions?”

Her brow furrowed. It seemed odd he’d come into the store without having any inkling of what to get. “What is she having?”

Again, a smile touched his lips, but Elain thought it looked a little more sinister than genuine.

“Twins,” he announced carefully.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Her heart began racing in her chest as she started to connect the dots of who this man was. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any suggestions for you.”

He huffed a rough laugh. “No?” His thumb rubbed his lower lip in contemplation. “I would’ve figured you could’ve given me a good idea of what to give her and her husband.”

Elain took a very subtle step away, putting the stroller box between them, but of course, those fucking hazel eyes zeroed in on the movement, his mouth pulling up. “Nope,” she said, popping the p sound. “Can’t help you.”

The man stuffed his hands into his pocket, a casual look of grace and sophistication, but he also radiated a dark and dangerous vibe. A lethal combination…just like her husband. “What was your name again?” he asked casually, head cocking to the side in a predatory-type of way.

“I didn’t give it,” she snapped back. Her red alert sensors were going off in her mind, and here she was, all alone with her son somewhere else in the fucking store. But Elain didn’t dare take her eyes off the man who was looking at her too closely.

He chuckled, the sound sending nerves flooding her stomach. “Smart girl. You’ll have to tell Azriel that Frankie says hello. It’s been a very long time since we last saw each other.”

And there it was. The truth of who had somehow managed to track her down in a baby store in Hewn City. What her gut had been screaming at her since he said he was buying something for his pregnant sister-in-law. She knew she recognized him, he bore some similar markers of her husband and Nicklaus too. The same jawline, the same nose. But where Azriel’s hazel eyes had flecks of emerald, Francisco’s were much lighter, giving him an almost feline look.

Elain took another step back, one he countered with a casual step in her direction. “You shouldn’t be here,” she stated, trying to keep her voice calm and not betray her terror. Because this man, this man was utterly lethal. He wouldn’t hesitate to grab her or her son.

“Shouldn’t I be?” he asked cooly. Too cooly which only made her more anxious. Yup, there went her blood pressure. “After Nicklaus met you, I was quite curious myself about the woman who captured my brother’s black heart.”

“You know nothing about his heart,” she snarled. Her voice turned venomous, something he seemed pleased about.

He chuckled again. “I know he keeps very little in it. You.” Frankie flicked off an invisible piece of lint from the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Your adorable little boy, Kaden.”

Elain froze, true terror turning the blood in her veins to ice. “Keep his name out of your mouth.” She had to find Fenrys and her son. She had to get out of this goddamn store. Elain just prayed Fenrys was vigilant in Kaden’s protection, but she knew he would be.

“I’m sure you already know, but in case you don’t, Lorenzo won’t be a problem for you anymore.”

She blinked, the words rattling around in her skull. Lorenzo showed up dead just before Kaden’s adoption approval. “What did you do?” He’d been a part of the Illyrian Mob. It made no sense to kill one of their own.

He shrugged. “I took care of a problem.” His eyes seemed to look through her and directly down into her soul, the filth of his sins leaked from him like blood upon the tile floor, staining her from the inside out. She didn’t like that one bit. “Consider it my present to you and my brother on the adoption of that sweet boy.”

“We didn’t ask for that.”

Again, he raised his shoulders in indifference. “Azriel is my brother—”

“You are not his brother,” she hissed.

That seemed to irritate him, a crack in his calm demeanor for the deadly male to peek out from beneath the mask. “We are of flesh and blood.”

It may have been the most reckless thing she ever did, but Elain squared her shoulders, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “Blood does not make you brothers. Where was this brotherly bond when you held him down as a child while Alec mutilated his hands? While you allowed him to be tortured and burned.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Azriel has two males he calls brothers, but neither of them is by blood.” Where the fuck was Connall?

He crossed his arms. “And here I thought we were making headway, Elain. Perhaps when my gift for the twins arrives, you’ll reconsider.”

“We don’t want anything from you,” she snarled, face going warm in fury.

“They’re going to want to know their Uncle Frankie,” he murmured, quickly taking too many steps forward and reaching out as if to touch her rounded stomach. But a tanned hand shot out and gripped his wrist.

“Do not touch her,” Connall growled, fingers tightening.

A dangerous glint flashed in Frankie’s eyes. “Remove your hand from my presence before I put a bullet in your head.”

Elain thought she was going to pass out. Her chest ached from the racing of her heart. Blood rushed in her ears drowning out everything around her. And then she heard him.

“Momma?”

She chanced a glance as Kaden and Fenrys came around the corner of the aisle, toy in hand. Elain shook her head at Fen, a silent order to keep her son back. She didn’t know what she would do if Frankie tried to grab her boy.

Reading her request, and the fear in her eyes, Fenrys snatched Kaden into his arms when her son tried to get to her, toy clattering to the floor.

“Momma!” he cried, sensing the seriousness of the situation but not understanding what was going on.

Knowing her son was as safe as he could be, Elain returned her attention to Frankie, who was eying the little boy trying to push his way out of his protector’s fierce grip.

Her hackles rose and she took a deliberate step in front of him, forcing his gaze to return to hers. “Connall, let him go.” It was an order, one the dark-haired twin obeyed immediately. She kept her eyes on Frankie; let the frost she felt in her blood come out in her words. “We are not interested in whatever it is you want. If you come for my family, I will kill you myself without even blinking.” His eyes widened imperceptibly, but she didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “Let’s go.”

Connall moved to cover her back, ready to take a fucking bullet for her and her babies.

Kaden was still crying in Fenrys’s arms and though she knew he was too heavy for her to carry, she took him anyway, propping her as best as she could on her hip while the latter took his place close to her side and protecting her son’s back. Kaden sobbed into her neck, his arms tightening around her neck. “You’re okay, sweetie,” she murmured kissing the side of his head and running a hand up and down his back.

“Are you two packing?”

“Always,” Connall answered gruffly, clearly pissed off at the situation.

She nodded. “Good. That was the head of the Illyrian Mob and I can guarantee there are more in here. Get Azriel on the phone, now.”

Fenrys was already pulling the device from his pocket while Connall stepped up close enough to tell her, “I’m so fucking sorry, Elain. I should’ve had Fenrys come back to you. I should’ve—”

“Connall,” she said, interrupting his apologies. “This wasn’t a coincidence. He sought me out and he would’ve shown up whether you two were there or not,” she told him earnestly. They didn’t have time to dwell on the what haves. “Let’s just get out of here.”

He swore under his breath, still pissed with himself.

“Yes sir, they are both with us. We’re heading back out to the car,” Fenrys said into his phone. He looked at her. “She’s holding Kaden right now. I’ll hand her the phone once we’re securely in the car.”

Something prickled at her skin as they reached the parking lot, eyes darting around the asphalt. That’s when she saw them. One man by the entrance, another near one of the cart returns; two were next to identical-looking SUVs. Everywhere she looked, she saw a suit-clad man just standing there. Waiting… And every single pair of eyes were on them. On her and the distressed child she was carrying.  

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. “We are being watched,” she announced to her security team.

Both of the men reached for their weapons as Fenrys relayed the information to her husband.

Elain threaded her fingers through Kaden’s thick locks, holding his head tucked into her neck so he couldn’t see what was happening.

Not a single man moved toward them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t going to try anything. The Moonbeam twins were deadly accurate, but it didn’t matter though. They were outnumbered. She had already counted ten of Frankie’s associates, and those were the only ones she could see.

Something flashed in the corner of her eye. She twisted her head to catch a bike flying toward them, coming to a screeching halt right in front of them.

Fenrys and Connall had their guns drawn as the person took off their helmet, platinum white hair swishing as she shook it out. Golden eyes turned on her. “Mrs. Archeron-Knight?” she asked.

Elain blinked, but Fenrys snarled out, “Who the fuck are you?”

She flashed a deadly smile. “My name is Manon Blackbeak. Your husband,” she nodded at Elain, “has asked me and my team to escort your SUV back to Velaris.”

A roaring sound echoed in the distance and then there were twelve other bikes, paired up as they flew across the parking lot to stop behind Manon.

“I—” she stuttered, not knowing what to say. “Who are you?”

“We’re called the Thirteen. He will explain what we do once we get you home.”

Elain was about to demand more of an explanation, but then she saw the men retreating. Every single one of them. Her eyes slid back to the woman in front of her, then down the team she had with her, all women if the body shapes were anything to go by. But then a phone was being placed against her ear and her husband’s voice was speaking.

“Elain.” He sounded terrified. “Love, Manon and her team are on my payroll. You can trust them to get you and Kaden home safely. Please get into the car.”

Just hearing his voice sent relief washing over her. Because if he trusted this woman and her team to keep them safe, then she knew she could too. “Let’s go,” she commanded, moving forward. Only once they were all inside the vehicle and back on the highway did she speak to her husband, reassuring him they were okay and giving him a lowdown on what happened.

He was in the garage when they pulled in, Manon and her team circling the driveway once and then departing with a salute to Azriel and her.

She was crushed in his arms, his mouth kissing her fiercely. “Are you guys all right?” he breathed, holding her at arm’s length and inspecting every inch of her.

Connall pulled Kaden from his booster seat, the little boy running around the car and slamming into his father’s legs.

Azriel wasted no time in lifting him onto his hip, kissing his temple before pulling her back into his embrace.

“We’re okay. Startled and anxious, but otherwise fine,” she reassured him.

He pulled them into the house, the twins slipping in behind them on silent feet. Az set them in the living room, tugging her down beside him while Kaden clung to his strong shoulders.

“How’d you get a team there so fast?” she asked, still trying to figure it out. Fenrys approached from the kitchen, handing her a cup of hot, peppermint tea. She smiled up at him in thanks.

“They were in Hewn for another job. I sent Manon an SOS text that took priority over what they were doing.

She raised a brow. “What other job?”

Azriel took her hand and placed a kiss across her knuckles. “Handling the remaining members of Hybern’s gang. I’ve had them hunting down the last of them since that night in the warehouse. There were rumors they wanted to seek revenge for the killing of their leader.”

The words were bloody and brutal, but she didn’t flinch. Not when those men held her captive in a warehouse, stabbed her thigh leaving a permanent scar on her pale flesh. No, she understood why her husband continued his pursuit of those animals.

She squeezed his hand in the reassurance that she understood why he was doing what he was, that she was okay with it, and that she agreed with his methods. His grip tightened in response.

They spent the following hour going over the next steps in how to handle the situation. Thoroughly exhausted from the ordeal, Kaden had fallen asleep on her husband’s shoulder and was now lying across one of the plush chairs with a blanket. The twins departed not long after Kaden fell asleep, leaving them to figure things out.

“I know you want to keep us safe, Az, believe me, I get it, but we need to figure out a compromise with them. I don’t want our children growing up always looking over their shoulders, just waiting to be attacked or kidnapped.”

He was hunched over, elbow braced on his knees. “There is no compromise with them. Frankie and Nicklaus are utterly ruthless.”

She gripped his bicep. “Everyone has a compromise. We just need to know—” Elain froze, the words falling from her lips.

Az swiveled his head to look at her, sitting up straight at whatever was showing on her face. “What is it, Elain?”

Brown eyes blinked, going back to the conversation she had with the eldest brother. Something he said was starting to tingle that sixth sense of hers. “He has a kid,” she breathed.

Brows furrowed. “Frankie?” Azriel asked, clearly confused. “No, he doesn’t. I would know if he had a kid. There’s not even a whisper of him having an heir.”

She shook her head. “Even if the child was over ten years old? You weren’t involved in their doing when we graduated high school, Az. And even the first few years after. What if he had a kid before then?”

He was looking at her now, eyes flicking between hers as he contemplated her words. “What did he say to make you think he has a kid?”

“He was trying to hint at what to get us,” her husband growled at that and she squeezed his arm again to stop him from interrupting. “But he said it had been a while since he bought anything from a baby store. I can’t see him buying baby things for somebody else, but I can see him doing it for his flesh and blood.”

Az was out of his seat and pacing the length of the living room. “That has to be it. He’s got a kid.” He stopped and turned to look at her. “If they were born when my father was alive, Frankie would’ve done anything to prevent him from finding out. He’d never let the bastard get close enough to hurt something so precious to him.” A colorful curse passed from between his parted lips. “I need to call Ruhn. If there’s a child, he has to be sending money to them and their mother. There’s no way he’d just abandon them, not if he took caution to hide them.”

“Azriel,” she said, rising from her spot on the couch. “If he does have a kid, what are you going to do with the knowledge?”

He met her gaze, and read the underlying question she didn’t need to say out loud. “I’m going to offer him a deal.”

~~~~~

Azriel rode up the elevator to the top floor of the building where the Illyrian Mob gathered to conduct their business. It wasn’t as large or fancy as his empire, but they also didn’t make the money that he did. He couldn’t help but feel a little smug about that.

In the metal box with him were four armed guards. He was stripped of his weapons upon entry and patted down indecently enough that he told the man to at least buy him dinner first. The comment, it seemed, wasn’t appreciated.

Nobody else was with him. He hated thinking about how hard Elain cried last night when he told her that he was entering the metaphorical lion’s den defenseless. Azriel knew that a lot of Elain’s emotions were hormone-based, which was why she couldn’t see his reasoning behind the need to go alone.

“Take the twins. Take Ruhn for fuck’s sake, Az! Just please don’t go in there alone.” Tears ran down her cheeks.

He stooped down to kneel in front of her. “Love, I have to go alone. If anyone else comes with me, they’ll deem it a threat. You know it has to be this way.” He reached up to wipe the tears away with his thumbs.

“I need you, Azriel,” she whispered, terrified. “Kaden needs you. Our babies need you. Please don’t go alone.”

There was nothing he could do but hold her as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Elain.”

It was the only time he’d ever disappoint his wife. Because here he was, weaponless and alone entering the office of the two men he hated most in the world. One of the guards knocked on the large doors, waiting for the snarled, “Enter.”

Like he was the motherfucking king, the guards gave him a double-door entrance, catching both of his brothers off guard.

Surprise, motherfuckers, he wanted to say, instead, settling on a lazy grin.

Nick reacted first, drawing his gun.

But Azriel threw up both of his hands in surrender. “Relax, Nicklaus. I am unarmed. Your guards downstairs made sure of it.” He dropped his arms when his brother lowered his gun slightly. “Do they always manhandle your visitors or am I just special because they know I got the impressive size of the family?” He was asking for trouble, but after getting his cock cupped by the fucker and still hearing his wife’s desperate pleas in his head, he was in a mood.

They ignored the quip. Damn.

Frankie leaned back in his seat. “Well, this is a surprise.”

Az cocked a brow. “Is it, brother? After you went after my wife and child?” He couldn’t stop the iciness of his tone, still raging over what happened a few weeks before. It had taken some time to track down what he needed to have this conversation and since then, he’d been on fucking edge.

“Did I actually go after them?”

He didn’t dare let his mask waiver. “Seeking her out at a baby store, sending an assault-sized team there, seems like an attempt to go after my pregnant wife and son.” He moved to take a seat across the desk from them, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sat. “But I am willing to let that go.”

That had him frowning, the other looking equally as puzzled. “All right, I’ll bite,” Frankie said at last. “Why would you let that go?”

Azriel slipped his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, unlocking it and bringing up the image of Frankie’s best-kept secret. “Because of her.”

Silence wrapped around them like a shadow of discomfort as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

Frankie shot out of his chair, gun raised and poised to fire. “What the fuck is this, Azriel? Have you come to threaten me on my own turf? Because I swear to God I will fucking end you here and leave your wife to raise those spawn by herself.”

He let the threat roll right off his back, already expecting that reaction, which confirmed what he knew to be true. “Relax, Frankie. Nobody’s threatening anybody.” Az swiveled his phone to look at the girl on the screen and then began reciting the information he had gained about the girl. “Anya Velasco, sixteen; daughter of Delilah Velasco and,” he paused, glancing up at his fuming brother, “Francisco Matteo. Nice try in the change of the last name. Even on the birth certificate too. As if you could wipe your tainted image from her record” His eyes flitted back to the screen. “She’s pretty. Looks just like her mother, thank fuck, but I can see you there too. Her cheek structure and coloring. That’s all Illyrian.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you here,” Frankie snarled, finger never wavering from the trigger.

Az sighed, like this was the most inconvenient part of his day, tapping on the video call for a number labeled as “Rico’s Pizza.” It was Ruhn’s number, answering the call so that it showed Anya walking between classes at school. “You did a pretty thorough job in trying to hide her, Frankie, I’ll give you that. It took a lot of digging into your financials, but something stuck out to me. A random off-shore account that has been linked to your empire making very large donations and monthly payments to a private school housed deep in the northern mountains.” He grinned; letting a little bit of that darkness out with it. “Well, I for one, thought that seemed suspicious.

“Here’s what I think happened. You got the girl pregnant in high school. Wanting to protect her from father’s wrath, you hid her, I’m assuming with help…” he eyed Nick briefly, but he would’ve been fifteen at the time. “Alec if I had to take a guess. He was father’s right hand and you his. You could trust him. So, you paid off the girl and sent her up north to some remote area, paying her handsomely for her troubles and keeping her hidden for the last sixteen years. How am I doing so far?”

Frankie’s tanned face was flushed red in fury.

Checkmate brother.

“Choose your words wisely, brother,” Nick snapped, gun held tight in his grip. “They may be your last.”

He raised a brow. “Would be a shame if that happened,” Az muttered, clicking the end button on his video call. “Because if I don’t give the all clear to my associate in the next ten minutes, he’s to take both Anya and Delilah and run. And believe me, his resourcefulness means you will never see them again.”

“I thought you said you weren’t threatening,” Frankie demanded.

“I’m not. I said take, not kill.”

The brothers shared a look. “Why are you here?” Nicklaus finally asked.

His mouth curled up in the corner. “I’m here to make a deal. But first, you two need to lower the fucking guns before I get pissed off.”

It took them a few heartbeats, but finally, Frankie lowered his gun, setting it on the table so it still pointed at him. Nicklaus followed not a second after. “What’s your deal?” the former questioned.

Azriel reclined in his seat, fingers steepling together. “No harm will ever come to Anya and Delilah. Not by me or anyone on my crew. And they would have the full protection of the Velaris Mob. Between the two of us, they’d be untouchable.”

Frankie considered this. “And in exchange?”

“You provide the same promise and protection for my wife and children.” Az didn’t expect an agreement immediately, so he tossed out there, “If I found them, that means somebody else could as well. I know you like to keep your cards close to your chest, Frankie, but I’m sitting here with a royal flush and you know it.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “If somebody threatened them—”

“Then you would have my full support to wage war against whoever did so. Just as I would have yours if the roles were reversed.” And he meant it. Azriel had no desire to see harm come to that child, and he’d never allow Ruhn to hurt her or her mother just to get Frankie to agree to this. They would live in hiding, but they would be well cared for. And anyone who tried otherwise would face his wrath.

His brother looked at Nicklaus and sighed. “All right, Azriel. You have yourself a deal.” He reached across the desk, taking his hand in a tight shake.

As he rode down in the elevator, collecting his weapons and making his way to his car, Az sent Ruhn the all-clear signal. He called Elain on the way home, letting her know he was safe. She sobbed into the receiver, her overwhelming relief that he was returning to her. He soothed her as best as he could, but during that call, Azriel saw an image of his life in the future. He and Elain stood watching their little ones running around the backyard of their home, happy and laughing and full of so much life and love that his chest physically began to ache.

Because for the first time in a very long time, the dream Azriel pictured for himself was finally coming true.

~~~~~

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[latenlghtdevil]

so since I can't stop thinking about head chef!Sukuna, let me ramble on about some head cannons I have about him

head chef!sukuna...

mainlines a monster before every single shift, and can be seen paying megumi to run to the corner convenience store to buy another during busy nights

he's on aux, and since the ancient speaker system is ran out of the managers office, his phone is locked in their almost the entire shift and no one else has the chance to change it

beside the two managers, satoru and utahime, but they dont care enough ab it honestly

he literally has no clue how many hours he actually spends doing some sort of work for the restaurant

ex: the many hours he spends up at night working on new menu items, the earlier mornings he spends wandering through local markets and farms, the days off filled with paperwork or recipes or meetings let's not talk ab it he's gonna geta headache again

speaking of headaches- he definitely talked Gojo into letting his little brothers work there as soon as they were able to

but they weren't allowed to work in the kitchen, he didn't wanna have to make them put up with his attitude

his kitchen consists of quite a few chefs, with a lot of lower cooks switching in and out with their intern spots

don't worry, they are paid interns

his main cooks consisted of suguru, toji, aoi, and uraume

he'd worked at quite a lot of fine dining restaurants, having earned a michaeline star for the fifth restaurant he'd worked at by the age of 24

before he took in his younger brothers and settled back into their childhood home, he'd spent about five years working in any fine dining place he could

he'd been cooking since as long as he could remember, quickly figuring that if that was what he was good at and enjoyed, he would dedicate his life to it maybe sukuna lied on a resume or two, but he was gonna get to the top one way or another

somehow his arrogance seemed to work until it didn't; it'd get his foot in the door places, and then it'd turn around and get him fired a few months later

once his grandfather passed, he found himself finding his way back to Tokyo even if he didn't want to

luckily for him, his former classmate Satoru Gojo was managing a failing restaurant with an incapable cook named Mahito

Gojo was more than happy to deal with Sukuna's shit again if it meant keeping his place afloat

they're kinda friends, but it's weird because they're always mad at each other

that's how everyone's relationships with him are, though, and Sukuna's always irritating someone tbh

he has a cat- he found the little dark grey kitten asa stray feeding off scraps she found in the dumpster, so he couldn't help but scoop her up

she seemed sweet enough, but as soon as he fell asleep she nearly clawed the couch to shreds, thus earning herself the name akumu which means nightmare

she was horribly affectionate and vocal, constantly meowing for attention, but only towards sukuna and the brats, she shot dirty looks and would actively hiss at anyone else stepping foot into their house

she's his baby, but that secrets behind closed doors

she sleeps in his bed, she has a plethora of toys and collars, and don't you dare open the treat cabinet— he's not ashamed

his other secret is his back garden it wasnt like a huge secret, but it wasn't something he wanted to share with everyone either

sukuna thought he was going crazy the first time he made a dinner almost entirely from his home grown ingredients because it tasted fucking insane

he liked stroking his own ego but something about his ingredients actually made it better, Choso and Yuji couldn't even argue

it wasn't anything vast, and the variety wasn't huge but it was enough to make each meal just a bit better and it was something he held near to himself, only sharing it with his brats

[softhairedhotch]

DUDEEEE HELLO??:!:!::&: PLEASE I LOVE YOU, YOUR WONDERFUL BRAIN N UR RESPONSES???!! like sometimes i think damn my thoughts r sooooo filthy i wonder if anyone would even feel the same like am i crazy :-///.... THEN UR REPLIES JUST FUELS ME EVEN MORE ARGHRHHHHH LIKE??? im so glad we have the same brain like damn... i love talking abt him hehe rly.. thank u for entertaining my thoughts n making it even more amazing <333 also i hope u are feeling better now!!! 🫂🫂 tbh i feel the same bc the idea of aaron has made me feel better so many times n it's years since i started liking him :-(((( fr i never ever regret starting this show n falling in love w him 😭😭😭

"imagine just sitting there with him fully inside you, tie in your mouth, head on his broad shoulder, one of his big warm hands occasionally rubbing up and down your back as you hear the other write away" ‼️‼️‼️ PLEASEEEE omfg he'd feel so good and he'd make you feel sooooo safe 😭😭😭 i need this so badly . being on his lap would literally make all the painful noisy thoughts in your head go silent because all you can think about and feel is him <3333 though i don't know how i'd be able actually to be quiet n not be reduced into a whimpering mess because GODDDDDD HE'S JUST SOOOO..... my god. if u do turn this into a fic i'd probably be reading it 9784953 times n manifesting it to appear in my dreams 🙏🙏

and OOOOOFFFFFFFFF cannot decide if i would want him to make a mess all over me and use his thick fingers to scoop it up and shove it into my mouth or have him cum deep in my throat ! 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 like man.... the idea of messy wet sex drives me insane like having him a panting sweaty mess 🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️ n downright filthy cum eating . like my thoughts abt it are ENDLESS n its literally a can of worms im afraid of opening-- AWOEKFJFKEKD thinking abt that episode when aaron jumps into a lake to chase an unsub n he comes out of the water all WET N THE WATER DRIPPING DOWN HIS SKIN??? I CANT REMEMBER WHAT EPISODE IT IS BUT I THINK U KNKW WHAT IM REFERRING TO???

omfggggg when he's ruthlessly riding you and jerking himself off, his chest would get soooo red and it'll feel soo nice to run your fingers down his body and literally worship every inch of him 😵‍💫 he'd look soooo pretty with little marks over his chest as you shower him with praises... thinking about praising aaron HEEEEHEHEH he'd get sooo shy n flustered the first few times but slowly he'd get used to it and literally bask in the attention n praises 😭😭

my god n i must say u rly perfected his voice n what he would say......i swear my love for aaron not only solidified my kink for suits but also... voice 😵‍💫😵‍💫🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️ like it makes me think how he'd react the first time when he realised how much power he has over you just from his voice and words alone.... like first he'd be confused why your reaction sometimes gets a lil funny but then his expression darkens when finally he realises. but he likes building up material to tease you later on so he doesn't really point it out at first but just has an amused smile.

then imagine one night being on a phone call with him as he just talks about his day and that it's pretty late at night so his voice starts getting huskier bc he's tired.... and he's just rambling about something unrelated but you feel the heat crawling up your neck because he just sounds so good . you can't help but clench your thighs and swallow your saliva. then he asks you a question but you're SO distracted that you miss it and when you finally answer him, your voice shakes. he goes silent before breaking into a low laugh because he recognises that tone of voice and picks up your breathing. "oh my, baby... i don't even need to see your face to know what's up. here am i trying to tell you about my day... but you just can't help yourself, hm? ...pathetic."

YEAHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭

- 🤲

AHHHHHHHHHH SDJFHSJDF THANK YOU hehehehehe n YEAH I GETCHA, I BE THINKING "oh GOD what if what i say is too weird???" n then you get back to me with basically the SAME THING AHHHHH i'm sooo happy we be thinking the same thoughts LMAO. and thank you sm <33

YESSSSS HE'D MAKE YOU FEEL SO SAFE FR <333 i wanna sit on his lap soooo so so much, god it'd be so good. i would love to write it as a fic tbh but i just have sooooo much to work on already UGHHH why is writing so hard and time-consumingggggg

REALLLLL I WANT BOTH !!! n oPEN THAT CAN OF WORMS RN CUM EATING IS SOOOOOOOO HOT I SWEAR DDSKFSK AHHHHH AND YES YES YE S I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT SCENE YOU'RE REFERENCING

OUGHHH HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL FUCKKK

yessss he'd looook so pretty riding youuu <33 all red and sweaty and a whimpering panting mess oughhh i love it i love him sm n yessssss i wanna praise him sooo bad. like if you praised him he just WOULDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO but then as he gets used to it, he loooooves it and craves it ough

hehe thank you!! N YEAH VOICE KINK AND SUIT KINK GO BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR 🤭🤭 he'd get sooooo cocky knowing he has sm control over you oughhh and he'd be so proud of himself knowing he can get you to do almost anything with just his voice n pretty face

STOPPPP I'VE HAD THE EXACT SAME IDEA AND STARTED IT AS A FIC ONCE BUT NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT KSDFJK i loooooooove the idea of calling him on a case and he's just like. tired but tryna talk n his voice is sooooo deep and gravelly and it sounds so hot (bc sleepy/morning voices might be one of the best things in existence <33) and he notices you trailing off your sentences and stuttering a bit and going quiet and he just KNOWS what he's doing to you and he teases you relentlessly <33 he'd either get you all hot and bothered n then tell you that you gotta be patient and wait til he gets home orrrrrr he'll go "do you think you can show me how much of an effect i have on you, sweetheart?" and when you send him a pic he'd hum in appreciation and tell you how pretty/handsome you are and how he's gonna make you feel real good when he gets home but for now he's gonna talk you through making yourself feel good <33 maybe you can hear him letting out cute lil moans as he tells you how he wants you to touch yourself and your stomach drops when you realise he's getting off on it too and you ask him to send a pic of himself and he does and he looks sooooo good <33

also i gotta ask,,, how do you feel about daddy kinks LMAOOO bc i haven't thought about it much relating to aaron lately tbh but when i first got into him two years ago, all i could think was him saying stuff like "let daddy make you feel good, hm?" or "you wanna touch daddy?" n stuff like that,, are you into that?? i'm leaning more toward softer aaron n bottom aaron lately but godddd soft daddy dom aaron is soooooooo <333

[the-bar-sinister]

Fire in the Belly, Spirits on the Tongue (30180 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth

Summary: Sabo promised that he wouldn't leave the Revolutionary army, but what will become of the three of them now that Ace is awake and alive in his heart, and more importantly, his body?

catch up here

-

It'd been a wild night, honestly the only kind of night to capstone the absolutely insane day Koala had had since waking up. Sabo's strange behavior coming to the explanation that 'Fire Fist Ace'--- weather through a touch of madness or genuine spiritual possession— had come to reside within her boyfriend's heart in a quite literal way.

His 'brother' in spirit, suddenly rocketed to control of the body for the entirety of their big mission hunting down the boogeymen of Koala's past. Vengeance, strange spiritual tangles, and the presence of a man she had to admit was VERY different from Sabo in quite a few ways residing now in her intimate company.

The only way to end a night like that was with a loud and chaotic trip to the bars of Sabaody in the darkest hours of the night for a well deserved dinner. The crowd was as rough as promised, and aside from one overly flirtatious drunk pirate, not a problem in the least. Especially after a snub and a 'light tap' from Koala sending him reeling to the teasing of his crewmates.

The two of them tucked into the hearty food and stiff drinks of the common bar, as they chattered the night away. His arm slung over her, she found he was physically touchy, close and clearly increasingly comfortable in her presence, just like she was in his, she had supposed as she'd let him lean in her space as he asked her all sorts of questions.

About her, her past, her passions and hobbies, training with Sabo— and he practically was enraptured when she started into her glory tales of the Army and their exploits fighting the good fight the world over.

Almost enraptured enough to stop eating. But not quite. No, he'd put a bit of a dent in the Revolutionary Budget as he ate the bar out of house and home, and sort of drove her to do the same with his spirit. Eventually, with stories shared and the buzz of alcohol in her system, they'd walked back to the hotel as she nearly fell against him and the moment he hit the bed, he was out. After only a moment of quiet contemplation of his sleeping face, she let the drink and the comfort of bed take her as well.

The next morning when Koala woke up, somehow she knew that Sabo was the one laying beside her, curled up half-way in her arms. The gentle pattern of his breathing was familiar, and unlike the one that she'd heard the night before, when Ace fell asleep before her— almost as fast as his head had hit the pillow, in fact.

She entwined her arms around him, pulling him closer and nuzzling in close with a quiet huff of breath, "g'morning sleepyhead. You were out through the whole mission." 

Sabo ground and squirmed against her, slowly moving to press a hand against his temple. "Sorry about that, Koala. Oof— did Ace get me hit in the head?"

He absolutely had not. He had, however, put back a few more and stronger drinks than she often saw Sabo indulge in.

She squeezed him tighter— before giving him a really tight squeeze as a playful 'good morning'.

"He somehow, bafflingly, had a better alcohol tolerance than you Sabo…at least until you woke up with a hangover." She laughed, leaning heavily against him. "We went out for a late dinner." 

"Oh." He huffed a soft laugh and scooped her into his arms, giving her a sleepy squeeze in return. "Really that shouldn't surprise me. The dinner or the drinking. Ace could always put it away when we were kids…"

Seeing Sabo back in control again really brought home how visceral the difference was between the way the two of them moved— the way they spoke. If what was happening was only in Sabo's mind it was certainly as powerful as any spell.

She brushed her fingers over the curve of his smile. If it was all in his head…then the human mind was even more shockingly powerful than she'd thought.

Ace…and Sabo…it was striking enough that she was sure in no time at all she'd be able to tell them apart by simple expression and movement.

"Trust me, he still can. He blew basically the whole operation's budget except our hotel fee for the next half a day." 

"Good thing we're getting ready to head back today then." He poked his finger against her nose gently, and paused. "We are planning to head back today right? My memory's a little fuzzy, it seems."

Koala brushed her fingers through his hair, and he arched gently against her fingers.

"Now that's interesting, but don't worry darling." She leaned in to kiss his cheek. "We're heading back today. Disco's taken care of, and we've got our…slightly troublesome…intel." 

"Troublesome," he murmured, stroking his fingers down her sides. He closed his eyes, maybe trying to recall. "Joker, yes?"

"Joker. Our Black Market giant whale," she sighed softly. "We got more info about the way he's operating…as well as the intel that he's pulled out of the slave trade, at least in this area. And we've got a little information that he's supplying weapons to the same sorts of people we're supplying aid and soldiers to." 

Sabo's lips tightened. "Yes, that is troublesome. Sounds like a potential double edged sword…" He took a breath and sighed. "Well, unless I misunderstand, it'll be someone else's problem to follow up on for a while. We're going to be taking a leave of absence?"

Koala flashed a bright smile at Sabo as she nodded. "That's right. We're going to be cashing in our good will with the organization to take a little 'us' time. And by 'us time', I mean hunting down this first mate of Ace's so we can figure all this out." 

"Well. Normally you know I'd protest but I don't think I can in these circumstances. We need to do this. The Revolutionary Army is simply going to have to do without us for a little while." He smiled a little back at her, but mostly he looked pensive. "I don't think I could concentrate on missions with this 'in the back of my head' the whole time— so to speak."

Koala nodded slowly. She'd seen it yesterday, after all. Sabo was lost in his own head with Ace, drifting in and out of the mission almost long enough to leave her in the lurch among the crowd.

No. It wasn't feasible to keep fighting for liberation while he was like this at all. And Koala and Sabo were a set.

Everyone knew that. So where he went, she went.

"It'll be fun, Sabo! We'll see some new sights, learn some new stuff— figure out what's going on in your head— meet some guy we've never met before…" 

"Deuce, you mean?" Sabo leaned his head on her shoulder. "Assuming he's real. If there's no such person, we'll know immediately that there's— we'll. We'll know."

She nodded with a smile "...I think he's real, at least, I think Ace had a first mate who coulda been called Deuce. That's pretty easy to verify information." She ran her fingers through his hair "it's just a matter of if the memories in your head match up with the reality of him." 

He leaned into her again, looking at her with a deep, penetrating gaze with which she was very familiar. "You're right of course. Honestly, I don't know what to think. I keep thinking I must be crazy of course, but— thinking of yesterday really it feels strange, absent. Patchy. And of course it feels cruel to disbelieve that Ace is there when I can feel him just behind me. Even if he says he understands why."

She understood why too– but she also felt the same as Sabo. It felt cruel to think that somehow he was a figment of the mind when she'd shared drinks with him the night before and laughed alongside him.

"You really were out, Sabo, and I'll be honest, his body language and everything is completely different from yours." 

"Was it?" he asked, nuzzling her. "It's so strange to think about but— having him here with me. It feels. Warm, I suppose. Even if I'm embarrassed to say it because he is damned well listening to me."

He chuckled and pushed his head against her shoulder.

Koala drew him closer, half pulling him down into her as she closed her eyes. 

"Warm huh?" she asked curiously.

It was a sensation she couldn't even imagine, the warmth of someone you love not just close but within you. 

He nodded. "I can hardly even explain it fully, I wish I could. If I can think of a better explanation, I'll definitely share it with you. But it's just… it feels nice. The opposite of loneliness, I suppose. Not that I was feeling lonely, but that's the best way I can sum up the sensation.

She pouted up at him with a puff of her cheeks, but it dissolved into a fond smile soon enough.

"I should hope not! If you were feeling lonely this whole time we were together well…I might very well cry! But I think I understand. It kind of feels like no matter what there'll be that glow, right?" Her eyes met his. "even when you're all alone." 

He smiled softly back at her, and tugged at a lock of her hair. "Yes, like that I think. It's hard to make sense of, but I can't quite be unhappy about it."

He leaned in and kissed her hair. "Thank you for helping me with it. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Koala clung to him a little tighter. "Let's hope you never have to find out. It'd be a disaster, Sabo. You'd be hopeless." She looked up at him as both arms snuck around him like her namesake– like he always teased her for. "I've been by your side since we were barely more than kids,right? Of course I'm gonna help."

He kissed her gently over the face in repeated little kisses. "You're a treasure, Koala. No, you're my treasure." He paused, and then chuckled, glancing to the side.

Koala's heart fluttered as she nuzzled against his gentle kisses. "Your treasure huh? Well I—" she started to ask…until she saw him glance to the side and tilted her head. "Hmmm? Did Ace say something?" 

He huffed softly and smiled, looking a little caught, and perhaps embarrassed. "So he did, yes. He wanted to know if since he and I are stuck together he gets an equal share of treasure. Oh and now he's annoyed with me for telling you."

Koala's eyes went wide as she turned scarlet and sputtered. An equal share of the treasure— what an absolutely pirate thing to say. Still, she felt her face going bright red as she did the only thing she could think to do.

She lightly pounded her balled up fist against his arm as she stuck out her tongue until she found her voice again.

"So he wants an equal share, does he?" 

Sabo laughed and fell back against the bed, taking every little 'punch' with a giggle. "His fair share, he said. He's goofing around, Koala. My brother's an idiot."

"I've noticed that! And frankly that makes a perfect compliment to you dear." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You're also an idiot."

As she leaned back, she put her hand to her chest with a mischievous smile. "He may be goofing, but with the handsy way he was acting last night, I'd almost believe him!" 

"He does seem to have gotten a bit handsy," Sabo huffed with a chuckle. "Well, how about I share some gossip with you then."

Koala tilted her head with a broadening of her smile. 

"II'm listening, Sabo dear." 

She could only imagine it was a little 'internal' gossip between them. No matter what the resolution to this mystery was– that internal communication, that way of theirs, was so, so, so fascinating to hear about.

Sabo grinned conspiratorially and seemed to have to force himself forward to her ear. She noticed that he had started flushing red. "That little kiss you gave him was the first time he's kissed a girl."

Koala felt her face flushing as well as her eyes went wide. Now that— that was a bit of a surprise. She'd stolen the man's first kiss with a woman. If all this was true, she'd stolen the infamous Fire Fist Ace's first kiss with a woman.

And it wasn't even strictly on purpose.

"Oh???? I wouldn't have expected th—." She paused before she asked. "Is he celibate? Or perhaps only kissed guys? EIther way— his first kiss with a woman, wow. I hope I didn't disappoint, then!" 

Sabo giggled and covered his face. "Oh you should see him, he's so embarrassed. No, no he's not celibate, apparently. And I don't think you disappointed."

Koala giggled with him, her hand over her mouth.

"I can kind of see him through you, actually. You're as red as a tomato!" She grinned widely. "Good to know— .and I'm glad. It may have been a case of mistaken identity, but I'm glad I can say I was the one who stole Fire Fist's first kiss with a girl~."

Sabo laughed again, getting even redder apparently from the fact that Ace had been called out. "He's so embarrassed. But not displeased, dear."

Koala was still flushed herself, even as she lightly jabbed his chest with her fingertip, laughing. "Poor man. Well. Tell him I'm far from displeased too! Perhaps, perhaps, if he plays his cards right he'll get another!" 

Sabo dissolved into laughter for a moment, squirming on the bed, and half on top of her almost as if he was at war with himself. Eventually he caught his breath. "In-indeed, perhaps. But we can't stay in bed all day, now can we?"

"Not with the way Ace ate last night," Koala drawled. "They're going to kick us out by noon." 

"Speaking of which, Ace says we're going to need breakfast. But I think what I need is a big glass of water and a bottle of painkillers."

Koala shook her head with a wry smile. Her own head was clear, though the barest trace of a hangover did pulse at the corners of her perception. But Ace— Ace had taken Sabo's body and put it through the alcoholic wringer.

"Well. Lucky for you boys, I think I can provide. Let's get some pills in you, we're gonna need them." She pointed to them with a smirk, "because getting that leave of absence for the Chief of Staff and his partner is going to be a headache all by itself!" 

-

They had a couple of quiet days together sailing the ship back to their rendezvous point with the revolutionary army. Koala had bustled around the ship, ensuring their heading never strayed as the tw…three of them kept in one another's company.

Sabo's behavior had never quite gone back to the way it was before the incident with his memories— and with Ace— still having those moments of distant glances and distraction. But frankly, knowing that the reason was someone she could actually talk to made all the difference.

It was almost, unbelievably, becoming normal to her as she pulled on the rigging and chatted with Ace on the few occasions he popped into full consciousness for a few minutes here and there. But broadly, predominantly, it was Sabo who remained in control of their body. 

And he seemed in much better spirits than he had been on their outward journey. It wasn't to say that good cheer completely overwhelmed the seething, brooding nature that she knew he could sometimes fall into– but it wasn't at the forefront. Instead he was happy to laugh and joke with her as they carried on the work of sailing.

Though in the morning of the last day of their journey he grew a little more sour, and distant.

Koala looked over at him, her hand on the wheel of the ship with a concerned glance towards the frown etched across his face. "Sabo…can we talk?" 

He turned to face her immediately and she watched him force a small smile on to his face. "Of course. What's up, Koala?"

She narrowed her eyes at him with a slight frown. She could tell at a glance that something was wrong— Sabo had always been an open book to her.

"Sabo, don't think I haven't noticed, something's bothering you. Can we talk about it?" 

"You caught me," he chuckled, shaking his head. He stepped toward her and put his arm around her shoulder. "It's nothing serious. I'm just not looking forward to the conversation with Dragon, that's all."

She tilted her head at him, leaning against him with one hand still on the wheel. The conversation with Dragon, yes, Koala had worried that maybe it wouldn't be as easy as she hoped. That there'd be a stressing that the Army needed its Chief of Staff and her to be around in 'these important times'.

But that was average stress— would it really cause Sabo to withdraw into a sour mood like this?

"Not looking forward to it, huh? Think he's going to give us trouble about it?" She asked in opening.

He took a breath, leaning against her, and turned his dark gaze on her. 

"Koala. I–" he paused for a moment and gathered himself. "I'm not going to tell him about Ace. As far as anyone aside from you and me are concerned, this is about closure for me, in regards to Ace's death."

That wasn't untrue. Even if it did leave important details out.

A lot of key details, even. Kept from the man who'd all but taken them in when they were children. A traumatized runaway and a boy without a past.

She had to wonder why, it was an odd situation certainly— hard to explain, but, still. Dragon was a man who held information from across the great blue seas— surely he would have heard of similar situations. But Sabo was going to keep it a secret? She wondered if Ace didn't trust him, or if it was simply too private to reveal.

Wasn't she lucky then? To be so trusted and cared about that he'd tell her when he wouldn't even tell their leader?

Her arm tightened around him. "You want to keep it a secret between us then?" she asked. "Is Ace okay?" 

"Ace is alright," he assured her. "It's just…" He fumbled and trailed off, shaking his head.

She reached up and pinched his cheek, the ship's wheel steady for the moment as she gave it a tug. "It's just what…come on, Sabo. You said no secrets between us, didn't you?" 

"No secrets between us," he promised. He held her a little tighter as she pinched him. "This feels very– very vulnerable, Koala. There are a lot of what ifs. For one thing, I don't want Dragon to jump to the conclusion that I'm insane. If that does turn out to be the case, I'll break the news my own way. The other thing is…"

Sabo paused again, and took a breath. "If Dragon believes that Ace is real, on the other hand, he may consider him a security risk. It's not that I don't trust Dragon. It's that I think Dragon won't trust Ace."

Koala listened carefully, letting go of his cheek to lean firmly against his body. "He might not, admittedly. Even if he did believe you— which you're right, he may not. He may just assume you've gone mad…but even if he did…"

He was always cautious around pirates. It was a rare thing that the Revolutionary Army trusted them beyond what was necessary for intelligence work. Ace was an infamous pirate, and an unknown quantity.

Dragon would put Sabo and Ace under intense scrutiny until that trust could be established, at best. 

"I see why you're a bit upset. Dear." Her fingers trailed against his back. "I promise I'll keep your secret, from anyone and everyone…even our leader." 

"I don't like asking that of you, Koala." He glanced at her, and then away– not towards their destination at the horizon, but out to sea. "I'm sorry that I have to."

Koala leaned up to kiss his cheek. 

"I know. I forgive you, Sabo…" She shook her head. "I hope you know I meant it when I said that if you'd left the Revolutionary Army— I'd have left too. We're a set, right? I want you to remember that when you have to ask these sorts of things from me."

She looked out towards the open sea "I love you, you know. You're more important to me than the Revolutionary Army, or anything else in the sea." She gave him a significant squeeze "and you know how important the Army is to me." 

He smiled and leaned his cheek against the side of her head, squeezing her hand. 

"I know, Koala. I know how important it is. And it does remind me how important I am to you– not that I can ever forget. And I know you know you're just as important to me…" He trailed off again, nuzzling the top of her head with a sigh. "Thank you, Koala."

"You're welcome, Sabo…" She pressed her face gently to the space between his shoulder and his neck, closing her eyes with a sigh of her own. "I'm just here for you. And tell Ace that even if we just met, I'm happy to be there for him too. Okay?" 

Sabo nodded against her. "He says thank you, too. We both appreciate it. And you know I'd do anything for you, too, right?"

Koala shifted to look up at him, one hand returning to the wheel as she nodded her head. "I know, Sabo, I know if there was ever anything I had to do…secret or not…you'd be right there with me through it all."

"Without a second thought, I promise."

"Doubt I'll ever get into a situation as weird as yours," she teased playfully, before her expression grew warm as the feelings bubbling inside her "...but some day, I'm sure I'll need that support just as much as you two need now."

She smiled up at him. Sabo and Koala. The bright sparks of liberation entwined at the hip for years. They were a set— inseparable. Pillars in one another's lives, there for one another no matter the situation.

And now there was Ace. As long as he was there with them, Koala knew she'd do what she could to be there for him too. 

He was important to Sabo, and he'd made a good impression on her anyway. She resolved to support them both with everything she had, knowing that when the push came to shove— when her own past came to haunt her or struggles loomed, they'd be there for her. 

-

Deuce hadn't gotten quite as drunk as he'd gotten during the first two weeks of his journey with Crocodile and the rest of the escapees. He couldn't hold himself back from the bottle, not with the memories of Ace's lifeless body still etched into his mind, but he'd made an effort to sober up enough to survive the trip.

He'd made himself useful, patching up the occasional wound with what you could charitably call 'his medical expertise', assisting the navigator with the heading but mostly trying to stay out of the way and unobtrusive as the ship sailed along.

Still, even with his attempts to be reclusive, he'd been cornered by Crocodile again at one point, joining the man in the galley for dinner as they chatted about all sorts of things. He told him about the Spade Pirates, and in exchange, well…

He heard enough about Baroque Works and its sordid dramas to pen an absolutely fascinating biography. He'd actually found himself getting excited, almost demanding that Crocodile tell him his whole story the next time they met.

Maybe he'd even write it.

Two days passed like that, quiet interposed with surprisingly pleasant conversation. Intoxication interrupted by good sense and a bit of busywork. 

When Crocodile's stolen marine ship finally arrived at some unaligned island that Deuce hadn't bothered to learn the name of, he was surprised to find Shanks' Red Force anchored at the very same port.

Deuce remembered that ship well from Ace's little misadventure. That docking on the slushy , unpleasant Winter island where Ace had met with a pirate emperor and walked away unscathed and smiling.

What the everloving fuck was it doing HERE? "...shit."

Shanks had a reputation for being a bit, well. Capricious. 

Deuce also knew that he was the one with Ace's body. Whitebeard's too, but Ace's body was the important one.

He found his feet walking in the direction of the feared Emperor's ship, unthinking even in the face of his own fear.

He had Ace. He had Ace. No matter the danger of approaching him might be, Deuce had to be there. It was his only chance, wasn't it? His only chance to get to wherever Ace would be buried to say goodbye, one way or another. 

[cyberphuck]

Assassin’s Apprentice Abridged: Part One

EDIT: Tumblr randomly swallowed like 500 words in the middle of this, so I've added that back in.

I am finally embarking on my long-threatened project to summarize all of the Farseer Trilogy for my friend Razz so they can understand my shitposts about it but don’t actually have to read it. I started with this post about the cast of characters in the first book.

This is being broken up into sections because the trilogy and AA in particular (as well as Royal Assassin... whew, that one’s gonna be hard) is so insanely long and complex.

And now, Ladies and Gentlequeers, AA Abridged: Part One.

We open on the narrator musing both about writing a history of the Six Duchies (but being unable to because every time he tries it turns into a salty rant about everything bad that's ever happened to him) and also about how very old and decrepit he is. He is hunched over his writing desk, his fingers gnarled and knuckly, literally crumbling away like a Thanos-snapped MCU character as he sorrowfully attempts to make some record of the long and storied life he's lived before he lapses into the sweet void of death.

Fitz is 35.

"I bet you're wondering how I got here," Fitz writes. "It all began when I was born. Neither of my parents bothered to show up."

Actually, the curtain opens on Fitz as a six year old, being hauled up to the front doors of a fort by a cranky older man. "Surely you must have memories of your childhood before six," someone in the audience asks, but Fitz replies "No, I definitely don't, I never did and I'm tired of you asking me that." It never really becomes super important what he was doing before he was six, unless you count the time where he was traveling from the King-In-Waiting's ballsack to the sweet hot vagina of Some Lady He Never Spoke To Again.

Fitz is scooped up and brought inside the fort, and presented to Prince Verity. You'd think Verity would be at least a little upset that his older brother has muddied the line of succession with his long-ago nut, but Verity acts as if Fitz's existence is the funniest thing he's ever seen. "Yep, looks just like him," Verity confirms, then instructs a soldier to bring Fitz to Burrich.

That's right, the cranky old man hammers on the front door, waits for someone to open it, says "this is Prince Chivalry's kid and I'm tired of dealing with him," and then walks off. Despite this, Fitz never develops any abandonment issues and only has healthy and honest relationships with people for the rest of his life.

"Those are all the memories I have of that fort," Fitz writes, "except for that one night that Prince Verity, Burrich, and Prince Regal stood and looked in on me in the stall and Regal complained that I was muddying the line of succession."

Burrich does not think this situation is as funny as Verity did.

But he's honest and loyal, so he sighs and says "C'mon, Lil Accident, I'll find a place for you to sleep." That place is in a horse stall with Vixen, the hound dog, and Nosy, her pup. Burrich looks down at all of them, mutters "Patience is gonna have a fucking aneurysm" and then walks off.

After a couple of weeks, Burrich puts Lil Accident on a horse behind him and they ride away from Moonseye and towards Buckkeep. During this time, offstage, Fitz's father Chivalry gets word of his appearance and does the only sensible and logical thing, which is to ollie out the window while flipping everyone off and yelling "GOOD LUCK FIGURING THIS ONE OUT, LOSERS!" He abdicates and retires to a farm with his weirdo wife, which pisses off basically everyone.

Burrich and Fitz arrive at Buckkeep, the capital of the Six Duchies, a tall castle on a hill overlooking the ocean. Burrich is the stablemaster, in charge of all the critters large and small at the keep. He'd also been Chivalry's right hand man until he'd jumped in front of a boar to keep it from killing the Prince and fucked up his leg. Burrich comes home to Buckkeep with a bad leg and a six year old bastard to find that his bestie has just fucking peaced out without saying anything to him. He's kind of having a bad day. He hands Fitz off to stableboy Cobb, who leads him and pup Nosy to the kitchens to get something to eat.

Cobb sits FItz-and-Nosy just outside the kitchens and goes inside for delicious pie. A burly man walks by Fitz, does a double-take, then points and yells, "Hey everyone! It's Chivalry's Bastard!"

Fitz shrinks down.

"I heard you don't even have a name!" Burly man hollers, then gets right up in Fitz's face. "Is that true, tiny and defenseless six year old boy that I'm accosting? You don't have a name?"

Fitz yells "NOOOOOO" and, like a tiny, dirty Jedi master, force-shoves the man onto his ass. The crowd, assuming that the dude was just a coward who couldn't handle being yelled at by a toddler, has a laugh and carries on with their tasks. Fitz gets up and he and Nosy run away and spend all day hiding in a hole.

Burrich does eventually find him, and with a hearty "what the fuck you can't just burrow underneath the shed, get out of there," returns him to the stables, where his new home is Burrich's little bachelor pad above the stalls. In the days and weeks that follow, Fitz wakes up, eats breakfast, and immediately escapes the keep to go down to the town and run around with a bunch of street kids.

Fitz doesn't say much but he's game for anything and he has a dog, so he's accepted into the gang as "Newboy." He and his new friends generally just run around making trouble, stealing food, and bothering people. One of the notables in the bunch is Molly Nosebleed, called that because she always looks like someone just got done beating the shit out of her. Wholesome!

One sunny day, Fitz, Molly and Nosy are on the rocks near the beach looking for sheel to eat. I have no idea what sheel is and neither does Google. Then Molly's dad shows up to hit her with a stick to teach her a lesson about having a drunk, violent dad.

Alarmed, Fitz force-shoves Molly's dad into the sand. Molly immediately freaks out and struggles to get dad back on his feet to stagger back to their candle-making shop (or chandlery if you're feeling fancy). Fitz is confused at the intricacies of abusive relationships, but relieved that no one yet knows that he has force-shoving powers.

Aside from his brief encounter with childhood trauma, everything is going great for Fitz. Then one day, while he and his fellow urchins (and Nosy) are running from a dude whose sausages they just stole, Fitz runs right the fuck into Burrich.

"You get your butt right back up to the castle, young man," Burrich says, dragging Fitz along by his ear. "And if I EVER find out you've been down in town hanging out with someone again, I will personally have sex with them a bunch of times," he added foreshadowingly.

"I don't have to do what you say," Fitz barks.

"Bark," says Nosy.

Burrich's eyes narrow. "How many fingers am I holding up?" he asks.

"I don't really know numbers," says Fitz.

"Bark," says Nosy.

"Nosy says that's three," Fitz translates.

"Alrighty then, no more puppy for you, the puppy is going to live on a farm upstate," Burrich says. He drags the puppy outside.

Presumably something cool happens to it.

So now instead of slumming around Buckkeep Town, Fitz spends his days following Burrich around and being taught how to manage horses and dogs but not birds because birds apparently hate bastards. Fitz is careful not to let Burrich see him being friendly with any animals.

One day, Fitz is sitting underneath a table in the Great Hall, being friendly with a bunch of puppies. It's the morning after a party and there's plenty of leftover food to be had, and he's happily stuffing pies down his shirt and sharing pieces with the pups. Then he hears footsteps and who should show up but KING SHREWD!

Shrewd is technically Fitz's grandfather but has never really spoken to him. He's walking along with Prince Regal (*crowd boos*) and the king's new fool, a weirdo albino child who's just cartwheeling along behind them.

Fitz goes "hmm, time to bounce" and crawls out from under the table. Shrewd stops to look at him. "Ah, the Little Accident," he says. "If you leave weapons laying around, someone will eventually pick them up and stab you with them."

"What?" says Regal.

"What?" says Fitz.

"I am not going to leave you laying around for someone else to kill me with," Shrewd says. "Lil Accident, take this pin. I am going to to feed you, train you, house you and clothe you. If anyone's got shit to say about it, show them this pin. It means you belong to me."

"...Okay, sure," Fitz shrugs. He puts the pin into the collar of his shirt. Shrewd nods magnanimously and walks on. Regal flips him off. The Fool cartwheels out the door as they leave.

That night, Fitz goes home to Burrich's bachelor pad, but Burrich turns him right back around. "You done gone and did it now," he says. "King Shrewd noticed you and now you're gonna have to go live inside the castle like a fancy lad. Go on."

"But despite my fear and resentment of you, I see you as a protector and father figure," Fitz says.

"Oh little boy who blew up my life, I love and resent you too," Burrich assures him. "If you get lonely, you can come back down here and I'll murder another puppy for you."

Fitz trudges up to the castle. He has a room of his own. There's a fucking weird tapestry on the wall of the ancient King Wisdom consorting with... what is that thing? Slenderman? It's creepy.

Weeks go by. Fitz is kept busy with new lessons in reading and writing and 'rithmetic, as well as swordery. Once in a very long while, he makes the trip back down to the town to visit his buddies, but those trips become fewer and farther between.

It's the middle of the night.

Fitz wakes up to a draft and a light in his face. There's an old man at the foot of his bed, holding up a lantern. "Come with me," the old man says.

"Oh," Fitz yawns, getting out of bed. "It's the call to adventure."

The old man leads Fitz to a doorway in the wall that hadn't been there before. This is where the draft was coming from-- a steep staircase leading up between walls. Old man leads Fitz up a maze of passageways and then finally to a huge hidden room with all the amenities a crazy old wall-man could want, like a fireplace and comfy chairs and a big bed and a library and a science lab.

Also, the old looks like he took a hot frying pan to the face. Like he really looks like hell.

"Wrow," Fitz says.

"Wrow indeed, boy," the old man agrees. "My name is Chade. I bet I look familiar to you. Well it's because I'm King Shrewd's brother and I blah blah blah I have a weasel named Slink. Next you're going to ask what the fuck happened to my face. I can tell everything you're thinking, because I'm a master spy and assassin and-- now this part you should take to heart-- I am always right about everything. Never doubt me."

"Okay," Fitz says.

"Good. That out of the way, let's train you to kill people."

[jillsandwhichs]

Heart on my sleeve

A Valenfield Story, Chapter 5, An evening of investigation

Masterlist

Pairing: Chris Redfield & Jill Valentine

Summary: Chris gets a call from Jill late at night asking him to head over to her place for some help with an investigation she's been indepth with

WC: 3.6k

Type: SFW

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

The pan was sizzling. Steam emitted from it and hovered up to the vent above the stove where it was soon sucked away. The smell of the potatoes filled Chris's kitchen. They smelt Earthy-he purchased them from the farmers market so they are home grown. They occasionally popped and made other random noises as Chris stirred them around in the sauce pan.

It is later in the evening, almost ten pm as a matter of a fact. Chris didn't have to work today considering it's Saturday. Sometimes they work on weekends but luckily for him, not this one. Although, Chris hasn't forgotten. Next weekend is the R.P.D gathering that he and all the other S.T.A.R.S members are required to attend. It isn't his forte but he'll go without complaining-especially since Jill will be there this year.

For his dinner tonight, he's making fried potatoes and sausage. He hasn't went grocery shopping in almost a month so he's scavaging at this point. He doesn't mind though, it teaches him discipline. Chris maintains a healthy diet not only for work but himself too. Growing up, he didn't know boundaries and gained a lot of weight but eventually lost it within his teenage years. He never wants to gain it back as fat but more-so muscule.

He picked up his soda from the counter and sipped it all the while stirring his food around. He's ready to just relax and eat. He even thinks he'll treat himself to a beer or two tonight.

Once his food was done cooking, Chris scooped it up and set it in a bowl before mixing it with a deep, smokey sauce. While he eats, he tends to either do extra work or watch something on TV but he'd rather sit in silence tonight. Reason being is one, he just doesn't want to do extra work right now and two, there's rarely anything entertaining on. He can eat and get ready for bed. He's not all that tired yet but usually by midnight he's passed out.

Chris sat down at the small, round table in the center of his kitchen. The centerpiece resting in the middle of the table was from Claire; It was a house warming gift from when he first began renting this home out. It's a wooden figure of a star-get it-because he is a S.T.A.R.S member. Chris found it adorable and has kept it as the centerpiece since he got it.

He had his bowl and his cup side by side as he began to eat. The meal was tasty. Bland, but good. Chris was happy to finally get some food in him. The last time he ate was earlier this morning, he had an omelette with fruit. He tends to distract himself a little too well to where he forgets to fuel his body. Claire always had to remind him when they used to live together. For Chris, it's madness to think she's in College now. He's insanely proud of her and of himself. The Redfields actually pulled through.

He swallowed a few bites and sipped his drink. In his cup was some Coca-cola, nothing fancy. He much prefers other drinks over coke but it's literally all he has. He hasn't went shopping recently and he seriously needs to. Soon.

Chris was chewing whilst he picked up his work folder off of the chair beside him. It was thick, full of a ton of work that's optional. Despite it not being required paperwork, it stresses him out. He doesn't plan to do it. Brad and Barry always do but Chris has a feeling that Kathy just does it for Barry because there's absolutely no way this old man spends time out of work doing work. Chris snickered to himself at the thought(s).

-

Eventually, Chris finished his food and also finished his shower. He always takes them right before he gets ready to crash out for the evening. It felt great, very refreshing. Chris still had his towel wrapped around his waist as his home phone began to ring. Being confused, Chris slowly treaded up to the telephone and picked it up, setting it up to his ear. He had a rag in the other hand he was using to dry his damp hair off with-which he still is.

"Hello?" Chris spoke over the phone, awaiting a response. He didnt have to wait long. A woman's voice spoke over the speaker. "Chris, right? It's me, Jill." Oh, it's just her. What a lovely surprise. "Jill, yeah, hey. How are you?" "I'm fine, just exhausted. You?" "Me too, bored and tired." Chris chuckled, leaning against his living room wall. He heard Jill sigh deeply over the phone and that was his sign to see what was going on. "Is everything okay? Are you doing well?" Chris questioned her. His worrisome tone caught her attention.

"I'm okay! I just wanted to ask you something but if you're tired, there's no need." Jill said softly. Chris cleared his throat and repositioned himself. "No, tell me, anything you need, I'm here." Chris hummed to her. Jill giggled and cleared her throat. "You know how Captain Wesker has been having us investigate that arson attack that happened outside of town the other day?" "Sure, yeah, what about it?" "Well, I think I figured something out and wanted a second opinion." "Wow, really? Well, go on."

Jill was silent for a moment and as she began to speak, she stuttered slightly. "I just. Well. I was wondering if you could just swing by my place? It's hard to explain via phone." She murmured with tranquil. "You said you were tired though so if not, by all means, get some rest." Jill added onto her sentence. Chris laughed and checked the clock. It was almost midnight now. He'll take any chance he can to see Jill. This should be fun, why not? "I'll be there in a bit." "Oh really?" "Yeah, sure thing." Chris confirmed.

This made Jill very glad. Not only will she be able to share her theory but she'll also get to spend some time with Chris. Being around him lights up her mood. "Great. Ok. See you soon." "See ya." Chris then clicked his phone back in place. He looked back up at the clock. He won't be out for too long, just enough to hear her out and talk to her-hopefully not just about work.

He'll get dressed and be on his way.

-

Chris shut the door on his truck and fastened himself in. He was quick with getting dressed. He threw up a long sleeve black shirt and some jeans. Despite it being late at night, when people are usually in more comfortable attire, he wanted to look decent. From his house, Jill's is about ten to fifteen minutes away. His house is right out of Raccoon City and hers is literally in the center of it.

Oddly enough, he's nervous. His stomach is churning at the thought of being with her, one on one. Jill is a special girl. He admires her. Maybe Barry is right, Chris is developing some sort of romantic interest in her. She is beautiful, she's sweet, caring, strong-everything Chris admires in a lady. So yeah, the idea of being with her in her own apartment is a bit nerve-wracking.

He started his black truck up and pulled out of his pavemented driveway. All of his neighbors already had their lights out and their cars parked. Everyone was most likely asleep or getting ready to. He began to drive down the road, slightly driving over the speed limit. Chris is guilty of going against the law despite him working for it. In this moment, he'll let it be excused; He is going to see her after all.

Chris set his fingers on the volume spinner that is connected to the radio. He turned it up. Hank Williams began to play. He has this old Western feel to him. It's very old music anyways. Chris decided to leave it on as he drove to Jill's place.

He is curious about her work, in all actuality. Jill is intelligent, he's never doubted her. If she actually solved this, he'll be stunned but unsurprised. He'll be proud, that's for sure. Hopefully he can benefit her research in one way or another. That is why she called him after all, right...? Right? Chris doesn't know, maybe there's a deeper meaning behind it but he won't guess or pry. She could truly just want his input and he's more than glad to provide it.

Due to him speeding about ten over the limit, Chris ended up in the city rather quickly. Once he did, he slowed down and followed the law like he should've to begin with.

The city at night is always so pretty. Neon lights are all over, some still & some flashing. People were still out and about too, going to dinner or walking around just because. Cars were everywhere too. At the same time, it isn't that late out. It's not quite midnight yet. Jill's home is just three minutes, estimation, from where Chris is currently. He had to drive a lot more leisurely as he entered the town. He doesn't feel like getting pulled over and possibly losing his job-it is all he has.

He turned his truck and eventually hit the road that the one and only Jill resides on. She lives in the main apartment complex in the city. It's rather expensive but a bang for your buck. Chris never wanted to live in the city but he most likely would've chose this complex. Now he's second guessing his choice of living out of town...

He parked on the side of the road though he'll have to be gone before two am which isn't even a worry. He doesn't plan to stay that long-well-nevermind. Chris shook the odd thoughts from his head as he unbuckled and got out of his lifted truck. He shut the door behind him and looked down. There was an inch of snow, not even, on the ground below him. That blizzard still has yet to come-this is why Chris doubted it to begin with.

He remembers her room number from when she originally told him. It's room 6. Chris entered the complex and his eyes darted to the staircase. Another thing he can recall is the fact the elevator is broken, it's no use. Chris didn't mind walking up though. He pushed open the door and began to walk up the stairs with ease. He figured Jill would be on the first floor. There are many apartments in this place, there's no way six is higher than the first or second platform.

Opening the door up, he spotted room six just a few doors down. His nerves were really getting to him now. He hope he doesn't appear a bum. He tried to look good for the most part. Jill won't mind, right? He's just here to help her with this investigation after all.

Ambling towards her front door, he finally gained the courage to knock on it a couple times. He didn't do it loudly. He is aware that there are others resting and some may even have children; He doesn't want to cause a ruckus.

Shortly after knocking on her baby blue door, it swung open and revealed her in all of her glory. She was smiling, and now so was he. "Chris, hey, come in." She took his hand and brought him into her place. Behind both of them, she shut her door and chuckled. "I'm glad you are here." Jill said kindly, crossing her arms and looking at Chris with a soft gaze. Chris couldn't help but get lost in her eyes momentarily but he snapped himself out of it rather briskly. "Yeah, yeah, me too." Chris nodded.

Taking in the sight of Jill, he looked her up and down. She wasn't dressed up. She looked cozy & comfy. Jill was wearing a baggy blue long sleeve with short shorts. It just appeared to be your average night wear but she rocked it. "Was your drive here alright?" "Yeah, it was normal, as always." "Good, good." Jill grinned and looked towards her kitchen before her eyes locked back on his. "Do you want a drink or anything? I have water, soda, tea..." She offered. Such hospitality. "A glass of water is fine." Chris smiled at her, following behind her.

Jill began to speak whilst getting their drinks ready.

"I am sorry for having you drive out here. I understand it's late but man, this is important," She poured the glasses of water-she had a purifier luckily. "To lay it out on you, that building that caught on fire was not an accident. It was purposeful." Jill stated. Chris whistled and sat down. He didn't expect her to say that of all things. He figured maybe he found something out that was totally different. "And how exactly have you come to this conclusion?"

Jill snickered when he said that. She must've done something devious, he's heard her laugh that way before. She turned around and sat beside him, handing him his glass and keeping hers in hand. "Jill..." Chris smirked and looked at her. "Tell me." "Don't tell anyone, alright?" She sipped from the glass. Chris chuckled and looked at her sincerely. "I swear I won't." "Ok good because I committed theft to figure this out, sort of." "What?" Chris nearly choked on his drink. He set his glass down. Now his attention is completely averted to her.

"Okay, Chris, seriously, hear me out!" Jill began. "So, you know that convience store near the building that burned down? Yeah well, I don't know if Barry or Wesker himself told you but the owners refused to give us any CCTV footage for whatever reason and it's within their rights, of course." Jill paused before continuing. "Captain told me he guesses they are doing something illegal themselves, hence why they didn't want to help us out... He wasn't necessarily wrong or right but I'll get more into that later." Jill sighed softly.

Chris was listening intently. The entire time his eyes lingered on her. Without meaning to, they'd trail down to her lips before he'd quickly check himself and stop.

"I went there earlier and it was truthfully just for a coffee but then I recalled that it was the same store so I may or may not have snuck into the office and stole a VHS tape of footage from that evening when the crime was committed..." She squinted at her own words, knowing how terrible they sounded. Chris was just shocked if anything. He didn't take Jill as someone to do that. He's not upset or anything, nor will he tell anyone. "Well Valentine, you never fail to impress me." Chris smirked, earning a giggle from Jill.

She squealed playfully before speaking again. "I know, right!? I was like cat woman or something." Jill snorted, smiling widely now. She definitely felt a flow of relief knowing Chris wasn't disappointed in her or anything.

Chris raised his glass before saying, "To solving illegal crimes by doing illegal acts ourselves." He teased. Jill had the cutest smile as she clinked her glass with his. "Of course." She tittered and stood up after finishing her water off. Chris finished his soon after.

Near the other side of the room, there was a TV and a board full of papers pinned to it. Chris can see it's where she investigates these things. She's a whole lot more organized than he is; She's so smart. "But, turns out, it was some group of punk teens." Jill scoffed. "Children can rebel without literally committing a seriously offense crime, they get that, right?" Chris chuckled at her words. "Can't say I disagree now that I'm an adult but me and my little sister did some gnarly things as kids." Chris snickered, following her to where she was standing.

Jill giggled at his words and crossed her arms. "Of course you did." She looked up at him. Chris looked down at her and laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing bad! I just always took you as the punk kid type." Jill stated, sitting on the edge of her bed. Chris sat down too. Chris found it funny how Jill figured he was a shithead as a child/teenager. He most definitely was. Then his bad influence rubbed off of Claire and she raised hell too. Good times.

Chris tilted his head to look at her. Seeing Jill like this was different. She's herself here, just Jill. She isn't putting on some 'badass' facade at work, no, she's just being herself as of now. This Jill is the real Jill-the one Chris has longed to meet. Hearing her laugh as she is now, seeing how passionate she is and hearing her speak so freely... It's the Jill that Chris could get used to knowing.

Jill stared back at him. He's so much different from the other men at work such as Brad & Jospeh. Jill actually looks up to Chris. He's very admirable and inspiring. The day he first helped Jill with her marksmanship was the day she began to realize how much of a kind soul he was. He hosts a kindred, pure spirit, despite what others may say about him as a person. They just met the Chris that can take over, not the Chris he is at heart.

"What do you think I should do about this new info?" She broke the silence. "If I go to Captain Wesker about this, he'll question how I got the footage to begin with and then I'll have to admit to a crime." Chris pondered at her words. There really isn't anything she can do. "You could always attempt to issue a warrant on the corner store... That could work." "You're right, but I don't know how I'll get this VHS back there." Jill picked it up off of her nightstand.

Glancing at it, Chris knew what he had to do.

He took it from her hands. "Do you wanna play it or something?" "Nah... I'll take care of this for you." Chris said with a friendly voice. "What? For real? Why?" "Because you're my friend." Chris chortled, nudging her. Gosh, he felt like an idiot after that. Jill giggled and nudged him back before resting her head on his shoulder. Chris felt the soul from his body interlink with hers as she did that. Not literally, of course not, but he felt connected to her in some ways. "I appreciate that, Chris." "Of course, Jill." Chris whispered, resting his head against hers.

The two of them remained this way for a little bit. Chris felt safe. Not safe as in safe from danger but safe from the thoughts that tend to stir up in his head. Being with Jill makes him forget all the bad stuff that roams on his mind. Being this close to her makes it better. He wishes he could touch her in other ways-her face, waist, back, legs-he wishes. It's a possibility for someday, but they met not even a month ago. Chris constantly tells himself to chill out.

Within minutes, the two of them went back to conversing about whatever and everything random.

"Chief Irons gives me total creeper vibes." Jill said mid convo. Chris laughed and nodded. "Yes, that he does." They were sitting on her bed now, just discussing whatever came to mind. "Will he be at that party on Saturday?" "Sadly, yeah. He's the one that hosts it." "Just our luck, hm?" "Mhm." Chris mumbled in reply. Irons sucks. He's never liked him.

Chris took a look at her digital clock and sighed. Jill caught onto the fact he'd have to go home now, he can't be out super late.

"Well, I know you're going to leave but uhm, thank you, this means a lot to me." Jill said with a gentle tone as she stood up, staring at him. Chris nodded and smiled, getting off of her bed. "It was nice, I'm glad you were able to solve the crime." "Me too." Jill responded. The tension between them is high. He can't tell if it's romantic tension, awkward tension or sexual tension-all three maybe?

With a giggle, Jill wrapped her arms around Chris and hugged him. It's her way of saying goodbye to those she cares for. Chris embraced her. He kept it respectful and just held his arms lightly around her head and after a couple of seconds, he pulled away. He didn't want to, but he knows if he didn't he would've never wanted to. Jill gandered up at him, then at the door. "I'll walk you out." She muttered, passing by him and going to her painted light blue front door.

Chris kept up a few feet back and walked out of the door, standing outside of it and looking at her. "See you Monday then." "Yea, see you then, Chris... Goodnight." Jill smiled, both of her hands on the door now. "Night Jill." He waved bye. Jill waved too then closed the door.

This'll be one helluva thing to think about as he attempts to sleep tonight.

[unhappycylinder]

Gonna Be Trouble (Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Fem!Reader) Part 5

Series Masterlist

--

Back in college you thought you’d be able to live your normal life without thinking of Jake, that you could just slip back into your daily routine as if the airshow never happened.

But you weren’t that strong. Instead you found yourself wondering what could have been every. Second. Of. every. Day.

He was eating you up, and he didn’t even know. Well he probably knew, cause all you talked to Gabby about was how much you missed him. And what Gabby didn’t let you know was that she was also hearing constant complaints and questions from Hangman about you. 

She had grown to be one of your closest friends, and now that she was engaged to Rooster and their wedding was fast approaching, you and she were on facetime almost every night picking out fabrics and dresses and decorations.

“What do you think about this dress?” Gabby asked, holding the phone up to a picture of the most beautiful flowy white dress you had ever seen.

“Gabby oh my god that’s stunning, you’re gonna look so beautiful!” You squealed, begging her to show you her huge turquoise engagement ring that fit her personality so well.

“Aww thanks y/n. I’m so excited for you to come down here for the celebration! I know it's just gonna be small and more of a get together, but it really means a lot to me that you're making the trek down” Gabby said sincerely, her tone changing drastically to taunting with her next phrase, “and I know I'm not the only one who thinks soooo”

“Gabby, if you're trying to get me to ask if Jake is gonna be there, I’m not going to. This is about you,  ma’am, we're not talking about my failing love life right now,” you reprimanded her.

“Oh please, like that's not the one thing you've been dying to ask this entire call.”

“Nope.” You lied.

“Okay fine if you're not gonna ask it, I'm just gonna say it. Jake’s gonna be there and I know that he’s gonna be in his sexy little dress whites and that he's going to be extremely happy to see you,” Gabby teased

“Gabby, I doubt he wants to see me after everything I did. I was such an idiot.”

“Yeah you were, and so was he, and if I saw you before you left I would have hit you with my shoe…but that's what this is all about, this is your chance to make things right with him”

“Gabby! We are not talking about me! We literally called to plan your wedding and all we've accomplished is digging up the shitty past, so can we please go back to looking at your dress?”

Gabby finally gave in and went back to showing you her plans, explaining she and Rooster wanted something small and just friends and family. She said it'd be held at a bar owned by Rooster’s godfather's girlfriend called The Hard Deck (cute name, you thought), and that the actual wedding ceremony aspect would be kept to a minimum.

With the wedding date just two weeks away, you began emailing professors about your absence, getting your apartment ready, and finishing up any assignments that needed to be submitted so you didn't have to think about them on your trip. And, of course, you had picked out a beautiful golden orange satin sundress to wear to the wedding. It had spaghetti strap sleeves and a scooping neckline which showed a little bit of cleavage, and it cut off just below the knee, with a small slit up the left side. Gabby assured you that orange was the favorite color of a certain aviator, and that this dress would drive him absolutely insane…not that that was your goal or anything. 

–

Gabby had welcomed you to San Diego with open arms, volunteering Rooster to drive her to pick you up at the airport. The entire car ride to their house you talked about the wedding and your term at college, and Rooster even chimed in here and there to offer a comment about recent happenings on base. The couple had hinted at Jake a few times, but you quickly shut down the topic, earning a few sassy stares from Gabby.

Once you got to their house, a quaint on-base 2 story home painted blue and white with a decently sized backyard, Gabby showed you to your room and left you to get settled.

Downstairs, Rooster pulled his wife-to-be aside.

“Gabby, sweetheart, I know she's your friend, but why is she staying in our house during our wedding? Isn't this meant to be about us getting time to ourselves?” Rooster questioned, gesturing awkwardly to his wife.

Gabby swung her arms up around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, pulling away to explain that “she’ll be staying at Hangman’s tomorrow night at the latest, I can guarantee you that” 

“And what if she's not?” Rooster asked his fiancée, brushing her hair behind her ear

“Then I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you Bradshaw,” Gabby said seductively.

“What's that supposed to mean, future Bradshaw?”

“You'll see soon enough,” Gabby smirked as she retreated from her fiancee to go check on her friend upstairs, earning a teasing pinch on the ass from Rooster as she walked away.

Gabby plopped down on your bed as soon as she walked in, sighing deeply and staring up at the ceiling.

“You excited? Nervous?” You asked her while digging through the small suitcase you brought in search of a hairbrush 

“Bit of both, mostly excited though. He's the love of my life, but I can't say I’m not worried about that poor white boy spending the rest of his life with me, cause once he's in I'm not letting him out.” Gabby chuckled 

“Gabby, he's one of the best pilots in the navy, I’m sure he'll be able to handle you. He's done it for this long,” you giggled with her

“Yeah but marrying a Latina is different than just dating one, y/n, he's in for it I swear,” 

Gabby laughed with you as you continued to struggle to find your brush.

“For the love of god will you stop rummaging through there and gossip with me about Hangman,” Gabby pleaded, sitting up on the bed, “you've been here for like an hour and we haven't said a word about him”

“Ugh Gabby!” You pleaded, “what is there to say?”

“Have you talked to him? Has he reached out? Are you gonna hang out with him? When are you gonna fuck him again? You know, basic shit.”

“No, no, no, and who knows? Good enough for y'a?” You moved to sit up on the bed with her.

“Uh no not good enough.” Gabby looked straight at you, “y/n I’m getting married tomorrow and Jakes gonna be there, and so are you, and please for the love of god if you're gonna give me a wedding present, please make it you and Hangman making up” she pleaded

“We’ll see” you replied, nervous about seeing Jake again.

“You know what, I know you and that's the best I'm gonna get. Go shower and get some sleep, you look like shit” Gabby teased as she stood up from the bed and walked to the door of the room

“You're a bitch” you laughed

“No, I’m a Bradshaw” she replied smartly

“Same thing”

–

Mariachi music blaring, a disco ball spinning over a small wooden dance floor, and navy memorabilia scattered across every possible surface, the Hard Deck was exactly the location you pictured for Gabby and Roosters wedding. You had arrived early with the bride and groom and helped Gabby, Rooster, Maverick (who you learned was Rooster’s godfather), and Penny (Mavericks girlfriend and the owner of the bar) set up the final touches to the venue. After setting up, you, Gabby, and Penny snuck away to change into your dresses and do your makeup and hair. You opted for simple makeup and your hair down and curled, whereas Gabby was dressed in a flowy floor-length gown with a beautiful shawl across the chest. She looked stunning with her long dark hair down and curled at the ends, and her turquoise ring adding a pop of color to the whole ensemble.

You and Gabby lingered in back before the ceremony, waiting for the guests to arrive and Rooster to take his place at the altar which was set on the beach just below the deck of the bar. Once Penny gave you the all clear, you walked down the aisle throwing carnation petals all over the sand between the guests who sat on benches. There were probably 50 people there, it was a fairly small event, and your eyes, as much as you didn't want them to, scanned the crowd for Hangman. In the sea of white naval uniforms, he was kinda hard to pinpoint, but as you reached the altar, you noticed him sitting just in front of Bradley, an empty spot next to him…the only empty spot.

She’s clever. 

Rooster shot you a wink from where he stood at the altar in his dress whites, giving you the spur of encouragement you needed to sit next to Hangman, who you hadn't dared to even make eye contact with yet.

Smoothing your dress, you sat down quietly next to him, still facing straight forward. You felt him begin to lean in and part his lips when everyone rose. You darted your eyes to his, meeting his piercing green stare for the first time in months, and all the feelings from before came rushing back to you. You stared at each other as you rose, only breaking it when Gabby finally reached the altar and joined her hands with Rooster, clearing her throat in a manner that seemed a little too obvious to not be directed at you two. 

As the ceremony went on, Jake kept his shoulder pressed tightly against yours, and every once in a while you would catch him glancing over at you, but you kept your stare on your friend who was exchanging her vows with the love of her life. As they exchanged them, Jake’s gaze didn't leave the side of your face, his eyes roaming from your lips to your jaw to the curve of your nose and your beautiful eyes staring straight ahead. He knew you could feel his stare, but he didn't want you to look at him, he wanted to admire you and enjoy this moment. Enjoy his first time laying his eyes on you since the air show, and dream that maybe one day it would be him professing his vows to you, and maybe this was the first step in making that dream come true.

“You're staring cowboy” you whispered, still not looking at him 

“I know Smalls, trust me I know,” his southern drawl sending shivers down your spine as he whispered back

“I missed you,” you croaked out, darting your gaze down to your lap where your hands were fiddling with the rings on your fingers.

“You have no idea. I-”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife” the officiant declared loudly, drowning out Jake and drawing your attention to Gabby and Rooster, who were now passionately kissing as the crowd clapped. Jake turned his attention to them and whistled, cheering on his best friend. You smiled watching them, and you couldn't help but imagine you and Jake in that same position.

As the sun set below the ocean, the crowd headed inside for dancing, drinks, and a taco bar provided by Penny. You mingled with the other pilots, including Phoenix who you had met at the air show. She introduced you to Payback, Coyote, Fanboy, and several other odd names that you would never remember. And after several tacos, several drinks, and a few bad rounds of karaoke with Rooster, you stepped outside to take a breather.

Close behind you was Jake. He had his eyes on you the whole night, hoping he could find a moment to get you alone, but never finding the right time. You were always either talking to someone or dancing or singing Great Balls of Fire with Rooster over and over again. Finally, he noticed your orange dress exiting the bar, and he saw his chance.

You stood with your back to the bar, arms draped over the fence of the deck, eyes scanning the ocean which was hardly illuminated by the moonlight above. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to talk up the courage to go grab Jake and ask him to talk.

“Thinking about me I hope,” his cocky voice spoke from behind you

“Always am, flyboy,” you smirked as you turned around to face him, resting your back on the railing and spreading your arms out along it.

“I'd be lying if I said it's not the same case over here,” he said as he sauntered over, his white suit catching the moonlight

“Oh you mean that you're always thinking about yourself,” you teased, he let out a chuckle as he stopped about a foot in front of you

“You know what I mean y/n,” his tone was serious and his eyes were dark. They stared deep into your soul, letting you know that this was gonna be a serious talk, and that he meant business when it came to you. Jake had lost you once, and he had sworn to himself that he would never let you go again.

“Come here,” you said softly, holding out your hand for him. He grabbed it, and you pulled it around you as you turned around to face the ocean again. Jake wrapped his other arm around you so your back was flush against his chest, his hands laced with yours in front of you, and his chin resting on the top of your head. 

The two of you stood there for what felt like hours, just breathing together and appreciating being in each other's arms once again. 

“Honey, the first night I met you I told you I wasn't going anywhere for a long long time, do you remember that?” Jake asked into your hair as he held you from behind

“Yeah, I do.” You felt yourself becoming emotional. How had you read him so wrong? How had you let yourself believe that he didn't want you, that you were just a number and that all the things he said to you meant nothing?

“I’m pretty sure I was still inside you at that point too”

“Jake Seresin!” You squealed, turning around in his embrace so you could hit him on the chest. You let your hand linger on his peck, spreading your fingers out so you could gently grasp at the fabric of his dress whites. You stared at your fingers, fiddling with his medals as you spoke, “that night…you also told me I was it for you…and I told you that you were it for me too”

“Honey,” Jake interjected

“I meant it Jake,” you cut him off, looking up to finally meet his eyes. Eyes which were filled with the most guilt-inducing mix of love and wonder and pain.

“Jake, I'm so sorry. Leaving you after an experience like that was wrong, I don't know why I did it, but I regret every second of the past three months that I spent dreaming about what being with you would feel like instead of realizing I could have had it the whole time.” The tears were beginning to flow, and all Jake could do was pull you in tighter and try to compose himself as he heard the words he had been praying to hear for months. 

“I've never felt as loved as I did by you that night. I mean, I had met you that morning and by the end of the day we were prancing around the air show like we had been together for years. And it felt like we had.” Jake wiped the tears from your cheeks, glaring down at you in disbelief, “And I don't know why I was too dumb to notice that it felt like that for a reason. Most people you meet don't just make you forget all your troubles, make you feel like you've known them for years, make you fall in love with them instantly…you feel like home, Jake.  I'm never gonna lose you again, I can't.”

His eyes stayed locked on yours, threatening to overflow with tears if he looked away. His hands, which were resting on your waist, snaked up your back until they found the nape of your neck where he used his strong arms to pull your face towards his. His lips crashed into yours, welcoming you into the most passionate kiss of your life, full of desire and longing. 

Your hands grabbed at the collar of his whites, pulling him closer, making your breaths shorter and your kisses more heated. Jake pulled away quickly, staring down at you and moving his hands to your cheeks, guiding you to look up at him.

“You're it for me…y/n.” He smiled that million dollar smile, causing you to blush and smile back at him.

“There it is, my favorite thing in the world.” He kissed your forehead.

“What?” 

“You honey, and that damn smile of yours,” he pulled you in for a hug, you rested your head on his chest, “I knew you were gonna be trouble for me. I didn't think that'd mean three months of hell and driving Gabby insane with how much I asked about you…but it's all been worth it if it means I’ve got you now.”

“Oh my god you were constantly annoying Gabby too?” You pulled away from his chest to look up at him, giggling at the thought of what your friend has been going through.

“Only about every few hours. God she got so sick of me. The number of times she told me to just call you already, but for some reason I just couldn't believe you'd want to talk to me,” Jake chuckled.

“Jake, baby, I wish you had.” You stood up to peck him quickly on the lips, “but I’m all yours now…and we've got three months to make up for, Lieutenant…”

You played with the collar of his whites and bit your lip, looking up at him through hooded eyes. He looked down at you, raising his eyebrows.

“I think it's time we got out of here,” Jake moved his hand to your lower back and began ushering you towards the parking lot, the sound of feet stomping behind you causing you both to startle.

“Ohhh no you don't,” Gabby yelled, stepping out of the bar in her dress, “I did not play middleman for THREE months for you two idiots, and choreographed your meeting at my wedding, only for you to sneak out before the fun really starts.” She stood with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised, a pointed finger aiming towards the door, guiding you both inside.

Jake peeled away from you, hanging his head and walking into the bar, muttering a quiet “sorry Gabby” on his way in.

You couldn't help but giggle with Gabby as he walked in. As you passed her, she placed a hand on your shoulder, “about fucking time, y'all owe me one for real…and Bradley…he’s heard enough of it too”

“Gabby, I owe you my life,” you both giggled as you walked in and joined the party, finding your happy place nuzzled into Jake’s side with his arm around your shoulder as he mingled with his fellow aviators. 

You were home.

--

Taglist:

@dempy @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mightiestheroes @taytaylala12

[chucktaylorupset]

So my friend loves lovecraft and wanted to run a call of cthulu game but made the mistake of putting me (will pick the funny option over the smart option every time, instinctively tries to diffuse tension with jokes) with our other friend (memelord, uncontrollable) by ourselves in the same campaign.

Our gm was very upfront that he was running this campaign in a closed world. He had only so much time to prep and only so much time to run sessions before he had stop making up stories about solving fake mysteries and get back solving the real mysteries, like trying to track down a long lost book that now currently hanging around on his night stand, and unravelling mysteries so secret I literally cant talk about it without scooping him which he could and would actually cross state lines to murder me for

This is also the guy who sleep trances to finish essays btw. Literally every fact about his academic career is insane, especially considering his attempt to speed run a double masters (+engagement/wedding for added difficulty bonus) means that the output of shenanigans per minute is truly unparalleled.

Unfortunately, two dumbfuck ttrpg players were about to force this agent of chaos into becoming the straight man

You see, in order to keep our brief sessions moving apace, certain lines of inquiry that were going nowhere and fail to even dead end in an interesting way would be gently cut off by a red herring.

Trying to open all the drawers of a nightstand that was clearly flavor text? You open it and find a red herring. Poking around the kitchen cabinets for no reason? Find it stocked with tins of red herring. Want to see if theres anything in the backyard? Dead grass, weathered fence wood, and a dog chewing on and then spitting out a red herring

I have many examples because the humorous chaotic energy our playstyle meant we memed and got off topic a LOT accidentally completely decimating the creepy atmosphere our gm was trying to conjure.

The crowning moment was when the other player was like wait, I know we've clearly wrapped up our investigation of this house, but can I go back knock on the door and sneak into the backyard to steal the red herring so we can have the red herring and use it for later in case we need bait--

To which the universe responded by opening up the skies and raining red herrings.

I hope it is blasphemous when I say not since the second of the ten plagues of the old testament has a god been so throughly fed up with some bullshit.

Created an absolute rage response in all my players with a red herring joke in last night’s puzzle session and it’s one of my proudest moments as a dm

[simplylupin]

steddie headcanons because they’re the only thing in my mind rn

- steve traces eddie’s tattoos and sometimes comes up with concept ideas for a new tattoo 

- eddie always runs hot and steve runs cold so during the winter steve’s always clinging to eddie at night to try and steal some body warmth

- eddie’s dyslexic and usually he’ll try to read a book by himself but if he gets frustrated, steve will often read aloud to him although he doesn’t understand half of what’s happening when reading lord of the rings

- steve is the only person eddie will allow to attempt to style his hair 

- steve steals eddie’s rings ALL THE TIME. he even has a little tray on his dresser where he’ll keep them safe until he gives them back. (for their one year anniversary, eddie gave him the first ring he’d ever bought)

- eddie loves horror movies but steve despises them, so whenever he knows a jumpscare is coming, he’ll kiss steve to distract him

- steve = hates olives, eddie = loves olives

- although they didn’t properly meet until the day in the boathouse, they’d seen each other around before. eddie, naturally, knew of steve longer seeing as he used to prance around the school halls like a peacock, but the first time he interacted with him was when steve helped him up after tommy h pushed him over in gym class. he didn’t speak to eddie, but that silent exchange stuck with him for a long time. steve first properly acknowledged eddie when he came into scoops ahoy with his band mates. of course, he knew of him before and had seen him before, but that hot afternoon was the first time he stopped and properly saw him.

- eddie often stims by chewing and so steve makes sure whenever he wears hoodies they have drawstrings on so that eddie can chew on them

- steve actually has awful eyesight and he has to wear round, thin framed glasses he absolutely despises when reading — eddie finds it adorable the way he huffs and pouts when putting them on

- whenever steve gets a nightmare, eddie will make up a song on the spot and sing it to a random tune to distract him. it’ll always be about the most stupidest thing, like soup or pigeons or literally anything, but it always manages to calm steve down

- steve has always been interested in playing the guitar — ever since eddie practically saved his ass in the upside down by playing it — so one day eddie sits down right behind steve, places the guitar in steves lap and guides his hands to play the right chords. it takes nearly two hours for steve to be able to play the most simple tune, but eddie is proud nonetheless

- eddie will literally drive to the family video store, give steve a kiss and then drive back home. this is a daily occurrence.

- steve has mild memory issues due to his various amount of head injuries over the year, and so eddie will leave little sticky notes around the house to make sure he doesn’t forget anything, even if it’s as simple as “remember to brush your teeth, darling!”

- eddie is always insanely gentle whenever they’re trying out their “firsts” in their relationship because he knows it’s the first time steve has ever been with another boy

- eddie is awful at cooking. steve has banned him from the kitchen after he nearly set it on fire when trying to make eggs 

- his demo-bat scars make steve anxious about taking his shirt off/swimming because he’s afraid people will view him as scary or a monster. eddie makes sure to take his time tracing and kissing across every bump of skin to make sure steve knows that he’s the most beautiful person eddie has ever seen

- the first time steve met wayne was entirely by accident: he’d been on his way to sneak out the trailer after spending the night, not knowing that wayne had finished his shift early. they had stared at each other, stunned silent: steve shirtless, messy haired and covered in hickeys, wayne holding a cup of coffee, just trying to get some rest. (steve was absolutely mortified, but eddie promised him that wayne quite liked him, and that in hindsight, it was rather hilarious)

- steve has insomnia due to a lot of stress and paranoia, and him and eddie will often take late night drives around town because the sound of the engine helps lull steve to sleep 

- the first time he meets el, eddie is terrified she doesn’t like him because she seems wary around him, but after steve sets her aside and talks to her quietly, he learns that she’s simply admiring eddies hair and isn’t sure how to compliment him or bring it up in conversation. steve tells eddie this, and eddie immediately goes to el, giving her lots of tips on how to grow her hair out quickly

- they spend a whole year travelling — seeing as neither of them had ever left hawkins before — but they eventually return home because although they’d never admit it, they missed the kids more than anything

- steve wears eddies clothes more than he wears his own

[kingkatsuki]

Eddie calling you in the middle of the night because he’s just had a nightmare and he’s afraid of sleeping alone.

Eddie being insecure about his body because of the scars left on his body from fighting in the upside down.

Talking him down from sudden panic attacks in the middle of the day. Being literally the only person who can bring him back to reality when he feels like he’s losing his mind.

Omg🥺 imagine the phone ringing in your house at like 2am and you’re rushing to pick it up without waking up anyone from the sound. Whispering a soft “hello” as Eddie talks to you on the other side, like you can just hear how terrified he sounds through his voice. Profusely apologising for waking you up, and telling you he tried to go back to sleep but he couldn’t, that he just needed to hear your voice. And he can’t stay in bed and call you so he’s literally just sat on the floor of his kitchen, trembling as he holds the phone to his ear. Telling you to just say anything, to talk to him, because it’s like your voice is this insane fucking superpower that just puts him at ease.

And maybe his nightmares have evolved now too— no longer thinking about Chrissy’s face as she died, instead it’s the exact same nightmare but it’s you. Every single night he sleeps alone Eddie is terrified of falling asleep because he knows he’ll have to watch you “die” again, and he can’t take it. Calling you with shaky hands as he hears the dial tone before it begins to ring, waiting with baited breath to hear you answer because he needs to make sure that you’re still alive, that you’re okay.

He hates waking you up at this time too, scoffs down the phone as he tells you he’s “still Eddie the coward, hey?” As you hear him sniff back tears, taking a deep breath as his voice softens, “I just don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.” And you’re already wishing you were there, scooping him into your arms so he can rest his head on your chest. Stroking your fingers through his curly hair, matted from how much he’s tossed and turned during the night as you try to coax him back to sleep. Eddie sleeps better with you around, the nightmares aren’t so prevalent, so vivid.

And these dreams don’t help with his insecurities because he’s already terrified of losing you as it is, and he’s never understood why someone like you would ever want to be with him. So now he has scars that remind him of that fateful night in The Upsidedown he’s even more certain that you won’t want him anymore, that he’s broken. Looking at himself in the mirror after a shower, or just getting changed and he sees the scars that mar his porcelain skin, marks that you’ve barely even seen too. The first time you had sex since that day he kept his shirt on and the covers up around your bodies, even though the warm September heat was stifling. Your hands moving down his chest to cling to him, to hold him close but his palms wrapped around your wrists. Holding them above your head as he pinned you to the bed, a pleading, whispered “don’t” spilling from his lips as he tried to hold back the shame— if you saw those you definitely wouldn’t want him anymore. Who could ever want such a broken man?

But you’re the only person that can put him back together in time, adjusting to the new parts of your relationship. Instantly seeing the signs that he’s on the verge of another panic attack, dropping everything to focus on him as you try to get him to copy your breathing, taking his hand in your own as you squeeze tightly. Giving him some semblance of reality. It’s an adjustment in your relationship, the man that left The Upsidedown not quite the same one that went in, but you’re certain you’ll get him back— these moments won’t haunt him forever, soon they’ll be distant memories replaced with new, happier ones. But until then you’ll be here for him every step of the way.

Eddie can’t work out why you’d ever want such a disaster like him, but he’s so fucking glad that you do. Because there’s no one else he’d ever want besides you💕