#one day we'll get a new english one maybe

[tintinology]

So we're getting a new Tintin radio play episode in a few weeks 👀

[captain-huggy-bear]

A Little Misunderstanding

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' angsty at points, but ends sweet, lots of mutual pining and two idiots not realising the other is also in love with the other, meddling mothers (for the best this time)

Summary: Your parents assume that Quinn, the man you mention over the phone all the time, is in fact your boyfriend. He's very much not, but Quinn thinks its funny to pretend he is...until it gets a little too real and maybe some truths are told and feelings are aired.

Notes: Thank you to the anon who requested fake dating to lovers with Quinn, I had this idea which is a little different from the usual fake dating so I hope its okay and you still like it 😊

Tried to keep it ambiguous as to where the reader originated from so that us UK girlies can relate as well as anyone else not from Vancouver and/or Canada.

Reminder I typically use UK spellings because I'm English so...don't come at me if you wish I spelt it the US away. If I have to read US spellings all the time, you can handle the odd UK spelling

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"When does your flight get in?" You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, picking up a stray sock that had fallen out of your laundry basket as you attempt to tidy your apartment.

"7am your time, sweetheart, remember?" Your mother's voice rings clear down the line, familiar and warm. It's been a while since you saw either of your parents. You having moved all the way to Vancouver, more miles than you could count from your birthplace and hometown around two years ago. You were excited to have them finally able to come out and stay with you for a week, they'd never been to see you, and it had been a while since you'd been able to see your parents, not having time to fly to see them. While you were glad for the move to Vancouver, living in a completely different place away from your family wasn't always the easiest thing in the world. You so often felt like you were having to fend for yourself without much of a support network. Luckily you'd made some good friends in the time you'd been in Van.

"Quinn offered to come with me to pick you and dad up, we'll be there waiting for you so don't worry about getting an Uber." You dropped Quinn's name casually because that's what it was, he was just another part of your existence. Your friend, who admittedly you had a small crush on, but just your friend nonetheless. Just because you thought he was beautiful and wanted to kiss him didn't mean you were allowed to kiss him or that he'd even want to kiss you. He was a friend who happened to be a man and you both happened to be single. This had not changed for two years and wasn't likely to any time soon.

"Oh, Quinn'll be there?" Your mother's voice was suddenly more upbeat, excited. She'd been eager to meet Quinn for months now, you're not sure why she finally took an interest in one of your friends but you can't help but be glad. Quinn had become a massive part of your life, a support network you very much needed when you'd first come to a strange new place all by yourself. He was part of the fabric of your life now, and you knew he'd charm your parents without even thinking about it. It shouldn't matter to you that your parents like your friend, its not like Quinn was your boyfriend, but it did matter to you. You wanted them to like him as much as you did because you wanted him around for the foreseeable future.

"Yeah, I mentioned you were coming to visit the other day and his car is bigger than mine, so he offered to come along, he has to get up early most days anyway so he's not too bothered by it." It helped that Quinn had a couple of days off, but still you were thankful. He could have spent his rare enough free time doing something much more enjoyable than helping you pick your parents up from the airport.

"Your father and I look forward to meeting him, we've heard so much about him, darling!"

There's something about your mother's tone that makes you stop for a second suddenly feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. Maybe it's just how eager she is or maybe it's something else, but there's a little red flag waving in the back of your mind with some small print on that you just can't quite read yet.

"Right...um, look I'll see you tomorrow morning then? I gotta get everything ready for you guys."

"Of course, of course! We love you!"

"Love you too, mum."

"You're sure you don't mind?" You look over at Quinn from the passenger seat, the two of you look exhausted, big bags under your eyes and even bigger hoodies to hide in because a 5am wake up to get to the airport in time was just a little much for both of you. This early in the morning it's still dark and the streetlights do something to Quinn's face that makes him even more handsome than usual, even as he looks like he might fall back asleep at any minute. It doesn't help that his scruff has grown out or that his hair is in those perfect waves he always seems to get even when he's just taken his bucket off.

"I wouldn't have offered if I did, besides the amount of time we spend together isn't it about time I met your parents? You've met mine." He smiles over at you, cheeky, the sort of Quinn most people didn't see. It's silly that it makes your cheeks feel warm, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be flustered by him.

"Your parents are at as many of your games as possible, of course I've met them."

"So are you. Sue me for wanting to meet the parents of one of my best friends."

"I'm your best friend?" You lean your head back on the headrest, tilting slightly to grin at him all silly. Quinn can see it from the corner of his eye and as much as it's ridiculous, that little grin makes you even more beautiful than normal.

"One of." He rolls his eyes at you, partly because of your silliness and partly rolling his eyes at himself. You're his friend. He shouldn't feel this way about you, men can have female friends...he just can't seem to have you as a female friend without wanting to kiss you at any given opportunity. It's becoming difficult, even more so in the early morning when the low light level puts your face in stark contrast and your hoodie, one of his, makes you look so cozy and sweet.

"That's just your way of avoiding admitting how much you love me and need me in your life."

Quinn's cheeks flush bright red, so bright that even the low light can't hide it nor hide the way he bites back a smile at you, eyes fixed on the road and the last few miles to the airport.

"...Shut up."

The silence that fills the car is comfortable, the sort that comes about from spending so much time together. You have friends that aren't Quinn, of course you do, but Quinn had been your first friend in Vancouver. He'd shown you around and made time for you in his incredibly busy schedule. You were often the first person he saw when he came off a roadie and the last person to see him before he left for one. There were nights when you stayed round Quinn's after a game or vice versa. You spent so much time together that you simply coexisted, being around Quinn was as easy as breathing. You rarely argued or disagreed and when you did it was always resolved properly. You simply worked. There wasn't ever much to think about with Quinn. You could just...shut off.

"Thank you, though...seriously." You take a moment, thinking how to word your next few thoughts, your warning as the signs for the airport come into full view, "Just, my mum seems really eager to meet you so...just brace yourself."

"Eager?"

"You know when your parents are excited to meet a new partner?" You think back to the few times you'd introduced a boyfriend to your mum, the excitement that she exuded...it was starting to concern you that she was that excited to just meet your friend. Because that's all Quinn was. Your friend. Not your boyfriend. Your friend, you remind yourself, even as he looks so good smiling over at you with his beard. He'd let it grow out just enough that he looked rugged and mature.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's that sort of excited which is really weird...she normally doesn't' care that much about my friends. Just, sorry, if she's really weird about it?" It's awkward enough talking about, you and Quinn have always stayed firmly platonic, you didn't talk about the fact that people assumed you were dating or even the concept of it. Talking about it felt...it felt like you were opening the curtains up, letting him see in a little too far.

"You didn't tell her we were married or something, did you?"

"Quinn! Shut up!" He laughs so loud that you can't actually be that mad at him, not when he's grinning at you like that, not when he's been so stressed as of late about the performance of his team. Even if it's at your expense.

"What? Just checking! For all I know you could have told her we got married in Vegas during one of my games or something?"

"If I'm telling my mum I'm married to you, it'll be because I'm actually married to you, you idiot." You roll your eyes at him, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to look out the window.

"Oh, so you do want to marry me?" He's joking, but he's not...he's thought about it. There's not a day that Quinn hasn't thought about what it would be like to be yours and you be his, not since he met you...and then promptly managed to land himself so far into the friendzone that he was scared to crawl his way out lest he leave you behind in the process.

"...I hate you."

"No you don't." His voice is singsong in intonation and sweet and he's right because you love him and it hurts...god, it hurts how much you love someone you can't have. Someone you see every day, someone who is so deeply ingrained in your life that removing him would be like carving a hole into your own chest.

You just sit and glare at him, even as a heavy sort of sadness hits, as he pulls up into one of the parking bays for collecting passengers.

It's okay that he's just your friend, you remind yourself as you get out of the car. It's okay because he's the best friend you could ask for, he's here at 6.45 am in the morning to collect your parents from the airport, not because he was asked or because he had to, but because he wanted to. You can live with loving him in silence, so long as you always have him around.

"I think they're over this way, probably, near gate 1?" You're just getting your bearings, trying to figure out roughly where your parents will come out at after they find their things from baggage claim when you hear it.

"My baby!" The squeal of a middle aged woman who hasn't seen her daughter in far too long pierces the air. You barely have time to brace yourself for impact before your mother is wrapping you up in a gigantic hug and pressing as many kisses to your face as possible, you know without a doubt her signature mauve lipstick is smudged all across your skin.

Your father stands behind her, rolling his eyes in amusement but the smile he gives you is no less warm, "Hey there, princess."

"Hi, mum, hi, dad," You pull yourself free from your mother just long enough to get a long awaited hug from your father, big and warm and so familiar that you almost feel like crying. How long has it been since you last hugged your dad? Half a year? Nine months? Longer? You sometimes don't realise how much you miss something until you get it back.

When you turn back around your mother is already pulling Quinn into a hug that he accepts, if a tad awkwardly, his hands patting her on the back like he's not quite sure how hugs work.

She has his face in her hands before you can intervene, overly familiar and friendly as she grins up at him like he's made her day just by existing. "You must be Quinn, Y/N's boyfriend..."

"Oh, he's n-" You're pretty sure your eyes bug out of your head, startled by the suggestion because at no point in the last few years of living in Vancouver had you ever called Quinn your boyfriend. Ever.

You're cut off by Quinn who's grinning at you wickedly over the top of your mother's head like he's just been giving the greatest Christmas present he could ever ask for and in that moment you know...you know that he is going to make your life very difficult with this tiny piece of information.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet, the boyfriend, that's me." God, he wishes it was true. There's nothing more he wants in that moment than to be able to say to your mom that you are 100% his girlfriend, but he can't...he can, however, enjoy the roleplaying while it lasts. He can't really stop himself, not when you look so aghast at your mother calling him your boyfriend, not when he can use this to tease you for at least the next 30 years. He grew up with 2 brothers, sue him for taking advantage of the situation.

"Quinn!"

"What? Am I not allowed to call myself your boyfriend anymore?" He sidles up to you, slipping out from your mother's grip to pull you into his side. His arm rests naturally over your shoulder, yours finding his waist, and it is natural...because you've done this a million times before. The kiss he presses to your hair is new though, different and as much as your mum clearly believes the ruse, you can see your father just looks amused. Something tells you he knows this is all an act, but he finds it enjoyable to watch. Typical. No support from him when you need it most. Dads.

"Oh, she's just grouchy in the mornings, has been ever since she was a baby!" Your mother looks at the two of you with such pride that you're certain her heart actually might break when she finds out Quinn isn't actually your boyfriend. You've never seen her look so happy with your choice in a man before and you're certain she won't be able to cope when you have to inevitably tell her that it was either a) a lie or b) that Quinn just wasn't the guy for you (another lie just to make your life more complicated).

"Mum!"

"Oh don't worry, I know just how grouchy my baby can be in the mornings." This time he presses a kiss to your cheek and when he does, you hiss lowly in his ear, 'I'm going to kill you.' and Quinn can't help but laugh at you, biting his lip at how much fun he's having riling you up.

"Here let me take your bags, Mrs Y/L/N," Quinn's bending down before your mother can even begin to protest, her carry on backpack being slung over his shoulder and pulling up the handle of her suitcase to wheel it behind him.

"Oh, you don't have to, Quinn!"

"I insist." He knows he's making it harder on you, can see the look you give him because he's just going to make your mother fall in love with him. But, even as he enjoys riling you up, he was also raised right and he's not letting your mother carry her own bags.

Your mother hangs back with you while your father and Quinn start walking ahead with the suitcases. She slips her arm through yours walking with you to keep up, as she does so she does a very bad attempt at whispering. The sort of whispering that means you know Quinn can hear every word and is probably enjoying it immensely.

"He's such a gentleman..."

"Yeah, a real gentleman." You mutter sarcastically, watching the way his shoulders rise and fall in a silent laugh that he's no doubt doing his best to swallow down.

"Don't be grumpy, he's just being sweet on you. You should be glad for such a loving boyfriend..." Your mother scolds you before raising her voice back to normal, Quinn and your father slowing down slightly to help keep the four of you together, "So, Quinn, my daughter tells me you're a hockey player?"

"Yeah, you talk about me, baby?" Quinn's grin is wide, and you can't help the warmth that fills your entire face because you can't actually deny it. You talk about Quinn all the time, he's your best friend and whenever your mother phones, you inevitably talk about him. Whether it was a game of his you went to or a coffee place you'd visited together or gala he'd invited you to. Maybe, you talked about him too much? Maybe, it was obvious in the way you talked about him that you loved him? Maybe that's why your mother had made such a large assumption about your relationship status. Maybe this was your fault, why wouldn't she assume you were dating?

"She talks about you all the time. Quinn this, Quinn that...did you know that Quinn did this today and broke this record?"

"Mum..." You groan out, looking to your dad for help but all he does is shrug his shoulders at you, amusement bright in his eyes. Even if he could do something you know he wouldn't because he's clearly enjoying your torture.

Quinn can't help it, the tables seem to reverse. You're embarrassed still, but now he is too, bright red in the face, ears flushed the colour of a fire engine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. All because you talk about him to your parents...you talk about him when he's not around...he feels like a twelve year old, giddy because his crush smiled at him for the first time.

"I play for the NHL."

"Vancouver Canucks, wasn't it?" Your mother asks as the four of you step out into the cold Canadian air, her attention making Quinn squirm and you smile, enjoying the discomfort being swapped around for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm the captain of the team." He smiles at your mother awkwardly as he opens the boot of the car and starts to pile in the suitcases, organising them in just the right way that they fit without hassle.

Your father chimes in as he lifts his own suitcase into the back, Quinn helping him shove it back further, "That's impressive, I used to play field hockey myself, never got out of the amateur league but got a few bruises in my time. You had an injury recently right?"

You still remember phoning your mum to talk about it, at first worried and then over time growing more and more frustrated with how sullen Quinn was being. He'd grown restless from not being able to play hockey and you'd been his distraction, a distraction that had grown fed up with his moping no matter how much you loved him.

"I've had a few this year, most recently my hand." He raises his braced hand, the brace a point of annoyance to him at this point in time. He was itching to be done with it, but put up with it because it meant he could still play hockey at the moment.

"Oh, you shouldn't have been carrying my bag then, Quinn!" Your mother fusses over him, flapping about as if she might have a miracle cure for his hand injury.

"Honestly, it's fine! It looks worse than it is, I promise. I wouldn't get away with it otherwise, this one would kill me." He nods his head at you as he closes the boot, opening one of the backdoors for your mother to slide inside.

"Damn right I'd kill you, I cannot take more days of you moping that you can't play hockey and that you're bored despite my amazing company."

"You know I enjoyed spending time with you, sweetheart...but..."

"But, you can't live without hockey, yeah, I know..."

He follows you round to the passenger side door, opening it for you like a gentleman and letting you slide inside. You find yourself enjoying the attention even as you catch your mother's eye in the rear view mirror, a little smirk reaching her lips as she watches Quinn buckle you in. Something he does from time to time when he's feeling particularly sweet...because he was a good friend.

"So, Quinn, how did you meet our daughter? I'm not sure she ever mentioned it?"

The entire ride home is filled with your mother peppering Quinn with questions, encouraging him to talk more and more about your 'relationship'. Everything from when you first met to the first date you went on (which Quinn told her was the first time he took you ice skating, you were under the impression that that was a friendly family skate event and most certainly not a date).

The conversation lulls while you set your parents up in your spare bedroom, helping them settle themselves and showing them around your apartment. They hadn't ever seen it in person and they spent half the time cooing over your choices, the photos of family and friends on the wall, the ones of you and Quinn, as well as your mother checking your fridge and telling you to buy more vegetables.

It's as you're sitting down to a breakfast of pre-bought croissants and pain au chocolat that your mother restarts her question. This time even more invasive than the first.

"So Quinn, when did you know?"

"Mm? Know what?" Your best friend looks at your mother with furrowed brows, taking a sip of his orange juice and almost choking on it when she proceeds to clarify her question.

"When you loved my daughter."

There's a long beat of silence where your eyes stay fixated on your plate, watching your own hands intently as you spread Nutella inside your croissant, far too focused on that to be anything casual or calm. You're certain you're going to be sick because he doesn't love you but you love him and your poor mother is so oblivious and this...this is going too far, it feels like it's gone too far.

"Expected answer or honest answer?"

"Honest answer."

"The second week I knew her." Your head snaps up with a start only to find Quinn looking directly at you, green eyes crinkling softly at the corners. "She heard that I had been hurt on the ice the night before and she stormed round my apartment with a bunch of food, medicine and a blanket. Spent the whole day looking after me and making me watch 90s movies I hadn't watched growing up. No one outside my family had ever done that for me before...it made me realise that if I wasn't already in love, I would be pretty quick." You almost believe him, the way he looks at you, the way he speaks so softly. Almost.

You look down at your plate, tears welling in your eyes because you know he doesn't mean it. He's spinning a yarn for your mother and it hurts that he would go that far when you both know this is all some ruse he's decided to pull. You swallow hard and take a bite of your croissant, refusing to look at him for the rest of breakfast.

You won't meet his eyes until he goes to leave after breakfast, your parents hanging back so you can say goodbye to your 'boyfriend'.

"Mind if I come over after dinner? We could watch a movie with your parents?"

"Quinn..." You go to challenge him on his behaviour today, but the words won't come out.

"What?"

"Nothing...uh, sure, after dinner?"

"After dinner, baby."

You want to tell him off as he says it, as he presses a kiss to your cheek so your parents can see because you aren't his baby and he's hurting you. He's hurting you without realising it because you so desperately want to be his baby. But, you don't. You just watch him walk away down the corridor of your apartment building and out of sight before getting ready to show your parents around Vancouver for the day.

You try to put the whole thing out of your mind throughout the day, showing your parents the sights of Vancouver, including the arena...but it's hard when they keep bringing Quinn back up and asking about your feelings. They probe you for half the day and it's emotionally exhausting balancing the truth with the half-truth, even more so knowing that they're going to be just as disappointed as you are when they realise your relationship with Quinn is just a sham, a charade, a fake.

Eventually they seem to grow bored of talking about the topic, however, and dinner goes relatively smoothly, you taking them to a nice restaurant Quinn had shown you back in your first couple of months in Vancouver. Even that feels bittersweet though, filled with memories of the two of you dining together. You can't help but feel like the whole issue needs addressing as you get them back home and pop a film on ready for Quinn's arrival.

When he arrives he continues the act as if it isn't one, greeting you at the door with a kiss to the cheek and pulling you down onto the loveseat opposite your parents, curling one arm around your shoulders and urging you to lay against him, your cheek pressed into his chest. In some ways it's familiar, not an act, because you cuddle for movies all time, completely platonically of course, but both of you are touchy feely and it's always been part of your dynamic. In others though? The way he talks to you, the pet names, kisses to your hair, that is all new, all a way to show your parents he's the 'doting boyfriend', even though he's not your boyfriend at all.

Your parents lap it up, every now and then you catch them smiling at each other and then over to the two of you and you can't help but feel heavy with it. With this feeling of unrequited affection. You love Quinn, you've known that for a while now, but it was easy to be around him because you didn't need to address it. You could love him in silence and from afar...you had never considered how hard it would become when what you wanted most was being dangled in front of you like a carrot on a string.

Quinn has a similar dilemma going on in his own head. He's always known he loved you more than a friend, even when you barely knew each other...had he been braver he would have asked for your number for a date that first day, not so that he could show you around a new city as a 'friend'. But, he'd been a coward and since then he'd continued to be. He enjoyed every ounce of affection he got from you, every hug, every cuddle, ever time you held his arm at an event, all while feeling like that had to be enough...now he's had more? He's not sure it'll ever be enough, he's greedy for you. Greedy for your affection, your attention, greedy in the way he wants to keep kissing you, keeping calling you sweet names and greedy for the way you grow bashful. Greedy for more than just being your friend...he's given himself a taste of what life could be like and now he can't forget it.

It's halfway through the movie, your legs slung over Quinn's lap and his fingers carding through the ends of your hair when your parents stand with a groan from the other couch.

"Princess?" You lift your head to look at your father, who's stretching out his back after sitting for so long.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Your mother and I are getting a little tired...we're going to go to bed, if that's alright with you two?"

"Of course, don't let us keep you up." Quinn confirms your own thoughts as well, telling your parents it's not problem at all. It's all so...so domestic.

Your dad presses a kiss to the top of your head, as does your mother, before yourself and Quinn wish them goodnight. You wait until you see the door to the spare room start to close, not waiting for it to do so fully, before turning to Quinn. You pull out of his arms, the missing warmth of you an immediate loss to him, but it has him sitting up straight and taking you seriously.

Your face is sullen, sad, eyebrows pinched, mouth turned down into a frown and he's alarmed to see that your eyes are glassy like you might cry.

"Why on earth would you let my parents think we're dating? Why would you tell my mother you're in love with me?" You're certain you're going to cry, angry, frustrated and sad all in one. Lovesick because it hurts to hear him tell your mother he was in love with you when you know he's not.

"Why not?" He frowns at you, hands reaching out but you keep just out of reach as if touching him is the last thing you want. You've never shied away from Quinn's touch and he recoils, breathing a little heavier out of anxious worry that he's upset you, that he's fucked this up. Maybe you've been uncomfortable with his touch all day? Has he been making you uncomfortable all day? Is he one of those guys?

"Because we're not dating and you're not in love with me, Quinn. My mother is certain we're going to get married and I'll stop being an old spinster! You're getting her hopes up." The unspoken words lay heavy on your tongue, 'you're getting my hopes up', you want to say.

"Who said I didn't love you? Who said I didn't want to marry you?" The look he gives you isn't the cheeky one he's had all day, it's not joking or silly, it's dead serious. He scoots closer to you, but doesn't reach out for you this time. But, Quinn can't help but want to be close to you, to be drawn into your orbit, into your gravity.

"Quinn..."

"What?"

"You're being mean..." Your voice is filled with tears, wet, pathetic sounding and you choke back a sob as a tear falls down your cheek because he's being so mean...he can't dangle that in front of you, everything you've ever wanted, not when he doesn't actually mean it.

He realises in that moment that you don't believe him. You believe he's spent the entire morning and evening telling lies, saying that he loves you when he doesn't, that you're that important to him when you aren't. You believe he's being mean because you don't believe him, that the tears are because you think he's holding this thing, this idea out in front of you, only to snatch it away.

"Look, I said a lot today...but none of it was a lie." He can't help himself this time, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping away that pesky tear that shouldn't have been there in the first place. It's the way you lean into his touch that brings him a sense of confidence, of relief, you wouldn't do that if you didn't want him touching you.

"I know our first date wasn't a date, just a stupid family skate I was too scared to ask you out to as more than just a friend. I wish it had been a date and I wish I had been brave enough from the start to tell you I didn't just want to be your friend."

"Quinn..."

"And I was telling the truth...when your mother asked me when I fell in love with you." He tugs you closer, until your legs are back over his lap and your practically sitting on top of him, arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling you closer. The way he stares up at you is nothing short of reverent.

"Q..."

"The second week we knew each other you came to look after me when no one else did...and I knew...I knew that I was going to love you and that I was stupid for not asking you out in the first place...but I was...I was too scared to say anything. I didn't want to lose my new friend...I thought..." He hesitates, tongue coming out to nervously brush against his bottom lip, capturing your attention like a magpie with a shiny button.

"You thought?" You're whispering, quiet as if to speak any louder might scare him, might disrupt this little bubble you've found yourself in.

"I thought having a tiny bit of you...any bit, was better than having none of you at all." Quinn confesses, shifting you on his lap as your legs fall either side of his hips until you're so close your noses brush.

"Is it?"

"It was...for a bit..." It's self-deprecating, sardonic, like he finds himself ridiculous, foolish.

"And now?"

"And now I've had a taste of what it's like to love you, to be able to kiss you and hold you...call you mine...and now I'm greedy and it's not enough...Baby, it'll never be enough."

"You...you love me?" It's like even after all of this, everything he's said, every tender touch, you still don't quite believe him. It's hard to believe that everything you've ever wanted is sat in the palm of your hand just waiting for you to capture it, to take it. That your feelings, the ones you believed were unrequited for two years, were actually returned all along.

"I love you...and...um, if...if you'll have me, maybe I could be your real boyfriend this time?" His face is bright red, so warm to the touch when you're fingers reach out to trace his cheeks that you're surprised he doesn't combust.

"I'd like that...I...I love you too,"

"So...I'm your boyfriend?" He says it like he doesn't quite believe it, the beauty mark on his cheek moving as he grins up at you giddy like a little kid getting his first bag of sweets.

"You're my boyfriend." You press a kiss to that beauty mark without overthinking it...because you can now, because now it's not a lie when you tell your parents he's your boyfriend, because now you're allowed to kiss him and hold him and tell him how much you love him.

"Fuck...that sounds good."

He can't help but just stare up at you from where you're straddling his lap. The healthy glow to your skin, the soft smile directed down at him, the way you seem to curl into him like you're not close enough even now. God, you're beautiful and you're his...you're finally his and he's yours and...and he can't comprehend that the thing he wanted to happen for so long has finally happened. What had he been scared of all this time? He could have been with you for two years, instead he'd squandered it out of fear...

"Quinn?" Your voice is soft, melodic, so so sweet that almost closes his eyes at the sound.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Kiss me?" You whisper as if it's shameful to ask, as if you've asked for something more sordid than a simple kiss...your first kiss together at that.

"Anything for my girl."

He's gentle in the way he cups your neck and jaw with one large hand, thumb pressing just below your jaw bone as he pulls you in. There's nothing rushed about the way Quinn presses your lips together, the smooth glide of his bottom lip against your top. Even the way his tongue brushes against your lip until you open up for him is slow, steady, adoring. You can't help the way you sigh into him, fingers gliding through dark chocolate strands, eyes closing shut with the sense of home, sense of relief that you find in him.

The two of you lose yourselves in each other, slow kisses, wandering hands, nothing too extreme, but a new found intimacy that you're finally allowed to indulge in before you curl back up together to watch the remainder of the movie. Watch being a loose term for what you're really doing.

"Did you know?" Your father turns his eyes away from the scene outside the spare bedroom, the way you're curled up in Quinn's arms like you were always supposed to be there. Neither of you realising that the spare bedroom door had never fully closed, both your parents eavesdropping like Samwise Gamgee.

"That they weren't actually together, dear?" Your mother looks sly and devious as she looks over at her husband. The face of the woman he loves, but also fears in equal measure.

"Yes."

"Of course I knew...but I figured they could both use a shove in the right direction, I mean, look at them?" Your parents both turn to watch the two of you, the way you curl up together on the couch is the epitome of young love. There's no real watching of a movie happening, instead Quinn's fingers are rubbing circles into your shoulder, while you look up at him lovingly from where you're curled against his chest. Every now and then he dips his head down to press a kiss against your forehead, and each time you giggle, face pressing briefly into his neck. The giddy feeling of a new, fresh love, making film watching the least of your interests.

"They just needed a little push." Both your parents smile at each other even as your father playfully scolds his wife, "You're a meddlesome woman."

"And you love me for it."

"Yes, yes I do."

Perhaps it took a bit of meddling, a fake misunderstanding, but that would be their little secret...at least for now. Your mother was rather looking forward to seeing you squirm in the future as you reveal the truth, that you hadn't actually been dating Quinn as long as you said. Yes, she certainly was happy to help, but she also was still your mother and lying to your mother was certainly not the done thing. A little squirming was good for you sometimes, but first, she'd let you enjoy the fresh bloom of love...and she'd go easy on you.

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (7/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, incest obviously, smut, the angst, manipulation (partly unintentional), violent description of suicide attempt (blood), injection of a sleeping drug, violence, imprisoning, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He could have become a father.

Could was the key word in his life: he could do a lot of things theoretically, but for the most part the line between what was accessible to him and what was not was clearly drawn.

He couldn't escape the world that was consuming him.

He couldn't change who he was.

He couldn't marry his niece, at least in the light of social morality.

But he could become the father of her child because she hadn't taken the pill.

This news thrilled him so much that for a moment he forgot that his own father was dead.

And the complications that came with it.

Looking at his body in the morgue, he thought that perhaps a good thing had happened: Viserys looked sick and tired, his face expressing relief.

He was with his first wife now, the one he really loved, he thought with regret, and felt a squeeze in his heart, seeing his niece's face in his mind then, as she laid beneath him, panting loudly, seared, warm and wet only for him.

He grunted, shifting from foot to foot, recognising that he shouldn't be thinking about it right now.

Only Rhaenyra, Helaena and his mother wept over his body.

Neither he nor Aegon shed a single tear.

The next day he felt excited like a small child and terrified at the same time: it was the first time he was to see the University from the inside, to talk to the professor and on top of that, to see her, again.

If it worked out, they would study together.

Perhaps they would even go on excavations, just like when they were children.

Maybe there was some part of their lives that they could get back.

He texted her that he would come and was relieved when he spotted her silhouette waiting for him in the car park. As soon as he stepped out of the car he felt uncertainty and fear, wondering if this was a good idea.

What if his grandfather found out?

If he was putting her and himself in danger?

He involuntarily reached into the pocket of his jacket, wanting to soothe himself with a cigarette.

"There's no smoking allowed on University premises." She said, furrowing her brow, making his hand drop in a gesture of helplessness and impatience.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Yes. Let's go. We'll find my professor in the teachers' common room, he's just having a break between lectures." She sighed, ignoring his tone and demeanour, moving ahead.

He had to admit that the whole campus impressed him: the lawns and the huge park around which the gigantic nineteenth-century brick building towered were full of students sitting on the grass, reading books and talking to each other.

They had no worries except their exams, he thought regretfully, concluding that they didn't even know how lucky they were.

The conversation with the professor was overwhelming for him: he had never been able to find himself talking to strangers, even less so when he couldn't leave or defend himself when he heard a difficult question.

The man sitting in front of him was not a man transporting cocaine by ship, but an old man with big glasses who was telling him that if he were able to participate in the excavations, part-time studies would be possible for him.

"Well, if that's the case, then please prepare yourself for the exams. Then we'll see what comes of it." Said the professor and stood up, nodding, letting them know that their meeting was over.

"Is that it?" He asked in disbelief, looking at her with big eyes, wondering if it was a joke, but she only smiled.

"Yes." She replied. "Thank you, Professor."

As they left, he felt discomfort at the thought that he didn't know how to act. He guessed that he had interrupted her class and should leave, but that meant there was no telling when he would see her again.

He wanted to simply spend some time with her, but he didn't know how.

"If you'd like, I'll wait and drive you home." He said offhandedly, glancing at the poster hanging on the wall right next to him, hiding his hands in his trousers so she wouldn't see them tremble.

She blinked and looked at him, surprised.

"No need. Mum will pick me up." She muttered quietly, as if embarrassed. He felt an unpleasant sting of disappointment at her words and in a subconscious reflex he wanted to hurt her because of it, if only a little, to be sure she felt what he felt.

"They pick you up and drop you off like a little girl?" He asked with a sneer, glancing at her, but the smirk disappeared from his face when he noticed the way she looked at him.

She was angry and bored.

"Ever since someone put a rape pill into my drink, yes." She said coldly, and he froze, thinking he was an awful person.

How could he forget about it, say something so ill-considered after what had happened to her?

He suddenly realised how it worked in his mind, how he reacted involuntarily to pain wanting to automatically cause it to another person, even if they didn't deserve it.

This thought terrified him.

Some part of him wanted to make it up to her, to prove that there was a part of him that wanted to change.

"Do you know who did this? I can take care of it. For your comfort." He asked, feigning indifference, involuntarily scratching his chin, unable to look her in the face.

"Larys Strong."

He looked at her, furrowing his brow.

"What?"

"I already told you. He was telling me about my father."

"But it wasn't him who put it into your drink, it was one of his people, right?"

"He asked me if I wanted a drink. I said no. Then he ordered water for me. I took a few sips from it and struggled to get to the bathroom."

He looked at her, feeling how slowly a picture that seemed to him to be just scattered shards suddenly came together, the fact that Larys had dragged her there was never supposed to be an accident, and his grandfather knew about it.

This is the last time you interfere in their affairs.

They hoped she'd call for Daemon.

That, knowing his explosive nature, there would be a shootout in which they would kill her step-father before Viserys died, so that he and his half-sister's businesses could then be easily taken over.

"Son of a bitch." He hissed out, feeling that he was breathing heavily through his mouth, that his hands were clenched into fists, that his heart was pounding like mad.

Only after a moment did he realise that his niece was looking at him with big eyes, horrified that what was happening in his mind had not escaped her attention.

"Don't interfere. Go home." She said, making him feel a squeeze in his heart for some reason.

"And when are you going to teach me?" He mouthed, realising only after a moment that he sounded like a little boy. She shook her head, as if she didn't understand what he was saying.

"What?"

"For the exams. I need you to help me. How do I reconcile what I have to do at night with studying if I don't know where to start?"

He watched as she sighed heavily and ran her hand over her face, praying that she would agree, that she would not abandon him, that she would not leave him in the dark room that was his heart.

His little lamp.

Yes, he thought, feeling a pleasant, gentle warmth in his chest.

That's what she was to him.

"Okay. Okay, I'll help you. I'll pass you the study books somehow." She decided at last, distraught and tired, making him swallow loudly with relief as he looked down at her.

He wanted to touch her.

He wanted to embrace her, to kiss her, but it seemed inappropriate.

Not after what he'd done to her.

"Can I touch your hand?" He asked in a trembling voice, feeling like an idiot, a weak, quivering child begging for a moment's attention, a moment's tenderness.

She looked at him in a way from which his throat tightened with affection, her hand extended towards him made him grasp it in his own.

He watched, breathing hard, elated as his fingers entwined with hers in a pleasant, soft embrace, her skin warm, smooth and soft, exactly as he remembered it.

He felt both moved and aroused at the same time by this sight, by the feeling of her bare body in a way that was not purely sexual, yet so intimate, private, reserved only for someone close to her.

"Walk me out." He whispered.

To his delight, she didn't let go of his hand until they reached his car. He couldn't find the words to say goodbye or thank her for what she'd done, feeling only shame, so he just got in the car and drove away.

He knew it was wrong.

He knew it was wrong and he couldn't stop.

The forbidden fruit tempts most, he remembered her words and swallowed hard, driving ahead in silence, wondering if that was indeed all this was about.

The thought that maybe not terrified him, because it meant that there would be no moment in his life when he could let her go, allowing her to live at last.

It meant that he would devour her, choke her in his own darkness.

The next day, everyone was nervous: the meeting with the notary was going to be groundbreaking. Otto was certain that Viserys had divided his wealth equally between each of his children, which would mean that Rhaenyra's share would also belong to Daemon.

"I don't think he would leave his daughter the brothels or the clubs where the crimes took place to avoid burdening her. This means that a real estate company and our money laundering business could fall to her. We will have to make steps to take it over, peacefully or not." Said his grandfather when he spotted him standing by his car alone having a cigarette.

He nodded, feeling discomfort and uncertainty, not knowing what he should answer.

"You are not yourself since the death of your father. What's happening to you?" Otto asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, making him press his lips together in displeasure.

Another fucking interrogation?

"I'm tired." He said coldly, taking a drag on his cigarette impatiently, looking at his family home, wondering if his father would take it away from his mother.

"Where were you the night he died? When Aegon woke up, you were not in the room."

He froze in mid-motion, letting out a loud puff of smoke through his nose, feeling his lower lip begin to tremble, his heart and stomach clenched in fear.

He couldn't remember if he had ever felt peace.

Maybe then, that night, when he felt the warmth of her body and fell asleep beside her, drunk and happy, he thought with regret.

"With my niece."

Otto laughed low, shaking his head.

"This is no time for jokes, Aemond. I don't want you to hide anything from me." He said slowly and calmly, as if trying to explain something to a small child.

He looked at him in a way from which his grandfather's expression changed, twisting in a grimace of shock and disbelief.

"Good God. What did you do to her?" He mouthed.

He grinned involuntarily at his question in a way from which Otto swallowed hard and clenched his eyes.

"Have you completely lost your mind? What has that poor girl done to you, hm? What if she tells her parents, accuses you in front of everyone? For God's sake, you're her uncle." He hissed quietly, stepping close to him and looking around, as if he wanted to make sure no one could hear him.

For some reason his dismay, his disgust, his disappointment gave him satisfaction.

The fact that he was arousing such feelings in him and other people seemed to him the most natural state he knew.

"We were just talking. About the past and the future." He lied, knowing that his grandfather didn't believe him, that he'd seen in his gaze what he'd done to her, what he'd done to her twice, and how fucking pleasurable it had been for him.

He decided that he wouldn't try to explain to him that she had peaked with him each time.

He wouldn't believe him anyway.

"We'll talk later." He hissed as his mother, Helaena and Aegon came out of their house, saying they were ready.

When they arrived Daemon and Rhaenyra were already waiting for them inside in a large, spacious office with windows overlooking the great city skyline. The notary greeted them, offered them coffee and tea, and then showed them to their seats.

He tried not to look at Daemon, feeling his gaze on him, knowing what he thought of him and that he had every right to do so.

He felt bad about it, but fuck, he wanted to be close to her and have a family with her.

He wanted to be able to love her.

Just her, just this one time in his life.

Was he asking for so much?

The notary, in the presence of the lawyers of both parties, unsealed the envelope in which was secured his father's last will, which he knew he had consulted with his grandfather.

Nevertheless, he felt anxious, felt the cold sweat on his back, a complete, tense silence all around them.

And then he began to read.

"I, Viserys Targaryen, present my last will as follows. I bequeath our family home to my wife, Alicent Targaryen, which will belong to her until her death, and then pass according to her will to one of our children. I bequeath all my other estates and properties to my children Aegon, Aemond, Helaena and Daeron to be shared equally between them. All of my investments and all premises under my business that I owned I pass to my daughter, Rhaenyra."

He stared at him dully, feeling as if he had gone completely deaf, his heart beginning to pound like mad as his hand clenched into a fist, his grandfather beside him twisting in his chair, shocked.

"This is some kind of misunderstanding." Otto said, on the other side Daemon laughed out loud, hiding his face with his hands.

He mocked them, he thought.

His father had mocked them for the last time.

He didn't understand why he felt tears burning under his eyelids, why his lips were trembling, why he expected anything else.

His appreciation, his trust, a gesture that would indicate that he understood what he was doing to ensure the well-being of their family.

Did he really think that he was taking money out of people by force, that he was cutting their faces to please his grandfather?

Yet it meant nothing.

Everything he did, everything he became apparently only made his father disgusted.

Because he was disgusting.

They all were.

"Unbelievable. We're not going to leave it like that. I'm sure this is Daemon's doing. FUCK!" Growled his grandfather, sitting in the passenger seat beside him, slapping his palms against the dashboard of his car.

He drove ahead, feeling a complete emptiness, feeling neither disappointment nor anger, wondering if he should pull over and hit one of the trees.

He wanted his father to see him as a cold, unbreakable man, one who would always defend his and his family's interests, one who could make sacrifices.

And he didn't even notice it.

All the wicked things he did turned out to be worthless.

He destroyed himself for nothing.

He had nothing.

In his mind, in his heart, in his wallet.

A fucking property by the sea.

"We will attack their family. If our clients find out, no one in the industry will care about us. We have to show strength, we have to act." Otto said, and he swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on his back.

We will attack their family.

We have to act.

His grandfather called a meeting in his office, which was to be attended by him, his brother and his mother. He paced around the room gesticulating, speaking quickly, Aegon as well as his mother sat in their seats flooded with tears.

He thought they looked pathetic.

"We need to give him a warning. Force him to come out with another, more acceptable offer for us." Said Otto, circling the room with his hands placed on his hips, analysing everything.

"You saw him. He laughed. He knows that he won." Mumbled Aegon, all swollen from crying.

Otto stopped and pressed his lips together.

"Leave me and Aemond alone." He said finally, making him freeze, his heart pounding like crazy.

Some premonition told him what he would want from him even before it left his mouth.

He was not mistaken, and as soon as his mother and brother left, his grandfather began to speak.

"Does Rhaenyra's daughter trust you?"

He stared dully ahead, answering him with a protracted, uncomfortable silence, feeling like throwing up for some reason.

"Aemond."

"No."

"No, what?"

"Don't drag her into this."

His grandfather pressed his lips together, leaning over him, resting his hands on his armrests.

"She's been dragged into this for a long time. If we don't take our chances, someone else will." He said calmly, making him feel an unpleasant sting in his heart.

"You knew."

"What?"

"That Larys had plans for her."

"I knew that he would act. Daemon's presence on the scene isn't to his liking."

"He put a fucking rape pill into her drink." He said coldly, clenching his hands into fists.

"It wasn't about rape there, at least that's my opinion. However, now, if he sends his people to her University, I cannot vouch for what will happen to her. With us she will be safe. We would lock her in a room in our house for a few days and treat her with respect as if she were our guest. My issue is with Daemon and Rhaenyra, not with her. Her harm is not my desire."

He looked at him, feeling a void in his mind, no longer knowing for himself what he thought of this, what was right and what was not.

"Are you going to let everything you've worked so hard for be taken away from you? For this man to laugh in our faces? What are we to use to maintain the estates your father left you? Even if we sell some of it, how many years will it last? We have to think about our future. I trust you to do the right thing."

He pressed his lips together, swallowing hard, thinking with disbelief that if he didn't, the part of himself that he had lost, that he had killed to become who he was, would turn out to be a sacrifice in vain.

Some part of him naively wanted to believe that she would understand.

"Only me and Helaena will have access to her room. I will be by her side the entire time, and my duties for that period will be taken over by someone else."

Otto smiled in a way from which he felt discomfort in his stomach and nodded, patting him on the shoulder.

"That's my boy."

He looked at his phone, at the message he'd sent her while sitting in his car two streets from her house, wondering how he could be doing this to her.

She wanted to help him change, she made an attempt.

Perhaps she was pregnant.

Hundreds of feelings mixed in his head, fear, grief, disgust, sadness, hatred and despair devoured him from the inside, forming one black mass from his thoughts.

She's not coming, he thought with a strange calmness.

She was not naive.

Daemon had certainly warned her not to trust them.

He'll return home and tell his grandfather that it just didn't work out.

But what will happen to them then?

They will have nothing to buy new goods with, or they will buy them, but they will have to raise their prices.

They will stop being competitive in the business.

They will lose customers.

They will go out of the game.

They will cease to count.

They will have no way to pay the police.

They will go to prison.

He shuddered, hearing rustling and someone's footsteps, his eyes big when he saw her breathless, flushed figure, her dark, loose hair in disarray.

She looked so beautiful.

He opened the door, unable to believe that she'd run away for him, just for him, watching as she pulled her backpack down quickly and handed it to him.

"Take this and get out of here." She muttered, but he only looked at her lips, parted in accelerated breath, soft and full.

He thought with horror that he wanted to feel her.

He wanted to be reassured.

He wanted to make love to her.

"– come here –"

"– I have to –"

"– come –"

"– I –"

"– it won't take long –"

Her gaze full of warmth, affection and trust, her parted lips, her hand that allowed him to pull her closer made him feel like his cock would explode with desire.

"– good girl – such a good girl –" He praised her when she sat on his lap at last, closing the door behind her. He slided his hands to his belt, panting hard, releasing his fat, long erection, leaking with desire at the mere sight of her.

He could only watch in disbelief as she took off her shorts, wordlessly allowing her to guide the thick, glistening head of his manhood against her slit, all pulsing with heat, slowly sinking it into her body.

He gasped at the ease with which she welcomed him into her warm, moist interior, how simple and proper it seemed.

It made him forget for a moment who he was and what he was supposed to do.

All that mattered was her, her face, her eyes, her forehead pressed against his, her warm buttocks under his fingers, her swollen, sweet lips, her slick tongue invading between his teeth, her little cunt that convulsed around his throbbing cock in ecstasy.

"– fuck – fuck, baby –" He muttered, unable to express otherwise how good she made him feel, why his hips were pounding into her so fast and so greedily, why he couldn't slow down, why he wanted it so desperately.

"– ah – G-God –" She mumbled, making him gasp, pleasant, tickling warmth in his lower abdomen.

Her soaked pussy squeezed and sucked him inside, making him pant loudly into her puffy lips, feeling his whole body grow hot, in some subconscious, natural reflex returning to where he felt good, where he felt safe: back deep, deep inside her.

He knew it wasn't just about sex: there was too much tenderness in in their movements, the touch of their hands too thoughtful and too gentle, too soft, their embrace too close, too intimate, their moans too helpless, too vulnerable.

"– Aemond –" She mewled into his throat on the brink of orgasm, bringing her clenching, moist, fleshy walls to the point where he felt a squeeze in his testicles, indicating that he was close too.

"– do you hear it? – do you hear how well you take me? – only you – fuck –" He gasped, listening to what he was doing to her, to his own niece, how loudly her sweet, little cunt clicked as he rooted into her again and again, how perfect she squeezed his cock, how warm she was, how wet she was, for him, only for him.

"– where? –" He muttered, wanting to be more responsible this time, slamming into her with a quick, sharp, deep thrusts of his hips, helplessly chasing his own fulfillment that he so desperately needed.

He didn't want to hurt her.

Never.

"– here – right here, uncle –" She breathed out and something in her words, in the way she said them made his body quiver as he reached his peak inside her, panting hard along with her. He gasped, resting his head against the backrest, trying to be quiet, feeling their bodies pulsate and shiver against each other.

He snuggled her face to his neck, feeling a wonderful pleasure and relief as his warm seed filled her insides at last, her scent, her closeness, her hot, pulsing interior calming him.

It felt so good.

So right.

"– I think I'm in love with you –" He whispered in a trembling voice, stroking her bare buttock with one hand, sliding the other between the seat and the gearbox, feeling the needle syringe under his fingers, from which he slipped the cap.

I'm sorry.

He heard her draw in a loud breath at his words, but he didn't let her answer.

He was afraid he would change his mind then.

"– forgive me –" He mumbled in trembling voice, heartbroken, her body tensed all over as he jabbed the needle into her neck and let the sleeping drug spread through her insides.

She whined quietly, terrified and surprised, reminding him of a small, innocent animal. He embraced her, feeling the remedy take effect after a moment, and her body relaxed in his embrace, a faint, weak cry escaping from her lips.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

"– shhh – shhh, sweet girl –" He hushed her tenderly, feeling his whole body tremble as tears of shame, disgust and regret ran down his cheeks along with the knowledge of what he had just done to her, his soft manhood still pulsing deep inside her.

He used her because she trusted him, because she wanted to help him, because she really cared about him.

He sobbed quietly, closing his eyes, and cuddled his face against her neck, feeling her fall asleep, thinking that he wanted to take it back, that it was a mistake, a mistake, a mistake, that he just wanted her to forgive him.

Maybe he could carry her home?

Leave her at the gate and run away?

But what if someone found her unconscious, what if she fell ill from the cold, what if someone abused her in his absence, hurt her?

He realised that there was no way back.

Despite this realisation, he treated her body with gentleness and tenderness: he lifted her and slid out of her slowly, placing her shorts over her hips, laying her on the seat beside him, fastening her seatbelt. He took the unruly strands of hair from her face with his trembling hand, looking at her through tears, whooping with his own cry.

He thought she would never forgive him for this.

When he got home he went inside through the back door, carrying her in his arms, cradling her to his chest. He told his bodyguards that no one was to disturb him, ordering them to inform his grandfather that everything was sorted out.

"Aemond?" He heard his mother's voice behind him and stopped in half-step, looking at her over his shoulder with big eyes.

His mother was looking at him with her mouth open, disbelief and horror in her gaze.

"– Aemond – what is she doing here? –" She muttered, placing her hand on her chest, trying to calm herself down, breathing loudly as if she were going into some kind of panic attack.

"– we'll sort it out, Mum – don't worry –" He whispered. His mother furrowed her brow and shook her head.

"– you kidnapped an innocent child –" She said with regret and pain from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

She was disgusted with him.

He understood her.

He longed for her to think of him like that.

He desired to suffer.

"– yes –"

He took her to the room where he had spent his entire youth until he moved into his flat and laid her gently on his bed, sitting down beside her, covering her carefully with the duvet. His hand rose slowly and hesitantly to finally stroke her soft hair, her face calm, immersed in deep sleep.

Vhagar, whom he had taken with him from his place, rose from the floor and ran up to them, sniffing him and the newcomer he had laid in his bed.

"– good girl – you will watch over her with me now, hm? –" He asked, stroking her soft fur.

Vhagar squealed, shifting from paw to paw beside him, concerned, as if she sensed that her sleeping state was not natural, something in her scent, in the drug he had given her made his dog restless.

Even she knew what he had done to her, he thought with regret.

He pulled off his shoes and placed them on the ground, laying down beside his niece, putting his arm around her. He pressed his forehead against hers, inhaling deeply her scent, letting his fingers run over the soft skin of her cheek, thinking that he was surely doing this for the last time in his life.

He felt a sting in his heart at that thought, his eyebrows arched in pain as he pressed her body against his, weaving his hand into her hair, burying her head in his neck, trying to calm himself.

"– I will always watch over you –"

In the morning he was awakened by her babbling: she was mumbling something under her breath, her hand clenched on the material of his black Tshirt, he could feel her trying to stand.

"– shhh – lie down – don't get up –" He whispered in a trembling voice, feeling only horror, only despair, only shame.

She would never forgive him for this.

"– where – mghmm –" She muttered, involuntarily falling into his arms again, recognising him and his scent, her fingers closed on his back, snuggling into him in a tender embrace from which he felt his body begin to quiver.

"– easy – easy, little one –" He said, kissing the top of her head again and again, her hair wonderfully soft and smooth under his hand.

"– what's happened? –" She asked, and he remained silent, as he had no idea what to answer her.

His lack of words clearly worried her, for she raised herself on her arm again: she looked around, her gaze hazy, dreamy, her brow furrowed as she did not recognise where she was.

"– Aemond – what's going on? –" She asked wearily, slowly understanding that something was wrong, her breathing louder and heavier, her eyes large and filled with fear.

He lifted himself onto his arm, moving closer to her, his free hand stroking her cheek as he pressed his forehead to her temple.

"– forgive me –" He whispered in a weak, trembling voice, thinking he sounded pathetic.

She sucked in a deep breath and squealed, covering her mouth with her hand as if trying to stop the sound, her eyelids clenched shut as she cried out loud, bursting into tears.

"– oh, baby –" He muttered pleadingly, kissing her red, plump cheek, embracing her tightly despite her hands trying to push him away. "– it will only last a few days, I promise –"

She pulled out of his embrace, moving away to the other end of the bed, looking at him with wide eyes, catching her head with her hands as if she couldn't believe what was happening, her mouth parted wide in a heavy, terrified breath.

"– I – I let you – you touched me, and then you – oh God – oh my God, no no no no no no –" She whimpered hiding her head between her knees, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was trying to create a fortress, and he could only sit and watch, trying to remember that he needed to breathe.

"– we just need to talk to Daemon – I promise no one will hurt you –" He muttered quickly, but it seemed to him that she wasn't listening to him, plunged into complete hysteria.

"– I helped you – I ran away for you – I brought you books just as you asked – so why did you do this to me? –" She mumbled out, choking on her own tears, her fingers clenched on her hair as if she wanted to rip it out.

He felt like he was drowning, like he was sinking deeper and deeper to the depths with every breath.

"– I know – I know, baby, I'm so sorry – but my father left us no choice – fuck, I know you understand me –" He choked out with difficulty, looking at her hopefully, for some reason naively believing that she would find justification in her heart for his horrible act.

She, however, looked at him dully and froze, her trembling hands raised at the level of her cheeks, her lips parted in a half-breath.

He was sure that she was going to say something, that she was going to shout in his face that she hated him, that he was a monster, a nobody, a disgusting creature, everything that he so needed to hear in order to find himself in the state to which he always returned in the end.

She, however, turned her back to him, hugging her body and face to the wall, tucking her legs under her chin and froze so still.

"– Rhaenys? – please – please, say something – I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear –" He mumbled, trying to touch her calf, but she flinched and moved further away from him, as if his touch had burned her.

He burst into sobs, thinking that her silence, her wordless rejection was worse than any word from her, and he was like a child who longed for the parent he had failed to look at him with a sympathetic eye again.

"– please – please, say something –"

But she said nothing.

For the next few days she did not look at him, she did not answer his questions, and when he tried to touch her she moved as far away as possible, hiding her head between her knees.

He took away her phone out of fear that she would try to contact someone and all the things out of his room that she could use to hurt herself or others.

She ate and drank only the things Helaena brought her.

When he tried to feed her, she would snatch things from his hand and throw them at the wall.

On the one hand he felt rage at that moment, a subconscious need to hurt and punish her, and on the other he felt relieved because he wanted to suffer, because he knew he deserved it.

"– you have to eat –" He sighed, looking indifferently at the big stain of soup on the wall and the shards of the broken bowl thinking it was them.

Like the shards that couldn't be put back together again.

"– what did it feel like, cutting their faces? – did you feel like the Mighty Vhagar then? –"

Her voice, cold and harsh surprised him and made his heart stand in his throat, his body stop breathing for a moment, as if expressing its desire to die of shame.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, feeling that he was trembling, and met her gaze, sad, tired, aloof, embittered.

"– I had no choice –"

Lie.

"– you are lying –" She stated dispassionately. "– I don't want to see or hear you – I want you to pretend that you don't exist, just like you did with me for eight years – you're good at it –"

He lowered his gaze, feeling a complete void in his mind at her words, and got out of bed, kneeling on the floor to pick up the pieces of the broken bowl as if nothing had happened.

The only being she touched was Vhagar.

He watched from the sidelines as these two slowly established a relationship with each other. His niece would reach out to her, lying on his bed, and his dog would lean out and sniff her from afar without touching her, looking at her with big eyes.

Vhagar did not like strangers and was fussy, but apparently her calm approach and the fact that she did not impose herself on her made his dog express interest in her. When she would get up to reach for one of his books on the shelf, Vhagar would rise and follow her, keeping an appropriate distance, looking at her curiously.

She would lie down in her place only when his niece sat back down on the bed.

He first saw them lying together when he came home late one evening. He had shopped for her, bought her favourite sweets knowing that she would not eat them anyway, and when he walked into the room he saw her lying with Vhagar on her dog bed.

She was crying and cuddling into her fur as if she was a big teddy bear, and his dog, despite the fact that she usually got up at the sight of him, just looked at him with big eyes, not moving from her place.

Something about the sight broke him, and although he knelt down next to his niece and wanted to touch her back, he stopped mid-motion when he heard his dog growl at him for the first time in his life.

She knew.

Daemon and Rhaenyra's fury was great: the very next morning after it turned out that she had disappeared there had been an incident at one of their clubs, where his sister's husband had stormed in with her son and several men, threatening to shoot everyone present if he did not find out where his daughter was.

As planned, it was relayed to him that their child was safe and that Otto was waiting for contact from him when he had cooled down to discuss everything calmly.

As proof that they were not lying, they gave him her backpack – the same one in which she had brought him books.

Due to what happened, after his father's body was burned, there was only a short funeral ceremony in the cemetery, attended only by his mother and sister: his grandfather was afraid that Daemon's men, who had been watching them all the time, would lead to a shooting if they appeared there even for a moment.

Despite his niece's reluctance, he spent his days in her presence, sitting on the mattress on the other side of the room where he slept at night. He knew she didn't want to feel him next to her, but he preferred not to leave her alone knowing how frightened she was.

He suggested several times that they could go out together for a walk in the garden, but she didn't even look at him.

She was simultaneously closer and further away from him than ever before.

One night he was roused from sleep by someone's scream: he pulled himself up on the mattress, involuntarily reaching for the penknife in his sweatpants and looked around the room, only after a moment noticing her shivering figure sitting on his bed.

He sighed quietly and swallowed hard, trying to calm himself.

"– Rhaenys? – Rhaenys, what happened? –" He whispered, and she twitched at his words, turning towards him, looking at him with big eyes, all drenched in tears.

"– did you have a bad dream? –" He muttered, but she answered nothing, her lips parted in a heavy breath, her fingers clenched on the sheets.

"– hey – hey, baby – it's okay –" He whispered, rising slowly from his seat, tentatively approaching the bed. She raised her shoulders in a defensive gesture and moved away a little, but when he sat down next to her and raised his arm she didn't push him away.

Slowly he placed his hand on her shoulder and stroked her skin reassuringly, with the other cuddling her face into his neck.

"– shhh – easy – easy, little one – no one will hurt you –"

She was silent, and he prayed that this moment, her warm body in his embrace, his nose snuggled into her soft, fragrant hair, would last forever.

"– I'm not sure I want to live anymore –" She mumbled out finally, startling him, his stomach knotted tight in discomfort and horror.

"– no – don't say that – it won't take long – my grandfather is in contact with your mother – they will soon come to an agreement and you will return home –" He said, forcing himself to be calm, stroking her shoulder and back with one hand, the other combing his fingers through her hair, rocking her in his arms like a small child.

"– you broke my heart –"

Her words, the way she said them, what they meant made him gasp aloud, trying not to burst into a sudden sob of despair and grief.

He had broken her.

"– forgive me – I regret this like nothing else in my life, I swear – I will spend my life trying to make it up to you –" He muttered, tentatively kissing her warm temple, her cheekbone, her ear, everything that was familiar to him, beloved to him, his.

"– I love you – I love you in every sense of the word –"

"– I don't believe you –"

He pressed his lips together, swallowing hard, feeling a sort of high-pitched, trembling squeal come from his throat as if he were a little girl, tears one by one began to run down his cheeks to the top of her head, his fingers tightening on her delicate flesh.

"– I understand it – and I don't dare ask for it –" He whispered with difficulty, sinking his face into her soft, warm cheek, feeling that he was not the only one who was crying.

Her body trembled in the embrace of his arms, her small hands clenched on his shirt in a gesture that testified at once to her anger and her suffering from which his heart was breaking.

"– that feeling I had inside me was the only thing that allowed me to breathe – and you took it away from me –" She howled into the skin of his neck, and he burst out sobbing at her words, not knowing how he could react differently to what she had said.

"– I love you – I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much –" He mumbled out in a breaking voice, cuddling her tightly into him, placing loud, wet, hot kisses on her face, her jaw, her neck, her arms, leaving sticky, wet marks on it.

He heard her sigh full of pain and pleasure, feeling with shame that his erection swelled all over and hardened, pulsing painfully under the material of his sweatpants, betraying how much he longed for her, how much he yearned for her.

Her quiet moan surged through the skin of his neck as his broad hand slipped lower, sliding tentatively under the material of her shirt, touching her naked back at last, her bare skin, making them both tremble, breathing heavier and louder.

"– I love you –" He assured her, running his fingertips over the wonderfully smooth skin of her back, making goosebumps appear in the places he ran his fingers over. Her body snuggled into him tighter, allowing him to feel her breasts hidden under her tshirt against his chest.

"– you hurt me –" She sobbed through her tears in a breaking voice, at which his lips clung even harder to her shoulder, his kisses even more greedy and wet as his lips again and again brushed and teased the delicate structure of her skin.

"– no more – I swear – all I want is you –" He breathed out, feeling lust and desire pulsing through every nook and cranny of his body, filling his lower abdomen with a pleasurable, tickling tension from which his heart pounded like mad.

He moaned helplessly when he finally felt her warm, puffy lips brush his neck, her cheeks wet from tears as his hand pressed her closer.

"– please – please, baby, please –" He mumbled out, wanting only to feel her again, without her being just an empty part of an incomplete whole.

However, as his hand tentatively slid from her back to her buttock, she pulled away from him suddenly as if burned, hugging her back to the wall and shook her head.

"– no – no, no, no, you're doing this to me again –" She cried out loudly, looking at him with big, terrified eyes. He shook his head, heartbroken, leaning down, placing quick, warm kisses on her bare knee, stroking her calf with his palm.

"– no, I swear – I want you so badly –"

"– your grandfather told you to do this? – to soften me up so that in case my mother didn't agree he would get shares in her companies through me? –" She blurted out, wrinkling her eyebrows, breathing loudly. He swallowed hard and shook his head again, shocked, understanding how far her lack of trust went and who she now saw him as.

"– no – I was the one who demanded that I could be by your side – that no one but me could bother you – to make sure you were safe –" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, feeling like his whole face had swollen from tears.

"– I want to go to sleep – I want to go to sleep –" She mumbled out and turned her back to him, hugging herself to the wall again exactly as she did then, the first time, making him whimper, choking on his own tears. He pressed his face against her back, wailing loudly, his fingers clenched on her waist.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry – please, don't reject me – I promise I'll be good now – I'm studying, I'm going to take my exams, I'm going to go to university – please, be there for me – it doesn't matter without you – my life doesn't matter if I can't share it with you –" He whined like an animal into her shirt and heard her weep loudly, but she answered him nothing.

However, she did not push him away or tell him to step back, so he fell asleep cuddled into her body, and the next day she again did not speak to him or look at him as if this conversation had never happened.

In her presence he cried all the time and didn't even hide it anymore.

Looking at her, he saw exactly as if in the reflection of a mirror who he had become and what he had sacrificed.

However, it turned out that his grandfather was partly right in his assumptions: Daemon just wanted to kill them all, but his wife didn't feel like risking her daughter's life for a fortune and was willing to talk to them if they let her see her.

"– tomorrow you will go with us to meet your parents – perhaps we will come to an agreement and you will return home –" He said, swallowing hard, standing over her small figure sitting on the sill of his window, looking out at the setting sun.

Her profile was gentle and pleasant, her eyes surrounded by a fan of dark lashes large and bright, her lips seemed wonderfully soft, full and sweet, made only to be caressed.

She closed her eyes, resting her temple against the glass, and did not even bestow a single glance on him.

He prepared himself for the fact that she would answer him nothing and wanted to sit down on the mattress, going back to reading one of the textbooks she had brought him, but he froze when he heard her voice.

"I'd like to take a bath." She said.

He swallowed hard, looking at her over his shoulder.

"Of course. I'll call Helaena." He replied, wanting to go out into the corridor.

They never left her alone.

For her own safety.

"No." She said and looked at him.

"I want ten minutes alone."

He looked at her, feeling anxiety and doubt in his heart, but he couldn't say no to her.

"Very well. I'll wait by the door."

She nodded and stood up, taking the towel that belonged to her from the chair and went outside. He followed her, walking towards the bathroom next to his room – she looked at him with frustration as he took the key out of the lock and shook his head.

"No. I won't come inside, but I won't let you lock yourself in." He said. She swallowed hard and nodded, and he closed the door behind her.

He leaned against the stair railing, hearing the sound of pouring water, and looked at his watch, sighing heavily.

Ten minutes, no more.

He heard her step into the bath and closed his eyes, thinking that perhaps this was just another ordeal they had to wait through together.

He wanted to believe that she had seen his sadness, shame and remorse, that by his behaviour and calmness he had proved to her that he was capable of being different, for her, only for her.

However, ten minutes passed, then eleven, and she still did not come out of the water.

He didn't want to invade her privacy and make her uncomfortable, but he felt impatient and became concerned that he didn't hear any movement in the room. He walked closer and knocked, sighing heavily.

"– Rhaenys – time's up –" He said matter-of-factly. He pressed his lips together when he heard no sound on the other side and knocked a second time, louder this time.

"– Rhaenys – please –" He sighed, running his hand over his face, deciding that whether she wanted it or not, he had to do it.

"– I'm coming inside – cover yourself –" He said, grabbing the door handle and stepped into the room.

It seemed to him that what he saw before him was some kind of frame from a film, not reality: the snow-white tiles around her head and dark hair, her half-open eyelids and mouth, her hands lying on the edge of the tub, her slit wrists and the crimson water in which she lay, his sister's T-shirt on her body.

He looked down and saw a tiny blade from a bookbinding knife lying on the floor.

For a moment he just stared at it, afraid to move, thinking it wasn't really happening.

"– Rhaenys? –" He muttered, approaching her slowly, but she didn't even flinch, staring ahead as if she was thoughts somewhere far away.

"– Rhaenys, what have you done? –" He mumbled as if he was afraid that if he said the words too loudly they would turn out to be true, and yet it could not be true.

"– God, baby – oh my fucking God –" He whined, pulling her by the shoulders out of the water with a loud splash of red liquid that spilled out.

He sat down on the floor, placing her between his legs, letting her head and back rest against his chest, his fingers tightening on her wrists in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"– baby, what have you done? – hm? – what have you done? –" He whispered to her ear in a trembling voice, kissing her soft, warm face, feeling the initial shock begin to be replaced by a growing panic and the realisation that this was really happening.

He began to breathe loudly, as he always did when he was terrified and when he needed help calling out to the only person he trusted.

"– MUM! – MUM, HELP ME! –" He shouted like a helpless, broken child and burst into tears, clasping his fingers tighter on her wrists, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

"– oh God, oh God, oh, God, no, no no no, please, baby, please, please, don't leave me –" He whimpered, rocking her in his arms, cradling her to himself, again and again kissing her bare shoulder, her long neck, her sweet cheek.

He heard someone run up the stairs, the screams of his mother and sister at the sight they saw before their eyes made him look at them.

"– Mum –"

Even though he knew his grandfather would be furious, he and his mother called the ambulance. While waiting for the paramedics to arrive, she provisionally bandaged her hands together with Helaena, as well as dressed her in a clean shirt and underwear.

He did not let her out of his arms for a second, and when the ambulance arrived he told his mother that he would go with her.

He looked at her as he sat in the car, feeling his hands were sticky with her blood, thinking it was his fault, his fault, his fault.

She just wanted to run away, she just wanted to go home, but she didn't know how.

He made her do this.

When they arrived at the hospital it turned out that her condition was critical: because of how little she had eaten she had become anaemic and needed a quick blood transfusion.

"– take mine –" He said without thinking, and when the doctor asked him what blood type he had, it turned out that he and she had the same.

He could have done something that mattered.

He could have saved her.

He held her hand, lying on the bed beside him, staring dully at the ceiling, the other clenched again and again on the soft ball as he watched his blood fill the plastic bag.

When the doctor came inside, he asked him about what he had been thinking about for a long time.

"– there's – there's a possibility she's pregnant – and –" He mumbled, not knowing how to put it into words. The man looked at him, surprised.

"– she's definitely not pregnant – the tests didn't show it –" The doctor replied, and he swallowed hard, feeling for some reason a great disappointment and sadness.

If he became the father of her child, he could be a part of her life.

He would have an excuse to talk to her, to see her.

He tightened his fingers around hers, stroking her soft skin with his thumb, trying not to cry, thinking he deserved it.

What child would want to be born into such a world?

When it was all over he informed the doctors who they should contact, giving them his half-sister's phone number. Before he left the room, he handed her back her phone and slipped a letter into her locker, which he wrote hurriedly on a piece of paper with a pen the nurse had lent him.

For his own conscience he waited in the distance, watching as Daemon's Mercedes pulled into the car park, he and Rhaenyra ran inside the building without noticing him. He sighed heavily and licked his lower lip, glancing at his phone, seeing twenty missed calls from his grandfather. He dialled his number and put the phone to his ear, feeling strangely calm and relaxed.

"She's alive?" He heard Otto's voice on the other end.

"Yes." He replied dispassionately.

"Thank God. Why didn't you call for me? You ruined everything. Our doctor would have taken care of it. You…" He continued, but he hung up, not feeling like listening to his smart-ass bullshit.

His mother picked him up from the hospital.

"How is she? Will she survive? Have you contacted Rhaenyra?" She asked quickly as they set off, afraid that anyone would notice them.

He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, looking at the road with empty eyes.

"I gave her contact details to the hospital staff. They arrived, I saw it with my own eyes. She's safe now." He explained.

His mother breathed out loud, her big brown eyes simultaneously terrified and full of relief.

"You did the right thing, Aemond. No money is worth it. This poor girl." She muttered, shaking her head, trying not to cry and concentrate on driving.

"I destroyed her."

Alicent looked at him, then back at the road, her mouth open slightly in an accelerated breath.

"What do you mean?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, feeling his brow arch in pain and shame.

"I went to her room the night my father died. We had sex, Mum." He muttered in a breaking voice, covering his face with his hand and burst out crying like a little boy.

His mother sighed loudly, shocked, twisting restlessly in her seat.

"– but – why – did she – did she want this? –" She asked in a trembling voice full of terror, indicating that she really believed he might have raped her.

He was not surprised.

"– yes – but I don't think that makes it look any better –" He mumbled, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, leaning his head forward.

"– we did it twice – and then a third time before I –" He didn't finish and cried out loudly, making his mother breathe heavily as if she was in the same state as him.

"– oh my God – oh my God, Aemond, what have you done – she's your niece –" She choked out finally.

"– I know, Mum –" He mumbled, running his fingers over his face, thinking he already understood where her desire to end her life and this perpetual sense of unfulfillment and emptiness came from.

"– me too – I'm no saint either –" She muttered finally, looking up at him with big eyes. "– me and Criston –"

He swallowed hard and shook his head, recognising that it wasn't the same.

"– I know, Mum – you won't hear a word of condemnation from me –"

His mother drew a loud breath and wept, as if she felt both relieved and sad at the same time.

"– nor will you hear them from me, son – since you both wanted it, it was simply a mistake of youth – you are both lost and have sought comfort – but it must not happen again – do you understand? – for your sake and hers –" She said with confidence and conviction that this was the best possible decision.

"– I keep thinking about her – since that holiday eight years ago – I've tried, but I can't stop –" He choked out at last, wiping his red cheek, feeling as if he were ten years old again, complaining to her that someone had beaten him up at school.

Alicent ran her hand over her face before placing her palm over his.

"– sometimes – sometimes we have to leave certain things to ourselves – the shameful desires of our hearts – and fulfil them when no one sees – do you understand? –" She asked in a trembling voice, and he nodded.

"– yes –"

"It is not love itself that is sin –" She said finally. "– but what we do with it."

[scriptedinkbyxim]

Past the Finish Line: Beyond the Checkered Flag [MV1]

As the final race of the 2024 season approaches, [Y/N] strives to reclaim her peace amidst chaos, love confessions and bittersweet encounters. Closure comes with the roar of engines and the glow of the podium — but just when the dust seems to settle, new– and old sparks ignite, all of them promising a bright future yet unwritten.

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Sainz! Female Reader, Sainz! Female Reader x Brother! Carlos Sainz, a little Charles Leclerc x Sainz! Female Reader and a little Lando Norris x Sainz! Female Reader.

Warnings: Charlos divorce. Panic Attack. Carlos last race with Ferrari. Open Ending. Is Kelly Piquet a Warning?

A/N: Hi, Xim here. Here is the last part of "Past the Finish Line" short series, hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writting it. English is not my first language so apologies in advance for any mistake. Are Max and (Y/N) Done for Good? What Happend with Charles? Lando enters the picture as well?

Part 1. | Part 2. | Lando's Ending | Charles' Ending

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The weeks following Monza passed in relative quiet. (Y/N) retreated into her writing, pouring her emotions into her work. She disconnected from social media, avoiding the curated perfection of others' lives, especially the constant updates about Max and Kelly.

Her family had returned to Madrid after the Italian race, but she went back to Mallorca, finding solace in the island's tranquil beauty. The warm breeze carried the scent of salt and wildflowers, and the gentle rhythm of the waves became a balm for her restless soul.

One morning, as she sat on the terrace overlooking the sparkling sea, her visiting mother, Mercedes, joined her with two cups of tea.

"You've been quiet," her mother observed gently, placing one cup in front of her.

(Y/N) wrapped her hands around the warm mug, the steam curling into the air. "Just... thinking."

Mercedes gave her a knowing look. "About him?"

She hesitated before nodding. "I thought I was getting better, but then Monza happened. Seeing him, hearing his voice... it just brought everything back."

Her mother's hand covered hers. "Healing isn't a straight line, hija. But you're stronger than you think."

(Y/N)'s throat tightened. "Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake. Maybe I should've fought harder."

Mercedes's eyes softened. "You fought enough mi amor. Love shouldn't be a battlefield where you have to prove your worth."

The truth of her mother's words settled heavily on her chest.

Spending peaceful days in Mallorca allowed life to beckon her back. Her agent had been persistent, urging her to attend an upcoming literary event in New York. It was time, (Y/N) decided, to re-engage with the world.

She packed her bags, leaving the island with a sense of quiet determination. Max might have moved on, but so could she.

As the plane soared over the Mediterranean, she watched the clouds drift by, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

φ

A few months after her return to Madrid, (Y/N)'s phone buzzed with an unexpected call from her father.

"Hola, papá," she greeted warmly.

"Cariño," his voice was gentle but firm. "We need you in Abu Dhabi for Carlos's final race with Ferrari. The whole family will be there."

Her stomach twisted. The paddock again. The last place she wanted to be.

"I don't think I can..." she murmured grimmley.

"Your brother deserves your support," her father reminded her. "You’re strong enough for this, hija. And we'll all be there with you."

Her heart warred with her mind, but in the end, love for her brother won out. "Okay. I'll be there."

The decision was made, but anxiety clawed at her chest. The idea of facing Max again, seeing him with Kelly, was almost unbearable.

Still, she owed it to Carlos.

φ

Abu Dhabi was a city shimmering with golden light and restless energy. The final race of the 2024 Formula 1 season had drawn an electric crowd, eager to witness the spectacle unfold. This was meant to be a celebration—Carlos’ last race with Ferrari. She was there for him, for the team, for everything but herself. The journey to this place felt less like a celebration and more like a reckoning. 

She arrived early, blending into the sea of red-clad Ferrari fans who hoped for one last victory for Carlos in the iconic scarlet car. The weight of nostalgia and pride hung thick in the air. (Y/N) tried to focus on that, on the fact that she was here for her brother, not for unresolved heartache or awkward confrontations.

The paddock was a blur of activity as mechanics prepped cars and journalists buzzed around the drivers like bees to honey. She kept her head down, walking alongside her family until a sudden burst of laughter caught her attention.

She spotted a little girl running off in the paddock, too quick for her mother to catch. Instinctively, she reached out, stopping her in her tracks before she could get lost in the crowd. "Where do you think you’re going, pequeñita?" she teased, crouching to her level and catching the kid by the hand.

The girl looked up at her with wide eyes, momentarily surprised before breaking into a shy smile. "There is Maxie," she murmured, pointing toward the Red-Bull garage.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched. Kelly Piquet stood just a few steps away, radiating elegance. Her long dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, this kid must be Penelope, the little girl twirled gleefully in a dress that sparkled under the sun.

Kelly hurried over, her expression grateful. "Thank you so much," she said breathlessly. "She’s always running off." 

Now that Kelly was closer she could see it clearly—the subtle swell of her stomach, the unmistakable glow.

(Y/N) knelt down to Penelope’s level, smoothing the girl's dress. "You have to stay close to your mamá, okay?"

Penelope nodded solemnly before scurrying back to Kelly’s side.

Kelly's smile faltered for a brief second, replaced by an awkward but sincere expression. "It’s good to meet you, (Y/N)." She had seen countless pictures of Max ex girlfriend on his socials.

There was no malice in her tone, only genuine warmth. (Y/N)´s chest tightened, but there was no hatred, no resentment. Kelly had done nothing wrong. If anything, she had been the one Max had chosen

She forced a smile. "Congratulations," she said, gesturing subtly to Kelly’s visibly pregnant belly. "I hope everything goes well."

Kelly's hand rested protectively on her bump. "Thank you. That means a lot."

There was a beat of silence, heavy with unspoken complexities. Kelly opened her mouth as if to say something more but seemed to think better of it.

Moving on was supposed to be the goal. (Y/N) just hadn’t expected how much it would hurt. She excused herself quickly with a subtle nod as she felt the edges of her anxiety creeping in.

φ

The paddock hummed with electric energy as preparations for the final race intensified. The tension was palpable, thick enough to cling to the humid desert air. (Y/N) stood on the fringes of the chaos, stumbling toward the back of a garage, away from the bustling crowds, her breath shallow and erratic. Her heart pounded against her ribs, a relentless drumbeat fueled by the weight of what she'd seen—Kelly's pregnant silhouette and Penelope's innocent laughter still echoing in her mind.

Her vision blurred, the sounds around her distorting as panic clawed at her throat.

She stumbled backward, Her chest heaved as she gripped the railing behind her, desperately fighting to ground herself. Her breaths came in sharp gasps, shallow and frantic.

"Hey."

The familiar British accent almost pulled her from the brink. Lando Norris stood a few feet away, concern etched across his face.

"You need to breathe, Darling." The voice was calm but insistent, cutting through the fog threatening to consume her.

He was now next to her, his blue eyes steady as they locked onto hers. He reached for her hand, not touching her yet but holding it within reach, offering reassurance without pressure.

"Look at me," he instructed gently. "We're going to do this together, okay?"

She gave a faint nod, her chest still tight.

"Tell me five things you can see right now," he urged.

(Y/N) blinked, trying to focus. "The... railing. The tires. Your papaya shoes. The garage entrance. And... the sky."

"Good," he praised softly. "Four things you can feel."

"My heart racing," she admitted shakily. "The metal of the railing... the heat... and your hand close to mine."

His lips quirked into a soft smile. "Three things you can hear."

"The engines. People talking. Your voice."

"Two things you can smell."

"Gasoline and... something clean, maybe soap?"

"That's me," he teased lightly. "One thing you can taste?"

"My own panic," she admitted bitterly, but a hint of humor broke through.

"How about hope?" he suggested, squeezing her hand lightly. "That tastes better."

A reluctant laugh escaped her, easing some of the tension coiled in her chest. Her breathing steadied, the weight lifting bit by bit.

"Better?" he asked, concern still lacing his tone.

"Yeah," she breathed, straightening up. "Thank you."

"Always," he assured her.

Silence hung between them for a moment before Lando leaned casually against the railing beside her, his playful demeanor returning.

"Y'know," he began, "I'm trying not to freak out about this race, but if Ferrari wins, they'll take the constructors’ title. If we win, it's ours. So no pressure or anything."

She arched her brow, grateful for the distraction. "Is that your way of saying you're nervous?"

"Terrified," he admitted with a grin. "But don't tell anyone. Gotta keep up appearances."

They shared a laugh again before the atmosphere shifted, turning serious once more.

"You okay?" he asked gently, stepping closer.

She nodded, though it was a lie. "Just needed air."

Lando's brow furrowed. "You're a terrible liar."

She let out a shaky laugh. "I know."

He didn't press further, simply stood beside her in comfortable silence. The weight of his presence was strangely comforting, steadying her frayed nerves.

"You wanna talk about it?" he offered after a moment.

She sighed. "It's just... everything. Seeing Kelly, knowing she's pregnant. It just brought back all the stuff I thought I'd moved past."

Lando's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice soft. "You're allowed to feel that way. Doesn't make you weak."

"I hate that it still hurts," she admitted quietly.

He tilted his head, his blue eyes earnest. "That's 'cause you loved him. Real love doesn't just vanish, even when it should."

(Y/N) met his gaze, surprised by the raw understanding in his tone. "Since when did you get so wise?"

"Been hanging around a lot of emotionally stunted people," he teased, lightening the mood. "Had to learn something."

She smiled softly. "You're an excellent driver, Lando. If anyone can do it, it's you."

"High praise coming from a Sainz," he quipped, giving in to her change of topics.

She laughed. "Don't tell Carlos, but I'll be rooting for you. Either way, one of my brothers will win."

Lando's playful grin faltered, replaced by something more serious. His gaze darkened with an intensity that made her heart skip.

"I'm not your brother, (Y/N)" he said quietly, his voice low but resolute. "I've never been able to see you that way. Not since the moment I met you."

Her breath caught, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them. His confession was unspoken yet undeniable, etched into the very fabric of the moment.

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering with vulnerability. "You've always been more to me. The woman I look for in every room, even when I know I shouldn't. And yeah, maybe that's selfish or stupid, but it's the truth."

(Y/)'s heart raced, caught off guard by the confession.

"Lando..." she whispered, unsure of what to say.

He held up a hand. "I’m not saying this to make things harder for you. Just... I needed you to know."

Ocean blue eyes met her deep ones, clashing and melding with unspoken emotions and for a moment, the world faded around them.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted honestly.

"You don't have to say anything," he assured her. "Just know I'm here. Always."

The sincerity in his voice warmed something inside her that had long been cold

He smiled faintly, a mix of vulnerability and confidence. "We'll talk after the race."

"Thank you," she whispered. Though she didn´t know what she was thanking him for. The support? His help with the panic attack? The sincerity in his confession?

Lando smiled softly. "Anytime, Darling."

With that, he turned and walked away toward the Mclaren garage, leaving her standing there, stunned and breathless.

The race was a blur of adrenaline and tension. Carlos drove with everything he had, determined to leave Ferrari on a high note. (Y/N) watched from the garage, her heart in her throat as the laps dwindled down.

When the checkered flag waved, it was Lando who took the victory, with Carlos following closely in second, earning a podium finish in his final race with Ferrari. Charles managed third completing the last step at the podium.

The celebration was wild, but and as she made her way to the podium, (Y/N) found herself wandering, lost in thought.

She almost didn’t see him until it was too late.

Max stood under the dim glow of the paddock lights, his expression unreadable.

"(Y/N)."

Her heart clenched painfully at the sound of his voice. No Schatje. Just her name.

She steeled herself, meeting his gaze head-on. "Max."

There was a beat of silence, heavy with everything unsaid.

"I need to talk to you," he began, his voice rough. "I messed up. I should've stopped you that night in Hungary. I should've fought for you."

(Y/N)'s throat tightened. "But you didn't," The anger she had been suppressing for months finally boiled over. "Did those eight years mean nothing to you?" Her voice trembled, but she held her ground. "Or was it just that you were finally ready for commitment—just not with me?"

Max’s jaw tightened. "They meant everything, (Y/N). I made a mistake."

"A mistake?" she scoffed. "You had sex with Kelly, and now she’s pregnant. That’s not a mistake, Max. That’s a consequence."

He nodded, guilt etched into his features. "I know I made it worse. I didn't mean for any of it to happen."

"You have a baby on the way," she said quietly, the weight of that reality sinking in.

Max's voice cracked. "I wanted that with you. Always with you."

Her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall. "It doesn't matter anymore.” 

His shoulders tensed, pain and panic flickering across his face. "I know, I have to take responsibility now."

"Then do that. Be better for them than you ever were for me. But don’t stand here and act like this conversation changes anything between us. It doesn’t." Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. “You can't call your child a mistake, Max. And you can't make the same mistakes with Kelly and your new family.”

His expression shattered. "Schatje—"

"No," she cut him off, her voice firm. "I loved you. And maybe I always will. But we are done. For good. And that's okay. I need to move on, and so do you."

The finality in her words hung between them, bittersweet and liberating.

She didn’t wait for a response. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heart lighter despite the ache that lingered, leaving him with nothing but the words that should have been said long before now. 

φ

The podium ceremony was a chaotic blur. The noise was deafening as the celebrations reached their peak. Confetti rained down in shimmering bursts of red, green, and gold, swirling through the night air under the harsh lights. The drivers stood triumphant, champagne bottles in hand, grins stretched wide across their faces.

(Y/N) stood at the edge of the chaos with her family, watching Carlos bask in his well-earned final moment with Ferrari and cheering loudly for him. Her heart swelled with pride, the weight she'd carried for weeks finally dissipating into the night air. The conversation with Max had hurt, but it had given her what she needed—closure.

She breathed in deeply, savoring the freedom that came with letting go. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

Laughter echoed from the podium as the drivers sprayed each other with champagne, their suits drenched and sticky with victory. 

Just as she let out a slow breath, a movement from the podium caught her eye. One of the drivers that shared the Podium with Carlos glanced down at her from the elevated platform, bright eyes catching hers amidst the chaos.

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his handsome face. He winked, then pointed at the gleaming trophy in his hand and back at her, a playful challenge written in his expression.

(Y/N)'s lips parted in surprise before a laugh escaped her, light and genuine. "Oh, God," she whispered to herself, shaking her head. 

A familiar face. A new complication.

Well, that was a problem for another day.

For now, she let herself revel in the joy of the moment, the weight of the past finally behind her.

For now, she was free.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N 2: We reached the end of this Series. Who was the Driver winking at (Y/N) at the end, Lando or Charles?. Anyway that is a story for another day. Thank you if you stayed until this part, this is my first story that I post so it's very special for me. I hope you enjoyed it. What do you think?

Lando's Ending | Charles' Ending

Love you. -Xim

[dansroo]

Are we not supposed to be already married?

based on this request.

content; Jayce Talis x male!reader. modern!au. husband!Jayce. fluff. silly and cloying romance. established relationship. married couple. suggestive!, teasing. just lots of love and kisses. 🙂‍↕️

word count; 1.3K (I promise that this time I wrote the correct number)

a/n; I had to republish it because, for some strange reason, it didn't appear in the tags. 👀 english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammatical error !

thank you for requesting! 🤍

You looked at your notes with great satisfaction. You had been working for the last few days on the development and design of a better processor; your beta design had been a complete success, so you decided to exploit your skills and improve yourself even more. Likewise, you knew you had the potential to achieve something much better, and you weren't going to waste an opportunity like that.

The little blue stone moved between your fingers as you observed it carefully. It had been a significant challenge to get Hextech and programming to complement each other without causing an explosive disaster, but it was something you strangely enjoyed, especially the reactions that magic had when coming in contact with computational systems.

Although it was very different for Jayce, who had to take care that you didn't end up losing an important limb.

The sudden touch of hands on your shoulders pulled you out of your bubble. “Can we go home now?” you chuckled, feeling his hands slide down your arms and then get tangled around your waist. “Please?” he whispered in your ear, causing a couple of tickles.

“Just finishing this, then we'll go home and see about dinner.”

You took a worn chalk, started to correct and write new equations on the blackboard in front of you, while you kept fidgeting with the small stone in your other hand.

You glanced sideways at Jayce's hand as it rose to gently take you by the wrist.

“Where is your ring?!” He asked with indignation, observing the absence of it on your finger.

You rolled your eyes, smiling with amusement “It's on my desk, I couldn't risk something happening to it while I work, right?”

“Or maybe you don't love me anymore and you want the divorce” you heard him say in an exaggeratedly sad tone, hiding his face in the gap between your shoulder and neck. “Geez, don't be so dramatic.” you said, laughing, listening to his laughter being muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

His arms didn't move from their place, still hugging you from behind. Eyes following the path that your hand was tracing on the blackboard and a smile on his face every time he heard you whisper unconsciously. He loved watching you work.

There was so much calm and silence that, for a moment, you had forgotten he was still there until you felt him place a soft kiss on your cheek. You smiled, feeling his hands letting go of your waist.

“So, did you manage to convince Viktor to go home early?”

You heard his footsteps, and judging by the sound of a chair's legs being dragged on the floor, you deduced that he had sat at your desk. He took the time to explore your workplace, admiring a beautiful framed photograph resting on it. Jayce never missed an opportunity to look at that frame whenever he could.

It was of you and him, at the beginning of all this dream of his—both were so stupid to notice the love you had for each other. It was as if his heart beat again the same way it did the day he dared to kiss you—a clumsy but sweet kiss.

Your engagement ring was placed right in front.

“Oh, yeah… we should invite him to dinner with us one day, what do you think?”

You placed the chalk at the bottom of the blackboard, giving it one last look before you turned in his direction. “I think it's a great idea.” you smiled as you walked towards him, sliding your hands into your pockets. Once you were there you sat on the edge of the wooden desk—not without first storing the little blue stone in the metal box—, with Jayce next to you sitting in your chair. You yawned, listening to the sound of the light drizzle outside; turned your head to look at the window, where you began to see the small drops accumulate on the glass—tarnishing it almost completely.

You feel his fingers wrap around your arm, forcing you to take you hand out of you pocket. A giggle escapes from your lips as you watch him holding your ring.

“Would you marry me?”

“Are we not supposed to be already married?”

“It doesn't matter, let's get married twice.”

“I told you that we should have brought the umbrellas, Talis”

You sighed as you took off your soaked shoes, leaving them at the entrance. At first, it was a harmless drizzle; then it turned into a complete furious storm that ended up soaking both of you—as you had predicted this morning.

You removed the hair from your face, which was starting to stick in your skin thanks to how wet it was. “I know, I'm sorry, I didn't think it would rain this way” you heard him say between nervous giggles. “Didn't it bring you memories?” he asked you, with a silly and contagious smile. You sighed again, approaching to him.

“Let me think, like the time you fell on your face and—”

“Oh please, no, we've already talked about that.”

You laughed heartily; you knew which other memory he was referring to. But for God's sake, falling while you trying to calm your angry partner in the rain it's not something that you can forget so easily.

But not everything had gone so wrong that day, he had achieved his task after all.

“What am I going to do with you?” you asked, gently removing a small leaf that had gotten tangled in his hair. “I think the real question is, what haven't you already done to me?”

You shook your head slightly, laughing as you ran a hand over your face “My god, shut up.” you murmured embarrassedly as you hit his arm, making him laugh.

“I think I should consider the divorce.”

“Hey!, don't joke about that!”

Your laughter echoed down the hall, as you headed to your shared room. Jayce didn't stay behind, following you some time later.

The rules were simple, the one who lost made the dinner.

Both were curled up on the bed, with a large blanket covering your shoulders, wearing dry and warm clothes. After taking a hot shower, you both had started arguing about who would cook today's dinner; you decided that the only way to know was to leave it to the loser.

Your score was the highest, just for a couple of points. You mocked in silence, listening to his complaints.

“You're making fun of me?”

“Of course not—” you were about to make the final move to win when you felt him kiss your cheek, cradling your face with his hands to turn you completely toward him. “What the hell are you doing?” you said, laughing, as he kissed your whole face.

“I can't kiss my husband's pretty face anymore?” he replied, kissing the corner of your lips and then kissing you properly. Your body fell onto the bed—the control slipping from your hands in the process. The path of his kisses returned once more across your cheeks, gliding down to your jaw and finally reaching your neck. Initially, just were clumsy kisses, tickling you; then they became hungrier, wetter.

You clung to his arm, letting out a soft gasp as your eyes closed— just what he wanted. You were so focused that maybe you wouldn't notice that none of his hands were touching you, as usual.

“GAME OVER.”

You opened your eyes abruptly, feeling him smile against your skin. “What the-” you pushed him away, taking him off you—listened to his chuckle.

“Jayce Talis, you're a damn cheater.” you pointed your finger at him, laughing, after you stopped looking at the screen in front of the bed to turn and see him.

“Don't say you didn't like it.” he whispered, hugging you from behind to lie you down again on the bed, where you two were curled up all day.

Well, until you had to get up to cook.

© dansroo.2024.

[octuscle]

From tutor to rookie of the year

Hi, my name is Jake. My company has hired me to tutor a few students with poor grades. That's not necessarily the reason why I started working at the auditing company. But first of all, I'm new here and I'm not going to refuse right at the beginning of my career. And secondly, becoming a teacher had actually been an option for me. Maybe it's fate now or something.

The first lesson gets off to a very promising start. I almost have to tear myself apart to leave your office and get to school on time. But when I arrive, there is a yawning emptiness in the classroom. Only after fifteen minutes I hear noise in the corridor and a couple of football jocks barge in the door. A few still in football gear. And all obviously unshowered after training. Phew, it stinks. And as I look into the handsome, square-cut faces of the boys spraying with testosterone, I'm suddenly back at school. The small, clever but shy boy who, at best, the stars of the football team overlook and, at worst, stuff into the toilet. I clear my throat and say that I'm not here for fun either and that I'm asking for some attention. The boys barely react. Damn it, it's not my problem. I explain a few linear algebra problems on the blackboard and ignore the paper airplanes. I have my school-leaving certificate. I have my master's degree. And my bonus doesn't depend on the grades of these idiots. At least I hope so.

After the debacle of the first tutoring session, my appetite for the second is very dampened. But it was already hard enough to get this internship. The firm is one of the most prestigious accountancy firms in the city. And if my pro bono job as an intern is tutoring the idiots on the football team twice a week, I'll survive. Apart from the 60 hours a week in which I have to pore over balance sheets, that doesn't matter any more.

These days, the musclemen are even on time. And somehow nicer than last time. They even ask me reasonably sensible questions like whether you can predict the trajectories of footballs. I take this as an opportunity to tell them something about vector calculus. They collapse with laughter. "Bro, I was joking. And football isn't math. Football is strength and speed." I'm about to take a breath and say something about Newton and the relationship between force and speed. But instead of listening to me, the jocks start bragging to each other about their heroic stories on the field. And I can't help but listen to them spellbound. When the lesson is over, I look after them with fascination. I wish I could have been more like them at school.

Shit, because I'm the only nerd on the senior team who isn't a complete failure at sports, Coach made me give math tutoring to the football team. He thinks the Meatheads might have a little bit of respect for me. Shit! Them for me? I for them might be more correct! The thought of explaining math to my secret crush forms a wet spot in my Calvin Klein shorts.

I expected the boys to keep me waiting. If they were also punctual and disciplined off the pitch, they wouldn't need any help. And I don't want to tutor them any more than they want to be tutored. We reach a compromise. You listen to my math tutoring for half an hour. And then we'll go out onto the pitch for half an hour and play a bit of football. God knows I'm not unsportsmanlike. But soccer has somehow never been my sport. I'm more of a swimming pool or gym kind of guy. Team sports? Not really.

Shit, yeah, I'm no rocket scientist in math. But I have quite good grades in English and history. I'm not going to fail this year. Why the fuck do I have to go to tutoring with the other bros from the football team? I have no idea. But seriously, the tutor is a total loser. A beanpole in a stuffy shirt. The idiot even wears a tie. Seriously, who wears a tie these days? If I had to wear a tie, I'd change jobs. Or if I had to shower after training. Shit, these are just rules that can come from old fat men. Bros like me and my bros smell like test… Testo… Well that hormone stuff. Sweat, musk and Axe. If I didn't have to go straight to detention again, I'd let the loser smell my armpits… But I'm a sophomore on the team right now. Let the juniors and seniors do that.

"Jack, bro!" This is Chuck. The QB on the team. I can tell by his voice. And by his smell. And I'd also know it by the taste of his cheesy boner…. But he stays locked in his jockstrap cage right now. What a damn shame! "Bro, where were you in tutoring? The dean was there. You're in fucking trouble!" Shit, tutoring! I was at the gym. The other guys are all so pumped. I don't want to lag behind any longer. "Shit, dude, we said you were in the bathroom. The loser tutor didn't dare contradict us. But I think you have to let him suck you off so he doesn't tell on you." Hehehehehe, I like that idea. There are still 40 minutes until football practice… And I haven't cum yet today. "Is the loser still in the classroom?" I ask. Chuck nods. I fist bump him and say that I'll sort it out quickly.

If Chuck and Matt go to college next year, I have a good chance to be the QB. But until then I still have to build up a lot of mass. Those two are just in a whole different league. And I'm damn jealous of the hair on Matt's chest. You should see the bush under his arms. Dude, the man is going to be a fucking gorilla! Shit, I'm not half the man those two are. You can tell immediately by the size of the bulge in our compression shorts. Nevertheless, neither of them mind if I fuck them. But they like fucking me even more. Without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

We skipped tutoring again today. Coch covers for us while we're in the gym or doing our laps on the cinder track outside. Nevertheless, it's still up in the air whether Chuck and Matt will be at college next year. And whether I'll be a junior by then. But screw it, NFL pros don't need to know math.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Merry Christmas, baby.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: just a little tiny bit of smut so still +18 but it’s mostly a huge pile of angst and fluff soooo Words Count: 10669 😵‍💫 Tags: POV second person, reader wears dresses, skirts, blouses and heels, she uses make up, she’s a journalist and a writer, no physical description of her is given besides having hair, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, loss of a parent, infidelity, divorce, mention of food, alcohol consumption, both reader and Pike are bad at feelings, swearing, slurs, dirty talk, quarrels, reconciliations, funeral, sharing a bed, kissing, sad thoughts, casual encounters, mention of coffee, mention of spring break activities, geography probably a bit random (but I looked at the maps, don't jump down my throat, I did research and I've actually been to Boston many years ago, I tried my best lol), brief mention of Teresa. I hope I haven't forgotten anything, if so I'll add it immediately. A/N: Written for @pedrostories Secret Santa event, hello @letsgobarbs, I’m your Secret Santa! 🤶 Happy Christmas Eve, I hope you'll have a wonderful holiday season! 🎄 I hope you enjoy this story and I hope you find the angst, yearning and pining you wanted. Among the characters you had indicated as favorites there was Pike and I liked the idea of ​​trying to write him for the first time, he is so sweet and cute and he deserves to be happy, I hope I gave him an ending worthy of him 🥹 I apologize if you find any mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta so I did it all with just one pair of stupid and tired eyes 😵‍💫

A huge thanks goes to all the lovely people who supported me through the process while I was having a full crisis about everything in this fic 😂 @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk I love you all, happy holidays 🥰

1990

“So what do you think?” 

“Um...you're good” You've just heard the ugliest Take on Me cover ever, but you can't tell the guy standing in front of you and looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

Marcus is your best friend, you've known him for a couple of years, since both of you were two dorky freshmen at your new school. You were looking for the literature room and wandering lost in the hallways when Marcus asked if you needed help. You bonded right away because you didn't know anyone else, you had just moved to Sacramento because of your father's job and he was from Texas, so it had seemed natural to lean on each other.

Over time you had become such good friends that he had met your parents, he would often stay for dinner, and your dad would let him use your garage to rehearse with his band. 

Marcus had put up flyers at school and enlisted two other boys, Timmy and Dave, who became the guitarist and keyboardist of Rocket Baby Doll. The name of the band was terrible, they were terrible, but you had never had the courage to tear them down in the face of Marcus's enthusiasm, he was sure that by continuing to rehearse they would make great progress. 

With his smooth talk, Marcus had managed to convince the committee to let them play at the freshmen's Christmas dance.

“You'll see that one day we'll be on the cover of Rolling Stone,” Marcus joked. Or at least you hoped he was joking because otherwise you wouldn't know how to talk him out of it. 

Marcus was a dreamer and he liked to do it big. He wanted to be a musician, or maybe an FBI agent, he told you. Two careers that had nothing to do with each other, but you knew that if anyone could afford to have ambitions it was him. Marcus was tenacious, persistent, dedicated, and never afraid to work hard to get what he wanted.  He certainly wasn't going to end up on the cover of Rolling Stone, but in your heart you were certain he was going to accomplish something important.

He was the kind of boy mothers liked, in fact yours loved him. When you needed math tutoring, he would come to your house totally for free and explain whatever you didn’t understand.

When Molly Preston wanted to exclude you from the winter dance because her ex-boyfriend, Ryder, had asked you out, he had been the one to give her a speech.

When you had a bad day Marcus would take you to get your favorite ice cream, you would talk for hours, and in the end he was the only one who could cheer you up.

Whatever problems you had, Marcus was there for you landing an helping hand. 

You knew your mother not too secretly hoped you would get together but it never happened, Marcus was your friend, just a great friend.

“Come on, my mom made cookies for everyone,” you told him as he continued to fantasize about what you might do. You would be their manager and you would both become rich and famous. He just couldn't keep his feet on the ground, even though he was a very good student and even had better grades than you.

You were 17 years old, your whole lives ahead of you, and you hoped that you will remain friends for many years to come.

_____________________________________________

1993

“What do you mean there is only one room available! We had booked two!” 

Marcus had yelled at the front desk of a motel where you stopped for the night. 

The owner, a rather creepy guy with a long scar on his right cheek, slumps in his shoulders, heedless “If you want number 12 is free, otherwise you can take your asses somewhere else for all I care.”

Marcus was fuming. 

It was spring break, any hotel was totally booked, and the possibilities were already significantly reduced given your pockets. 

You didn't even want to come; you had just broken up with Derek, your college boyfriend, and were back at your parents' house with the intention of spending your vacation there healing your wounds. Vegetating on the couch, reading books, watching movies, just relaxing. That was what you wanted to do. But Marcus had insisted, “Erik, Alice, Kate and Robert are in San Diego, let's join them!” 

You had shaken your head and declined “No way, I've seen enough wild college parties and besides, I'm not really in the mood.” 

“Oh come on, you don't want to spend Spring Break crying over that jerk,” he had said, shrugging and looking at you with his big brown puppy-dog eyes. 

“Marcus, I really don't feel like it.” 

“Come on, please do it for me! You'll see we'll have fun, they're nice!” Surrounding yourself with drunk and stoned 20-year-olds was the least of your desires. 

But on the other hand you felt you couldn't say no to him, it had been months since you had seen each other, your relationships had been reduced to long letters and phone calls telling each other about each other's schools.

You had chosen different colleges, Marcus had been accepted at Berkeley in California and you were at Boston University. You had changed coast, climate, everything. You were content but adjusting the first months had not been easy, you felt homesick and you missed your best friend. You were happy for him, you had known since your senior year that you were going to separate but that hadn't made it easy for you. 

You had only seen each other in person at Thanksgiving.

He had been forced to go to his relatives in Nevada for Christmas.

So you got dragged down to San Diego, because deep down Marcus was right, brooding all vacation about the relationship with Derek would not be good for you. You had had other guys before him but Derek had been special, until you found out he was cheating on you. You cried for hours on the phone with Marcus and he listened to you the whole time so maybe you owed him a little too.

After insisting on getting at least a room refund, Marcus had turned to you displeased “apparently we have no other choice.” 

“We'll adjust” you had smiled, but you couldn't deny that you were a little nervous. 

Once in the room he, too, seemed self-conscious. 

There was a double bed with a hideous floral bedspread in the middle of the room, brownish carpeting on the floor, dingy pictures hanging on the walls, and an old dresser on the opposite side of the bed with a rickety TV on it.

A smell of cheap deodorant with a musty undertone wafted around. It was the worst room you had ever set foot in, but at this point there was nothing you could do but make it okay. Sleeping in the car didn't seem so appealing.

You had set your bags down and looked at each other awkwardly “This room is awful,” Marcus had whispered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand “I'm sorry, it didn't look that bad from the brochure.” 

“It's not your fault, I bet those pictures were taken at least 20 years ago” you had laughed ”it will do for one night” 

You had retrieved your pajamas from the suitcase and went to the bathroom. The light blue tiles made it look like a hospital, there was an old plastic curtain in the shower and the sink looked like it had been through a war but at least it looked clean. There was a strong smell of disinfectant that made you a little nauseous. You had changed quickly and returned to your room to Marcus who was sitting on the bed intent on calling his parents “Yes mom, everything is fine, we will be back tomorrow. Yes, sure, don't worry I'll definitely say hello to her, she's in her room now” You had noticed that he had not said anything about your misadventure, you had sat down smiling on the opposite side of the bed trying to be silent. 

Marcus had rolled his eyes closing the call “she is so old-fashioned.” 

You had laughed “I find her lovely” 

Marcus had chuckled “we'd better sleep, we have a lot of driving tomorrow. Are you okay with that side?”

“Yes, it’s fine” you had nodded ”however I'd rather get this bedspread out of the way, it gives me nightmares even when awake” 

Marcus had observed it agreeing that yes, it was rather eerie.

You had taken it off and laid it on the dresser before slipping under cold, scratchy and wrinkled sheets.

You looked at each other and burst out laughing, the situation was comical to say the least. “God, I think I won't forget this bed for a long time,” Marcus had said. 

“It feels like being in a burlap sack.” You had laughed.

“Could you not squirm like that?” 

“Sorry, I'm just looking for ways to be comfortable,” you had said, ”Mattress is lumpy.” 

You had laid on your side with your back to him and closed your eyes, trying to sleep. 

“So, did you have a good time?” you had heard Marcus whisper.

“Yes” you had replied “thank you” And it was true, his friends were really nice. You had bonded with the girls and exchanged addresses and phone numbers “you were right, I needed a vacation”

“I know, I'm always right” he had sentenced from the other end of the bed.  

You had turned to look at him "oh sure, like the other night when we ended up at that beach party and you said it was allowed and then we had to run away because the police were coming?”

“It was just a little misjudgment!” He retorted.

You had burst out laughing again “come on, sleep, Mr I know everything”

Marcus had turned off the lamp on the bedside table, next to the phone with which he had just called his mother “Hey...I need to tell you something” you had heard him say. 

“What?” the tone had suddenly changed and you felt confused, you looked over your shoulder at him in the dark. 

“I kissed Alice the other night” he seemed awkward in telling you and you didn't understand why.

“Oh. Well, good for you. She's a lovely girl” he was your friend, you were happy for him. 

If it weren't for the fact that you secretly hoped he would kiss you. You'd been thinking about it for a few days, ever since you'd seen him come out of the water while you were at the beach.

It had seemed to you that everything had started moving in slow motion, your eyes glued to his tanned skin, to his broad shoulders, to the way the water slid over his chest in little droplets that died on the waistband of his swimsuit. It was a feeling you had never experienced before in five years of knowing him. You had never seen Marcus as anything more than a friend, but in that moment, with his hair disheveled, his skin wet, a smile plastered on his face as he told you and the others that ocean was great, he had seemed like a vision, and you had felt your cheeks heat up. 

Where on earth that attraction came from you didn't know, but it had hit you hard and clear, like a bump on the head that had suddenly awakened you. You had convinced yourself that your brain was doing this to protect you from painful memories with Derek, lingering on your closest friend who had never let you down. Your trust in men was at its lowest, and Marcus had always reassured you, kept you out of trouble, and he was most reliable guy you had ever known.

He said he would do something and he always, unfailingly did it. You could not say the same about Derek or any other guy you had ever been with.

You had tried to chase that feeling away, burying it in the corner of your mind for all the following days; you didn't want to ruin the friendship between you, and you were pretty sure he didn't feel the same way about you.

Sure, you thought you kissed him on your 18s birthday while you were drunk, but the next morning you were so ashamed that you hadn't even told him about it, pretended you didn't remember anything and that it had never happened. Marcus had done the same, and everything had ended there. Two years had passed since that night, you had gone to college, you had both had more or less long relationships.

That one kiss was now so far away that you had listed it among “once-in-a-lifetime mistakes.”

"I wanted to tell you, that's it. Friends tell each other everything, right?"

“Yes, of course, you can tell me anything, I’m happy for you” you replied 

You had listened to Marcus talk about the girls he liked dozens of times and you had never cared, you would have certainly forgotten it, it was just a passing crush, you told yourself. That annoyance you felt, that bitter taste in your throat, would disappear after a night's sleep. Your friendship was more important, you wouldn't have ruined it just because your brain had thought it interesting to make it something more.

Yet when you had tried to sleep all you had seen was Marcus kissing Alice. You had not seen them, fortunately, but it was not a hard scene to imagine, and unfortunately it was now implanted in your brain. His strong arms holding her, his soft lips resting on hers, her surrounding his neck with her arms, her pelvis rubbing against his. Suddenly you couldn't stand it. You had narrowed your eyes, cursing your creative mind, grunting in frustration. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” had asked Marcus from the other side of the bed.

You had lied, of course, but you had kept brooding until you fell asleep exhausted by the workings of your brain.

In the morning you had woken up confused, not at all rested, and in his arms.

Your face was resting on his chest next to your hand. How had you ended up there like that? You didn't know. You felt like you didn't know anything anymore. 

He was blissfully asleep. He seemed unaware of anything as your throat was dry, your head ached, and your pussy throbbed. Yes, throbbing, desperately. The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, that knowledge you felt inside that this was exactly what you wanted and you couldn't even quantify how long you had wanted it.

And the panic that had seized you immediately afterward. You were convinced it was a mistake, the most terrible mistake you could make. So why did it feel so right? Why did his body feel like it was made for you? Oh no, no you couldn't allow that. Certainly he had no idea whatsoever about the situation, there was no way he was aware and let you do it, it was all your fault. 

You were going to ruin everything, your friendship, your relationship with the one man who really seemed to understand and support you. And for what? To fuck him once? It wasn't going to work between you romantically. You were going to have to spend two more years away seeing each other only during the holidays to begin with, and then you were both stubborn, too proud...no, it was wrong, you didn't care what your body told you, you had to let your brain prevail.

You slowly slipped away, back to your side of the bed, practically holding your breath, cursing yourself and your heart that wouldn't stop hammering in the middle of your chest.

He had woken up shortly after, acted as usual, getting up, stretching in his T-shirt and basketball shorts, mumbled good morning to you and locked himself in the bathroom. 

Your eyes had slid lasciviously over his body, stealing glances of his exposed skin between his T-shirt and shorts, of his broad shoulders stretching the fabric, of his thighs...

All while you wanted to sink into a black hole and disappear forever. You sank your face into the pillow to keep yourself from screaming. 

And what was worse was that you had to carry the burden of what you felt alone because the person you would normally talk to about it was the one you were longing for. Wonderful, a wonderful situation. 

When he had come out of the bathroom, with his beautiful smile and that rough voice that he always had early in the morning you almost lost control. You were about to beg him to join you in bed. Ugh, your 20s, uncontrollable, stupid, senseless hormones.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, go get dressed, we have to leave,” he had told you, in the same friendly and vaguely mocking tone as always. 

“Oh. yes, thank you, I promise I will be quick.” You had stammered.

You got up, grabbed some random clothes from your suitcase, your beauty case and went to the bathroom to shower and change. He would be ready in 10 minutes at most so he would always let you go to the bathroom first, to give you time to do your makeup and fix your hair. Marcus knew that about you, too, and he was okay with that. 

You closed the door behind you, feeling the tears stinging your eyes. You had managed to hold them back until that moment, but in the shower, covered by his of the water, they had flowed copiously and salty down your cheeks. 

____________________________________________

2000

“Hey! How are you! My goodness, long time no see!” 

You had met him at the supermarket, as you were going around the shelves intent on shopping for your mother. 

You were back at your parents' house for Thanksgiving with your husband, John. 

The last person you thought you would see was him. 

“Marcus!” you had squeaked.

“I am fine! How are you? And Danielle?” 

Your mother had taken it upon herself to inform you that he had also married, had no children, and had become a detective. 

“Danielle is just fine, she is right there down the aisle picking potatoes according to my mother's exact instructions,” he had rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Damn, you had thought, he's breathtakingly handsome. 

You hoped that in all the years you had lost touch with each other he would have lost at least some of his hair like his father, but apparently he had not inherited that gene. His hair was thick and healthy as usual, he wore a gray T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. You hated the way he could put on two random things and look so damn perfect while you felt like you had spent your whole life in front of your closet wondering what to wear. And even more you hated his smile, so friendly and sweet, that it hadn't changed at all. 

He seemed genuinely glad to see you. 

You had lost touch with each other after graduation, despite the advent of cell phones, computers, and email. Your friendship had survived handwritten letters, postcards, prepaid phone cards but still crumbled eventually. You were on the opposite coast, intent on your master's degree, dreaming of becoming a writer; he was hooked on a career in law enforcement. 

The letters had become fewer and fewer, as had the phone calls, and eventually what was there had simply slipped away as the months passed, the commitments increased, and each of you tried to become the adult you had dreamed of being.

You had thought it was much better this way, you had stifled your feelings for him for another four years before accepting that nothing would ever happen. You had dated other guys in the meantime, but Marcus had always remained in your mind as the perfect guy you could never have. It was only when you had met John that you had allowed yourself to think that maybe it could work with someone who was not your old friend. He was understanding, sweet, supportive, present and caring with you. John was a really good guy and so you had finally decided to marry him. He had asked you one spring day at the Public Garden, while you were eating a lobster sandwich under a tree in front of the pond, watching the swans. Your offices were close by, so you tried to spend your lunch break together as often as you could. You had gotten a job at the Boston Globe, were in charge of the wedding column, and wrote romance novels in your spare time, sending manuscripts left and right in the hope that some editor would notice them. John was a stockbroker, pragmatic, punctual and very thorough in his work as much as he was sweet and attentive with you. 

“How about we get married?” he simply had said to you, with his mouth full. You had laughed, thought he was joking, until you noticed his serious and hopeful look and exclaimed “oh my God, yes!” throwing your sandwich in the air and wrapping your arms around his neck. That was all you wished for. You had moved in together in a beautiful house downtown, not very big but lovely, you had fallen in love with it as soon as you saw it. It was bright and warm, the right place to start your life with John.

You had, of course, sent an invitation to Marcus as well, but he had declined, saying he was very busy with work. You had kind of tied it on your finger and so you had decided that he might as well get out of your life after all. Times change, people change, all I can do is move on and try to forget how I feel about him by devoting myself to my relationship with John, you thought.

Now that you had him in front of you again though, he looked the same as he always did, only grown. And your heart had skipped a beat the instant you recognized his voice greeting you.

“How long do you plan to stay?” you had asked out of pure courtesy. 

“About a week, we were able to take a few days to relax a bit. We're always working like crazy, you know, we both needed to get away for a while. How about you?” 

“Yes, us too, by the way if you remember Sunday is my father's birthday and my mother really wanted us to be there.” 

“I guess. By the way, I'm sorry. My mother told me when we arrived.” 

Your father had been ill for several months and unfortunately there was little left to do at that point. He was slowly fading away and it would probably be the last Thanksgiving you would spend together.

“I thank you. Oh here's John. John this is Marcus, an old friend of mine. Marcus, this is John, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” John had said, shaking his hand. 

“Honey, I'm done, shall we go?” had chirped Danielle's voice as she approached you. 

“Yes love, but first let me introduce you to an old friend of mine and her husband” Marcus had told her softly. 

“Oh it's you! Marcus has told me several times about you! It's nice to finally meet you in person.”

Danielle was beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes and delicate features, a little nose that looked as if it had been drawn by an artist, full lips, high cheekbones and a well-proportioned chin. Her voice was melodious and sweet and she looked at you with an excited and surprised expression, " He didn't tell me you were so pretty!" 

“Oh, thank you, you are too,” you had said, slightly embarrassed by such kindness. At that point John had held you proudly, as if you were his greatest prize. His arm had wrapped around your waist, and his eyes looked at you lovingly "didn't she? I'm lucky that she married me." 

Danielle had laughed graciously and shook his hand introducing herself, while you and Marcus looked at each other almost studying each other, as if you were both trying to figure out how happy you actually were in your marriages.

That habit of worrying about each other had not gone away; after all, you had been close friends for quite a few years, and your friendship had faded not because of a quarrel, but because of distance and becoming busy adults. And because you had to get over the crush you had on him, of course, but you had never told him that. 

“Well, we have to go now, anyway come and see us if you can. My mother would love to see you again,” Marcus had said before offering to push the cart full of food that his wife had left beside you and start toward the checkouts. 

“We'll try, thank you,” you had nodded. You definitely should have helped your mother, tried to soothe her at least a little from the strain of caring for your father 24/7; you didn't know how much more time would be left for other things. 

You had watched them walk off together from behind, down the canned food aisle where you had retrieved the ready-made cranberry sauce you would never have time to prepare. 

They were a good-looking couple, really, attractive, well-dressed, Danielle looking impeccable in a pair of jeans that bandaged her while highlighting her curves, a red blouse that matched her complexion, and a pair of vertiginous heels on which you didn't even know how to walk. She seemed to do it without any problem. 

“We should go too, honey” John's voice had brought you back down to earth. 

_________________________________________

Once home John had announced to your mother that you had met your old friend at the supermarket, and of course she was thrilled, “Oh, he's such a nice guy, I saw him and his wife the other day walking downtown, they are such a nice couple, aren't they?” 

John had agreed, taking a beer from the fridge “really” 

“Well, like you, of course” your mother had added, looking at you softly. 

And it was true, you were fine with John, he was a good person, a hard worker, he treated you like a princess. What more could you want? 

Yet since you had seen him again, Marcus's face had made room in your mind. The intrigued way he had looked at you, as if trying to understand everything that had happened to you in the years you had not been in touch, the way his arms were reaching out to embrace you when John had arrived, a barely imperceptible movement that only you had noticed because you knew him better than the palm of your hand, the dimple that had popped up on his cheek as he smiled at you, the usual one you had grown to love so much.

You had pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to drive it from your mind “Are you okay love?” had asked John immediately. 

“Yes, I just have a little headache, I'll get something later,” you had lied, hurrying to put away the rest of the groceries. 

What annoyed you the most was that it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in your twenties and you had woken up hugging him in the bed of that dingy motel. It was absurd. You had worked so hard to move on and now it felt like you were back where you started. 

You couldn't let that happen, you wouldn't let your marriage be disrupted by a casual 10-minute meeting with him. 

You would not have gone to his house, no matter how much you would have liked to see his mother who had always been so kind to you. 

You had other things to think about anyway; your father was stuck in a hospital bed that you had managed to get him to be more comfortable. He had been put in the guest room on the ground floor, next to the bathroom, he couldn't do the stairs, and it was also easier for your mother to accompany him. The strong and generous man he had been was wearing out before your eyes, and it was a terribly painful image. You knew he had little time left, and you didn't want to waste it chasing the ghosts of the past when you had a husband who was helping you and hugging you every night trying to lessen your pain. 

Your Thanksgiving dinner had been unique to say the least, each of you shuttling from the dining room to your father's to spend some time with him, making sure he had everything he needed, helping him eat and drink. You had marveled at how gentle and patient John was with your dad, the big man you had married, one with two shoulders like a football player, feeding your father fruit jelly almost more gracefully than you. 

You knew how fond he was of your dad, they had hit it off right away, but you didn't know how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. You were moved.

___________________________________________

Your father was gone four days later. You and John were supposed to leave for Boston the next morning instead you had to call in to work, cancel your flight, call your trusty neighbor Marge to ask her to look at your house, pick up your mail, and water your plants. 

You were crushed and at the same time overwhelmed with bureaucracy so you couldn't stop. You had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, got dressed in a hurry to go to the funeral home to deliver the suit with which you had decided to bury your father, then went to do some paperwork with the insurance company and finally to the church to arrange with the pastor the time of the service and the proceedings. When you left the church you felt an emptiness in your stomach, your head was spinning, you had eaten barely a sandwich in the last two days. 

You knew you were about to collapse, saw a café across the street from the church, and went inside to get a croissant and cappuccino to go. 

When you came out you found yourself in front of Danielle. She was so sorry, of course your mother had informed Marcus's mother and they would be attending the funeral. Danielle hugged you as if you were her sister, telling you that she understood you because she too had lost her father a few years earlier and even though you didn't know each other well you could have called her if you needed anything. 

You had thanked her and headed for the car, locked yourself in and took a couple of minutes to chug your croissant and drink your cappuccino. At least partially regenerated from the late breakfast you had headed back home, where John and your mother were waiting for you.

In the car you had been thinking about how kind Danielle had been and how lucky Marcus was to be with her.

The next day you had put on a sober black suit that you used for the office and probably wouldn't be able to wear again after that day, put on just enough makeup, helped John put on his tie, and headed for church with him and your mom. 

All three of you were exhausted, grieving, trying to hold the pieces together as best you could with each other's help but your dad's absence was hard to bear. You wished you could have woken up and found it had been just a nightmare, you wished you could have hugged him and talked to him and he, as he had always done, would have found the words you needed most.

There was only one other person who could soothe your worries in the same way your dad could, and that person was Marcus. 

John had been able to be there for you anyway, with actions more than words, taking tasks to take away from you, relieving you of burdens you could not carry alone, and for that you were infinitely grateful. He was a good husband. 

After the service, under his arm, you left the church behind your mother. You had lost count of the number of people who had come to hug you, faces you had never seen, work colleagues of your father's whom you had never met, old childhood friends, the church was full of people who had come to remember him fondly. This pleased you, but it was strange to you at the same time. You wished you had some time to yourself, alone, to try to catch your breath and rationalize at least some of what had happened, that blender of emotions that had shaken and sucked you in. 

You had made your way to the cemetery, walking along the path that led to the family grave where your grandparents were buried you had felt like you were in a muffled bubble where everything moved in slow motion, barely sensing John's presence beside you. 

When you had arrived, you had looked up for only a moment and before you had seen Marcus's. You had not noticed his presence in the church, busy as you were with hugging and greeting, you had seen only his mother but he had remained in the background, respecting your grief. Just as you wished others had done. There was nothing more to be said, he always knew what you needed, no matter how many years had passed, he could still read you like an open book just like when at 18 he had realized that your highest aspiration was to become a writer without even the need to make it explicit in words. 

His eyes were swollen and reddened; it was obvious that he was moved. Beside him was Danielle with a pair of dark glasses covering her face, clutching his arm elegantly and dignifiedly. 

You had smiled weakly at him, thanking him with your eyes, and he had smiled back, looking at you with the sweetest, sorriest eyes I had seen that day. 

___________________________________________

You had stayed behind to watch the final burial operations, while John had driven your mother back to the car, who had burst into convulsive tears, crushed by the realization that she had lost forever the man she had loved most in the world. 

You had felt a hand barely graze your shoulder, you had turned around and saw Marcus standing there on the grass “hey” As soon as you had seen him the impulse to hug him had come to you spontaneously, he had welcomed you into his arms, stroking your head, wrapping you against his chest, trying to comfort you. 

Being close to him still felt like home, his warmth immediately made you feel calmer, less alone, and not that John couldn't do that but with Marcus it was different. He had always been different in a way that was impossible to explain but that you felt hammering hard in your heart.

“Thank you,” you had whispered, with the tears you had finally allowed yourself to shed wetting your cheeks and his shirt. 

“Don't mention it,” he had whispered, continuing to hold you close. 

You had lingered a little longer in his embrace before pulling away and asking where Danielle was. 

"She went home with my mom. I stayed in case you needed anything.” 

“It's okay, thank you, there was no need,” you stammered lyingly. Yes you needed him, now more than ever, and he knew it well. 

“Your mother and John?” 

“Aunt Maggie drove them home, they left my mom's car with me.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she had asked and all you could do was nod ”please. But then how are you going to get back?” 

“I'll call Danielle, don't worry” he had encircled your waist with an arm as he walked you to the car. He had opened the door and helped you get in, even buckled your seat belt no matter how hard you had tried to insist you could do it yourself. 

Marcus did not spare himself when it came to caring for others. 

He had climbed up on the driver's side and in a rush had hugged you back, there, inside the car, whispering, “You don't know how sorry I am, baby. Your father was a great man.” 

You had looked at him gratefully, amid tears that had begun to flow profusely again "thank you" 

He had kissed you, right after that. And the instant his lips had rested on yours, you had felt that you could not help yourself no matter how hard you had tried to bury your feelings all those years. There was something inexplicable that united you, a way of understanding each other that needed no words, as if you were made to recognize each other, to see inside each other's souls. You had read in his eyes that day in the supermarket how much he had missed you, and he had read the same in yours, and just before that you had felt the same need to have him near, in spite of John, Danielle, and anything else that told you it was wrong. Deep inside you had always known it was right, you had felt it from the moment you first met him. You had been crowing for years about people talking about soul mates, meetings of destiny, and things like that. But now you knew you had felt it. His soft lips on yours were like honey to your soul, you wished you could sink into that feeling, drown in that sea and never rise again.

You couldn't leave John though. Not after you had built a life together in Boston, not after he had supported and cared for you all those days. Not after all he had done for you. 

As much as it hurt to do so, you pulled away from his lips. “I’ve always thought about you, all these years,” he said. “I’m sorry, you know, I didn’t realize it before, that maybe we could be something more. I never told you, but I remembered that kiss we shared when we were 18 very well.” Marcus was a torrent of words and was saying everything you’d always wanted to hear. “And I remember the night in that motel, too, how you held me in your sleep. I…” You knew he was about to say something like “I love you” “I’ve always loved you,” and so you cut him off. “Marcus.” He paused, his mouth half open as he looked at you in shock. “It’s too late. We can’t. Maybe there was a chance a few years ago, but now? We’re both married, we have responsibilities, we have to be realistic. It’s not fair to Danielle and John. And I have a job and a life in Boston, I can’t just leave everything all of a sudden.”

“But I…” and you knew he was about to say those words again. “Please don’t say that. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

Marcus had fallen silent, looking down at his hands draped over his lap, and then said sadly, “I understand.”

You had just lost your father and now you were losing him too. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only thing to do. “Take me home, please.” He would have started the car without saying anything, driving to your house without looking at you again, perhaps afraid that he wouldn’t be able to let you go if he ever laid eyes on you again. 

You got out of the car just saying thank you, without hugging him because you knew it would have hurt even more.

____________________________________

2008

When John had told you that you should move to Washington DC, you had not taken it well. You did not want to leave Boston, the bright home where you had begun to build your new life, that city that had welcomed you. Starting all over again somewhere else, in a city you had never been to, seemed too much. 

In the end, however, you had accepted it; leaving John seemed even worse. And he had continued to be a good husband, so you saw no reason to part with him.

After all, he had received a good promotion, he had rented a house where you had found a familiar light again, it had big windows, high ceilings, big rooms. John made good money and had tried to accommodate you in everything. 

He had made it worth it all the way.

You had been struggling a bit to fit into the editorial staff of the new newspaper you had found work for. You were aiming for the Washington Post, but they had totally bounced you, which had been no small disappointment to digest. 

However, after all, your life had regained some meaning. 

It was now six months since you had moved, you hadn't heard from Marcus in eight years. And this time it was not because of distance, but because it had really hurt you to find out that he felt something too but it never seemed to be the right time for you. It would have been in 1993 perhaps, if you had had courage, if you had taken the risk of exploring your feelings together. He hadn't had the guts to tell you anything, you were too afraid, and when you had found common ground it had immediately collapsed. 

John had noticed that something was wrong, even he knew you well enough to know that it pained you not to hear from your friend again, and at times he had even urged you to call him. You had told him that he had said something unpleasant about Danielle while you were in the car and you had felt sorry for her, from there you had started to argue. It was a really boorish excuse and you were pretty sure John hadn't bought it but had played it off for the sake of quiet life. 

“Can you stop by the bank to deposit this check this morning?” he had told you that morning before leaving the house. You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and enjoying your day off. 

“Sure,” you had answered him, ”I'll go there before I go to the laundry to pick up my dress for tonight.” 

“Mmm the burgundy dress with that dizzying neckline?” he had told you as he leaned over to give you a kiss 

“Just that one” you had smiled as you returned the kiss and caressed his cheek ”you like it huh?”

“I'm looking forward to tonight” he had chuckled before leaving the house with his briefcase ”I'll be home at 7 o'clock okay?”

“Perfect, I'll be ready” you had thrown him a kiss and then curled up in your chair, finishing your coffee and admiring the view of the waking city outside. 

It was your anniversary, and he was going to take you to dinner at a French restaurant you had heard about in enthusiastic tones from your discerning colleague who was a food and wine critic. 

You had dressed quietly, gone out to do your chores, had a manicure appointment, then gone to pick up your dress at the dry cleaners and finally to the bank. 

As soon as you had left the bank you had bumped into a guy. 

You had looked up and been stunned. 

Marcus.

How was that possible? 

“Oh shit,” he had exclaimed.

His hair was slightly longer, he had grown a mustache and a beard but it was him, there was no doubt about it, you would have recognized him in a thousand. 

"What are you doing here?" you had asked him, widening your eyes, without a hello or how are you or anything else, you were too shocked. 

He was the last person you expected to see on your anniversary. 

Marcus had brushed his hand behind his neck, the gesture he always made when he was embarrassed “I got a big promotion” in a tone as if to apologize for existing in the same state as you, in the same city as you, for coexisting in the same environment as you.

“Whatever...I have to go, anyway, have a nice life,” you had tried to say quickly, to disengage yourself from that surreal situation. 

You had already turned your back on him when you heard him say “no wait...please...would you like to have a cup of coffee?”

You had turned silently to look at him. He couldn't have been serious. Yet he was.

And looking into those big brown pleading eyes, for some reason you had not been able to say no.

“All right,” you had replied with a shrug, ”I'll give you half an hour, then I'll have to go home.”

You went to sit in a café around the corner and ordered a cappuccino.

"So how are you?" you asked absentmindedly. 

“Danielle and I broke up last spring.” 

“Oh. I'm sorry.” It was like a blade through the chest to hear his voice again, to hear him say that he was single again and that his marriage was over. Somehow it made you feel guilty even though after eight years it was unlikely that the main reason for their breakup was you. 

“Yeah...she wanted children and for a while we tried but...” 

“Marcus please, I don't care, it's your business because it's over,” you cut off. 

You didn't have to get involved again. When you had thought back to your father's death and how he had confessed right afterwards you had been angry with him. Why had he done it at that time when you were so particularly vulnerable? It wasn't fair. 

"Sorry I-" he had babbled.  

“Never mind, never mind,” you had interrupted him again with a hand gesture. “Look, let's talk straight once and for all” you didn't know where all that aggression was coming from but it was growing inside you inexorably, like an infection ”why the hell are we here?” 

He had lowered his gaze to his cappuccino, then brought it back to you and stared at you in a way that made you feel naked and helpless. He still had an effect on you, and it pissed you off. “I miss you,” he had admitted under his breath, ”I miss talking to you and I miss having you around. I miss everything about you. When I saw you I couldn't believe it. But I know I can't let you leave without clearing things up.” 

“There's nothing left to clear up. It's over Marcus, can't you see that? There was never a right time for us.” 

“That's not true, I-” 

“Stop it! Look, I'm trying to live my life, you do it too,” you had screeched

“But-” 

“No 'buts'... Marcus, I'm tired. I'm tired of this running into each other and don't tell me it's fate because it's just pure randomness. John was transferred for work, now we live here, end of story. I'm still with him, okay? And I'm happy, so please leave me alone.” 

You could see his clenched fist on the coffee table, his eyes glazed with tears, his Adam's apple jumping as you mentioned John. He looked devastated. It was no longer your business anyway, so you had gotten up and made to leave, leaving a bill on the coffee table. “Don't look for me anymore.” 

Marcus had jumped up, his chair had fallen back crashing onto the pavement, and he didn't even seem to notice as he tried to stop you.

“Please” he had grabbed you by the sleeve of his jacket ”please.” 

You had turned back to him and looking into his eyes you had seen the little boy who asked you if he would ever be famous, the one who helped you with your homework, the 20-year-old who had involved you in the craziest vacation of your life, and then the adult who had broken your heart. 

“No.” you had whispered, ”no fucking way.” 

Marcus' face was a grimace of pain, as if in physical pain from your rejection, his shoulders hunched and his hand not letting go of you. He was pathetic and sweet at the same time.

His eyes were fixed in yours as he told you loud and clear, “I love you.”

I love you. 

You had longed to hear it come from his lips for so long that now it was like a lash that burned against your skin. You had stopped feeling like you were glued to the sidewalk, unable to take a step forward “What the hell! Did you have to tell me that? Was it necessary after I told you that I am still with my husband? Fuck, your timing is the worst thing ever. Do you know what day it is today? My wedding anniversary.” you had thrown up words at him angrily, feeling a knot in your stomach that nauseated you. 

“I don't want anything from you,” he had replied, his voice trembling, ”I just wanted you to know.”

“And now that I know according to you what have we solved? What have we gained? I'll tell you, absolutely nothing Marcus.” 

You had turned around and left, yelling at him, “I'll tell you again, don't ever look for me.” 

You had come home and taken a long hot bath, cried your last tears for him, and then decided it was John you had to think about, your special day. Marcus wasn't going to ruin it for you. You had prepared yourself carefully, put on the dress he liked so much, your favorite perfume, and waited for John. When he had come home you had driven out to a restaurant, had had a delicious dinner, sex as soon as you got home, and fallen asleep in his arms feeling that it was right. 

___________________________________

2010

“Love don't wait up for me, I'll be back late. I am so sorry, I love you.” 

It was already the fourth time in a week that he sent you such a message, by now John spent more time in the office than anywhere else. He had been given another promotion and was now mainly in charge of foreign exchanges, so he went to the office at impossible hours, came back later and later, and you barely saw him in the morning getting out of bed to jump in the shower. You hadn't had sex for at least a month, in those days you had talked more often with the mailman than with your husband.

Finally a publishing house had noticed you and they had published your book, you had gotten a chance to continue working for the newspaper by writing your articles from home so you could work on your second novel. 

You had huffed, looking at the screen, by now you were going to your friends' dinners alone, in those two years you had bonded with some couples in your neighborhood, and with a colleague from the newspaper and her husband. Every time you had been invited in the last three months John had declined, saying he had to work. 

You were beginning to feel really alone in your marriage, but you knew you had to try something. You still cared about John; you didn't want everything you had built together to be ruined. Sure, since he was earning more money he was showering you with unexpected and expensive gifts that certainly didn't make up for his absence, though. You had never been a materialistic person, no matter how beautiful the diamond bracelets and pearl necklaces and expensive shoes were, you missed falling asleep cuddled with your husband, feeling his caresses, having breakfast with him in the morning, spending a weekend together on the couch watching TV cuddling, simply spending time with him. For the past few weeks you had failed to write a word, you had hastily completed articles for the newspaper just to meet deadlines but your novel had stalled. You were busy cleaning to take your mind off things, you had joined the gym to force yourself to leave the house but then you would go back and find yourself spending entire evenings lounging around, not knowing what else to do. 

You had decided that night that you had to take matters into your own hands, put on a pretty dress, fixed your hair and make-up thoroughly, and then went out with the intention of surprising him. You were going to bring him his favorite dishes from your favorite Chinese restaurant to the office. 

When you had arrived at his workplace, you had looked up from the car window and seen the light on in his office. 

You had come down loaded with Chinese noodles and dumplings, and as you walked toward the entrance you had noticed his car parked not far away. 

You had taken the elevator with your heart in your throat, looking forward to seeing his happy face as he enjoyed a hot meal. The elevator had opened on the floor and you had started down the hallway leading to his office. There was no one there, everything was quiet and still, but the closer you got to his office the more you heard strange noises. Bellowing, hushed voices. 

The door was pulled over, you had pushed it slightly, and the scene that unfolded before your eyes was unsettling. 

Veronica, a married colleague of him whom you had met at the firm's Christmas party a few months earlier, was bent over John's desk, her skirt up, her panties down, her long legs covered by black hold-ups, her stilettos sinking into the Persian carpet under John's desk. And your husband holding her hips and sinking into her from behind. 

His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his hair was disheveled, his neck tense and sweaty, as he stood there with his cool wool pants down, fucking his colleague. 

He grunted some words that you had never heard him say when you were having sex “Yeah, bitch, you like that huh? You like getting pounded by my cock huh? You're such a dirty slut, do you feel how wet you are for me?" 

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your sweet husband, the one who had stood by you so devotedly…where had that man gone? 

You dropped the bag with the Chinese dinner on the floor, the boxes had opened, and the noodles had spread all over the hardwood floor. “What the fuck?!”

John had turned around shocked, still with his cock inside his coworker “Oh shit. No, wait, honey I-” he had stepped out of her and tried to pull up his pants awkwardly ”please-fuck-I can explain.” 

“There's nothing to explain, you piece of shit!” you had yelled at him as he approached trying to stammer out some stupid excuse and had slapped him open-handed across the face as soon as he got in front of you ‘don't bother coming home’ you had added contemptuously.

“But love I-” he had pranced rubbing his cheek ”please-” 

“NO!” You had yelled “No, I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses, I don't want anything more to do with you, you disgust me!”

Veronica was standing in the corner buttoning her blouse and pulling down her skirt without meeting your gaze, her face hot and guilty.

Everything that you had sacrificed for that relationship, how you had followed him and reinvented your life for him, adapting to his needs, trying to build a happy nest for the two of you in Washington, all had been swept away. He had stomped on your marriage, your trust, your heart. 

You had driven home crying, risking missing a red light, had nailed down at the last moment with your heart bouncing inside your chest like a jackhammer. You had walked into the house throwing your purse and coat on the floor, throwing your shoes in the middle of the hallway and throwing yourself on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow with your head bursting, a sense of helplessness and defeat enveloping your temples, your chest, your stomach. 

It was over.

John had never come home, you had learned through his lawyer that he had rented an apartment near his office, and a week later he sent three big guys from a moving company to pick up his things.

You couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everything reminded you of him, the lies he had been telling you for months and what was even worse, all the happy moments you had lived in there in spite of yourself. 

You were dragging yourself from room to room without strength, you hadn't written anything anymore, you had told the editor of the newspaper that you were sick to have an excuse to delay the deadlines for your articles. 

You were tired, you were angry, you lacked the will to do anything, after three days without seeing you leave the house your friend Denise, who lived across the street had called you alarmed to see if you were all right, and hearing your dejected, fading voice had decided to use the keys you had given her in case of an emergency to come and check on you in person. 

You had not been able to lie to her; you had burst into tears and told her everything as soon as she asked you where John was. 

From that day she had been by every day bringing you dinner, making sure you ate, forcing you to shower, tidying up. You didn't know what you had done to deserve Denise in your life but you were incredibly grateful that she was there. 

Gradually you had forced yourself to take charge of your life again, started going out again pushed by your friends and even moved house, encouraged by them. You couldn't turn over a new leaf without getting out of there. 

And you had especially realized that you could walk with your head held high; you were not the one who had to be ashamed. 

And looking back on it, you had really overcome a lot in the last few years. The loss of your father, Marcus, your husband. All the men who had meant something to you in your life. 

You could have been proud that you did your best to stay on your feet. 

________________________________________________________

2011 

It had been a year since you had discovered John screwing his colleague.

You had tried dating men, without success, but things were going very well professionally. You had finally managed to finish your second book, and the publisher had been extremely pleased, so much so that he had arranged a series of meetings for you at bookstores around the country.  You had just returned from Ohio when you got a call from your mother inviting you for Christmas.

You had no desire to return to Sacramento, but how could you say no to your mom? She was left alone and it had not been easy for her. Your aunt and uncle lived nearby and took care of her but she had said she missed you a lot.

And she was so proud of you, she had asked you for copies of your books to give to all her friends, she was your biggest fan. You were happy to see her and spend time with her. 

And so, there you were at the airport, with a big suitcase, ready to get on yet another plane and fly across the country. 

You had just gotten an upgrade to business class and were in the private lounge of the area airline ordering yourself a martini when you heard a familiar voice behind you calling your name. 

Marcus. Again. 

“I swear I'm not following you,” he had raised his hands in surrender. 

“I know. I haven't seen you in three years, and we live in the same town.”

You had smiled; it wasn't bad to see his face again after all. 

“Martini?” He had asked pointing to your glass 

“Yeah. Can you please make another one?” You had said turning toward the bartender. 

You had sat at a small table with your cocktails “Are you going to see your mother?”

You had nodded, “You too?” 

“Yes, my parents were very insistent. Where is John?” 

“I have no idea,” you had squeezed into your shoulders taking a sip of your martini. 

“Oh, did you break up? I'm sorry, he seemed like a good man,” he had said.

“Apparently he wasn't since he was cheating on me with one of his colleagues.” 

“You should have better judgment anyway, aren't you a detective?” you had asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him wryly 

Marcus had burst out laughing, “You're right, I should.”

And he had told you about the time he had fallen in love with someone named Teresa, a colleague of his, and had been left like a poor idiot the previous year, without realizing that she was in love with someone else. 

“It wasn't your fault, you know,” you told him sweetly, ”I know how you get when you have a crush.” 

“How do I become?” he had asked you with a sigh.

And you had replied with a smirk “Well, if you must know...naive, head in the clouds, like you live in a world of unicorns and fairies” 

“Really? A ridiculous clown? Is that what I become?” he had chuckled and then turned serious again ”Not with you, I hope”

You had laughed, you could have laughed at that point. Or maybe it was just the martini clouding your mind. 

“Whatever,” you had rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I'm sorry,” he had muttered.

“It's okay” you had smiled ”Really.”

At that moment they had announced boarding for your flight, so you had hurried to the gate together. 

You were both in business, so eventually you had sat next to each other and continued chatting. 

And it was nice, really nice. You were both single, more aware, you had reached an age where you could be honest with yourselves and you could joke about your dramas. 

“So you had noticed that I had hugged you that night huh?” 

“Sure. You pounced on me in my sleep and woke me up. I didn't want to embarrass you so I played it cool” she had smiled ”I thought you were sleepwalking and dreaming of hugging Keanu Reeves or whatever.” 

You had burst out in the loudest laugh you had had in years and then covered your mouth embarrassed that you had disturbed the other passengers. Fortunately those in your vicinity all had headphones on and were watching a movie. 

“Oh, come on” you had tapped his shoulder and then taken by you don't know what courage-probably the second martini you were downing-you had said ”the only one I dreamed of hugging was you.” 

“I didn't realize this until later...Now is there anyone you would like to hug by any chance?” he had whispered in your ear.

“Actually...yes” 

And there, in that plane, you kissed. For the first time without hindrance, without remorse, without drama, without fear. “I love you” he had whispered on your lips, and you had responded, finally free to say it ”I love you too.”

“So we'll try this time?” he had caressed your cheek, sliding his hand down your neck. 

“Yes” You had said ”definitely yes.”

“Your mother will be delighted” he had smiled, kissing you again “it's going to be a great Christmas.”

“Well, Merry Christman then” you whispered as your mouth moved down his neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby”

[yuqiune]

Late Night Calls ☆

Summary: What I think talking to the members late at night is like

A/n: HADD to write this bc LNC is my absolute favorite song on the album, literally on replay since it came out 🍒

𖹭

Keeho:

I feel like keeho would prefer night face times over texting but he would be okay with anything for you. He would definitely send you pictures from tour and would call you after his lives, you would be watching and waiting for his contact to pop up on your phone. You two would catch up with each other and I feel like he would brag about any fan signs he saw for him, maybe to make you jealous.

Theo:

Now Theo, He seems like an early night sleeper, like around 9 or 10pm. If you spammed him enough, he might wake up enough to respond to you. He might be confused on why you would text him at 2 in the morning but you remind him of the time difference between you two. He would want to listen to you talk more than anything and he would answer your questions when asked. You two exchange quick selfies to each other before bed

Jiung:

Ji feels like the type of person to put weird filters over your face mid conversation and laugh his ass off. If you had a bad day that day, He'll listen to you and plan to do something with you when he comes back to you. Will do something embarrassing to get your mind off it (give me my money 😭). You'll talk about waterbomb and he'll get flustered by all your compliments but we'll show off If he finds you in the crowd. He'll flash his tattoo, get wet ON purpose, and Will act like nothing happened if you bring it up "Ji, you were slutty today" "Huh? What are you taking about?". Literally love him

Intak:

I stand by this when I say Intak 100% dances on your facetime calls. I can see him dancing to you cooking in the kitchen while he waits until he can talk to you directly. He probably talks to you in english to show you the new words he learned from keeho. When you bring up how much you miss him over tour, he'll probably pout and whine about missing you more, if not missing you more than you miss him and He can't wait to be in your arms again. he'll tell you "have a good one" before hanging up, making you confused and giggle at how cute he is

Soul:

Soul is the one calling you but you're doing the talking mostly, he'll respond with his little minecraft villager and alien noises unless you actually need an answer from him "did you feed the fish?" "Phews" "Soul baby-". He will show you little keychains or gifts he got that day and show you the matching set he got for both of you, S and Y on the items. Like intak, he probably dances randomly to anything in the background if you guys face time, which is a lot because you never know if he's actually there or not. I love my alien boy <3

Jongseob:

seob is always on that damn phone so what makes you think he wouldn't text or call you? I can see him on the phone with you while playing a game at the same time. You two probably just sit on the phone and enjoy the presence of each other, imagining actually being together and talking about anything that came to mind or to make sure the other was still there. If your phone automatically hangs out after a few hours, trust that you or that boy is RACING to call back as soon as possible

[gorgiawrite]

BLACK SAILS, timeline study :

I.

One day, a captain named PARRISH came across a Spaniard named VASQUEZ, at a tavern in Port Royal. There the man, dying, told him of the treasure galleon Urca de Lima and detailed its schedule to him.

A spy of Flint’s overheard the conversation and sent FLINT the information : the tale, and possibly the name of the man who had the details of the schedule (PARRISH, captain of an english merchant), but not the name of his ship (both FLINT and GATES call it Parrish's ship in conversations together)

It then took 3 months for FLINT to capture PARRISH’s ship and he had to seize 3 other (GATES mentions this ship as the 4th prize worth almost nothing, captured in the 3 months they have been chasing the schedule).

FLINT boarded PARRISH’s ship 1 day away from Nassau (SILVER says he memorized the schedule in 3 days : one day at see on the Walrus, one day at Nassau meeting MAX and snooping at night on the Walrus to read Parrish’s journal in Flint’s cabin, one day starting with the Singleton fight and ending at The Wrecks were he burned the schedule).

So, between meeting VASQUEZ at Port Royal and getting boarded by FLINT 1 day away from Nassau, PARRISH spent 3 months, doing God knows what, with FLINT needing first to capture 3 ships to find him.

Parrish's ship (x)

THE WALRUS'S SPEED

the Walrus top speed is 7.5 knots. That speed was reached while chasing the Andromache (V.) by risking the masts's integrity (argument between FLINT and DE GROOT, the t'gallants should not have been unfolded in that wind). With a proper carrening, that speed could be reached safely ("A clean hull means an extra knot or two in speed" in IV.), but the carreening was not completed (in IV: "A few more days, we'll have the keel cleared and tarred and she'll be ready to go back into the water", but the very next day they were chasing the Andromache, as established by SILVER mentionning Randall's amputation being the previous day).

the Walrus chasing speed is 6 knots, in favorable winds (the speed reched before risking the masts's integrity, see above).

the Walrus average cruising speed is 5 knots (my estimate, somewhat arbitrary : I take into account the occasional slow wind and a lighter workload on deck to allow shifts for the men to rest).

PARRISH'S SHIP SPEED

very similar to the Walrus : it is also a frigate with three mast, square rigged, with as many sails on each mast), maybe slightly smaller ? : 5 knots on average.

NASSAU - PORT ROYAL TRAVEL :

Port Royal, Jamaica - Port of Nassau, Bahamas: 754 nautical miles

1 knot = 1 nautical mile / h

5 knots = 5 nautical miles / h

754 / 5 = 150.8 ; so it takes 150.8 h to make the travel

150 h = (6 x 24 h) + 6 hours ; so the travel takes 6 days at 5 knots

CROSS ATLANTIC TRAVEL

In the 18th century, it took on average six weeks to sail accross the Atlantic. If weather conditions were bad, it could take up to three months.

So, either PARRISH went to and right back from England after his encounter with VASQUEZ at Port Royal (6 weeks to cross the Atlantique one way + 6 weeks to cross it the other = 3 months) ; or he stuck around - maybe traveled along the coast to make commerce in the main ports (back then, only noteworthy were Boston, New York, Newport, Philadelphia, and Charles Town).

Map of colonial america in the 18th century (x)

THE ISSUE :

When would have SILVER boarded the ship ?

I can't imagine him being on Parrish's ship since the VASQUEZ encounter and not learning about it (the actual cook of the ship found out, so I doubt a man like SILVER - clearly used to gather information and manipulate - wouldn't have, had he been there around the time it happened).

How did FLINT track the ship ?

Flint had to capture 3 other ships to get to it. I somehow doubt he randomly followed a route and hoped for the best, attacking ships at random intervals.

IF PARRISH WENT BACK TO ENGLAND :

It would have been a round trip (no delay in the timeline for more than a stop).

Did FLINT have words that Parrish went to England and right back from it, and hit 4 ships in a row on the right route at the calculated time frame of his return? It sounded, from MR SCOTT that it was a while since FLINT made a good earning. That would go against this theory : the 3 ship attacked to track Parrish's ship would have been spaced over 3 months.

Which means FLINT knew exactely the route PARRISH would take, and probably an approximation of his scheduled stops. How would 3 ships attacked in the Bahamas, or even the continental colonies's coast, know of the schedule of a captain on his way to of back from England? Even if Parrish told someone in England, he left right away, so no one could have preceeded him with the info.

This case figure also implies SILVER would have joined Parrish's crew in England.

IF PARRISH MADE SEVERAL STOPS IN THE COLONIES :

If all FLINT had - and it seems to be so - was PARRISH's name and the fact that he sails an english merchant, it could explain the 3 month to track him. The spies mentionned in the show (his, Guthrie's, Max's) are all in the West Indies (Jamaïca, Cuba). So it stands to reason that FLINT had a hard time tracking Parrish's ship.

The most likely scenario would be that FLINT spy in Port Royal knew in which port of the colonies PARRISH was headed, and FLINT attacked every ship he knew came from that very same port, until one of them told him that PARRISH was finally underway, at which point Flint could finally go after him now that he was back on the water.

But that would imply PARRISH spent three months not working : unlikely. Maybe FLINT had to track him from one port to another, but couldn't attack because he stuck too close to the coast guarded by the colonial navy?

That theory does imply SILVER joined the crew from an English colony port (most likely Charles Town, Philadelphia, Newport, New York or Boston). That, or he was picked on a recent new stop at Port Royal right before FLINT caught them.

--

And this, this is why I have avoided writing anything in the past decade. I overthink shit way too much.

Still, I'm doing this. So if anyone feel like going crazy with me, feel free to message me. Otherwise, ignore this, I just need to put it in writing to figure it out.

[lapis-caeli]

Could you Do souya kawata from tokyorevengers if he has a crush on the reader??

My god! This is our firts ask with a reader insert! I hope you like it hehe

As usual, we'll have this headcanon in spanish and english for a better reading for you dear readers!

ENGLISH

I imagine Angry as someone who would never openly show interest in finding love.

Deep down, though, I think he’d be a true hopeless romantic.

I feel like you met him purely by chance. Maybe you were a classmate or just someone who happened to cross paths with him and his brother at their favorite ramen shop.

You probably met thanks to Smiley, who would’ve noticed his brother’s interest and jumped straight into talking to you without hesitation.

Did Angry manage to talk to you? Yes. Did he manage to become friends with you? Yes. Did he want to kill his brother at home out of embarrassment? Absolutely.

He was really shy at the beginning of the friendship; it was his first interaction of this kind. Be patient with him.

I feel like he’s the type to fall in love after a long time and with a lot of trust, the kind who falls for a close friend.

He’d be a mess once he realized he liked you, as if he’d forgotten how to act around you, disappearing for a few days to get his embarrassment under control.

I feel like Smiley would try to advise and help him, but Angry would do everything possible to stop him because he knows Smiley would just tell you directly—because that’s how he is.

Once he’s had time to calm down, he’d be a total sweetheart.

He’d always be there for you, and you’d talk a lot through messages and calls.

He’d be perfect for the emotional moments. I feel like he’s a very empathetic person, so he’d always know the right thing to say and show that you could always count on him during those times.

I think he’d spend a lot of time with you alone, especially to try out new restaurants.

I also see him as the type who’d take advantage of an empty house to invite you over and cook for you. And no one would dare to refuse his delicious homemade ramen!

Among those private moments, I imagine you’d go to places that interest you both. Do you like manga or cosplay? There’s a new convention you could attend together. Is there a movie you want to see premiering at the theater? Grab some cash for popcorn because you’re not missing it.

One of the places Angry would love to go with you is the aquarium. I feel like he loves marine animals and would want to take you to see them with him.

When he knows it’s the right moment to confess, he’d get really nervous. His friends from ToMan would’ve given him ideas, though not all of them would be good.

In the end, I think he’d settle on a quiet night at home with a perfect dinner. He’d cook your favorite dish, and you’d spend the night peacefully together.

I feel like his confession would be really shy, unable to look you in the eye out of fear, whispering everything he feels for you while his face turns as red as Akkun’s hair.

My conclusion about Angry with his crush is simply "adorable." He’d be so sweet that it’d be impossible to say no to him.

ESPAÑOL

Me imagino a Angry como alguien que nunca se habría interesado en encontrar el amor.

No de forma abierta, en el fondo pienso que sería un verdadero romántico empedernido.

Siento que te conoció de pura casualidad, debías haber sido algún compañere de clase o una persona normal que coincidiera con él y su hermano en su restaurante de ramen favorito.

Os habríais conocido gracias a Smiley, quién habría visto el interés de su hermano y se habría lanzado a hablarte sin pensárselo dos veces.

¿Angry consiguió hablar contigo? Sí. ¿Consiguió que fuerais amigos? Sí. ¿Quiso matar a su hermano en casa por vergüenza? Por supuesto.

Fue muy tímido al principio de la amistad, era su primera interacción de ese tipo, dale paciencia.

Siento que es de las personas que se enamoran tras mucho tiempo y confianza, de los típicos que se enamoran de un amigo cercano.

Sería un desastre cuando se da cuenta que le gustas, como si hubiera olvidado como tratar contigo y desapareciera unos pocos días para controlar su vergüenza.

Siento que Smiley intentaría aconsejarlo y ayudarlo, pero Angry haría todo lo posible para detenerlo porque sabe que te lo diría directamente porque él es así.

Cuando ya hubiera tenido su tiempo para tranquilizarse, sería un verdadero amor.

Estaría ahí en todo momento, hablarían muchísimo por mensajes y llamadas.

Para los momentos más emocionales sería perfecto, siento que él es alguien muy empático en realidad, así que siempre sabría que consejo dar y demostraría que siempre puedes recurrir a él en esos momentos.

Siento que quedaría mucho contigo a solas, sobre todo para ir a probar restaurantes nuevos.

También lo veo de los típicos que aprovechan la casa vacía para invitarte y cocinarte. ¡Y nadie se atrevería a rechazar su delicioso ramen casero!

Entre esos momentos a solas pienso que irías a sitios que os interesasen. ¿Te gusta el manga o el cosplay? Hay una convención nueva que podríais ir. ¿Una película que quieres ver se estrena en el cine? Pilla dinero para las palomitas que no os la vais a perder.

Uno de los lugares que a Angry le gustaría ir contigo sería el acuario, siento que le encantan los animales marinos y le gustaría llevarte para que los vieras con él.

Cuando supiera que es el momento para confesarse se pondría muy nervioso. Sus amigos de la ToMan le habrían dado ideas, aunque algunas no sean muy buenas.

Al final creo que se quedaría con la idea de una noche tranquila en casa con una cena perfecta. Cocinaría tu plato favorito y pasaríais la noche tranquilamente.

Siento que su confesión sería muy tímida, sin ser capaz de mirarte por miedo y susurrando todo lo que siente por ti mientras su cara se vuelve igual de roja que el pelo de Akkun.

Mi conclusión sobre Angry con su crush es simplemente "adorable" sería tan lindo que resultaría imposible decirle que no.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

@honey-minded-hivemind a draft idea of essex meeting Remy in stuck gambit au

Remy bounces a little as Creed guides him into his favorite cafe. He breathes in the smell of the sea that they burn candles specifically to create. The smell of coffee and baked goods also fills his nose. The Barge. A fantastic cafe that offers a wide variety of coffee and breakfast items, along with offering up the smell of the sea and soft ocean noises. 

“Describe.”

He says, despite Creed having told him what the inside looked like before. Creed purrs and rubs a thumb over Remys knuckles. 

“Alright. Let's see here. So we are in a medium-sized room, with wood floors.”

“What does the wood look like?”

Remy chirps, leaning against Creed. He wants Creed to stay a little longer. Creed snorts.

“It's a warm brown. Well vanished. Looks like a new deck on one of those old sailing ships. The walls are blue and painted to look like the ocean and a blue sky.”

Remy opens his mouth and Creed bumps his head against Remy’s. 

“Dark blue in the ocean waves with white froth. Lighter mid day blue for the sky bits. There are booths with similar wood and dark blue cushions. There are a few scattered wooden tables with chairs. Lotta people on their computers and reading books. No one looks like a threat. Yet.”

“Merci Creed. Think I'm ready to order.”

Remy says, squeezing the elbow that he is holding. They go up to the counter and he orders confidently, already familiar with the menu. 

“Oh, hi Remy! You're usual?”

Ah, Erica. She's nice and always is patient with him. Checks on him too if he looks like he needs it. 

“Yes, please. Merci.”

“We'll get that right out to you. Read anything interesting lately?”

Remy smiles. He pats his bag.

“Working on the odyssey right now. It's thick mais fun.”

“You'll have to tell me all about it some time. Alright, I've rung you up.”

Remy pays and then lets Creed guide him to the back booth against the wall. Remy stalls before sitting and wrapping his arms around Creed.

“Do you have to?”

“It's a job cub. I need to be able to keep taking care of you. I'll be back in a few hours. You know I'm not abandoning you.”

Remy sighs.

“I know. Gonna miss you. Good luck, Minou. Come back soon. Ill be waiting.”

Remy hugs tightly. 

“Love you, cub.”

“Love you too, Creed.”

He breathes in the scent of Creed and lets himself slowly be pushed away and into the booth. A kiss is placed on his forehead. 

“I'll be back.”

And with one more kiss, Creed is gone. Remy lets out a tiny breath at the loss of heat near him. He takes a second to settle down into the booth cushion. He pushes himself over to wall, finding comfort in having two firm surfaces around him; one to the back and one to the front. He pulls out his copy of the odyssey translated into english and into braille. His papa keeps him well supplied with books and tools to help him in the world. But Remy relies mainly on Creed, loving each moment that the feral proved that he would not abandoned to the darkness that Remy has come to expect upon opening his eyes each morning. 

When his food and drink comes he tucks it close to him and memorizes wher it is. A iced caramel latte and an egg sandwich. He continues to read, getting reabsorbed in the tale. He hums a small tune to himself, thinking about the lyre tucked deep down in the Guild vaults, said to be able to sing the tale with a knowledgeable player. Maybe one day he will get to play it. 

He keeps reading until a voice stirs him.

“The rest of the tables have been filled. May I share the booth? I will not speak?”

The voice is deep and calm. Rich like one of the voices on a nature documentary. Remy twitches his fingers over his text and then nods.

“Oui, er, yes. You may. Need me to move anythin’ to make room?”

“No. There is adequate room.”

Remy nods and shifts a bit. He flexes his fingers and starts reading again, brain swirling back to the spot that he had been at before. He keeps half an ear on the man sharing his table. There is paper shuffles and the click of a keyboard. A whir of a small laptop and the slight breath of someone concentrating. Remy dismisses the noises as part of the ambience in the cafe and shifts back to reading.

--

“That's a lot of snow.”

Remy hears the murmur and stirs from his reading. What? He listens into the murmurs of the people around. He starts picking up on different facts.

Sudden snow storm. Several inches thick. Most people heading out to get home. There is enough snow to block some people in. 

Nerves shoot through him.

Creed might get delayed getting to him. And Remy has no way to get home. Remy swallows and bites his lip. He feels panic starting to arch up his spine. He licks his teeth and starts to twitch. He starts running through a few different formulas for explosives that could bust open locks. 

“What?”

Remy jumps at the voice that is closer than he expects and bangs his shoulder on the wall. Oh. right. The man that he let sit with him.

“Is it snowing? Really hard?”

He asks, fingers twitching on the table. The man huffs.

“Yes. Now what were you saying?”

“Just… Just a formula for explosions. I think through them, as a calming technique I guess. So there's a lot of snow?”

“It looks like there will be several feet worth at the end of the storm. Do you often babble formulas?”

Remy feels a flash of despair at the news and grips his hair. He takes a deep breath and forces himself not to panic.

“I- Yeah. I like the structure of them. Gives my brain something to do.”

“Ah I see. That formula is not one Im very familiar with.”

“Well its meant to only explode when in contact with specific kind of wiringing. And its meant to be a very small explosion.”

Remy babblyes about it for a minute, slowly relaxing as he talks through something he understands. 

“I see. Is that what your major is, something scientific?”

Remy laughs at the question and then runs a hand through his loose hair.

“Oh, no. Remy is not meant for schoolin’. Not a bookworm, me. I just like learning all sorts of things.”

“Not a bookworm? Yet you seem to be reading a rather thick text.”

Remy tilts his head and give a rye smile.

“Aw, you caught me. I do enjoy reading some things. This is the Odyssey. You ever read it monsieur…?”

“I am Doctor Essex. And yes. I have.” 

Remy grins a bit as the man starts talking to him about the mythos and what creatures might have existed that explained the different creatures present in the story. Remy quickly jumps in with his own theories rathering to think about that over thinking about the piling snow and that he can't get home on his own. His hands tighten on the table a little with each snatch of conversation about the storm. He can hear the screech of the wind just beyond the walls and the sound of people leaving. 

He startles a little as someone knocks on the table.

“Remy, are you okay?”

 Erica asks and Remy relaxes slightly. His fingers flex against the surface of the table. Nerves creak and groan through his spine.

“I… its bad out there. Isnt it?”

Remy asks. Erica breathes.

“Its looking bad. Most people have left. But Im going to keep the store open for anyone who cant go home. Which includes you. Is Creed supposed to be back?”

“Yeah…”

“He’ll come.”

Erica says softly and pats his shoulder.

“Ill stay until this Creed comes.”

Essex says and Remy grins.

“Merci monsieur.”

He reaches out tentatively and a large cold hand takes his gently. Remy relaxes, flexing his fingers slightly. Feeling someone else is grounding. It helps with the twitching swaying nerves. 

“Now. we were speaking of medusa.”

The man says and Remy grins. They start talking a little bit about mutants and what creatures might have been mutants in a past age. Remy finds Essex’s perspective interesting. And finds it refreshing that Essex seems to hold no anti-mutant views while speaking of his speculations, just simple curiosity. At least that is how it seems. Remy has a hard time reading the man’s emotions. Maybe Essex is a mutant too. Remy wont ask, does not want to be seen as rude. 

The hand does not leave Remy’s and it keeps the panick from sloshing over and burning a acidic river down his back. He tightens his fingers ever so slightly. Essex shifts a bit and pats Remy’s hand gently with his other hand. Remy relaxes again. They restart their conversation.

They do not pause again until…

Remy hears the door open and the creak of the floor. There is a deep growl and a chufff of breath. 

Creed.

Remy leaps up and rushes to the door. 

“Creed! Minou!”

Remy is scooped up and his head is nuzzled happily. 

“Cub. Cub.”

Creed’s clothes are wet and cold, snow melting beneath Remy’s finger tips. He nuzzles up under Creed’s chin happily chirping.

“Im so glad you came. I was worried that the storm-”

“No storm can keep me from you. Especially not one made by the lame villain of the week.” 

Remy sighs happily. 

“I know. Youre the best.”

The world feels safer with Creed;s warm arms wrapped about his waist.

“Come on. Lets get you something warm to drink. Oh! And I get to introduce you to Doctor Essex!”

Remy shifts so his feet are back on the ground and he tugs eagerly on Creed.

[totheblood]

begging for rain. (three)

󠁐# THREE; the harder that it takes to undo

PAIRING: ex!ellie williams x nextdoorneighbor!reader

SUMMARY: moving to a new town can be tough, especially as you are trying to hold everything in your life together. after you meet ellie, your life completely changes, but for the better? well that's still up in the air

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x,

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

A/N : ok this was the longest chapter i've written to date so... please enjoy.... ONE AI AUDIOS IN THE FIC ! please please please like and reblog/reply/send asks, comments, the whole nine yards… it is so appreciated!

TWO YEARS AGO

It felt weird to be in Ellie’s house.

Ellie opened the door to a cozy living room with warm beige walls and wicker furniture that had been well-worn by time. An old acoustic guitar leaned against one wall and a record player sat atop an end table, surrounded by piles of vintage vinyl. The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and old books, creating a comforting ambiance. Family photos and posters dotted the walls, giving an insight into Ellie's life that made you feel like a intruder but also made you want to know more. 

"Nice place," you said, removing your shoes at the door.

"Thanks," Ellie smiled, leading you to the living room. "You can drop your stuff there. We'll study at the table."

You took a seat at the sturdy oak dining table and ran your fingers over its smooth surface before settling into it. Scattered papers littered the table, some lined with handwritten lyrics, others with doodles intertwined in colored ink. You opened up your English books and laid out your homework, feeling a sense of warmth emanating from the room. The aged furniture added an air of familiarity, like you were being invited into Ellie's private world. Ellie seemed to be working on physics homework, while you had an English essay on Shakespeare to tackle. The juxtaposition wasn't lost on you—Ellie with equations and you with Elizabethan English.

You both settled into your work, the atmosphere tinged with concentration. Occasionally, your eyes would drift towards Ellie, watching her brows furrow in thought or her lips move silently as she read through her notes. Each time, you'd catch yourself and refocus on your own work.

"So, how are you finding the essay?" she finally broke the silence.

"It's... okay, I guess. Mrs. Porter has a way of making Shakespeare sound like rocket science."

Ellie chuckled. "Ah, the age-old struggle. To be or not to be confused, that is the question."

You laughed, and for a moment, the tension of the day seemed to lift. "You're not so bad at this, you know," you said. "Maybe you should consider a career in stand-up."

"And give up my dream of becoming a rockstar physicist?" she feigned surprise. "Never."

You smiled at her enthusiasm. "A rockstar physicist, huh? That's a first."

"Well, what about you? Any grand plans?"

You hesitated, thinking about your dad for a moment. You blinked, looking down at the book in front of you before looking back up at Ellie.  "I'm not sure. I used to think I had it all figured out, but now... everything's so uncertain."

Ellie put down her pen and looked at you, her green eyes softening. "Uncertainty isn't always bad, you know. Sometimes it's just room for something new, something better."

You looked at her, really looked at her, and felt something shift inside you. "That's pretty wise for a 17-year-old."

She blushed a little, turning her attention back to her notebook. "Well, don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain. Plus, I’m almost 18."

The rest of the study session went smoothly. You’d occasionally sigh and drop your head in frustration, making Ellie stifle a giggle and demand you get back to work. You had only known her for a day and was already falling into a rhythm with her. You didn’t want to go home, but the sun was beginning to set and you wanted time to rest. Time to think about the day you had and try to make sense of it. When it was time to leave, Ellie walked you to the door.

"Thanks for coming over. It was fun," she said, her hands twisting together.

"Yeah, I had a good time too," you replied, feeling a strange mix of happiness and reluctance to leave.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Ellie's words echoed in your mind: "Uncertainty isn't always bad... it's just room for something new, something better." And as you walked back across the dirt path to your house, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, something new and better had already begun.

You walked into your room, shutting the door behind you as if to seal off the world outside. It was your sanctuary, a little haven where you could breathe, think, and just be. You tossed your backpack onto the bed and sank into your chair, letting out a sigh as you looked around. Your room was still a mix of unpacked boxes and half-arranged furniture—a physical representation of your current state of mind, unsettled yet hopeful.

Picking up your phone, you noticed you had an unread Instagram DM. Your heart skipped a beat; could it be Ellie? Unlocking your phone, you saw the message was from Ingrid. Curiosity piqued, you opened.

ingrid.xoxo: Hey there, newbie. How was your first day?

You felt strange reading her message. Like it was something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Was she just being friendly or was there something more? You quickly typed back.

y/nsworld: hey! It was a little overwhelming but good overall. how was your day? 

Almost instantly, she replied.

ingrid.xoxo: Same old, same old. But seeing a fresh face around made it more interesting. 😉

The winking emoji caught your attention. Was she flirting? A little flutter of excitement mixed with confusion settled in your stomach.

Before you could process it further, the front door opened and closed loudly. It was your mom, finally home from work. You heard her footsteps coming up the stairs, and a few seconds later, she knocked on your door.

"Come in," you called.

The door swung open and your mom stepped in, her face tired but lighting up when she saw you. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your first day at the new school?"

You looked at her and smiled. "It was good, Mom. Made some new friends, and Ellie from next door is really nice. I went there and studied after school."

"That's wonderful," she said, her eyes shining with relief. "I was so worried you'd have a hard time adjusting."

"I mean, it's still the first day, but so far, so good," you said, shrugging. The relief on your mom’s face made you uneasy. You wanted to make this transition easy for both of you, but there was a newfound pressure building inside of you. You had to make it work here, even if you were unhappy. There was no escaping this place, and you suddenly felt trapped. Before your mind could go any further, she was speaking again. 

"That's my brave girl," she said, coming over to give you a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

As she left the room and wished you a goodnight with a firm kiss pressed to the top of your head, you sat back and sighed. Your phone buzzed again. Another message from Ingrid.

ingrid.xoxo: So, got any plans for the weekend? Maybe you'd like a tour guide to show you around. 😊

There it was again, that undercurrent of something more than just friendliness. You found yourself smiling, both intrigued and uncertain. It was as if life, in its own whimsical way, was presenting new possibilities, each more complicated than the last.

You glanced back at the door, then at your phone, then at the unpacked boxes still sitting in your room. Everything felt like a question mark, and as Ellie had wisely noted, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Lying back on your bed, you stared up at the ceiling, pondering your response to Ingrid, your new friendships, and the unpredictability of life itself. Uncertainty, as it turns out, could indeed be the room for something new, something better.

And so, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, you typed out your reply to Ingrid, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself.

y/nsworld: a tour guide sounds fun. i'm in. :) 

PRESENT DAY 

When Ellie's text popped up on your phone two days ago, you almost deleted it without reading it. The mere sight of her name on your screen was like a splinter you couldn't remove—small but persistently painful. She wrote that she missed your friendship, and though you wanted to scoff at her audacity, a part of you hesitated. Her words, "Can we at least talk? Just as friends?" echoed in your mind. Against your better judgment, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, and before you knew it, you found yourself typing, "Fine, but this doesn't mean anything." Now, as you stepped into the quaint coffee shop where so many of your past memories were brewed, you questioned that decision.

"You're early," Ellie remarked, her voice as flat as the expression on her face.

"I had nothing better to do," you responded, matching her tone as you stepped into the coffee shop. It was almost empty, the aroma of freshly ground coffee mingling with the subtle tension that had settled between you two.

"Of course, you didn't," Ellie sighed, sliding a cup of coffee your way across the wooden table. On it was marked with your order, two pumps of hazelnut, two pumps of vanilla, and one pump of almond, extra cream. 

You looked at the cup, then back at Ellie. "You remembered how I like my coffee."

"I'm not completely useless."

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip while simultaneously biting your tongue. You had every right to tell her she was useless, but you refrained. It was perfect, just the way you liked it. "What do you want, Ellie?"

Ellie sighed, looking uncomfortable for a moment before speaking, "I wanted to talk. About us."

You almost snorted into your coffee. "Us? There is no 'us'. Not anymore."

"I know I messed up, okay? But can't we at least—"

"Messed up?" you cut her off, feeling the familiar surge of anger rise within you. "You didn't just 'mess up', Ellie. You broke something. Something that can't be fixed."

Ellie flinched as if you had slapped her. The look on her face almost making you feel guilty. But she didn’t have that right anymore, and you weren’t about to let her back in.

 "I know. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But can't we at least try to be civil? For the sake of our friends, if not for us?"

You looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment you were back in her living room, struggling with physics homework and discussing the uncertainties of life. Back when things were simpler, easier. But that was a different time, a different you, and most importantly, a different Ellie.

"Being civil is a far cry from what you're suggesting," you said finally, breaking the silence.

Ellie sighed. "I know I don't deserve a second chance. Hell, I don't even deserve your friendship. But can't we at least try to be... something?"

You stared at her, pondering her words. The Ellie sitting in front of you now seemed so different from the girl you had fallen for. And yet, there were moments, fleeting seconds, when you could almost see traces of the old Ellie—the one who made you laugh, who made you think, who made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

But those traces were just that—fleeting and insubstantial. The real Ellie, the one sitting in front of you, was a reminder of a chapter you had painfully closed.

"We can try," you said finally, "but I can't promise anything."

Ellie nodded, a mixture of relief and regret flashing across her face. "I guess that's all I can ask for."

As you both sipped your coffee in silence, the weight of what was left unsaid hung heavy in the air. And yet, for the first time in a long time, it felt like you could both breathe a little easier.

But as Ellie's eyes met yours, you couldn't help but wonder: in the quest for something new, something better, had you both lost something irreplaceable? There was something substantially broken between the two of you now, innocence on both parts lost. 

TWO YEARS AGO

You found yourself standing in front of your bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection as you pondered what to wear for this so-called 'tour' with Ingrid. You wondered if you should aim for casual or if Ingrid, with her meticulous style, would expect something more. After rummaging through your wardrobe, you settled on a simple pair of jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt. Casual, yet presentable. You threw on a light jacket, considering the morning chill, and took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied but not entirely confident, you grabbed your phone and headed downstairs. Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, bowl of cereal in front of her with her spoon in one hand and phone in the other.

"Going out?" Your mom looked up from her phone, her eyes scanning your outfit.

"Yeah, a girl from school is showing me around town."

"Ah, great. Text me if you need anything." Her eyes returned to her phone, but not before you caught the fleeting look of relief. There the pressure was again, and in turn your sinking stomach. 

"See you later, Mom," you said, heading for the door.

"Have fun, sweetheart!" she called out as you closed the door behind you.

As you approached Ingrid's car, you noticed her already leaning against it. She was wearing what could only be described as the epitome of 'casual chic'—ripped jeans, a designer top, and a pair of sunglasses perched effortlessly on her head. She looked up from her phone and greeted you with a broad, almost rehearsed, smile.

"Ready for your grand tour?" Ingrid inquired, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than you were comfortable with.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied, cautiously optimistic about the day ahead.

The interior of Ingrid's car was as meticulously maintained as her appearance. The leather seats were pristine, and the air was scented with something floral, bordering on overpowering. She started the engine, and you were off.

The first few minutes were filled with awkward silence. You sensed that Ingrid was waiting for you to initiate conversation, but you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to open your mouth to speak. Finally, she broke the ice.

"So, first stop, the infamous Longview Park. You'll love it—it's where everyone hangs out," she said, her voice tinged with enthusiasm that sounded slightly rehearsed.

"That sounds fun," you responded, forcing a smile.

As you drove through the town, Ingrid began to pepper you with questions. They started off harmless enough—questions about your old town, your interests, your favorite movies. But as the drive continued, the questions began to probe deeper.

"So, why did you move here? If you don't mind me asking," she added hastily, as though realizing she might be venturing into sensitive territory.

"My dad passed away. We couldn’t afford to live there anymore, so we had to move," you replied, trying to maintain composure. You had rehearsed this response, but it still felt like you were ripping off a Band-Aid every time you said it.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ingrid responded, her voice softening for the first time that morning. But before you could reply, she was off again. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The abrupt switch in topic caught you off-guard. "Uh, no, not right now," you stammered.

"Really? Someone as hot as you? I find that hard to believe," she said, her eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road.

"Um, thanks," you muttered, not entirely sure how to interpret the compliment.

Ingrid seemed to take your discomfort as a cue to change the subject. "We're almost at Longview Park. It's truly the heart of our community," she declared, as if rehearsed.

As you pulled into the parking lot of Longview Park, you took a deep breath. It was time to see what this 'heart of the community' was all about.

he car rolled to a stop, and Ingrid switched off the engine, her eyes twinkling like she was unveiling a secret treasure. "And here we are—Longview Park. It's like the social hub of our high school world."

You opened the car door and stepped out, looking around. The park was sizable, dotted with large oaks and willows that offered generous shade. A playground occupied one corner, bustling with the laughter of children, while a pond shimmered peacefully in the mid-morning sun. People were everywhere—jogging, playing Frisbee, or simply lounging on the grass. It had a communal feel.

Ingrid led you along a gravel path, her steps confident and rehearsed as if she'd walked this path a thousand times before. "See that gazebo over there?" she pointed, "That's like the unofficial meet-up spot for parties and hangouts. And over there is the infamous 'Lovers' Lane' where couples go to... well, you know."

Her words were punctuated with a suggestive wink that made you feel slightly uncomfortable. You chuckled nervously, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

As you walked, you couldn't help but notice the way people looked at Ingrid—long enough to show interest but not too long to risk her noticing. She seemed to command attention effortlessly, and you couldn't tell if it was her charisma or if you were completely missing something

"Everyone loves to be here on weekends," Ingrid continued, her tone casual but her eyes scanning the area, as if looking for someone or something in particular. "It's a great place to catch up with friends or make new ones. Like we're doing right now."

She shot you a smile, the kind that was meant to be endearing but felt slightly off-mark. You returned it nonetheless. "It's a nice place. Very... lively," you said, choosing your words carefully.

As you neared the pond, you spotted a familiar face sitting on one of the benches—Cat. And next to her, unmistakably, was Ellie. They seemed engrossed in conversation, their faces inches apart. A pang of something—was it jealousy?—stabbed at you, but you quickly brushed it aside.

"Hey, look who it is!" Ingrid's voice brought you back to reality. She had followed your gaze and was now staring directly at Ellie and Cat. "Want to go say hi?"

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted was an awkward run-in, but before you could voice your concerns, Ingrid had already started walking toward them.

"Hey Cat, Ellie!" she called out, her voice unnaturally high. Both heads turned in your direction, and the range of emotions that crossed their faces in that brief moment was unsettling—surprise, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Hey Ingrid," Ellie finally spoke, her eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before returning to Ingrid. "What brings you here?"

"Just giving our new resident a grand tour of Longview Park," Ingrid replied, her arm casually draping over your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine but chose to ignore it.

"That's nice of you," Cat chimed in, her eyes narrowing slightly as they settled on you. You couldn't tell if she was being sincere or just sizing you up.

"Yeah, it's been fun," you said, forcing a smile. But your eyes met Ellie's once more, and the unspoken words hung heavily in the air between you.

"Well, we won't keep you," Ingrid said abruptly, as if sensing the tension. "Lots more to see. Come on," she tugged at your arm lightly, and you followed her back to the path, leaving Ellie and Cat behind.

As you walked away, you felt Ellie's gaze burning into your back. You wanted to look back, to catch one last glimpse of her, but you resisted. Whatever was or wasn't happening between you and Ellie would have to wait. Right now, you were on Ingrid's turf, and you couldn't help but feel like a pawn in a much larger game.

"Shall we continue?" Ingrid asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you replied, but your thoughts were already miles away.

The door clicked shut as you slid into the passenger seat, your thoughts still reeling from the encounter at the park. Ingrid revved up the engine and pulled away, humming softly to the beat of the song playing on the radio. You looked over at her, everything about her seemed staged. 

"How did you like the park?" she asked, casting a quick glance in your direction.

"It was... interesting," you said cautiously. "It's a nice place, very lively. Lots of history, I imagine."

Ingrid chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea. It's like the theater of high school drama. Anything and everything happens there."

Her words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but feel like there was a deeper meaning behind them. But before you could ponder it further, your phone buzzed. Glancing down, you saw Ellie's name flash on the screen.

Ellie: hey. can we talk later?

You felt a mixed bag of emotions, but you were mostly nervous. You hadn’t taken the group's warning and hung out with Ingrid anyays. It wasn’t like she was two fingers deep inside of you, but with the way Cat and Ellie looked, it seemed that way.  You were about to type a response when you noticed Ingrid's eyes flicking toward your phone screen, then back to the road.

"Who's that?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of curiosity.

"Just a friend," you said, choosing your words carefully. "We're supposed to catch up later."

"Oh," she responded, but you could sense a change in her demeanor, a tightening around her eyes. "Well, I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."

"No, not at all," you reassured her, quickly typing a response to Ellie. "Sure, let's talk. Text me when you're free."

As you pressed send, you couldn't help but wonder about the timing. Why did Ellie want to talk now? And what was it about? Your thoughts were interrupted by Ingrid turning up the volume on the radio, her fingers drumming rhythmically on the steering wheel.

"So," she began, breaking the momentary silence, "we've covered quite a bit today. Any highlights?"

You pondered the question. "Well, the park was a highlight, I guess. It's always good to know where people hang out. Makes me feel less like an outsider."

Ingrid smiled, but there was something about it that made you uneasy. "You're not an outsider, you know. You're just new, and new can be exciting."

"Thanks," you said, your phone buzzing again. This time it was a text from your mom asking about your day.

Feeling the need to switch gears, you asked, "So, how long have you been living here? You seem to know everyone and everything."

"Born and raised," she declared proudly. "It has its pros and cons, but I like it. And yes, I do know a lot of people, but it's not hard when you grow up here. Everyone kind of knows everyone."

"That must be nice," you said, though a part of you wondered what it would be like to have that much history in one place—so many connections, but also so many ties that could bind you.

"Yeah," she paused, her expression turning serious. "But it can also be a bit suffocating, you know? Sometimes you just want to break free, start fresh somewhere new. Like you."

You looked at her, intrigued by this sudden glimpse into her thoughts. "Well, starting fresh isn't as glamorous as it seems. It has its own ups and downs."

"True," she conceded. "But at least it's a blank slate."

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed again. Another text from Ellie.

Ellie: i really need to talk to you. it's important.

This time, you couldn't ignore the urgency in her message. Something was up, something significant. You looked up to find Ingrid watching you, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, but her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

You hesitated, weighing your options. "Actually, I might need to cut our day short. Something's come up at home."

Ingrid's eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in them—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe something else.

"Of course," she said, finally breaking eye contact. "Life happens. Let's get you home."

You stepped out of Ingrid's car, waving goodbye as she drove off. Your phone buzzed as you approached your front door, another text from Ellie.

Ellie: can you meet me at the grind? it’s about two blocks away from our house. i can drive us back. 

 You texted back a quick "on my way" and made your way over.

Ten minutes later, you walked into The Grind, the local coffee shop where the whole town seemed to be at this moment. As you scanned the room, your eyes met Ellie's. She was seated at a corner table, her phone face down and her fingers nervously tapping a rhythm against her coffee mug.

"Hey," you greeted as you approached, pulling out the chair across from her.

"Hey," Ellie replied, her eyes meeting yours briefly before averting. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. Sounded like it was urgent. What's up?"

"I saw you today," she began cautiously, "with Ingrid."

A knot formed in your stomach. "Yeah, she was showing me around. Why?"

Ellie hesitated, looking down at her mug, and tapping the handle. She closed her eyes for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Be careful with her. She's not what she seems."

"I mean I heard what you guys said about her at lunc but," you replied, taking a sip of your coffee. "She seems harmless."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Cut right above her shoulders, the choppy layers suited her face. "Ingrid has a way of getting close to people, and it's not always for the right reasons. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Your eyes met, and you felt a strange warmth spread through you. Ellie was concerned for you. But why? She had only known you a day. You searched her face for an answer, for anything, but you came up short.

"Do you have something against her?" you asked, not hiding your skepticism.

"No," Ellie was quick to respond, "it's not like that. I've just seen her ruin friendships, relationships. She's manipulative."

"You seem serious," you remarked, detecting a tinge of something in her voice—was it jealousy?

Ellie looked down at her mug, her fingers ceasing their tapping. "I just don't want history to repeat itself, okay?"

"History?" you questioned, leaning forward. "What happened?"

She looked up again, her eyes meeting yours again, but this time they were vulnerable, exposed. "Ingrid and I had a thing once. And it felt more serious than her ‘things’ with Cat and Dina. And let's just say it didn't end well."

Now it made sense. The hints, the caution—it was personal for Ellie.

She held your gaze, her eyes searching yours for something you couldn't name. "Also," she paused, as if weighing whether to continue, "You’re my friend now. I care about you. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with unspoken words.

You finally broke the silence. "Thank you for telling me, Ellie. I appreciate it."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, yeah. Of course"

As you left The Grind, your thoughts were a swirl of confusion and clarity. Ellie's concern had added another layer to the already complicated dynamic of your new life. But through it all, one thing became clear—Ellie cared about you, maybe more than she was willing to admit.

And as you replayed the conversation in your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that Ellie wasn't just warning you about Ingrid. She was also staking her claim, marking her territory in a landscape that was becoming increasingly complicated.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

y'know what else i'm thinkin about?

splash! au steddie where steve meets the merman that he would swear up and down was real when he was little; the little merman he'd see every time his family would visit the coast.

steve, who moves permanently to that (now much bigger, touristy-adjacent) town and runs into (no, literally, smack into) a fully naked (very handsome, holy shit!) man when he's on his way to the little shop he runs on the coast early one morning.

steve gives him his sweater and shuffles the softly smiling (vaugely familiar???) man to the shop and gives him a spare set of clothes that he'd had there from the remodels he did a couple years ago.

the man follows steve around the shop all day, poking around the books and tchotchkes the shop sells, listening to the tourist stories steve tells him, never speaking, until steve closes up early, taking him just outside town to get him some more clothes and such.

at one point while at the store, the man wanders away and steve panics, eventually finding him gazing wonderously at all the screens in the 'home entertainment' section, completely entranced by the multiple screens playing MTV and blaring music through the speakers for sale as well.

He tries to explain the non-speaking-ness of his new friend to the employee trying to close up their part of the store when the man suddenly speaks, "Hi Steve, how was your day?"

The employee ushers them out and the pair leave, walking back into town. Steve asks, "So what's your name, anyway? Did you learn it from the TV?"

The man rolls his eyes, "I had a name before today, sweetheart."

Steve's stomach flips at the term of endearment, assuming it's just a product of whatever commercials he may have seen today, maybe he thought it was a normal thing to call your friend..they are friends, right?

"O-okay, what is it?"

"It's kinda hard to pronounce in english,"

"Try me, I wanna know."

The man gives him a look, but does, squealing out something more suited for something living in the tanks at Sea World than for a person.

He grimaces at Steve's bewildered look, "I told you."

"Uh.. yeah. Well hey! That's okay, we just need to find something else to call you."

"Like what?"

"Well lets see.. There's Andrew?"

"No.."

"Joseph?"

Another no.

"James? Isaac? Brad? Seymour? John?" more and more names and 'no's until they're nearly home (and no closer to a decision). "Wayne maybe? Where are we... Ah! Edmonton." Steve mutters to himself. Only a couple more streets to go.

The name 'Pablo' is on the tip of his tongue when he's stopped by "Edmonton! I like that one."

Steve snorts out a laugh, "Edmonton isn't really a name, it's--" he cuts himself off this time, seeing the horrible kicked puppy look on the other man's face. "Hey, no, okay, Edmonton it is! We'll call you Eddie for short!"

Eddie grins at him so bright and sincere in that moment, that Steve can feel it hit him, and snap something into place inside him.

He's going to fall in love with this man.

He can feel it.

[geekgirles]

I'm actually quite proud of Armand right now. Openly admitting to Amalia the reason their relationship was always strained was because he'd always been jealous of her and her relationship with their father is such a great character moment for him.

One thing season 4 is definitely delivering is some much needed depth and exploration of the Sadida Royal family. And I find myself fascinated (not only because Amalia is my favourite character and I have a soft spot for her people).

Personally, Armand is a character I have a lot of trouble having a clear stance on. I don't hate him, and it's true his motives become clear and even understandable once you give them some thought, it's just that Ankama does a wonderful job at making him both outwardly dislikable given his abrasive personality and some of his most questionable actions.

For example, season 3 Armand and season 4 Armand are almost like night and day. Maybe it is indeed that his new role as king has forced him to be more responsible and emotionally mature, but the vibes between L'assamblée and Falling Down are completely different.

In season 3 he just oozed contempt for his sister, and his actions towards her reeked of ulterior motives. The fact that Aurora has been described as manipulative (even her hairstyle is meant to hint at her true nature) and was purposely placed in between the two siblings as a visual nod to how she's keeping them apart doesn't help matters.

Which is another factor to take into account: Aurora's character and the role she plays in the siblings' deteriorating bond.

Even if so far she seems to genuinely love Armand, I really can't bring myself to trust Aurora. Not only because of all the behind-the-scenes facts I already mentioned, but because her actions are just sketchy and clearly veered to the betterment of the Osamodas rather than the Sadida.

First of all, her contempt for Amalia is genuine and she legitimately seems to be planning to send her away to keep her from interfering with her plans. After all, this is literally what she had to say about her sister-in-law:

"Ne vous en faîtes pas mon prince, nous finirons bien par redresser cette mauvaise herbe."

Translation: "Don't worry, my prince, we'll get this weed straightened out in the end."

(I haven't watched the English dub, so my apologies if the translation doesn't match the official version).

There's also the fact that, despite being the new Sadida Queen, her intentions in season 3 clearly laid in the benefit of her own kingdom, the Osamodas. Such is reflected in her choice of suitors for Amalia:

She intended for Amalia to marry Ashdur, her own cousin, thus, strengthening the Osamodas' hold over Sadida politics. In fact, it becomes quite clear Aurora's choice in suitors, only supported by Amalia implying back then her sister-in-law had already tried the same thing with her brothers, was much less about the future of the Sadida Kingdom and more about the Osamodas' sake.

After all, while arranged marriages between royal families isn't anything new, usually the sensible and even most strategic thing to do is for rulers to"spread" their children and marry them into different families around the world. That is exactly what Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabela of Castile did with their own children, they married them off to the royal families of England, Portugal, and Austria.

With that in mind, having both Sheran Sharm children marry Osamodas royalty just seems dumb, doesn't it? It all comes to show Aurora is more concerned over solidifying her power over the Sadida Kingdom than its actual well-being.

Which is why I'm still going to keep my guard up regarding her character until the season ends. After all, we still have 9 more episodes where everything can go up in flames.

But going back to Armand, even though he is in love with his wife, his treatment of Amalia in L'assamblée is leagues better than it was in season 3. Unlike most of his appearances and his interactions with his sister, where he kept treating her like a child who didn't know any better (what she just so happened to accuse him of when presented with Ashtur, as a matter of fact), here not only does he finally open up to his sister about his insecurities and his reasoning for his behaviour towards her, but he offers her support in the wake of their father's passing and even invites her to attend the assembly with him.

He is entrusting her with responsibilities befitting a queen, not a child.

Their relationship is finally healing.

As I said earlier, despite the undeniable depth behind his character, it's difficult to really side with Armand in plenty of occasions. Not only because of his difficult personality and flaws, but because it is so much easier to sympathise with Amalia.

And I'm not talking exclusively about the fact that, as one of the main characters, we've been by her side throughout everything, witnessing her true selfless, responsible, and brave self, but the fact that her position within her own family certainly tugs at our heartstrings.

Amalia is the youngest sibling, the princess. For all the sheltering and privileges that can get her, it also became her gilded cage. And for the most part, not even her family was a safe haven.

Queen Sheran Sharm died when Amalia was probably still a kid, whereas Armand was most likely already a teenager. As King Oakheart revealed back when he explained to Amalia it had been Armand who insisted they let her go, the queen's death shook their entire family, making the king and prince unintentionally turn their backs on Amalia during a time she needed as much affection as possible. And so, her royal duties became stifling, her royal upbringing unbearable. Thus is the reason for her wanderlust.

And then we have Armand's reason for not always being fair to her: jealousy. He resented her for being Oakheart's favourite, despite constantly going off to adventures while he remained in the kingdom by his side. Now, as I said, this was a great character moment for Armand, one that also belies his character development. However, it doesn't change the fact that, while easier to relate and sympathise with him, we still sympathise with Amalia more or have been doing so for far longer because we knew the effect this had had on her.

We all have been someone's scapegoat to their frustrations with a third person, we have all been treated unfairly by someone who, for whatever reason, couldn't solve their own issues with the person they had problems with in the first place and took it out on us. This is the crux of Armand and Amalia's strained relationship: for years, Armand took his frustrations and insecurities out on Amalia instead of having an honest conversation with their father.

That's why it's easier to sympathise with Amalia, because we know that, deep down, for all her flaws, she was never at fault for how their relationship turned out. Because we can understand her frustration and pain when, even with their dying father, Armand still chose to listen to his wife over her and try to marry her off instead of being there for each other when they both needed most. As Amalia called him out for before leaving with Yugo, he still chose politics over family. Everything involving Armand and Aurora is about politics.

But now that they are at least beginning to rebuild their relationship, I sincerely hope things get better for them. Unless their original intentions back in 2017 have changed, I seriously fear Ankama will still use Aurora to complicate things further between these two.

Please, Ankama, I'm literally begging you. They're all the family they each have left, don't let their relationship be ruined forever.

[thatfandomslut]

Project Flowers

Gretchen Wieners x Reader

Word Count: 3k - I got very carried away with this one.

Trigger Warnings: insecurity, explicit language, tooth-rotting fluff

Request:

Hello, there! Do you write for Mean Girls? If so, I would like to request a Gretchen Wieners x reader fluff, please? Reader is new to school and has four brothers---the oldest used to date Regina. Regina and the brother, seeing Gretchen's growing crush on the reader, decides to play match-maker. One night, Regina convinces the reader to go with her to a "hang-out" where Gretchen is waiting with flowers.

Mean Girls requests are open.

"North Shore High is all about their cliques, which is why you're so lucky to have us." Lucas pulled on his varsity jacket, fixing his hair in the reflection of his car window. The action made (Y/n) roll her eyes with crossed arms as Michael slung his bag around his shoulders, nodding in agreement. As much as (Y/n) loved her brothers and begged to be able to attend public school, she was being reminded of how conceited and full of themselves her brothers truly were. It was the most amazing but unfortunate experience to have four older brothers while joining a new school where they were high on the social pyramid. "You will have to do a sport though. Maybe you'd like track?"

Daniel gently clapped his back to shut him up before gesturing towards the school. "Ready for your first day, (Y/n)? Sophomore year isn't all that bad. Plus, you're in AP English with James, so you'll at least have someone you know for a period." Daniel offered some comfort. He was the kinder of the four, Lucas being the more narcissistic of them. But she loved them all equally. "I think we all have to same lunch, too. So, hopefully, we'll see you then. Come on, guys, let's leave her be. Let's let her get some experience with normal school and get off her back." He tried to lead her brothers away.

"Don't talk to any of the horny douchebag boys here!" Called out Michael, pointing at her. Some passersby glanced her way, but she shrugged it off. She wasn't planning on talking to any boy if she could help it. If there was anything that her all-girls private school taught her, it was that girls were so much better. Still, she took heed of Michael's warning and attempted to steer clear of all of the boys who looked her over like she was a prize to be one throughout the hallway. Instead, she saw a different familiar face.

Regina George looked just as beautiful as she did when she last saw her. She had powerful red, pouty lips with eyeliner so sharp, it could cut someone. "(Y/n)," her voice cut through the hall, sounding more like a question as everyone stopped to see who she was talking to. Regina was never mean to her, and Regina's breakup with Lucas didn't end messy. Maybe that was because it was a summer fling, though. "I thought you went to North Shore All-Girls Academy?" She approached, two girls following her. One of the girls had dark brown hair with chocolate-colored eyes that had no thought behind them. The other girl, however; caused her breath to hitch in the back of her throat as she made eye contact with her. She had honey-blonde hair that fell in ringlets at the bottom of her hair, and her eyes were a soft amber.

"I wanted to come here with my brothers. It was a regretful idea saying as they want me to hang out with them during lunch." She hummed, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Regina wasn't one to hug anyone, so when she hugged (Y/n), everyone was caught off guard. (Y/n) hugged back happily as she allowed the blonde to give her a gentle squeeze pulling away. The other two girls behind Regina stared at her due to how out-of-character Regina was being. However, neither of them said nothing. "Plus, since Lucas was too dumb, I don't get to see you as much."

Regina flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder as she began leading (Y/n) and the other girls away from the ogling crowd. (Y/n) was in a state of awe at how popular Regina seemed to be. It threw her off guard in a way. "This is Karen Shetty and Gretchen Wieners," she introduced the two, grabbing the schedule from (Y/n)'s hand. She seemed to be showing her where to go, so (Y/n) didn't protest the snatch. "And don't worry about spending your lunch with your brothers, you can eat with us. This is your homeroom. Your next class is upstairs, turn right, third door." Regina said simply, passing the schedule back before stopping at a classroom. (Y/n) thanked her before entering the class, many other sophomores staring widely at her. She didn't understand why, still not getting the gravity that hanging out with Regina held on the student body.

Around lunchtime, (Y/n) wandered the halls, and headed towards the cafeteria. It wasn't too hard to find. There were too many signs indicating where it was. Before she could enter, Regina, Gretchen, and Karen found her first. "Hello, (Y/n)," Gretchen waved, smiling brightly. The smile caused a slight flutter in (Y/n)'s chest, heat rising to her ears as she waved back. Normally, Regina would comment on not having the first word, but she noticed how flustered both Gretchen and (Y/n) were acting with each other. So, she said nothing as they went to the lunch line. "So, the rules are, you can't wear a tank top two days in a row, you can only wear a ponytail once a week, jeans and track pants can only be worn on Fridays, and on Wednesdays we wear pink. You have to follow these rules, or you're not allowed to sit with us." Gretchen told (Y/n) as she sat beside her. (Y/n) nodded at her words, Regina still eyeing them closely.

"I got you, then. Those rules aren't too hard to follow. Maybe I can get your number so you can remind me to wear pink on Wednesday?" (Y/n) asked, causing Gretchen to clumsily pull out her phone so they could exchange numbers. Regina smirked slightly, realizing how smooth it was (Y/n). After all, she had Regina's number, she could always have asked her to remind her. She had a feeling by all of Gretchen's questions on the way to homeroom, that it was because the girl was interested in her ex's little sister. "Thanks, I'll just text you tonight to make sure I got the rules down, if you don't mind."

Gretchen shook her head kindly, hoping her hair could hide the blush forming on her cheeks. At this final display, Regina stood up, causing Karen, Gretchen, and (Y/n) to look her way. "I'm going to go get cheese fries." She excused herself before finding Lucas and pulling him into the lunch line with her. "Your sister is flirting with my friend," Regina said, causing Lucas's eyes to practically bulge out of his head as he stared at her for a long moment. "I think they'd be cute together. You're going to help me get them together by Spring Fling, at least." Regina stated, and Lucas could only nod. He knew not to defy Regina, he was smarter than that. And that is how Project Flowers commenced. It was an opportunity, that through time would help Gretchen and (Y/n) get together. Because Regina knew them both, and she knew that they were going to need help. Specifically, they needed Regina's help.

Regina allowed herself a few of weeks in order to let the two develop their relationship as friends before dropping hints to the girls that they liked each other, or she would mention different outfits she knew the other would like. "You know Gretchen, that one crop top you wore to the mall when we took Cady shopping, I overheard (Y/n) telling Karen how good you looked in it." Regina would say as she talked to Gretchen. "(Y/n), Gretchen absolutely adores your smile." She would say to (Y/n). But she was getting relentless with the responses of 'Are you sure?' Of course, she was sure. She was never wrong about anything, and she was not wrong about their feelings. Lucas also played his part, telling Gretchen little things that (Y/n) enjoyed. He would also tell (Y/n) about how he and Regina were talking about things Gretchen liked. Which always confused (Y/n) on why they brought Gretchen up, but she ignored this fact and got everything that was mentioned for Gretchen.

She was getting annoyed at all the gushing and blushing that (Y/n) and Gretchen did with each other. Their inadvertent flirting and their obliviousness killed Regina. It almost made her want to throw up in annoyance. But what was worse was the fact that they would do little things, like touch the other's hand, and then they'd pull away from each other quickly. It made Regina want to take their hands and force their fingers to intertwine together. She never thought she'd care about a relationship other then her own until she saw how disgusting in love her friends were getting for each other.

"Here's the plan, Lucas, listen up. I know you have trouble listening, so please put your listening ears on." Regina spoke to him like a child, but he didn't mind. Instead, he just listened to the blonde as he sat at a desk in the empty classroom they were in. Shane was trailing after Regina like a lost puppy but had no clue what was going on. "Tonight, I'm going to talk to Gretchen, and you need to talk to (Y/n). Then, I am going to ask her to hang out, but I am not going to be there. It's going to be Gretchen. Understood? So, somehow find out what kind of flowers she likes. For Gretchen, of course."

Lucas nodded briefly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Glancing over at Shane, he raised his brows momentarily. "Okay, sounds good." He stood up, getting ready to leave. After all, he was his siblings' ride, and they would get suspicious if he was any later to leave for the car. Still, he stopped before exiting. "Hey, Regina… You doing this for Gretchen and (Y/n)… It's nice to see you have a heart. But, also, just so you know, you deserve love, too. You and I both know Aaron and Shane are phases. Sorry, Shane." Regina narrowed her eyes at him as he smirked playfully before leaving. He knew she could kill him with that stare. However, he knew that Regina deserved love, too, and he saw the way she looked at Cady.

"Where were you?" (Y/n) questioned, still leaning on the car. Her question was directed at Lucas, but her eyes were on Gretchen talking animatedly to Karen in the distance. The ghost of a smile played on her lips and Daniel nudged her shoulder to let her know they were piling in. Since she was the shortest, she was required to sit in the middle so Lucas could see out of the back windshield. Forgetting her question, and forgetting that it never got answered, she got in. A small part of her wanted to look back at Gretchen, but she forced herself to get in and ignore that feeling of want that settled in the pit of her stomach. Especially because she knew Gretchen would never like her that way. Still, she got out her phone to send a quick text to the girl.

As they drove, Lucas looked back at (Y/n) using the mirror, who was still texting. The smile on her face let him know who she was talking to. Then, he remembered he needed to know her favorite flower. The good thing was that (Y/n) was in the social reject group of band nerds. How Regina ever let that slide was beyond Lucas. However, she had a concert that weekend and it was the perfect excuse to ask her what flowers she would like. "Hey, (Y/n), for your band concert this weekend," he got her attention, her eyes flickering up to look at him, even if his eyes were currently on the road. "What kind of flowers would you like us to bring you?" He inquired, delivering a quick glance before looking back at the road.

All of the boys, excluding Lucas, were now looking at (Y/n)- they were very supportive. Still, all of the eyes on her made her nervous. "Well, it's going to sound basic, but my favorite flowers are pink roses. So, I guess, if you all were to bring flowers, I would want those." She answered, hoping this would get their attention off of her. For one of the Plastics, she didn't like all of the attention. Not even from family. But that probably came with being the youngest girl in a family of four older brothers. There was constantly so much attention on her, that it was sometimes suffocating. With that said, when it came to Gretchen's attention, she wanted it. She wanted Gretchen to look at her. She loved it when Gretchen smiled at her. It was like she was Ken in the new Barbie movie.

A text pinged on her phone and she looked down, hoping it was from Gretchen, but instead, she saw it was from Regina. 'Hey, loser <3, meet me at the park at 7,' it read. Typing a quick confirmation, she got ready but before she could, she was stopped by Lucas who had a suspiciously caring smile on her face. She knew a big talk was coming and she dreaded getting elder brother advice from Lucas of all her older brothers.

"I just wanted to talk to you about Gretchen. I know, because I see how you look at her, and how you look at yourself, that you don't feel good enough." He said, causing surprise to grow on her face. How he knew how she was feeling was beyond her. But maybe she sold him out short. Maybe he did pay attention to more than just himself. "You are good enough for Gretchen. You are so kind and caring, (Y/n). And I can see it in Gretchen's face that she sees that in you. You need to go for it. You've got this."

A smile fell on her face as she embraced her brother. "Thank you," she whispered as he hugged back. He left her room as she changed into something more comfortable but still within Plastics standards. As she got ready for the park, she texted Gretchen and asked if she'd be at the park, too. After waiting a few moments, she tried not to pout at the lack of response before grabbing a jacket and making her way over to meet Regina. Maybe it was just a hangout with only Regina. She felt guilty all of a sudden, hoping she didn't make Gretchen feel left out. Then the overthinking came in, and she wondered if she should even go. On the other hand, Regina would be pissed if she didn't make it. Even if she was kinder to (Y/n) than most people, it didn't make her immune to Regina's quips now and again.

Making her way through the park, she was surprised to see Gretchen at the tree. Squinting slightly, (Y/n) could see that she was holding something. Looking around, she noticed that there was no sign of Regina, so she decided to make her way over. "Hey, Gretchen," she greeted, startling the honey-blonde girl. She finally noticed that in Gretchen's hands were her favorite flowers, and she was starting to realize what was going on. She was tricked into coming here to meet Gretchen by Regina and her brother. Her brother wasn't asking about the rose for the concert- though her brothers would still get her flowers. And Regina staged the hangout, and she must've convinced Gretchen to come out here.

"(Y/n), hey! I was waiting for you." Gretchen bit her lip nervously, extending the roses over to (Y/n). (Y/n) blinked before smiling slowly. Looking up at Gretchen with a wide smile, she started to see the confidence starting to circulate in her amber eyes. "I've been wanting to talk to you about something. So, Regina told me to meet you here and to tell you. So I'm going to go for it." Gretchen gave herself a moment, breathing in. (Y/n) wanted to kiss her right then and there, but she also wanted to hear what she wanted to say. "I really like you. You are so caring and kind. You're funny, smart, and creative. You mean everything to me, and I really want to go on a date with you. We could get coffee or boba together. But also, I really want to be your girlfriend."

(Y/n) gently took a step forward, and with one hand (the other was still clutching the flowers), she pulled Gretchen in. The two girls looked at each other for a moment before Gretchen nodded and (Y/n) completed the distance between them. Kissing her deeply, she felt Gretchen's hands cup the back of her neck. Everything felt complete, and (Y/n) had to stop smiling in the kiss. "I really want to be your girlfriend, too, Gretchen." (Y/n) whispered on her lips, causing Gretchen to kiss her again happily.

"About time," Regina said with her arms crossed, standing next to Lucas, who was looking away respectfully. He obviously didn't want to intrude on his little sister's first kiss. "I thought by the time you two got the balls to ask each other out, we'd be in an elderly home," Regina stated with a quick wink, the other two girls red in the face. "I hope you two have a good time at your picnic. Never say I didn't do something for you. Lucas, the basket, let's go."

The words confused the girls until they noticed Lucas holding the picnic basket in his hands, passing it to his sister. (Y/n) smiled shyly, thanking him before Regina and Lucas went their separate ways. Gretchen and (Y/n) laughed for a moment before going through the basket to find a mix of their favorite snacks. Setting up the area, the two stayed out until the night fell, creating their constellation, their hands connecting them like stars in the night sky, (Y/n) looked over at Gretchen, smiling when she turned over, too. (Y/n) noted in her mind that Gretchen was prettier than all the stars before placing a gentle kiss on Gretchen's lips, Gretchen reciprocating gently. Nothing could ever ruin this moment, (Y/n) decided as she pulled away, smiling widely at the girl. Gretchen turned her head once more and (Y/n) did, too, as they continued to stargaze.

[sillylittlejellyfish]

SharkBoy and LavaGirl

Synopsis: You and your twin brother get on camp with the help of Percy and his friends, your sister is lost and when they come back from looking from her they say that she died. Some years later and you're really close to Percy, or shall I say, SharkBoy. Maybe something may happen between you two?

Pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader, nico di angelo x twinsister!reader(platonic)

Warnings: English is not my first language,bad writing??, making out(nothing too heavy tho), some cuss words but there's like only 4? I changed a bit The original story and aged up a little the characters! They met when they were 14,jusr so you don't get lost while reading. Proofread once, so if there's anything wrong tell me! The "headers" are not mine,they are from @cafekitsune

Words:3.5K (I never wrote something this much before lmao)

a/n: I'm a bit sick theses days and work + school have been killing me. so it took me a while to write this one. I don't know if Iike it or not,let me know what you think!

Masterlist

Percy Jackson Masterlist

the strange monster comes my way, I feel the guitar pick necklace that Chiron, my teacher, gave me start to shift and it suddenly turns into a bow and arrow, I quickly grab them and shoot the arrow in the manticore, as I do this I quickly see it turn into ashes that fly with the wind.

I fall into my knees feeling tired, I look around for my brother and my sister  and I can't see them anywhere, but I see Groover,Annabeth and Percy running to me, I start to fall to the side  and my vision start to blur,before they could reach me, I pass out and everything I see is black.

Percy's POV

Y/n passed out just as soon as I reached her and Nico di Angelo, her twin brother, arrived as  soon as I got there, I grab her before she falls completely on the ground and I carry her I'm my arms, turning around and start walking to Grover and Annabeth with her in my arms and Nico right after me.

"Have you seen bianca?" Bianca is their sister,  we haven't seen her since we got here, but we can't look for her now, we gotta go back to the camp.

"Sorry Nico,but I haven't. We can look for her after we get you and y/n back to the camp" I make and apologetic look to him, Annabeth and Grover doing the same.

Time skip

We're in front of the camp now, as we approach more, I see Luke, I walk hurriedly to him with the others following me.

" We have to her to the infirmary Luke, I think she's exactly like me when I got here for the first time" I say to Luke as he sees y/n in my arms "we can introduce the camp to them later"

"Yes, he's right! Please take care of my sister!" Nico says and Luke shifts his gaze to him. " Alright, let's take care of your sister, you can take a bath while we take care of her, Annabeth will show you the bathroom and get you new clothes"

" Come with me,Nico. They'll take good care of her! After they finish you can stay with her in the infirmary" after she das this I see Nico become more relaxed and look more calm. "Okay.. I'll see you later sis!" He says and kiss her forehead, even though she's not awake.

Y/n's POV

I hear some people whispering as I start to shift in bed, slowly opening my eyes and trying to get used to the light of the room I am in right now, I see Nico, Annabeth and Percy talking. Where's Bianca?  I slowly sit on the bed and I see that they stopped talking and are looking at me now. "Hi... For how long I have been like this?" Nico jumps on me and says " Oh I'm so glad you finally woke up, you slept for almost four days, it was starting to scary me"

"Where's Bianca? Why she's not here?" I asked looking around the room, I see their expressions change and I start to become worried " guys, what happened to bianca? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Bianca's missing, I'm sorry! " Percy says, he's the guy that got us here, I think. "But don't worry, we'll bring her back safely" Annabeth complete his frase.

"Oh... Uhm, thanks? Please bring her back to us, it was always us three and we can't be without our sister!" And they respond together "don't worry,we will"

Two weeks has passed since I recovered and they went to look for Bianca, I've made some friends in camp half-blood and people here are cool with us, I thought that maybe in the start things would be strange,but it actually weren't, me and my brother are in the Hermes cabin, I didn't understand things completely in the start, but Luke was totally helpful and explained everything to us. Me and my twin always loved Greek mythology (and we share the same passion with pirates too,but nobody needs to know that) and it's crazy we're kind of part of it too now.

I get ou of cabin with Nico and I see Grover, Percy and Annabeth in the entrance of the camp " look,they're here" I say and start running to them with Nico, finally Bianca's here with us! As soon as I get to them I see that their faces are not too good,oh no... "Hey guys, and Bianca?" I look at them with hopeful eyes

They look at each other and right after they look at us "look,guys..." Percy starts " we're really sorry,but... Bianca died while we were fighting with a monster"what? It's like the ground was falling apart for me, I drop myself to my knees and start crying " what? BUT YOU PROMISE TO ME, TO US." I shout, I start feeling the ground tremble and they "flew" a little to the back, what the heck is happening? Are we doing this?  " YOU'RE LIERS!" Nico shouts too. I see some holes opening in the ground and lava starts bubbling inside them.

" Guys, we're really sorry, we swe-" they we're interrupted by the ground underneath them starting to crack, suddenly it opens  big hole and they fall inside of it, after this happens the hole closes and we are left desperate,sad and wondering how this happened. Soon Chiron comes and talks to us " Hey hey, it's alright, they'll be okay and you'll be okay too, I'm sorry that you have to go through this, but I assure you, everything will be okay" we actually got better after he said those words from us, but suddenly he looks to the tops of our heads making us look too, and there was a skull symbol above my head, I look at  Nico's head and it had the same symbol, as Chiron saw it he looked down at us "well, guess we know who's your father now,it explains why this happened. You guys will be better trained,don't worry!  I'll tell Luke to show you the hades cabin, now go pack you things" he says patting our heads and smiling at us.

We're already at our cabin, it's kind of comforting here.  I don't think we should've done that to them, they didn't deserve it, it wasn't their fault, I wish they forgive us when they come back(if they come back).

I hear a commotion in the entrance of the camp so me and Nico get closer and we see Percy injured with Annabeth and Grover carrying him, oh my god, he's like this because we sent them to god knows where? Good thing he is awake, I approache closer and say " I'm so sorry guys, it was just so much, I didn't mean to do that and now Percy's like this, I hope you guys can forgive us in the future,I'm so sorry, I swear" I say this fast and my eyes were in the verge of tears, Nico apologizes too and Percy says "it's alright guys,I'll get better soon and it's a normal thing you didn't know you could do that, it's okay! After I get treated we can talk better" as he finishes saying someone grab him and took him to the infirmary of the camp,Annabeth and Grover stay to talk to us and they forgave us too, explaining that this is a normal thing between half-bloods.

Narrator's POV

Four years have passed by and they got incredibly close, y/n and Percy were invencible together and they start going on a lot of missions together, with time passing they became best friends, and would spend  a lot of time together, their relationship was only becoming stronger with each day passing.

Y/n's POV

I'm currently training with my bow an arrow in the forest, this is my favorite place to train, I spend hours here anytime I can. The only person besides me that knows about this place is Percy. We're very close now, I like his friendship. It's like only we can understand each other. I stop traveling in my thoughts as soon as I heard steps close to me.

I turn around with my arrow read to aim as the sound becomes more audible, as the person appears I prepare to aim and I hear " IT'S ME, DON'T SHOOT" I hear and it's Percy's voice, it was him all this time, I almost shoot him "Come on drama queen, I wasn't going to shoot you" yes, I was " yes, you were! You think I don't know you enough to know what you think, LavaGirl?" "Oh come on SharkBoy, I should know you know me enough to see easily what I'm thinking about " we laugh " why you're here SharkBoy?"  Percy grins " well darling, I wanted to ask you to meet me by the forest after curfew" " and what will we be doing?" " It's a surprise LavaGirl, I won't tell you now!" " Oh come onn,please?" I pout at him " no, I won't tell you! You'll have to wait and see" "alright alright" I let out a small groan  and we head to camp.

After dinner me and my brother came to our cabin, we talked a little and hugged before going to bed., we've been doing this since Bianca died. I wait him to fall sleep and when he finally does, I get out of bed slowly and make my way to the door trying to he as quiet as possible, I get out successfully and I make my way to the forest, being careful so no one catch me.

I see Percy and quickly approach him and jump on him "SharkBoyyy, I missed you" he hugs me tighter " I missed you too princess" we're best friends,but Percy always make sure to call me cute nicknames, he even started calling me LavaGirl, after I started calling him SharkBoy, it's one of our favorite movies, since he stays alone in his cabin, we often make movie nights there. We always have the best time together, at least to me, it's the best part of my day.

Percy's POV

I smell her perfume as I hug her, she always smells so good, I don't even know how she smells good like this.  I prepared a surprise for her,I think she'll like it but I can't help getting nervous, but I can't show it because she'll know as soon as I show some emotion.

"Close your eyes" and when she closes her eyes put my hands on top of them so she can't peek "don't worry,I'll guide you" I say as I guide her to the little "beach" of the camp " And,wait a little bit.." I said dragging the 'and' " open your eyes" I say as I finish setting things up and lighting the last candle "so... Do you like it?"

She looks everywhere with her eyes shining, she smiles at me and I swear I've never seen her smile like this. She jumps in me and says "Perce, this is amazing! Oh my god, I have no words to explain how much I love this" I hug her even more tighter "I'm so glad you like it LavaGirl! Now come on, let's watch a movie and eat the things I brought"

Y/n's POV

I'm with Chiron waiting for my partner so that Chiron explain what we mission we're going to. The person's late. I hear someone running and the person opens the door panting from the run. I see Percy, of course he was late. But I'm glad the mission is with him.

"Hi, Percy! I'm glad you are finally here, sit next to Y/n so I can explain what type of mission you will do" Percy sits and Chiron starts explaining, it's a high risk mission even if we just hace to rescue artifact that's  really old and stuff. We get out of the room and start going to our own cabins to pack the things we're going to need.

After we finished packing our things, we met each other in front of the camp, we came to the city and now we're in the train station waiting for the train " I think we'll do just fine in this mission, you don't have to worry. You know I'll always take are of you,right?" Percy says to me, I don't even have to say anything for him to notice how I'm feeling "yes, and I'll always take care of you too" we smile and the train comes.

Percy's POV

We arrived on the place the mission is going on a while ago and Chiron was right, this mission is hard, like REALLY hard. Me and her have been fighting with endless monsters since we got here and these monsters are the worsts, there's a lot of them. I'm currently fighting with one monster and y/n's fighting with another one. Her monster is the bigger one, I see she's struggling and I do my best to kill the monster so  can go help her.

As I finish fighting the monster, I look at her and my world falls as I see the monster cutting her abdomen with his claws. I grab Riptide and run in full charge towards the monster, he was the one with the artifact, and jump sticking Riptide right on his back. I see him disappearing and the artifact falling on the ground, I put on my backpack and turn to her  quickly seeing that she passed out, it freaks me out so I run to her, grab her from the ground and run with her to the forest. This forest took us to the camp.

I see the entrance and start running even faster to the camp,when I get there I see too many people and one of them was Nico, I look at him in the verge of tears and he mouths to me " it's okay, she'll be alright"  I nod to him and I take her to the infirmary. Any God, don't let her die,please. I need to tell her.

Y/n's POV

Fuck,my stomach hurts as hell. What happened? Where's Percy? Is he okay? Where am I? I shift and feel a pain in my whole body. Ugh, I'm destroyed! I open my eyes and blink a few times, I'm in the infirmary? The last thing I remember doing is fighting that monster...

I sit in my bed and see Percy right beside me, sleeping in a chair, I try to stay quiet as I admire his features. He's almost drooling, wish I had a camera here so I could threaten him later.

He starts moving a little in the chair, he opens his eyes and blink a few times to adjust to the lights, I think. He looks at me and then looks around the room, then he jumps in the chair and looks at me with surprised eyes "YOU'RE AWAKE?!?!" He hugs me making me laugh and as he tightens the hug making me hiss a little from the pain " sorry, it's just.. YOU'RE AWAKEEEE!" He screams excitedly again making me laugh once again and say " Yes,I'm awake! What happened SharkBoy? Why I'm here?"

"The monster cut your abdomen, he caught you unprepared for his moves and got his claws on you. I'm sorry, I should have protected you, I broke my promise. " His voices breaks and he's on the verge of tears,my heart breaks seeing him like this "it's not you fault Perce! I should have seen him coming and you were too busy fighting with another monsters, I'm so sorry for making you fell like it was your fault" he hugs me again e give me a kiss on the forehead " you shouldn't be sorry for anything, love "

It was hard for me to get used to nicknames, at first I would get red and stutter a bit, with time I just got used to it. I stopped thinking about this as soon as I hear him saying " hey? Are you listening? " I look at him and I see that I got distracted thinking about this " yes,I'm sorry" I laugh it off "I just got distracted thinking about some things " it's alright! Tonight you need to come to my cabin so we can do a movie night, you were asleep for almost a week! I was getting more and more worried"

Me and Perce talked more about watching the movies and he said that I had to go with a formal dress, I don't understand why but I didn't mind it. He said I had to be ready by 7 p.m I put on a dark blue dress and do a quick makeup,but nothing too elaborated. The time passes fast and as I finish putting on my perfume, someone knocks on my door.

I walk fast and open the door seeing Percy in a suit holding a bouquet of roses,my favorites.I never thought he would be so handsome with a suit.

"Hi... You look amazing, darling" I hear he say and I immediately smile "thanks, you're not too bad yourself" he smiles too and give me the flowers " this is for you" "thanks, these are my favorites!" He offers me his arms and says " let's go?" I nod and we head to his cabin.

He opens the door for me and says " Ladies first" I thank him and enter, he made a whole dinner table and set candles and rose petals all over the place, this looks amazing.

"Perce, this is perfect! Nobody's ever done this for me" of course I went on dates with guys, but none of them ever did anything like this "and that shocks me everytime I remember about it. You're perfect princess and you deserve all the best things in the word" I feel tears rose up in my eyes and I hug him giving a peck on his cheeks "you're amazing, did you know that?"

We go to the table and he pushes the chair for me, gesturing for me to sit and when I sit he goes to his chair and sit too.

"They're coming to serve the food now" "They? Who?" I hear steps so I look behind me, seeing my brother and his boyfriend Will coming with the food and my favorite soda "I can't believe you did this " I laugh " you two look so cute as waiters" I couldn't lost the opportunity of joking with them " oh, shut up! you're literally on a date and you're teasing us?" My brother said and I blushed but teased him again " look at him being so defensive about his boyfriend" me and Percy laugh and thy and up laughing too, whenever we're together it's like this, amazing " alright, we should let them go now, so they can be with each other in your cabin" "okay okay, bye guys"

They go away after putting the food on the table. We eat and talk about how things were when I was in the infirmary and when we finish eating he says "so... I wanted to have dinner with you so that I could say this..." He walked around the table and stopped in front of me gesturing for my hand and when I gave him he pushed me up delicately and continued saying " You're amazing, incredibly perfect and all of you is beautiful, not only the outside, but the inside too! You proved to be so amorous and careful with others. Since I saw you for the first time I felt a connection with you and now I can't imagine my life without you. The truth is... I'm in love with you and all I can think about is you, my world almost ended in the time you were in the hospital because I thought you would die without knowing that I love you" he lefts me speechless, I don't know how to respond.

" Look, it's okay if you don't feel the sa-" I shut him up by kissing him, at first he's too surprised to do anything, but then he started kissing me back, he grabbed my hip,making me gasp. " So... do you love me too?" He whispers making both of us laugh "of course I do,you idiot " he kisses me again.

I shift my hands from his shoulders to his chin and hair, gripping it tightly. He grabs my tights and whispers "jump" between our kisses, I do as he says and he puts one hand on my butt and the other one on my hips. The kiss gets more heated as he kisses down to my neck making me become a little breathless. I feel he smile in my neck and leave a bite there and marking my neck, he lifts his head so that his mouth is on my ear "now everyone's going to know that you're mine" and chuckles " you're an idiot, did you know that?" "Yes,but I am your idiot!"

"Now come on princess, let's watch our favorite movies!"

a/n: so... did you guys like it? Bcs I don't like it that much! I plan on writing a Clarisse imagine soon,what do you think? You can send me requests on the Masterlist(s), on my profile or by messaging me <3

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏻

Kisses,

From your favorite star ⭐🤍