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starset21 · 13 days ago

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Postcards from Pit lane |CL16|

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summery: A long-distance romance with Charles Leclerc, told almost entirely through letters exchanged over the course of a racing season

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may found is on tumblr or A03 under the same name. This is all fake. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships. May contain google translated languages.

A/N: My first Charles fic maybe it'll get a part 2 if there's enough interest?

March 7 – Charlotte, NC *Handwritten on NASCAR notepad paper. A grease smudge in the corner*

Dear Monaco Boy, You looked like you'd rather be anywhere else that night. That’s probably why I liked talking to you. You didn’t seem interested in pitching anything, just… being. You said something about stillness. I thought about that. About how weird it is that we both drive like hell just to find a second of quiet. — The Girl from the Loud League P.S. I won in Las Vegas. Barely. The guy behind me ate the wall. NASCAR-style. You’d hate it.

March 12 – Jeddah, Saudi Arabia *Ferrari-branded stationery, folded once, written in deep blue ink. Handwriting neat, slightly angled*

Dear Loud League Champion, You weren’t wrong — I did want to be anywhere else that night. I’m not very good at pretending to enjoy things that aren’t racing. That being said… I didn’t expect to remember the evening as clearly as I do. I remember how you didn’t flinch when the CEO made that awkward toast. I remember the sound of your laugh when I asked if NASCAR drivers actually liked their paint schemes. I remember the snow, and how you didn’t look cold — just alive. I also remember you fixed my bowtie, and I didn’t say thank you. So — thank you. Congratulations on Las Vegas. I saw the clip. You're right, I probably would have hated it. But not because of the chaos. Because I wouldn't have been able to stop watching you drive. Stay safe. — Charles P.S. I finished P3 in Jeddah. It felt good — and also like not enough. Do you ever get that?

March 20 – Las Vegas Motor Speedway *Written on the back of a Waffle House receipt, stuffed in an envelope with a race ticket stub.*

Charles, P3 is respectable. But yeah — not enough. You hit the nail on the head. If you didn’t win, it’s like it didn’t count. I used to think that feeling made me broken. Now I think it just means I’m not done. Your letter was too pretty for its own good. Seriously — Ferrari paper? Monaco handwriting? It’s like getting a love letter from a Bond villain. Don’t worry, I liked it. Just don’t start quoting poetry or I’ll start mailing you engine grease. I kept your line about watching me drive. Read it a few too many times. Still not sure what you meant. But I think I liked it. — Y/n P.S. Tickets from the race. Thought you’d want a piece of chaos to keep in your quiet hotel room.

April 9 – Melbourne, Australia *Ferrari stationery. Neat, but the ink trails off in places — like he pauses often while writing.*

Dear Y/N, I finished P2 today. On paper, it’s everything we wanted — started fourth, climbed clean, avoided the chaos. Everyone smiled in the garage. The team hugged me. I even held the trophy and nodded at the cameras like it meant something. But when I got back to my driver's room, I sat down, took off the watch, the rings, the fireproofs... And I felt nothing. I think you understand what I mean — when “good” isn’t good enough. Not because of ego, but because you know you had more to give. Or maybe because you wanted someone there who understood the difference. I opened your last letter. The one on the receipt with the ticket stub. Still folded in my bag, still smells faintly of grease and coffee. You said I write too pretty. Maybe. But it’s easier to write to you than to talk to anyone else right now. When I crossed the line today, I wanted to look to my right and see someone who wasn’t holding a stopwatch. Just someone who gets it. I guess that’s you. — Charles P.S. I showed your stub to Sainz. He thinks you’re “chaos incarnate.” I said that’s why I kept it.

April 21 – Talladega Superspeedway, Alabama *Written on hotel stationery. Folded once. Smudged with black Sharpie, like it was written while half-packing a gear bag.*

Charles, Talladega was a hellfire special this weekend — three cautions, one airborne spin, two pit lane fights. Classic. I finished P7. Not terrible, but the kind of “not terrible” that still makes you kick a toolbox. I thought about your letter more than I should’ve. The part about the stopwatch. I get it. I don’t even look at my timing sheet anymore until the crew chief shoves it at me. But today, after the race, I sat in the garage way too long. People were packing up, and I just sat there, reading your words again like they could fix something. You say writing to me feels easier than talking. It’s starting to feel like reading the ones from you is the only time I breathe without noise. That probably sounds ridiculous. But it’s true. I haven’t told anyone that. Not my spotter. Not my dad. Not even my mirror. Just you. — Y/N P.S. Someone in the crowd had a sign that said “Y/N IS FASTER THAN YOUR BOYFRIEND.” I told my PR girl she should make it a shirt.

April 28 – Miami, Florida (Before Race Weekend) *Back of a Ferrari strategy sheet. Folded small. His handwriting is messier — like he wrote it fast and without overthinking.*

Dear Y/N, I laughed out loud at that. Tell your PR girl I’ll buy the first one off the line. I wish I could’ve seen you in that garage. Not to say anything. Just to sit there — knees dirty, helmet on the floor, grease on your face. That’s how I picture you when I miss you most. I keep telling myself this is just a good distraction. Something simple. Something that won’t bleed into the rest of my life. But then I wake up hoping there’s a letter in my mail. And when there isn’t, I check again. I’ve never had this with anyone. Not like this. I don’t know what this is, exactly — but I think about you more than I should. And if that’s a problem, I’m not in a hurry to fix it. — Charles P.S. You keep giving me chaos. I keep wanting more.

May 12 – Darlington Raceway, South Carolina *Written on the back of a fast-food napkin, a little wrinkled, with a lipstick mark in the corner.*

Charles, Darlington was a beast, but somehow I still managed to keep all four wheels on the ground. You say I give you chaos. I think that makes us a perfect match. I’m chaos with a little bit of caffeine and bad decisions thrown in. Honestly, your letters make the noise in my head quiet down — at least for a minute. And that’s some kind of magic. Don’t let it go to your head, though. — Y/N P.S. I’m warning you, if you send me any more fancy Ferrari paper, I’m going to have to send you a full toolbox in return.

May 22 – Monaco *Written on a creased piece of plain hotel stationery, with a small coffee ring stain in the corner.*

Dear Chaos Coordinator, I’m imagining you dodging Darlington’s walls like a pro — all four wheels, plus attitude intact. “Chaos with caffeine and bad decisions” sounds dangerously like my kind of Sunday. Ferrari paper is my attempt at class, but a full toolbox from you? That’s a challenge I might just accept. Sometimes I wonder if chaos is exactly what keeps us alive — that unpredictable edge that makes the grind worthwhile. Maybe it’s not just about the races or the trophies but about finding something messy and real amid all the speed. I don’t know exactly where this is going, but I do know I want to see where it leads — both on the track and off. Keep that chaos coming. I’m ready for it. — Charles P.S. I’m warning you—sending a toolbox might just start a full-on war. Are you ready for that?

May 27 – Still Monaco *Written on basic stationary. His handwriting is tighter, like he’s holding back something bigger than the page allows.*

Y/N, I saw the replay. I watched it three times. Then once more just to be sure you got out okay. I know you don’t need anyone worrying — especially someone in red thousands of miles away. But I was. There’s a moment after a crash, just a few seconds, when everything is too quiet. Like the track forgets how to breathe. That silence was louder than anything I’ve felt all year. I’ve learned to keep distance from things that make me feel too much. But watching you climb out of that car — furious, alive, beautiful — I forgot every rule I’ve made for myself. I wish I could’ve been there. Not to say anything. Just to sit next to you on the tailgate and let the noise pass. If you’re not okay — you don’t have to say it. Just know I’d still listen. — Charles P.S. I know you’ll be back in the car before anyone tries to stop you. But if there’s even a second where you think you can’t — write to me instead.

May 30 – Charlotte, NC *Written on a legal pad page torn from a crew chief’s clipboard. The top is smudged with blood-red Gatorade and motor oil. Her handwriting is messier than usual.*

Charlie, I don’t remember the hit. Just the sound — metal folding in on itself like someone slamming a locker in my ear. Then it was quiet. You were right about that part. Quiet can be the scariest thing in the world. I wasn’t afraid until after. After the med tent. After the cameras stopped asking if I was “okay.” You know what got me? I sat down in my motorhome, still in the suit, and I reached for my bag with the mail. I thought, maybe there’s a letter. There wasn’t, of course. Not yet anyways. But I still looked. And that’s how I knew I wasn’t just banged up. I missed you. In the middle of everything. I wanted your words more than I wanted anything else. That’s not normal for me. But none of this is. I’m sore. I’m pissed. I’m bruised in places I didn’t know could bruise. But I’m not done. You know that already. — Y/N P.S. I’m getting back in the car. Not because I’m fine — but because I’m me. You’ll understand that better than anyone.

August 10 – Maranello, Italy *Written on a legal pad page torn from a crew chief’s clipboard. The top is smudged with blood-red Gatorade and motor oil. Her handwriting is messier than usual.*

Wildflower, The apartment is too quiet. It’s the kind of quiet people imagine when they think of rest — ocean air, linen curtains, no alarm clock. But it doesn’t feel like peace. It feels like something’s missing. I’ve walked past your hoodie three times today. It’s still draped over the back of the couch like you might come back for it. Maybe that’s ridiculous, but I haven’t moved it. You’re probably prepping somewhere, headset half-on, dirt on your boots, barking instructions at a crew member. I like knowing that about you — that the chaos never slows you down. That you thrive in the noise. But for a moment, it was nice to see you without it. I keep thinking about the way you looked on the dock — hoodie sleeves pushed over your hands, hair damp from the rain, eyes on the horizon like it was talking back. I wanted to say something then. But I didn’t. So I’m saying it now: Je t’aime. I love you. Not just the chaos or the quiet, but all of it. All of you. — Your Charlie P.S. The playlist’s been on loop since you left. Even Bon Jovi’s starting to sound like poetry. What have you done to me?

August 13 – Charlotte, NC *Written on a torn page from her race program, the edges soft from folding and unfolding. Her handwriting is bold, a little rushed — ink smudged from sweat or maybe tears.*

Dear Charlie, Back in my world of roaring engines and burnt rubber. The kind of chaos you’d say I thrive in — even when it’s messy and loud and leaves me wondering why I signed up for it. Your letter made me stop for a second. Je t’aime. The weight of those words hit me harder than any crash I’ve had. It’s funny — I never thought I’d want quiet like I want it now. Not just the silence between races, but the kind that feels like coming home. I’m wearing your hoodie now. The one I stole. It smells like you, like something real I can touch when the miles stretch too long. Thank you for saying what I was too scared to say out loud. Miss you more than I thought possible. — Your Wildflower P.S. The miles suck, but your letters don’t. Keep them coming.

September 1 – Monza, Italy *Written late that night in his hotel room, on crisp Ferrari stationery. His handwriting is a little shaky — the kind that comes from adrenaline and relief.*

Wildflower, I won today. Monza — the Temple of Speed — and somehow, I stood on top. The cheers, the flashes, the roar of the crowd... it all felt electric, but hollow without you here. I kept scanning the crowd for you, even knowing you were chasing your own battle back in Darlington. Two races, two continents, two different kinds of chaos. I can only imagine you out there—wrestling that track like the queen you are. I hope the roar of your engines drowns out any doubts, just like my win did for me tonight. Even though we’re miles apart, I’m racing for you just as much as I’m racing for the team. Thank you for being my calm and my chaos, the reason I keep pushing past limits. — Your Charlie P.S. When this madness settles, I’m coming for that full toolbox you promised.

September 8 – Atlanta, Georgia *Written on a folded piece of green stationary, edges frayed from being stuffed in a gear bag. Her handwriting is bold, with a few smudges — like she wrote it quickly between meetings.*

Charlie, Darlington was a beast, just like always. The walls are unforgiving, but I kept the wheels mostly on the ground — finished P5. Not a win, but a damn good fight. I caught your win highlights from Monza. Seeing you on that podium made my heart do a little victory dance — even if it was from halfway across the world. I’m so proud of you. Racing on the same weekend, miles apart... it feels like our own little tradition now. Somehow, it makes the distance a little smaller. I’m heading out again tomorrow. Another track, another race. But you’re still the thing I reach for when the helmet comes off. Until then, keep racing like you mean it. I’m right there with you — engines roaring, chaos and all. — Your Wildflower

September 21 – Singapore *Written on the back of a paddock access form, creased and slightly sweat-stained. The ink smudges just a little near the top, like he started and stopped more than once before finishing it.*

Wildflower, Singapore is alive in a way most places aren’t. The lights are too bright, the air too thick, and the track feels like it wants to swallow you whole. But tonight, before everything starts, it’s quiet. And in the quiet, I keep thinking about you. I read your letter again — the one from Atlanta — and something about the way you described Darlington hit me harder than I expected. Maybe because I know exactly what it feels like to walk away from a brutal track with your heart still beating fast, but your mind already somewhere else. I wish we could bottle these nights — the ones before the lights go out. The calm before chaos. The version of me that exists in these hours is the one I think you’d like best. Not the driver. Just the man who misses you. While you race tonight, in your own way, somewhere across the water. Tomorrow, I race. And I’ll carry you with me, like I always do. — Your Charlie

October 27 – Homestead, Florida *Scrawled on the backside of a tire pressure log, folded like it lived in a back pocket for too long. Her handwriting is steadier than usual, deliberate — like she finally had a moment to breathe.*

Charlie, I’m still not over Talladega. Not the track — though fourth felt damn good. No, I’m talking about you, standing just behind the pit wall like some half-hidden miracle. I knew it was you. Even with the hat. Even behind the sunglasses. You being there, in my world, in my chaos — it meant more than I think you realize. We live in borrowed time, you and I. Different hemispheres, different fuel types, different definitions of danger. But for a few hours in Alabama, you crossed over. And I haven’t been the same since. Homestead was rough around the edges — hot, slick, ruthless. I gave what I had, and came away with sixth. Two more races to go. I can feel the year wearing thin around the seams. But there’s this quiet in my chest now. Like something inside me finally knows I’m not doing this alone anymore. You gave me that. Thank you. For showing up. For letting it matter. — Your Wildflower P.S. You left your hat behind. It’s sun-faded and smells like jet fuel and whatever cologne you wear when you’re trying not to be noticed. I’ve been wearing it like armor.

November 3 – São Paulo, Brazil *Written on hotel stationery that’s been folded and refolded — faint smudges of ink at the creases. The rain must’ve followed him inside; the paper’s a little warped, like it weathered something too.*

Wildflower, It poured today. The kind of rain that makes even the bravest drivers hesitate. Visibility gone. Traction just a rumor. Half the grid skated more than they drove. It was chaos — pure and frustrating and strangely beautiful. I kept thinking: you’d have loved it. Not because it was safe or smart or structured — but because it asked everything of us. And you understand that. The kind of race where you survive with instinct, not a plan. Brazil’s behind me now, and I’ve got one more stop before the season ends. But what I keep circling on my calendar isn’t that. It’s Phoenix. Your final race of the season. I’ll be there — in the stands, in the paddock, wherever you’ll let me be. I want to see it. All of it. The noise. The grit. The way you pull a whole team forward with just your voice. You’ve got one left. I know what that weight feels like. The way it squeezes tighter the closer the finish line gets. Just know — I’ll be on the other side of it. Waiting. And proud. So damn proud. — Your Charlie P.S. Whatever happens in Phoenix, you’ve already won in my book. No trophy needed.

December 1 – Abu Dhabi

The roar of engines echoed off the grandstands, a symphony of speed and precision beneath the glowing floodlights of Yas Marina. The night was alive — electric with anticipation, every heart in the paddock beating in rhythm with the race. Y/N stood just inside the Ferrari garage, wrapped in a scarlet jacket emblazoned with the iconic prancing horse.

The chill of the desert night didn’t touch her excitement; adrenaline thrummed through her veins as she watched Charles fight his way through the pack. Her eyes never left him — the way he maneuvered, precise and relentless, every inch of track devoured with focused fury.

Charles was pushing Ferrari’s hopes on his shoulders, battling for that critical third place — a podium that could clinch the Constructors’ Championship for the team if Carlos could best Lando. She knew how much it meant to him. How much it meant to all of them.

She clapped, her voice rising above the cheers around her. “Come on, Charlie! You’ve got this!” Her shout was swallowed by the cacophony, but she felt it — a tether, an unspoken lifeline between them.

Lap after lap, the tension coiled tighter. The track shimmered under the floodlights, a ribbon of opportunity and risk. Charles’s car danced through the corners, sometimes inches from disaster, always inches from glory.

Her heart hammered in her chest when he made a daring move on the inside of turn seven, the crowd erupting as he surged into P3. She was on her feet now, hands shaking with the rush. As the checkered flag waved, Charles crossed the line in third — the roar of the crowd washing over them like a tidal wave.

The engines’ roar faded into the background as Charles slowed his Ferrari to a stop behind the P3 board. The floodlights of Yas Marina cast long shadows over the sleek red car, every detail gleaming under the harsh lights.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she pushed through the crowd in her Ferrari jacket, her heart pounding in rhythm with the fading echoes of the engines.

Charles climbed out, face flushed from the fight on track, his eyes scanning the paddock until they found her — standing by the barricade. For a moment, the noise of the night fell away, leaving just the pulse of their connection, raw and undeniable.

Helmet off, post-race checks done, he stepped toward her, all as she reached out, fingers trembling as he wrapped her in a tight hug. The barrier pressed into them, but the scent of burnt rubber and sweat was familiar — victory and survival mixed into one.

“You owned that last corner,” she said softly, voice barely carrying over the distant cheers.

Charles pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, the adrenaline still flickering behind his own. “Couldn’t have done it without knowing you were here,” he said, voice low but steady.

She smiled, warmth spreading through her chest despite the cool desert air. “We all need a little faith sometimes,” she whispered, tracing a gentle line along his jaw.

He chuckled, a tired but genuine sound, fingers tightening around hers. “Faith and a bit of reckless courage. You taught me both.”

Someone official, clipped and urgent, reminded him of where he still had to be. Charles exhaled, reluctantly stepping back. “That’s my cue,” he said, glancing toward the waiting officials near the stairs to the podium. “Guess I still owe the team a bottle of champagne and a decent photo.”

She nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Go get your trophy, Monaco Boy.”

He grinned, taking a half step away — then paused, leaning back in to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “Keep watching?”

“Always,” she whispered.

And then he was gone — jogging off toward the stage lights and celebration, the crowd chanting his name. She stayed behind the barricade, heart full, eyes tracking him as he stepped into the spotlight. Followed by Carlos and Lando. Close, but not close enough. The Constructors’ slipped away, claimed by McLaren at the very edge of possibility. She had seen the flash of disappointment in the Ferrari garage — brief, quiet — but there was still pride. They had fought until the last checkered flag. There was nothing to hang their heads over.

She watched as Charles smiled through the anthems and as they were handed their trophies, his expression soft when the cameras weren’t on him. He looked up — not at the trophy, not at the screen — but toward her.

He didn’t need to find her in the crowd.

He already knew where she was.

She raised two fingers to her temple in a mock salute, and he dipped his head in return — a silent thank-you, a quiet promise.

When he stepped down, weaving through the mob of press and crew and endless congratulations, his eyes found her again, this time with nothing between them. Just the night air and the electric hum of a season’s end.

No more words were needed when she wrapped her arms around him again.

“You did everything you could,” she murmured.

“So did you,” he replied, voice ragged, eyes shining. “We both crossed our finish lines.”

“And survived,” she teased, forehead to his. “Barely.”

He smiled, tired and full. “Maybe next year, I’ll win the one that counts.”

She arched her brow. “And which one is that?”

Charles tilted his head, eyes never leaving hers. “The one you’re there for.”

The city had quieted by the time they made it back to the hotel.

Yas Marina glowed beneath them, all glass towers and desert air and the fading hum of a long night. The kind of silence that came only after chaos — when the noise settled, but the feeling stayed.

Y/N stood on the balcony, barefoot and wrapped in one of the hotel’s oversized robes, her hair still damp from the quick shower she’d taken after they got in.

The cool tile under her toes grounded her as she leaned against the railing, watching the streetlights blur into ribbons below. Behind her, the suite door opened with a soft click. She didn’t turn. “I thought you’d be asleep by now,” she said, voice quiet, but not tired.

Charles stepped out beside her, the towel around his waist slung low, another towel in hand as he raked it through his damp curls. “I could ask you the same,” he murmured, his voice low and worn, that familiar rasp made rougher by engine fumes and desert air.

She gave a half-smile. “Hard to sleep after watching you nearly throw it into turn seven like it owed you money. I think the entire garage heard you swearing in five languages after turn seven,” she teased, leaning on the balcony rail.

Charles smirked. “That’s called multilingual passion.”

She turned then, leaning her hips back against the railing as he stepped in, close enough that their knees brushed. Her fingers found the edge of the towel he’d abandoned on the table and twisted it absently between them.

“I’m proud of you,” she said after a beat, her voice softer now. “No matter what the points say. You gave them everything.”

His hand slid along her hip, fingers catching the belt of her robe. Not tugging — not yet — just resting there, warm and sure.

“I didn’t win the championship,” he said, voice low, but steady. “Didn’t win the race. But I got the girl in the Ferrari jacket.”

She hummed, amused. “Is that how you’re framing it?”

He dipped his head, brushing his mouth just behind her ear. “Only win that matters right now.”

Her breath caught, his lips lingering where her pulse jumped. The moment stretched, not quite breaking — held together by the night air and the hush that wrapped around them like a second skin.

“You should rest,” she said, but her voice didn’t carry conviction.

Charles smiled against her skin. “Later.”

Her mouth curved as her fingers found his wrist, guiding him forward. His hands were on her waist now, reverent but firm, anchoring himself like she was the only real thing left after months of motion.

He kissed her — finally, properly — like the race was still happening and she was the finish line. Slow. Certain. A claim and a question all at once.

The kiss deepened, unhurried and grounding — a kind of victory lap in its own right. Her fingers slipped up his arms, tracing familiar lines, the lean strength he carried beneath the surface. Months of schedules, flights, back-to-back weekends — it all fell away as she pressed closer, robe slipping from her shoulders to pool at their feet.

Charles exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since lights out. His hands roamed gently, reverently, like rediscovering something precious — not rushed, not desperate, just present.

They moved inside wordlessly, the balcony door left open, the sounds of Abu Dhabi’s night soft in the distance. She pulled him down with her onto the bed, laughter catching in her throat when his towel gave up the fight and hit the floor with a thud.

“Multilingual passion?” she teased, voice low as her fingers skimmed along his spine.

Charles grinned into the hollow of her neck. “It translates.”

The sheets tangled. Time slipped. Nothing urgent — only the kind of closeness that didn’t ask for permission anymore. There was heat, yes — but deeper than that, a shared gravity. His name was a whisper against her collarbone. Hers a soft exhale between his teeth.

And when it was over — when they were just breath and skin and silence again — he stayed close, arm draped across her waist, face pressed to her shoulder.

The city’s pulse faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of their own breathing. The open balcony door let in a breeze that tangled with the scent of warm sheets and faint traces of motor oil — a reminder of the day’s battle now behind them.

His fingers traced lazy patterns along her arm. “I never knew how quiet it could be after all that noise,” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and something softer. “Like the world finally catching its breath.”

She smiled against his chest, fingers threading through the dark curls at his nape. “That’s when you hear the important things,” she whispered.

He tilted his head, catching her gaze in the dim light. “Like what?”

“Like you. Like this.” Her hand settled over his heart, steady and sure.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Guess I’m lucky, then.”

She laughed, a sound that settled the last edges of tension between them. “The luckiest.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in the quiet after the storm — two souls stitched together by adrenaline and relief, by unspoken promises and the simple certainty of now.

No need for words, no need for plans. Just the soft brush of skin against skin, the warm weight of him beside her, and the night stretching wide and endless beyond the glass.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like home.

#starset writes #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #set: 2024

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holidaygirl1224 · 3 months ago

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💬New Post from holidaygirl1224

Okay, I'm just going to say it. I know this will come as a surprise to all of you, given everything you know about me, but... I hate Christmas. I really do. I can't stand it. I know, I know, I say I love it. My NAME is Christmas. My family is Christmas. Everything in my life is Christmas... but I can't stand any of it. It all makes me sick, truly... sleigh bells, carols, fruitcake??? Disgusting, all of it. Sledding, baking, opening presents on Christmas morning... making snow angels together... I can't take the thought of it. I just wish Christmas would go away forever. ... ...... ......... Okay I can't do any more of this LOL April Fools, I don't mean any of that XD Don't hold any of this against me I didn't mean a word, I swear, I love Christmas, I love Christmas!!!!!! My only gripe with April Fools Day? IT'S NOT CHRISTMAS!!!! XD

#Post Fifty-Eight: April Fool's Day #holidaygirl1224 #noelle #noelle holiday #noelle deltarune #writing #fan project #utdr #webcore #deltarune

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universal-rebellion · 1 year ago

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It's April in Jorvik - ( sabine x reader ) Chapter 1

hi! I plan to crosspost this fanfic to AO3 as soon as I get my invite :')

( cw: swearing. )

It’s April in Jorvik.

The snow is off the ground, the grass is green, and the Equestrian Festival is finishing its preparations.

And as for you, you were truly excited for it, but now you’re stuck running errands for your fellow Soul Riders… again.

You thought last year was ridiculous dealing with Alex and Linda’s last minute tasks, but this year was even worse. Both Anne and Lisa were tagging along this year which has added on to your own preparations for the festival. As much as you’re usually happy to help, you can’t help but curse to yourself this time for being so willingly. Stupid Soul Rider nonsense. All you wanted to do was practice and prepare your horses for the events you were set to participate in. But no, you’re were dealing with setting up another booth for the girls, helping Lisa gather her tack and outfits, and attempting to prevent Concorde from spooking at everything. Thankfully, everything other than Concorde has been dealt with, but now you’re losing light and you’re walking your horse next to Anne while she hand walks Concorde.

This reincarnation of Concorde is, respectfully, a major pain in the ass. She still isn’t able to talk just yet, even after being aged by Vala, so it makes every situation worse because she can’t even tell you what her problem is. You were riding your starbreed, who is just about as fed up as you with everything. Unfortunately, for your horse, he was the best option for putting up with Concorde’s bullshit. The gelding pinned his ears at every out of line movement by Concorde. If she got too close he nipped at her, putting her back in line. By this point, you’ve figured out that she hates the balloons, so you were doing slow laps around the arena to get her accustomed to them.

After your tenth lap Concorde finally calmed down enough to walk without trying to break free from Anne’s grasp.

“ Anne, it's like 8pm. I think she’s about as desensitized to everything as she’s gonna get .” You give a gentle tug on your horse's reins and his ears pricked back up as he stopped. Anne looked at you and looked back to her horse, defeated. You hop off your gelding and give his neck a good pat.

“ She’s as good as she’s going to get. ” Anne reiterates your sentiment with a sigh.

“ Can we please get back to the stables? Between everything I’ve done today, I haven’t had time to see my other horses that I might be riding tomorrow. ”

Anne nods. “ I have to deal with cleaning up Concorde anyways. She isn’t anywhere where she needs to be if she’s possibly going to be performing tomorrow. ” The grey mare pinned her ears back at her and snorted in annoyance at the notion she isn’t up to par. Does it make sense to clean a grey horse the night before a competition..? Who knows, but you aren’t gonna rain on her parade. However, Concorde’s a priss so maybe she’d stay clean. The two of you start your walk back over to the stables and trailers. You don’t bother to grab your starbreed’s reins, he follows you along like a dog. Besides, you’re too focused on making sure Concorde doesn’t try to pull a fast one on the two of you.

“ Where are you stalling her? Are you bringing her back to your home stable or are you staying here for the night? ”

“ I could not imagine leaving her here. ” Anne practically scoffed at you. “ We are going back home. I won’t lie, I truly don’t know how I’d fit all of my outfits and whatnot into a suitcase. Also, where on earth would I get ready? ”

“ I’m staying at the inn? A lot of the people who are competing are staying at the inn? ” You give her a look. Anne returned the look and rolled her eyes.

“ Yeah, not happening. I’ll just deal with waking up earlier tomorrow. “ You shrug at her and the two of you finish your walk to the stable and part ways. Your horse audibly breathed a sigh of relief when Concorde was out of sight. You chuckled at him and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“ Yeah, I know. That was awful. But, hey, you were great, boy. ” You gave him a rub on the forehead. “ Let’s get that tack off of you, you deserve some rest. ” You led him to his stall and untacked him, leaving his tack on the stand next to his stall door.

As you walked out the stall he tried to follow behind, but was stopped by you closing his door. He bobbed his head and snorted at you in protest.

“ I didn’t forget bud, I promise. ” You rummage through the bag you brought and grab your bucket of Stud Muffins. The starbreed eagerly, but politely, snatched the treat from your hand, satisfied.

You turn to the next couple of stalls and see the two other horses you brought with you. You were set to compete in a few categories in the following days and decided to use some of your other horses to give them some time away from the stables.

Your starbreed was going to be your horse for the cross country section. That honestly should be a given from the amount of nonsense the two of you have gotten yourself into throughout all of Jorvik.

You brought an 11 year-old Belgian Warmblood gelding for show jumping. Thunder is black with a small snip on his nose and he towers over you at a good 16.9 hands. He’s been with you for a while now and has proved to be a fantastic performer.

Finally, you brought your new 6 year-old Andalusian mare for dressage. Daybreak is a gorgeous dapple grey mare, you are still in awe that you managed to snag her. In all honesty, you aren’t too serious about the dressage portion, but you thought it’d be a good experience just to test out your new mare in the ring. However, you know that she’d be fantastic no matter the rider.

You give the two of them their own Stud Muffins and give them both a scratch for good measure.

You were in your own world when suddenly two tall shadows nearly made you jump out of your skin. At the entrance of the stable a tall woman walks in leading a large black Fresian through the door. It doesn’t take you long to realize who it was.

Sabine.

Of course. Why wouldn’t she be here? She was the last two years. You briefly recall the events that transpired between the two of you last April and the one before.

You stay silent and try to finish up your chores for the night, grabbing a bucket for your horses’ grain. Khaan's steps thundering through the otherwise silent barn.

Annnnnnd of course she has Khaan stalled right next to your overly friendly gelding, Thunder. You mentally groan and try to not let your embarrassment show. The black gelding immediately tries to make friends with Khaan through the bars separating their stalls. The larger stallion pins his ears back at the attention, but doesn’t truly react until Sabine exits the stall. The moment she closes the stall door, the Fresian emits the lowest squeal you’ve ever heard from a horse and he kicks at the wall separating them. Thunder backs off and goes to seek attention from Sabine. She ignores his attempts and flings Khaan’s lead rope over her shoulder.

Sabine glares in your direction before turning to a bag sat next to Khaan’s stall door, pulling out a hoof pick and returning inside Khaan’s stall. Hm, bold after your horse just raised hell.

“ Wouldn’t have taken you as a person with more than one horse. ” She commented as she began to work on Khaan’s hooves, not bothering to make eye contact with you. “ Thought a Soul Rider would be too loyal to even think about it. ”

You try and fail miserably to stop yourself from chuckling which earns you another glare and scowl in your direction when she puts Khaan’s hoof down.

“ And I wouldn’t take the Dark Rider as one that would stall their horse in a public stable. ” You shoot back at her sarcastically, but lightheartedly. “ But I guess, no one else really knows that you’re a Dark Rider here. So, what difference does it make? ” You say as you dump grain into Thunder’s feed bucket, which makes him entirely forget about Sabine and Khaan.

“ You should see my home stable. It’d make your head spin if you think me having two other horses is more than you expected. ” You make your way back to your bag of grain, making Daybreak’s dinner. Sabine gave an audible huff as she finished up her work on her horse’s feet. She exited the stall again and threw the pick down in her bag.

“ I don’t think it’s really any of your business why I have Khaan stalled here. Why don’t you just focus on your horses and I’ll deal with mine.” Ah there you go, that’s the Sabine you remember.

“Hey, you spoke first.” You dump the grain into your mare’s bucket. The two of you go to your work in awkward silence. You weren’t really sure why you were comfortable being alone with her, or moreso, why you didn't feel threatened by her presence. However, your starbreed wasn’t too happy about her being so close to you. You could feel him grow uneasy as you heard him pace and paw at the ground. Maybe you were too tired to really acknowledge the amount of danger you could be in? However, she didn’t seem too intimidating right now. If anything, she was a bit underwhelming for what you’d expect.

You finish up your tasks with your horses and hang your feed bucket up. Looking over to Sabine you see that she’s fiddling with something in her bag.

“ If you get bored again, I’m always up for a chase around Jarlaheim between competitions. ” You said picking up your bag. “ I could always use the warmup for my horses. ” Sabine stops what she was doing and cocks an eyebrow at you.

“ And willingly give you what you'd consider an advantage? That’s the stupidest shit I think I ever heard you say Soul Rider. ” She practically chuckles at you, dumbfounded by your words.

“ Thought you’d enjoy the chance to kick my ass and leave me in the dirt. You know, like the last two years. ” You shrugged. “ Whatever. If you change your mind I’ll be around. ” You walk off and make your way back to the inn to call it a night, not waiting for her response.

That was fucking stupid.

#star stable online #star stable #sso #sabine #sabinesso #sabine x reader #sso sabine #sabine sso #sso anne #sso alex #sso linda #sso lisa

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siravalondulac · 2 months ago

Text

like a glacier in april, the ice melts off my soul | j. snow x fem!oc

part 3 of the modern!holiday au

summary: jon has fallen in love with the president's daughter and heir to the lannister name. that she seems to like him just as much and invites him on several dates certainly puts a few delusions in his mind. if only their surroundings could be as accommodating...

contents: modern au, lent and easter, relationship progression, anti ygritte, smut (dry humping, p in v, oral)

warnings: sexual assault (written in detail and discussed later on; not between the main pairing)

words: 14.590

author's note: do not. talk to me about the word count

tag list: @sunraysoverthevalley @idohknow

masterlist | additional works masterlist

previous | next

Jon knows something has to be wrong with him. Because there is no way he can be this obsessed with a woman after having only seen her twice.

And yet he is. And he hates himself for it.

The nine days until their first official date - he hopes he is allowed to call it that - pass by at a snail’s pace. He feels every second of every minute of every hour of every day, constantly checking the time, his phone, the bloody clock in the bus.

Coming into work on Monday, he wants to turn around and run away before he even enters. That the colleagues he took with him to the Red Palace have already told the rest of the shop is a given, and something he knew would happen as soon as he first mentioned the Fastnacht party. That doesn't mean he has to like it though.

Luckily, Mormont keeps him busy and away from the rest of the shop for three days, allowing him to evade the stares and questions. Until half an hour before closing on Thursday.

Matthar suddenly stands above him. “I heard what happened at the party.”

“You and everyone else, I assume.”

“Are you really in a relationship with Cerelle Baratheon?”

Jon sighs. “I am not. We are just friends.”

“Just friends don’t disappear into the back rooms at a party!” Pip shouts from the other side of the room.

He is close to screaming. Like, really close.

“I hope you know she is just using you,” Matthar says.

“What?”

“Come on, you can't be that dense. Cerelle Baratheon is whatever the female version of a playboy is. She has a new lover every month, jumps from one party to the next, and simply listing off every scandal she was involved in would take a week.”

“She also killed someone once!” Albett shouts from somewhere.

“You still believe that? She was pronounced innocent,” Pip threw in.

“Yeah, after her grandfather conveniently donated a lot of money to the charity of the judge presiding over the case,” Grenn responds.

“Everyone knows he despises her. Why would he spend a single cent on her?”

“Where do you think she gets all the money she flaunts at every possible moment?”

“Enough!” Jon shouts. “I don't care about that. Cerelle is my friend, and that's all there is to it.”

“Not just poor but also dumb and oblivious,” Albett says with a laugh. “She'll have a field day with you.”

“You're a toy to her. Someone she can play around with until she grows bored and tosses you away again. It's what she always does.” Mat then turns around, and walks away.

They’re wrong.

They have to be. Cerelle would never treat him that way, he knows it. She is good and kind and helpful and cares about him the way no one else ever has. This strange person they are talking about would have never pretended to be his date to save him from embarrassment, would have never invited a poor no-name to a party at the Red Palace.

Whoever this woman is they see, she is not his Cerelle.

She would never do that to him.

As soon as the clock strikes six, he is out of that place. Barely even stopping to say goodbye to Sam or Mormont, everything inside him screams to start running, to bolt down the street, to jump up and down in excitement. But he reminds himself to stay calm. He will make it in time, he has checked the bus times often enough to be sure of it.

The Art History Museum is not really a place he thought he would ever set foot in. The building is beautiful, even he can see that, but to stare at a few centuries old pictures still seems less than enticing. Except that once he spots Cerelle standing in the shadow of a pillar, and a smile bright enough to light the entire world spreads on her face the moment she lays eyes on him, he never wants to be anywhere else.

She takes his hand and quickly draws him towards a well-hidden side entrance. A man greets them, they share a few words, then he leaves with a light threat not to damage anything.

The building is grand, the paintings similar yet beautiful all the same. But no matter how hard he tries to appreciate them, to read the explanations as they pass through the different rooms, to enjoy the empty museum, his attention always shifts back to Cerelle.

She seemingly has something to say about every piece they look at. Her excited voice echoes off the marble walls, the smile on her face addicting and the sparkling in her eyes enchanting. He has no choice but to watch her.

Sometimes, she looks at him, and when she notices his eyes on her she blushes, and he has to try very hard not to giggle.

Cerelle is… Fuck, she is so wonderful. If his colleagues could simply meet her they would see this, too.

The museum visit passes without any incidents. Which, he supposes, he is glad about, but also something he has not expected based on the way they ended up the previous two times they were together. Cerelle merely lays a kiss on the back of his hand, and asks where he wants to go on their next date.

And that she actually uses the word date allows his mind to recover from the short circuiting her kiss sent it into.

“The aquarium.”

They pass through three more museums the following week, meeting every two days right after his shift has finished. She never initiates anything more, seemingly quite content with holding his hand for hours on end.

Besides the aquarium, they also visit the Natural History Museum and the Science and Tech Museum. All after-hours, all by passing through a side entrance, all while being left completely alone in the buildings.

He never asks, but sometimes he does wonder how they actually get into all these places. Maybe Cerelle actually knows this many people, more likely is, however, that she is simply rich and people recognise her last name. Maybe one day, when she trusts him more, he will try to test the limits of this.

For now, he simply enjoys what she gives him. Precious hours walking in comfortable silence, fawning over the animals and paintings and exhibits, and perhaps, if he dares to think that far, even over each other.

“Where do you want to go next?”

They stand in the shadows of the Science Museum's back entrance, the pouring rain only narrowly passing by them. Cerelle had refused to let him step outside until she had thoroughly inspected their surroundings and deemed them safe from any onlookers.

He has only fully started understanding her paranoia earlier in the evening, when a man with a mic jumped into his path and asked if he was headed towards the museum, if he knew Cerelle, if he was her new lover. And nothing Jon did or said managed to deter the man. Only when two more showed up, one with a camera, the other with a smartphone in hand, and all three had started arguing over whose spot this actually was, did he manage to slip away.

To be forced to live one's life always on the lookout, never to be able to simply enjoy a moment…

Cerelle looks at him expectantly, and he cannot help but feel sad for her.

“How about we meet at my place again?” he says. “I could cook something for us, and we'll watch a movie afterwards. If- If that is something you’d like.”

The smile that spreads on her face is addicting. “I think I'd like that very much. There's just…” She hesitates for a moment. “I'm vegan, so-”

“Yeah, I know.” Seeing her confused stare, he quickly adds, “At the restaurant on Valentine’s, you ordered the only vegan things on the menu.”

“Oh.” Her fingers pull at the sleeves of her jacket. “I didn't think you would notice.”

“Of course I would. It's you.”

She hugs him, then, so tightly and with such insistence he realises he might not be the only one with a terrible ex-partner.

Finding a vegan recipe that he, one, can afford, two, can cook, and three, will actually eat himself is no small task, but he refuses to give up. After everything Cerelle has done for him, she deserves something nice as well for once.

On Friday, he manages to get off an hour earlier than usual and therefore has time to spare when he is done preparing everything. Which may be a curse instead of a blessing, he realises, because now he once again has time to get anxious.

Will she actually come, will she find his efforts ridiculous, will she laugh seeing his outfit, will she hate the food, will she leave right after-

The knock on the door is what finally breaks him out of his misery. He hastily goes to open it - and his heart stops.

Cerelle looks devastatingly beautiful. Even more so than on Valentine's and Fastnacht. Her hair looks impossibly soft and golden, the wild curls now falling in gentle cascades over her shoulders and down her back. No butterflies decorate her eyes tonight, instead it’s her cheeks that glitter like the night sky and make her eyes look even more like stars than they already do. Yet the crowning piece of it all is her red dress - off the shoulders, stopping right above her knees, wide sleeves that are fixed with golden ringlets to her wrists. So bright, so intense, a colour he has never seen before.

He stares, and continues to stare even when every voice in his head screams at him to say something.

A small part of him wants to drag her inside, rip the dress off her, and feast upon her beautiful body until dawn. But he knows he could never muster the courage to initiate something like that. Especially with her.

“Hey.”

“I hope I'm not overdressed.”

Besides him in his crappy black dress shirt and pants she definitely is, but how could he ever tell her that?

“You look wonderful.”

She smiles, and seemingly only narrowly defeats the urge to gnaw on her brightly coloured lip. “Thank you.”

He leads her inside, then, where she takes off her shoes and puts down her small handbag, and lets herself be guided to her seat at the small table. She plays along with everything he does - pulling out her chair for her, thoroughly tasting the cheap wine he fills into her glass - and even subtly encourages him to continue with this charade by spreading the paper napkin on her lap like a proper lady and calling him Sir, accompanied by a slight giggle.

Ygritte would have never participated in something like this. Would have laughed at him for even attempting-

He forces himself to banish his ex from his mind. This evening is about Cerelle.

They eat, they laugh, they talk, and he almost feels like a real human again - one who has a social life and isn't constantly being crushed by the fear of eviction or unemployment.

Afterwards, they huddle up on his bed as Jon opens the only streaming platform Sam has given him the password to. All while desperately trying to ignore Cerelle's soft body pressing against his.

He clears his throat. “So… Uh, what do you want to watch?”

“I am open for everything. You decide.”

Her face is likely being graced by that one specific smile that always makes him blush, so he is quite glad he cannot physically look at her.

He stammers a bit. “We could, uh, watch the new Star Trek movie. Though I don't know if it's any good.”

She is silent for a moment before quietly saying, “I've never seen it.”

“You've never seen Star Trek? Never? Not a single episode?”

“I know, I know.” She groans and hides her face in the crook of his neck. “I'm an embarrassment.”

“No, no, it's ok.” He laughs and gently urges her upward again. “I wanna be able to show you something new as well for a change.”

They only manage one episode before a glance towards the clock tells Jon he should probably stop this before he cannot even make it out of bed tomorrow. Cerelle doesn't seem to mind.

“Thank you for this evening,” she says as he lays his laptop on the floor beside the bed. “No one's ever done something like this for me.”

He turns to her, confused. “But… You're a Lannister, and a Baratheon. Shouldn't people be begging on their knees to worship you?”

She laughs, yet it sounds so terribly sad. “The people I associate with aren't the kind to value small moments like these. It's about spectacle, and showing off. You don't really make others envious with a quiet dinner and a movie.”

“Well…” He tries to find fitting words, anything to make her smile again. “I really enjoyed it as well. It was the best birthday I've had in a long time.”

Cerelle jolts upwards. “What? It's your birthday? Why didn’t you say anything? I should have been the one pampering you today, making you dinner, inviting you to my home. I don't even have a gift for you-”

“Hey, it's alright.” He lays his hands on the sides of her neck. “I wanted to do all that for you. Being able to provide for you for once is everything I could have ever wished for.”

“It doesn't work like that, Jon. You already have such stress during the day, you could have at least let me make dinner.”

“I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities for that in the future.”

It was a gamble, saying that, but based on the smile that spreads on her face she has at least accepted that last part of his argument.

“But I still need a gift for you. Especially after everything you have done for me this past month.”

And whatever strange power takes hold of him in that moment makes him say what he has been wanting to for days. “How about a kiss?”

Her lips crash onto his with such fierceness he almost falls off the bed. She catches him just in time, burying her fingers into the collar of his shirt and pressing him so close he barely has space to breathe.

After a lot of shuffling and pulling and dragging, she sits astride his lap as he leans against the wall. One of her arms snakes around his neck to press her mouth ever closer to his, their lips interlocking, wet and hot and so intense he loses all ability to think.

His hands, luckily, find their way to her hips all by themselves. He traces her sides, glides across her chest, presses against her back, upper and lower, urging her to move against him.

She doesn’t - not truly, at least. Her tongue enters his mouth and her fingers card through his hair, but she stays seated quite firmly directly on his cock.

He tries not to let it bother him, he really does. And if she could only lift herself up on her knees to remove herself from his lap-

Suddenly, she whines when he bites down on her lip, but before he can apologise she moves across the bulge in his pants, and he answers with a moan of his own.

How much time passes he cannot say, only that he is out of breath and sweaty and his cock aches under the constant pressure, confined into the pants that are already a size too small. Their chests press together with every gasp, every shattered breath they desperately try to take in. How Cerelle has not collapsed under the constant, never-ceasing movements is a mystery to him, and he is about to let his lips move away from her mouth to explore her throat when she moves, his zipper rubs along his tip, and he-

The moan that passes his lips is far too loud, far too real, and so, so embarrassing. Cerelle's breath fans across his cheek, her hand still buried in his hair.

He cannot look at her.

Fuck, he just came in his pants like an inexperienced virgin, all because of some grinding and a (far too intense) make-out session.

If the earth could open up and swallow him whole- No, even that wouldn’t get rid of this embarrassment.

He lets his fingers glide down Cerelle's side, desperate to distract her, to at least repay her for this, but her hand stops his before it can reach the hem of her skirt.

“It's alright. It was an accident.”

As she removes herself from his lap and stands up, he remembers they are still in the fasting time before Maiden's Day, and supposes he has learned something new about her again.

He quickly cleans himself up in his bathroom, throwing on a clean pair of sweatpants and splashing his face with ice cold water in an attempt to return his face to a normal colour.

Cerelle stands by the window, her form illuminated by the bright lamppost. She turns to him as he approaches.

“My uncle will be here in a few minutes to pick me up.”

He nods.

“I don't- This doesn't mean you should be embarrassed, or that I think you are pathetic. Trust me, I've done way worse. It's all my fault, anyways, I should have never let it get this far-”

“Hey.” He lays a hand on her cheek, and she almost instinctively leans into his palm. “It's alright. As you said, accidents happen. And maybe we can continue where we left off once you are ready.”

She tries to reciprocate his smile, yet seems far too tired. “Soon. I promise I'll be ready soon, it's just a really difficult time right now.”

“Don't stress yourself, I would understand if you are never ready as well. And even then I would still want to be with you.”

She presses herself against him, arms around his body and hands buried in his shirt, holding on so tightly he thinks she wants to melt into him. And somehow, he is alright with that. Especially when he hugs her back, burying his face in her hair, and he feels a tear escape her eye and roll down his cheek.

They simply stand there for minutes, hours even, until motion in front of his window tears them apart.

“That's my ride.” Cerelle takes a deep breath, only to attempt to suppress a smile. “You have glitter on your face.”

He chuckles.

Their hands remain interlocked until he opens the door and she steps out into the hallway.

She looks at him one last time and whispers, “Happy Birthday, Jon,” before she disappears into the night.

He expects Cerelle to remain M.I.A. for a few days, yet is quite glad she doesn't.

Two days after his birthday and their dinner date at his apartment, they meet in the supposedly closed for renovations wildlife zoo on the outskirts of the city, where Jon has way too much fun searching for the wolves hiding amongst the trees. Cerelle fawns over the foxes and hawks so much, he fears she will kidnap one to keep as a pet.

Their interactions aren't strange or weird or awkward. Even though they never talk about that night, it also doesn't weigh on them like a well-kept secret. It's just something that happened, just another one of their wonderful dates he keeps tucked away in his heart.

One day after work - a terrible and rainy affair where he had to carry so much stuff in the freezing cold every muscle in his body hurts to even think about - he arrives home to find a small package in front of his door.

Jon does not have the money to order things, so his first thought is that it belongs to a neighbour. But no. That is his name on the address.

Opening it reveals two things: an even smaller carton, and a piece of paper.

Its handwriting isn’t messy, per se, but difficult to read in the way only his grandmother's letters are. After a shamefully long time, he finally decodes what it's supposed to say.

I know you didn't want a gift, so you can see this more as a common good for us both.

Yours, Cerelle

He traces her name on the paper, before he catches himself and quickly lays it to the side.

The smaller carton, the common good as Cerelle has called it, is a small, portable projector, one he could easily plug into his laptop.

Seven hells.

It's not just that she liked the date, it's not just that she isn't embarrassed by how it ended, it's not just that she maybe would want to repeat it. No, she has gone out of her way to gift him something that would actively enhance the experience the next time they watch a movie at his place.

She wants to spend more time with him.

He places the projector on top of his cupboard and tapes Cerelle's note next to the family photos above his desk.

Jon does invite Cerelle to his place again.

It happens during one of their museum visits - this one being dedicated to the composer of Westeros’ national anthem. The entrance is tucked away in a side street and so unrecognisable that they don’t even have to search for a back door, a change he is quite happy with.

The museum itself is not very interesting, but some of the rooms they pass through play music of the composer; quick marches and deep arias and sweeping waltzes. In one of them - a sparsely furnished room that plays a slow piece he swears he has heard before - Cerelle takes his hands, lays one of them around her waist and interlaces the other with her fingers, and starts to dance.

It’s a quiet and idle one, and technically nothing more than simply moving around in each other’s arms, but gods does he like it. She snakes her free hand around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder and then, even if quietly, hums along to the music, and he thinks he will die on the spot.

He stumbles and steps on her shoes, but she just smiles. And when the music stops for a moment and she lifts her head up again, he cannot help but kiss her. It’s so terribly short but sweet and full of longing, and when they part again he asks, “Would you like to come to my place again to try out the projector?”

She smiles brightly and agrees, and that leaves Jon two days to clean up his apartment and figure out a way to prepare an actual proper movie night this time.

He is late coming home from work that evening, so he decides to take a shortcut through a small alley. It’s theoretically the fastest way from the bus stop to his apartment, yet it smells and is dark and has a general off-putting vibe to it, so he tends to avoid it. Not tonight, though. He has to be home in time before Cerelle comes.

Halfway down the alley someone calls out his name, and even hearing the voice sends a shiver down his back.

The past few weeks had been so beautiful, he had been almost able to ignore the cause of them. Who it was that had brought Cerelle and him together.

He should have expected something to happen, yet when the texts had slowly ceased and the calls had stopped coming, he hoped she had finally realised there was no future for them, that he had well and truly broken up with her. Yet as he turns around and sees that mop of red hair running towards him, he feels so terribly stupid.

“Ygritte-”

“Do you have any idea how difficult it was to find you? I had to search almost the entirety of Flea Bottom to even catch a hint as to where you live.”

He takes a step back as she draws ever closer to him. “What are you doing here?”

Ygritte laughs. “To get you back, of course.”

“I don’t want you back.”

She stares at him in disbelief, and he cannot believe he told her that either.

“Don’t be silly,” she says, walking further towards him. “You love me. We belong to each other.”

He stumbles over some scraps lying on the ground in an effort to bring distance between them. “We hadn’t been on a date in months. In six years of dating you never wanted to know where I live. You told me I should move to King’s Landing, but never helped me get settled in.”

“Gods, you sound so whiny. I helped you grow into the man you are today, and you should be thankful for that. Without me, you would probably still be living with your mum in that crappy town up north.”

“Maybe I liked it up there.”

She laughs. “You’re so ridiculous. It’s honestly why I fell for you in the first place.”

“Please, just… Just leave me alone.”

He tries to turn around and walk away, to leave Ygritte and everything connected to her far, far behind him, but before he has even taken three steps, she closes her hand around his arm and throws him against the wall. The back of his head hits something sharp and in the time it takes him to regain his breath, she has pressed her lips to his.

He tries to move back, move away, push her off, but she forces her body tighter against his, crowding him against the bricks behind him as her hands start roaming across his stomach and chest, her fingers playing with the zipper, starting to open his jacket.

“W- Wait-”

“You don’t have to play coy, I know you want this.” She presses her thigh between his legs, grinding it against his dick, which starts to rise against his best efforts. “There, I know you can feel it.” She kisses him again and grabs his collar to keep his face close to hers. “You just wanted a bit of excitement in our relationship. Don’t worry, I can give that to you.”

Cerelle will arrive any moment now. He needs to be up in his apartment, preparing for their date. She cannot see him like this, she will think he’s cheating on her and run away and not give him time to explain and he will lose her forever-

“Please, Ygritte. Let’s talk another time, there is someone waiting-”

Her arm suddenly presses against his throat. “You’re cheating on me, is that what you're saying? Found yourself some pretty little slut that moans really loudly when you fuck her?”

“No, it’s- I broke up with you, it’s not cheating-”

“So there is someone else!”

He tries to respond, yet she quickly swallows any protest he had on his tongue in another burning kiss. She lavishes his mouth, bites and tears at his lips, buries her fingers into his hair and pulls at the strands, grinds her hips against his dick.

“You want me, can’t you feel it? You can try to deny it but your body knows the truth.” Another kiss. “Do you really think you'll ever find someone else? Who would ever want a broke, pathetic dropout like you?” Another kiss. “But I do. I don’t care that you’re damaged goods.” Another kiss. “You belong to me, and we will stay with each other forever.” Another kiss. “You need me, just admit it.”

Perhaps… Perhaps he should just give in. Perhaps what Ygritte says is right. Why would anyone want him, as a friend or a partner, anyways? He has nothing to offer - no money, no house, no safety, no fame, no nothing. Just a shitty job that pays for his shitty place, one he will get evicted from if they raise the rent again.

Staying with Ygritte would not be a very happy life, but has he ever truly done anything that would make him deserve something good? He dropped out of school, ran away from home, hasn’t spoken to a single member of his family in years, and when given the opportunity to study something that would secure his future, he turned it down. Because of Ygritte, yes, but even that he listened to her speaks for itself.

He should simply go with her. Give into her demands, and return to what they had. Fuck her as if he means it, kiss her as if he loves her, and never again make a fuss about being left out.

Ygritte has gone out of her way to find him again after he tried to ghost her. For anyone else, he would always be a second choice. No one else cares about him.

She is lifting up his shirt and he is about to resign himself to his fate when, all of a sudden, she is gone.

The breath he takes bites in his throat and his lung as if the air itself is poison, and the immense amount of oxygen that enters him makes him dizzy. He opens his eyes slowly, expecting Ygritte to have run away, to have decided she does not actually want him back-

Cerelle lays a gentle hand on his cheek, her eyes wide, her lip trembling.

“Jon?”

He almost lets out a sob at seeing her, yet brings no sound across his lips. And no matter how desperately he wants to fall into her arms, he is still frozen to the wall behind him.

Someone beside them screams out every curse word under the sun. Jon, almost mechanically, turns towards Ygritte, who is lying on the dirty ground and desperately trying to get her clothes clean. Then her gaze lands on them.

First her eyes widen in shock, before she lets out a laugh, only to contort her face in anger.

“You’re cheating on me with that fucking whore?”

He wants to defend Cerelle, to tell Ygritte she shouldn't call her that, but his limbs still refuse to obey him.

So instead it is Cerelle that moves herself in front of him, standing there like a protective shield against the vindictive force that used to be his girlfriend but that he doesn't recognise anymore.

“Were those proper, upper-class boys not giving it to you hard enough anymore, or why did you have to scrape around Flea Bottom for your next victim? He is, what, number five or six this year?”

It takes him a few moments to fully grasp what Ygritte is saying. And even though he despises every single one of her words, knows them not to be true, he cannot open his mouth.

Cerelle does not dignify Ygritte with a response, merely saying in a tone so low and threatening a chill runs down Jon's spine, “He told you to leave.”

Ygritte jumps at her, then, but before he can even properly react, Cerelle has already punched his ex across the face with such force it sends her tumbling into some crates.

“Make sure you never tell another soul what happened today, or so the gods help me, I will make what I did to Ramsay Bolton look like child's play in comparison.”

He half expects Ygritte to attack again, even if only verbally. But after staring at them - staring at Cerelle - for a while, she stands up and quickly hurries down the alley.

It is silent around them. No car, no bus, no dog, no pedestrian bothers them. The alley lays alone and forgotten.

Cerelle turns towards him, and he can do little but stay just as he was - pressed against the wall, frozen in place, confused as to what just happened.

“Are you alright?”

Her voice is so, so quiet and careful, as if she fears he will shatter with a single sudden movement. He wants to answer but can't, and so merely reaches out for her and buries his hands into her jacket.

This did not just happen, he did not just stand there frozen in fear, unable to do anything. What would anyone think of him if they found out he was such a weak coward? What will Cerelle think of him now, when he didn't defend her, didn't do everything in his power not to cheat on her?

He only notices he is trembling when Cerelle lays a hand on top of his, and squeezes it comfortingly. With the other, she takes out her phone.

“No police.”

It's the first thing he says to her. His voice is hoarse and shaking, and he immediately wants to crawl into himself.

“It's alright,” she whispers. “I won't call the police, just someone to pick us up.”

His apartment is right around the corner, they could… Then he thinks about it for a moment longer, and realises he cannot return there tonight. Not ever, perhaps. Ygritte knows where he lives now, he will never be safe again.

Cerelle talks to someone on the phone, but the words flow past him without ever registering in his mind.

Then they stand there.

Eventually, she gently lays a hand on his arm and urges him down the street. He follows her, stops when she stops, hurries after her into a black car with tinted windows. Once they have slipped into the backseat and the car has started driving, he curls up in her lap, and cries.

How long he does he cannot say. How long the drive takes he cannot say. Perhaps forever. Perhaps a minute.

He sobs violently, his body shaking with every breath he fails to take. The shirt he cries into is wet from his tears, and if he had been capable of rational thought, he would feel terrible about it.

There are hands combing through his hair, gently playing with the strands, curling them around fingers. They run down his back in soothing strokes, flatten across the wrinkles in his clothing, press him closer against her.

When the car stops, the tears have as well, yet it takes Cerelle a few tries to get him to move and leave the car. She holds his hand as she leads him up an unknown staircase, draws her keys to open a door, urges him to mirror her as they remove their jackets and shoes, and eventually takes him into a corner of the dark room and lays him down on a bed.

It's soft, and he sinks into the mattress as soon as he lies down. Cerelle moves, and he hastily tightens the grip on her hand.

“Please don't leave.”

“I won't. I'll stay right with you.”

He likes to think that she smiles, but through the darkness he barely sees anything, least of all her face, so he has to rely on his other senses to feel her lying down beside him and wrapping an arm around him. He presses his body against hers, buries his face into her chest, and eventually falls asleep.

It takes him a few moments to figure out where he is.

The ceiling rises high above him, the red brick walls carefully painted with animals and flowers and trees, each more detailed than the last, while enormous windows stretch out across an entire side of the room, flooding everything in warm sunlight. A purple curtain is tied to the side, and could, if opened, separate the alcove with the bed he currently lies in from the rest of the space.

Cerelle has brought him here. She considers this place safe, something to escape to when she has nowhere else to go.

This is not the Red Palace. Nor the presidential villa. Meaning it is her own, personal apartment, hidden somewhere deep within the city.

The bed he lies in is even larger than he previously assumed, decorated with pillows and blankets in all shapes and sizes, and so incredibly soft he never wants to leave it. But the space beside him is empty.

Cerelle had held him in her arms last night until he had fallen asleep, but she must have left afterwards. Perhaps to lie on the couch, perhaps in a second bedroom. She likely wanted to give him space after what happened yesterday, and he supposes he is grateful for that, yet a part of him still wishes to wake up beside her again one day.

He slowly sits up.

His clothing has gotten wrinkled during his sleep, and he feels terrible for dirtying the beautiful sheets.

Everything around him is beautiful. He doesn't belong here, he should leave, he should-

Something moves in the corner of his eyes, and when he turns towards it, Cerelle stands there. Dressed in a simple, long-sleeved white shirt and a blue skirt with a wooden tray in her hands, while her hair is kept out of her face with blue clips decorated with butterflies.

(It’s not the first time he wonders why she likes these animals so much.)

“Morning,” she says quietly. Then she lifts up the tray. “I made breakfast.”

Once again, he doesn’t know whether he should be in awe or deeply uncomfortable over how much effort Cerelle puts up for him. When someone says breakfast, he thinks of a cup of coffee and a piece of toast (with a slice of ham if he has the money). She, however, has prepared a whole five course menu - porridge and grilled cheese sandwiches and pita bread with some carrot dip and homemade cookies and glasses with fruits and vegetables. He gets his coffee, she drinks some tea. Never in his wildest dreams could he ever afford something even slightly similar.

“Do you…” she says slowly after a while. “Do you want to talk about yesterday?”

He should, he knows that. Burying the events of the previous night will not turn out well for him, but it is far easier than facing the truth.

“I- I don’t even know where to begin.”

He expects her to ask him to recount everything in order to work through this experience. But she doesn’t.

What she says instead is, “Do you want to press charges?”

Perhaps he should have recounted everything first because-

Oh gods. He could press charges. What happened yesterday- Ygritte tried to rape him. Forcibly take him in some dirty alley like he was in a bad movie. Had Cerelle not appeared-

“I- I don’t know if I could,” he whispers.

“That’s okay. I won’t force you to do anything. I just want you to know you have the option.”

He nods carefully, and takes another bite of the bread.

Then he blinks and properly stares out into the bright sun for the first time.

“Shit, what’s the time? I’ll be late for work-”

Cerelle lays a hand on his, and when he looks at her, she has her eyes averted in what he can only describe as shame.

“I- I already took care of that.”

“What?”

“You told me where you work a few weeks ago, and when you were still sleeping this morning I- I called them and told them you were sick.”

He is lost for words. “And they believed you?”

“I told them I was your cousin.” She cocks her head. “Though the guy on the phone seemed a bit confused. He said that for as long as he has worked there, no one has ever called in sick, and he didn’t even know the correct protocols for that. But he assured me he would take care of everything.”

Sam. As the shop’s secretary, he would have been the one to take her call. Jon himself doesn’t even know if he is allowed to stay away for a day - even with a heart attack or something - but Sam would make sure he’s not punished for it.

He should bring his friend a cake when he comes back.

“For how long did you excuse me?”

“Just the weekend. I said you’d be back by Monday. I thought you might need the time.”

Does this count as an invasion of privacy? He supposes it does, and perhaps had she not previously proven he could trust her he would admonish her now. But she saved him last night, and perhaps he should allow her this once.

A free weekend sounds like a dream.

“I thank you,” he says carefully. “But I would prefer if, going forward, you ask me before making such a decision.”

“Of course,” she answers quickly. “I already feel terrible for doing it now.”

He hopes he never loses her.

They finish breakfast and he helps her clean up and store away the dishes in silence.

Her kitchen is as pretty as the rest of her apartment, the cabinet doors painted with dark blue and green backgrounds while flowers and vines sneak their way up before them. Everything is neatly sorted, everything seems to have its place.

“Do you think Ygritte will tell anyone?”

Cerelle turns towards him. “What do you mean?”

“She recognised you. And the way we parted… She will want to get back at us, at you, what better way than to make our story public?

She taps her fingers against the counter, her well-manicured nails hitting the marble in a gentle clack, clack, clack.

“Ygritte has no proof. Sure, some publication could attempt to snap a picture of us, but that would take time and effort. And her story doesn't fit with what the people know about me.” She bites her lip. “I had lunch with an old flame of mine earlier in the day anyways, any talk of an alleged new lover will get drowned in the pics that were surely taken during that.”

Jon doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to sound desperate or jealous, constantly hears Ygritte's voice in his head, and yet he still says quietly, “An old flame?”

Cerelle's eyes widen. “I'm sorry, I should have asked you for permission beforehand, it's just… She is nothing special to me, I just slept with her a handful of times last year. And I thought that- I haven’t been seen with anyone for weeks, someone would have gotten suspicious, and I didn't want them to find out about us. So I invited her for lunch, and chose as public a spot as possible. Nothing happened and I probably will never see her again, at least not intentionally-”

“It's alright, I understand.”

He shouldn’t get upset about this. They aren't together or exclusive, have never talked about what they want out of a relationship, haven't even had sex in weeks.

(Not that he cares about that, he could survive an entire life in her arms without, it's just… He misses hearing those pretty sounds she makes. The ones he is responsible for.)

“What will you do now?” Cerelle asks.

He takes a breath, opens his mouth, ready to answer, yet stops. A minute passes, then he quietly says, “I don't know.”

She cocks her head, and something strange lies in her gaze, something he can't quite place. “How about a day on the beach? Or- Perhaps the entire weekend? It's a good way to clear your head.”

“With what money?”

He doesn't mean to sound harsh, but cannot help himself the small amount of bitterness swinging in his voice.

She might have cleared him the weekend, but he has not left King's Landing in years. What should change now?

“My family has a small hut by the beach,” she says carefully. “If you want, I could bring you there. And stay with you, if you need it.”

He needs someone close, that is for sure. He cannot be alone now, not after what happened the last time he was alone, not after- Cerelle saved him last night. She could take care of him.

The drive passes in silence. Only the sound of the engine and the quiet, melodic voices of the radio fill the car as his gaze wanders across the scenery outside the window. He clears his mind, takes deep, conscious breaths, and almost falls asleep.

Three hours after their departure, they finally arrive at what Cerelle has called a small hut by the beach and what Jon considers a house for a family of five with a private section of the beach.

Being rich must be nice.

It's already dark by that time, and even though he notices Cerelle preparing to say something, even though he wants nothing more than to spend time with her, she shows him his bedroom and he closes the door after she has left.

His dreams are haunted by Ygritte. She claws at his skin, rips out his flesh, consumes him whole. Every time he wakes in a sweat, he thinks this nightmare cannot possibly continue, yet whenever he falls asleep once more afterwards, it returns more detailed and vicious than before.

A sliver of light passes through the window when he opens his eyes again, and he decides he has had enough. If needed, he will never sleep again.

His legs almost buckle when he stands up, and only quickly grabbing the headboard keeps him from falling to the ground.

Step by step, he makes his way out of his room.

Cerelle sits on the porch, book in hand, as a gentle breeze wafts through her hair and across the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looks up as he sits down, smiles, hands him a blanket. Jon takes a breath, and starts talking.

He talks of Ygritte, and himself. How he met her when he was sixteen and she nineteen, how he instantly fell head over heels for her, how his mother disapproved of the relationship. How he let himself get convinced to drop out of school, leave home without another word, and move to King's Landing with Ygritte, hoping to finally make some friends and live. How he was fired from job after job for reasons that always boiled down to no degree. How Ygritte, always lovingly, of course, refused to help him, saying he will only learn if he manages to make it through life himself. How they had gradually started to drift apart.

Then he tells her of Valentine's Day, why he was in that restaurant, and how desperately he had tried to make things work with Ygritte. How he was about to leave when she showed up, and how she flipped his world around. He tells her of Ygritte’s desperate attempts to reach him throughout the weeks until she showed up in that alley. He doesn't stop at the assault, telling her of every word he remembers being said, every moan he regrets letting past his lips, every bruise he garnered at being thrown against the wall. He tells her everything up until the moment he fell asleep in her bed.

Sometime during it all, he starts crying. He feels terrible, seeing all his dumb mistakes listed off like this, as if there couldn't possibly exist a bigger failure in Westeros. But afterwards, in the silence that follows his last word, he feels strangely free.

Cerelle doesn't say anything for a long, long time. He doesn’t mind, for some reason.

Her fingers trace the rough patterns of her blanket.

He looks out towards the sea.

The clouds part to let the sun shine through for a moment.

“Thank you.” Cerelle's words are barely above a whisper. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

“Do you think I'll ever forget her?”

“No. You will heal, you will grow beyond her, you will no longer be defined by your trauma. But you will never forget her.”

It’s a terrible thought, but one he thinks he will manage to live with.

“May I-” He stops himself, then continues. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.”

He presses his lips together, scared of what her reaction might be.

“In that alley,” he begins carefully, “Ygritte called you… She called you a whore.” He whispers the word, not being able to say it out loud despite him merely quoting someone else. “She seemed to have recognised you. Then she suggested you had other lovers just this year, and at work, Mat said the same. That you are a playboy.”

Cerelle stares at the table before her, her blanket wrapped like a shield around her body, and he feels terrible.

“You don’t have to answer, I understand if-”

“No, you deserve the truth.” She takes a deep breath. “If- If there is something- If we ever intend to become something more, I should not keep secrets from you. You'll find out sooner than later, and I'd rather you hear it from me.”

Cerelle wants to stay with him.

“How much do you know about me?” she asks.

“Just what you told me.”

She cocks her head. “Are you not on social media? Do you never browse any gossip sites?”

“Uh, not really. I don’t have time for that.”

Perhaps the look on her face is relief, perhaps disbelief, he cannot quite say. It doesn’t matter when Cerelle starts talking.

She talks about every single one of her lovers. How she doesn’t remember the way it started, just that when she turned nineteen, she had long lost sight of her body count. How she was so desperate to break free of her family’s plans, she actively sought out their worst enemies to sleep with. How people started falling into her bed all on their own, no seduction or convincing necessary, because she had garnered such a reputation. How barely any of them cared about her - all they wanted was the ability to brag they had fucked Cerelle Baratheon-Lannister. How she still pretends they love her. How it’s the only thing she’s good at.

How she killed someone because of her recklessness. How she murdered someone in cold blood, and then got away with it.

She tells him names. Arianne. Helena. Florian. Harry. Zima. Henrix. Dahlia. Ramsay. Jayna. Alyn, whom her grandfather had wanted her to marry. Benjiamin, who had prayed with her for forgiveness afterwards. Humfrey, who had used her to get access to her cousin. And Balon, her bodyguard. The only one that would have genuinely wanted her in return, and the only one she could never bring herself to ruin the life of.

How she thinks of stopping, sometimes, but then is left with nothing to do otherwise. People expect her to whore herself out, they actively pursue her because they heard it was easy. How she makes it easy for them.

The press loves her, she says. The rogue daughter of the Lannister clan, the one stain on Robert Baratheon’s election campaign, the bane of the existence of Tywin Lannister. How she could have never turned out different with a mother like hers. Yet no matter what she does, her family does not care.

“I sometimes wonder what it would take to have my grandfather disown me.” She wipes away a tear from her cheek. “If it’s not the sex and not being queer and not funding his political opponents… There might not be anything I could do.”

“Why do you want your family to hate you? Shouldn’t you want them to love you instead?” It’s what he wants, oh so desperately above all else.

“I tried to make them love me, believe me. It did not work. And hate is better than indifference, because if they hate me they at least acknowledge that I am real.”

He doesn’t know what to say, because what was one to say to such a thing? A confession he never thought to hear from someone that appeared so perfect on the outside.

Terrified, still, that she might run away, he slowly stands up from his chair, takes the step towards her, and sits down beside her on the couch. Taking her cold hands in his, his eyes meet hers. Blue, endless, ever-changing.

“I don’t care how many people you’ve slept with. I don’t care who your parents or grandparents are. And I certainly don’t care how much money you have. What matters is that I get to be by your side for as long as you want me there. I want to be the one to make you smile and dry your tears and hold you tight in my arms whenever life gets tough. If you want the glitz and glamour of high society then I will accompany you there, but never believe that I want anything less than the Cerelle behind the pictures.” He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and cups her cheek in the palm of his hand afterwards. “You are real to me.”

She kisses him, pulling his body so close to hers he thinks they are about to melt into one another. In her embrace lies every fear and anxiety, in her tears every moment of doubt and hatred, and in her lips the love she has always tried to hide. He keeps her close, for her sake and his own.

When they part, she lays her hands on the side of his face, smiling so brightly at him the sun pales in comparison.

“You deserve so much love. And perhaps, over time, I will be able to give you all of it and more.” She lays a kiss on his knuckles. “You may think that your mistakes define you, that you'll never be able to grow beyond what they made you. But merely looking upon what you have already achieved when the entire deck is stacked against you should show you none of it's true. You will reach any goal you set yourself, and I will accompany you to it all, if you let me.”

He moves underneath her blanket and presses himself against her warmth. She only lays a gentle kiss on the top of his head in response, before looking out towards the sea.

Cerelle does not believe him when he tells her this is his first time seeing the sea. Then she takes his hand and forces him into every activity one can do on a beach.

Perhaps forces is too dramatic. He likes collecting shells with her, walking barefoot in the sand, playing frisbee and catch, chasing after the seagulls. But she doesn't give him any choice in the matter either.

Cerelle promises to take him here again once it is warmer, perhaps during July or August, so they can go swimming. She looks at him from the side after saying that, and he laughs as he quickly tells her he does know how to swim.

They continue talking as they walk along the waves. And amongst other things, he finally manages to ask why she was at that restaurant on Valentine's.

“I worked there years ago. Nothing long or serious, I was trying to figure out what to do with my life. Most of my colleagues from that time are still there, and so I visit them on the odd evening. Valentine's was such a day. I sat in the kitchen, chatting with the staff, wondering if I should call up one of my old flings, when one of the waiters comes in and talks of a man sitting alone at a table. Happens every year, he said. Some poor fellow always has his date ditch on him.

“I looked through the door into the restaurant area and saw you on the other side of the room. So beautiful, so lovely, a wrapped gift on the table, yet staring down into your lap. I don't know what took ahold of me at that moment, but before I could react I had grabbed my things, walked through the main entrance, and pretended to be your date.”

An act of pure kindness had saved him that night, and had landed him on the beach he is currently standing on.

If only his colleagues- If only the whole world could see what Cerelle is truly like, she would have no need to disguise herself anymore. No one would hunt her to get an unflattering picture, no newspaper spreading new gossip on who she's dating.

She called him beautiful.

“What if I had denied your offer?” he asks, not quite knowing himself why he does so.

Her fingers trace his own. “I don't know. I never think that far.”

They talk about the assault again. And Cerelle tells him what she saw.

(Does he want to know? He needs it, that is for certain at least.)

It is nothing new, for the most part, and things he has already suspected. But then…

“I saw her kissing you and immediately thought the worst of it. I feel terrible now, considering what actually happened, but I was about to leave, to leave you alone with her, when I heard what she said. Do you really think you'll ever find someone else? You're damaged goods. Your body betrays you. I'm all you deserve. Someone said that to me once, and I… I just did what I wished someone did for me back then.”

He doesn't know what to say.

To hear her say this, just like that, without any warning-

He wraps her in his arms. “I'm sorry.”

“Jon, I- This should be about you, not-”

But she hugs him back anyways. Buries her hands in his jacket and her face in his neck.

When asked about it she says she will tell him more some day, but that she doesn't want to burden him with that right now. When the time is right.

During one of their chases of the local winged fauna, Cerelle stumbles over something and crashes headfirst into the water. He wants to run to her, see if she's hurt, but then she throws back her wet hair and lets out a string of curses so decrepit and vile, the only response he can muster is laughter.

She looks at him angrily, but it seems more pouty than truly threatening, and so he breaks out in another giggle.

When he finally regains control over his own body, he quickly steps towards her. “Wait, let me help you up.”

He extends a hand, she grabs it, and moments later he finds himself in the water next to her.

Now it is her turn to laugh, one that does not even end when he sprays her with a wave. Instead, she responds in kind, and they end up in what can only be described as a water fight entirely inappropriate for their age.

She sits above him eventually, his body pressed into the sand as the sea plays with his curls. Her lips meet his, but before he has time to fully enjoy their weight against his, a wave crashes over them and they are coughing and retching to get the water out of their lungs.

“I think we both need a good shower after this.”

Jon has heard some of Ygritte's friends - and his colleagues once - talk about taking a shower with their partner, and how great it is, and how it always ends in amazing sex. That was certainly true the few times he did it with his ex.

(He needs to call her that in his mind from time to time, otherwise he threatens to go mad with fear.)

And while he desperately wants to shower with Cerelle for that exact reason, he moreso wishes to do it simply to… well, shower. He wants to wash her hair and soap up her body and giggle as he shows her a silly scar on his thigh he got as a child. Afterwards he wants them to dress each other and cuddle up in bed and fall asleep in each others arms.

He wants to be intimate with someone without it ending in sex.

But he also respects Cerelle's religion, and as long as Maiden's Day has not passed, he will not bring up the topic.

They sleep in separate rooms again that night, and even though the nightmares of Ygritte return, he does not mind. Because when he wakes he simply lists off every beautiful thing he has done with Cerelle in his mind, and knows he is taken care of.

Returning to his crappy apartment is much less daunting now that he has talked about what got him into this mess in the first place. He has someone he can rely on now, someone that will protect and save him, or simply listen when needed.

Mormont admonishes him for calling in sick so late, and tells him he wants such calls to happen at least a day before. But then he asks if he is feeling better and gives him easier work for the day.

Jon sometimes wonders what the old man sees in him.

On Wednesday, Cerelle shows up in the shop.

They talked on the phone the day prior (for an hour!) without making any plans to meet up again, so to see her now, sitting in the office, deep into conversation with Sam, makes his mind short-circuit.

At least that explains the weird looks the others gave him on his way inside.

Sam spots him first, flushes beet-red, and quickly turns back to the PC. The confusion on Cerelle's face quickly fades as she looks at him, and she jumps from her chair with a grin - only to freeze a moment later.

Right. No hugging or kissing where others could see them.

She shouldn't be here at all.

“Hey.”

“I needed to have the accreditation for my bike renewed, and I heard this place does a thorough job with it.”

He nods.

Then Mormont enters the office. “All finished, Miss Baratheon-Lannister. Your motorcycle is in impeccable condition.”

“Great.” She smiles and steps towards Jon. “I assume he is finished for today?”

“Of course.”

Then she hands him a helmet and tells him to follow her.

Sitting behind Cerelle on a motorcycle again is certainly the last thing he wants to do right now, especially while the entire shop is watching them. But he refuses to complain in the fear she will never again let him ride behind her again. And there is truly nothing he loves more than being pressed up behind her, having to grip her waist, feel her body against his-

She takes him to the Red Palace.

They drive past the imposing building and its countless windows, down gravelled pathways and across sprawling fields until they reach what looks like some sort of farm.

“I think I've been far too easy on you,” Cerelle says with a smile as she takes off her helmet. “It's time we do something fun.”

“Were our previous dates not fun?”

She takes his hand and presses it to her lips. “Of course. But this, my love, is something different.”

And simply her calling him my love is enough to make him follow her without another question. Then they stand inside the stables, and he regrets everything that led him to this point.

“I don't suppose you ever learned to ride a horse, did you?”

He stares at the animal in the first pen. “Uh, no, not really.”

“It's actually really easy once you get the hang of it.” She drags him past the rows. “For today, I'll allow you to ride Starlight. She is my horse and the most well-behaved out of the lot.”

The animal she forces him onto has fur white as snow, and is at least tame enough not to throw Jon off the moment he climbs on.

What he does cannot be called riding in the slightest - he isn't even able to tell the horse where to go or when to stop. Both of them merely follow Cerelle on her brown mare as she leads them onto an open field.

They spend the better part of two hours on the horses. Sometimes Cerelle actually tries to teach him how to control the animal, how to stay on, how to make it move faster, yet mostly she simply gallops around the paddock, a wide smile on her face, her open hair waving in the wind behind her as Jon watches from the side.

One day, he thinks, I want to be the one to make her this happy.

They meet again on Sunday, and once again she takes him to her family's estate, yet this time she seemingly decides to be nice and instead takes him biking around the forest. They talk, they laugh, and he almost crashes into a tree.

Then they agree on another date - Wednesday, a dinner in the dark. He is excited the whole three days in the lead-up, but when he leaves work at 6 p.m. ready to hop on the bus, he receives a notification.

Cerelle: sorry, can't make it today. something came up with my family.

Nothing more, just that.

He waits for another message, an explanation, something, anything, but nothing comes.

This is how it started with Ygritte as well. Sorrowful, last-minute cancellations, that left him standing alone, confused and angry.

No, stop that! Cerelle is nothing like his ex - when she cancels she is sure to have a valid reason, he is certain. Her text is only so short because she is stressed, because the thing with her family she mentioned is actually serious. She would not simply leave him hanging like this.

He doesn't sleep that night.

Tossing and turning in his bed, he cannot help the doubt the fear the anxiety the disappointment the hatred welling up in him, eating him up from the inside and threatening to consume him whole. It doesn't help that Cerelle remains silent the following day. And the day after that. And the one after that.

On Sunday, he has even more time to think, because a client demands their car to be taken to him immediately, and the only one Mormont has for this job is Jon. An eight hour car journey to Riverrun, followed by an eight hour train journey back to King's Landing leaves him with nothing but time to think. To worry. To spiral further and further until the only reasons he can come up with for Cerelle's silence is that she’s either broken up with him or that she's dead.

He doesn't know which option he prefers.

It's past midnight when he finally steps off the bus. The rain beats down on his umbrella as he makes the miserable trek towards his apartment, and every time he steps into a puddle the water seeps through to his socks.

He has not seen Cerelle in a week. They have not called each other for far longer. The last time he received a text from her was that cursed message on Wednesday.

He decides to make his peace with it. Their- Whatever they have been has only lasted two months, it is not such an enormous loss all things considered. He experienced things he never would have thought - snuck into museums past closing, went horse riding, finally saw the sea - and for that he will always be grateful.

The heir to the Lannister name can add him to her endless list of conquests and forget about him in a month. He will cherish their shared memories, while laying what they were to rest.

At least, that was the plan. But sadly, no plan of his has ever worked.

Because when he nears his apartment building, a person stands in the dimly lit area in front of the door. Soaked from head to toe, wet hair sticking to her head, clothes almost see-through.

“Cerelle?”

Every bone in his body yearns to run towards her and fall into her arms, to forget everything that happened this week, and to go back right to where they were before.

But he cannot let himself be used, not again. They cannot fall into the same cycle as he and Ygritte had, he will not allow it. Not again, and certainly not with Cerelle.

She smiled when she spotted him, yet as she takes a step forward and opens her mouth, Jon has already said, “What are you doing here?”

Perhaps he is harsher than necessary, but it is past midnight, it rains, and he is so terribly tired.

Cerelle stops. She takes a shaky breath. “I came to apologise.”

“Yeah? What for?”

He needs to hear it from her, needs her to admit out loud what she did wrong. He cannot be as lenient as with Ygritte, he simply cannot.

“I cancelled our date,” she says quietly. “And disappeared for four days. That wasn't right of me, especially after what you just went through with your ex. I should have kept you notified, or at least let you know I was alright and that I would call you when I was back. I am sorry, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to make it right.”

He doesn't know how to react. He had anticipated every single excuse Cerelle would bring, and had prepared appropriate responses for them all. That she would actually take responsibility had not even occurred to him in his wildest imaginations.

She would be willing to make it right. She clearly expects him to demand extraordinarily difficult things, ones that will take her years to achieve. And she would do them all.

“Where were you?”

“My family's private server was almost hacked.” She doesn't even hesitate with the answer. “Every message and email, all our banking information and every single address was under threat of being leaked to the public. We all had to come to Casterly Rock to have our electronics quarantined, audited, and wiped clean.”

Casterly Rock. The legendary home of the Lannister family, so old and ancient no one knows the true age of it. The castle is hidden deep, deep in the mountains of the west, and only the family and most trusted of servants know its location.

“I wasn't even supposed to send you that message on Wednesday,” Cerelle continues. She tries to wipe the water from her forehead, yet her efforts are quickly rendered useless thanks to the continuing downpour. “The moment the leak became known, we had to instantly take every phone and laptop offline and turn them off, in fear of worsening the situation. Had my grandfather known I texted you…”

He wants to feel glee at being the first thing Cerelle thinks of during a time of crisis, but forces himself to suppress those emotions.

“Do you-” He clears his throat. “Do you know who it was?”

She shakes her head. “Part of that impromptu family meeting was to find out whether any of us were at fault, but nothing came of it.”

The rain hammers down on his umbrella, rivulets flowing down beside him, the puddles by his feet growing in size with every minute that passes.

Cerelle still stands there, only clad in simple pants, a shirt, and a cardigan. All of it sticks relentlessly to her skin, yet the only sign she might be uncomfortable is how she never stops tugging down her sleeves.

She still looks at him. Full of expectation, full of fear.

“How long have you been waiting here?”

“A minute or two. I rang the doorbell and waited for you to answer.”

“I would not have heard you anyways. The building hasn't had electricity since yesterday.”

“Oh.”

He hates these moments of silence between them, but struggles to find ways to break them.

“Anything else?”

Cerelle has looked at him the entire time, yet now she lowers her gaze. Her shoulders almost unnoticeably draw inward, and no matter what happened the last few days, he feels terrible.

“No,” she says quietly. “I thought- I thought if I came here, I could try to make things right. Because I really like you, Jon. Gods, I've never liked anyone this much in my entire life. You are fun and kind and polite and sweet and wonderful, and you brighten my world simply by being in it. I know I don't deserve you but I thought I could make it up to you - that you could tell me how. But I see when I am not wanted. I apologise for wasting your time.”

She turns to leave, and Jon knows he is about to commit the biggest mistake of his life.

He cannot allow her to disappear, cannot allow her to walk out of his life, cannot allow her to leave him alone. He has made so many mistakes in his life, he refuses to add her to that endless list.

“Wait!”

He runs the few steps towards her. She turns towards him, her eyes illuminated by nothing but pure hope. He pushes a wet strand of hair out of her face, lays his hand on her cheek, and seals their lips in a kiss.

Cerelle exhales and melts into him, grabbing onto his jacket to press them closer together, as if it is the only way she could get him to stay. Her lips taste of rain and tears, of love and desperation, of every promise and vow she intends to keep.

He still has his hand pressed against her lower back as she breaks the kiss a long, long time later, refusing to give her the opportunity to run away.

Her fingers trace the lines of his jaw. “You don’t want me gone?”

“I never want you to leave ever again. I want you to stay with me, forever and always, until we are old and wrinkled and sick of the sight of each other.”

“I’ll never grow sick of seeing you.”

He kisses her again, hot and intense, and had it not rained he would have probably never stopped. Yet every time they move against each other he feels the rain against his skin and her wet clothes underneath his hands, and so he quickly separates himself from her and starts dragging her towards the building.

Cerelle is pressed against his body as he fumbles with the keys, and it feels as if it takes him so much longer than normal to get inside the building. But then they suddenly are and are running up the stairs, hands interlocked even as they reach his apartment and he once again struggles with the lock. He finally manages to wrench the door open, is pushed inside not a moment later, and then Cerelle is everywhere.

Her lips are on his and her tongue is in his mouth and her hands roam his body, push him against the wall, crawl underneath his shirt, and start unzipping his jacket. He doesn’t allow her to do all the work herself, quickly slipping out of his wet shoes and pushing Cerelle’s cardigan off her shoulders.

Then, suddenly, his shirt is off and her nails trace the lines of his chest and stomach. All the while her mouth moves away from his and her tongue starts exploring his neck, and when she suddenly sucks a bruise into the skin above his throat, he moans and his hips buck forward.

They have not even been going at it for long, yet he is already so hard. Cerelle grinds against the bulge in his pants over and over again, the zipper catching onto his tip and threatening to make him spill early.

He scoops her up in his arms and stumbles the few steps towards his bed. She giggles as he drops her onto the mattress, yet his mouth quickly engulfs her own and silences them both.

A minute later, and the rest of their clothes are gone. They are rutting against each other like clueless teens, yet he doesn't mind, especially once his dick glides through her wetness, and they moan against each other.

He tries to move down, to connect his mouth with her core, to finally taste her again after such a long time, yet Cerelle tightens her hold on his hair.

“No, please,” she gasps out. “I need you inside me.”

“But your religion-”

“It's past midnight. Maiden’s Day is over.”

How desperately he wishes to see her face in that moment, how much he yearns to be faced with her beautiful smile and her deep blue eyes. But his apartment still has no electricity, and what little enters through the window will never be enough.

Curse this broken building.

He would get out of this place. For her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I swear you can eat me out later but for now-” She lifts her head and places her lips beside his ear- “I really need you to fuck me.”

He groans and his hips buck forward almost on instinct, his tip brushing against her still damp stomach.

She traces her mouth along his neck again as his hand starts rummaging around the drawer of his nightstand.

“Mmh, looking for something?”

Her thumb draws lazy circles around his nipple, and no matter how much he loves it, it also serves to distract him quite effortlessly.

“Yea- Yeah. Condom.”

Then his fingers finally close around the plastic packaging and he quickly returns fully to his bed, and to Cerelle.

She kisses him, and he cannot even complain how difficult that makes slipping on the rubber because it simply feels too good. With her hands in his hair and their bare chests pressing together, he thinks he has entered one of the seven heavens.

As soon as he is finished, Cerelle’s hand is suddenly around his aching dick and starts beating him off lazily.

He grunts. “Thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

“Just making sure you're ready.”

Of course. He had almost forgotten.

His own fingers find her cunt and start rubbing circles across her clit, before he slowly enters one, then two fingers into her wet heat. He curls and scissors them as his lips move across her jaw.

“I think-” she breathes out. “I think that's enough.”

His hand replaces her own on his dick as he positions it at her entrance. Her hands are in his hair and on his back, her mouth mere heartbeats away from his.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

He enters her slowly, though he is unsure whether for his sake or hers. She is so wonderfully warm and tight around him, enveloping his tip and clenching down on him, and then her mouth is on his again and her leg around his waist to press him further. He obliges her - gods how could he not - yet with every move he makes inside her, he threatens to come on the spot.

Her hips slowly start to roll against his when he is half-way inside. Carefully, he draws back a little before thrusting inside ever so slightly, and when she lets out a whine, he does it again. And again and again, moving ever forward, until their hips are flushed against each other.

He breaks their kiss and lays his forehead on hers. She is tight and warm and wonderful around him, her walls gripping him like a vice, threatening to never let him go.

Her nails bury themselves into his skin. “Move, please.”

He moans when she tightens around him, and the small thrust his hips do in response happens almost automatically. She gasps, and he finally locks their mouths into a kiss again.

Slowly, he continues his movements, planting his arms beside her head to provide him with a better angle to thrust into her. The sole of her foot buries into his lower back to urge him on, to quicken his thrusts, to move harder. He doesn't want to listen to her, wants to savour her for as long as possible, but his control over himself is slipping.

Suddenly, his hips snap forward in a particularly mean thrust, and Cerelle moans out his name. He does it again, and she pulls on his hair so tightly his entire head is drawn back to reveal his throat to her - upon which she quickly latches her lips.

The moments flow into each other. He cannot say when exactly he has started sucking on her breast, or when both her legs have found their way around his body, or when their hands have gotten interlaced. Just that it happened.

He wants to be closer to her, always closer, but he never manages. Even when he presses his body against hers and buries his face in the crook of his neck and thrusts quicker and harder, it's never enough.

Not that it bothers his dick - the one that is throbbing and weeping and so close to emptying itself inside of her.

He whines as he removes himself from her heat, gripping the condom so it doesn't slip off and tightening his fist around the base.

“Are you alright?”

Cerelle's hands trace his face as she removes her legs from around his body and lays them on the bed beside his hips. He leans his cheek further into her palms.

“Yeah, I just-” His cock pulses. “I don't want to come yet. At least not alone.”

She smiles as she lays a kiss on his temple. “This doesn't have to end at just one orgasm, my love.”

He cannot help the way his hips buck forward.

Her lips vibrate against his skin as she laughs. “You like when I call you that? My love?”

A moan spills across his lips, and he has to tighten the hold around his dick.

“Y- Yeah.”

She hums. “Well then, my love. I have an idea if you're up for it.”

“Anything.”

“Sit back.”

He does as he is told in an instance, kneeling on the bed, hands beside his body. Waiting.

Then Cerelle straddles his lap, and immediately swallows up the moan that escapes him as her wetness presses against his dick.

She makes out with him for a while, moving her hips in slow and unhurried circles across him. His hands bury themselves into her sides, holding tightly onto her in a desperate attempt to centre himself and prevent himself from coming outside of her, when her wet heat is so close.

He whines as she bites down on his lip, and in revenge he presses his thumb to her clit.

Cerelle seems to fight against the need to move further into the touch, her nails scratching along the skin of his back, her damp hair falling into her face as she lays their foreheads together.

“You're mean.”

“Then put it in.”

He expects her to react affronted, yet she just laughs quietly.

“I like when you're demanding.” She runs her teeth along his jaw. “It's really hot.”

“Yeah?” He forces her to lift herself off his lap, grabs his dick, and positions it at her entrance. “Do you want me to fuck you this way as well?”

“If you can manage.”

She sits down on his cock in one move, and why he doesn't come right at that moment is a mystery to him.

They set a quick and brutal pace, chasing their releases, never allowing the other to take control, yet still pressed so closely together, as if they could not live without the other.

She twists her hips, and suddenly moans so loudly he knows he found her g-spot. He thrusts against it, again and again, sneaks his hand between their bodies to start rubbing her clit once more, and tries so desperately not to come.

He doesn't make it very long.

Cerelle gasps out, her walls clamp down so tightly around him he loses the ability to move, and then her juices spill out around him and into his lap. And that feeling makes him slam himself deep into her, and release as well.

They sit there for a long, long time. Their arms are wrapped around each other, faces buried in each other's necks, hearts beating in tandem. He plays with her hair, she plays with his.

“I think-” she whispers. “I think that was definitely worth the wait. Not that I ever want to go this long without feeling you again, it's just-”

“I get it.” He kisses her neck softly. “But now I need to try out everything with you.”

“Everything? Are you sure you know what you are demanding?”

“I hope it will take an eternity.”

Before they seperate, she kisses him again, and even if it's not in his top three - those places belong to the one on his birthday, the one during the music museum, and the one in the rain outside just now - it is still so incredibly sweet he wants to lose himself inside of it.

She goes to shower, and he truly does want to wait and give her time for herself. Yet he lasts barely a minute before he slips into the bathroom, falls down on his knees before her, and latches his mouth onto her clit.

Somewhere in the haze he notices her turning off the water, but he doesn't care. Can't care. His senses are flooded by her, and nothing but her, he physically cannot focus on anything else.

She tastes just as divine as the last time, and he vows never to let so much time pass again. He sucks on her clit and fucks her hole with his tongue, feasting on the juices spilling out of her. Her moans echo off the bathroom walls, and he is sure everyone in the building hears her.

He doesn't care.

She comes without him ever needing to finger her, and he knows he shouldn't be as proud of himself as he is.

Cerelle draws him to his feet and smashes their mouths together, likely tasting herself on his tongue.

“What was that for?”

Her fingers run along the skin of his back.

“You promised I could do it.” He kisses her nose, then her cheek. “Besides, we're even now.”

She is silent for a moment, then asks, “The thing from your birthday?” He nods. “I didn't know we were keeping count.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. But be warned - I am a very competitive person.”

“I'm betting on it.”

They decide to shower together, luckily without any other incidents, and she borrows the same long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants as she did on their first night together.

He prepares the bed for them, Cerelle picks up their clothes, folds his together and hangs hers up to dry.

Then she stands there in the darkness, looking at him.

“Is everything alright?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

He stops.

He blinks. Once. Twice.

She doesn't move either.

He quickly lurches for the table, and the phone that lays there, but he crashes into the chair and goes tumbling to the ground.

“Oh my gods, Jon!”

Cerelle falls down beside him, hands reaching out for him, but he just fumbles with his phone until the weak flashlight illuminates the space between them.

“Say it again.”

Her cheeks are still tinted slightly pink, her wet hair sticking to her skin, her blue eyes glowing as brightly as the night they first met.

She studies his face.

“Say it again,” he repeats. “Please.”

Her lips are so beautiful, so inviting he has trouble holding himself back.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

He surges forward, the phone dropping to the ground as he presses their faces together, but he doesn't care.

All that matters right now is having his girlfriend's lips on his.

previous | next

author's note: i just want to say that i do not actually hate ygritte. i know this is a very controversial opinion amongst jon snow x oc creators but i do not think she is as terrible as certain sections of the fandom make her seem (but she is also not as great as certain other people say). i understand her place in the story and why she was important to jon's arc. i am still tagging this post as anti ygritte just to be safe.

i want to thank everyone who has supported this au so far. i would have never even continued this story had it not been for a random anon asking about the future of jon and cerelle's relationship in this world, so to have now written the longest chapter in my life so far for the au is kind of amazing.

you might think i want to take a break after creating such a monstrosity, but i am insane and so the next chapter will release on labour day (may 1st). it will hopefully be a lot shorter than this one.

please tell me what you think of the story and if you have any wishes for scenes or holidays in the future. see you next week ^^

#jon snow x oc #jon snow #jon snow smut #asoiaf #game of thrones smut #game of thrones #asoiaf fanfic #game of thrones fanfic #asoiaf smut #asoiaf oc #game of thrones oc #fic: stars above songs below #fic: sasb holiday au #oc: cerelle baratheon #anti ygritte

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levis-coffeecup · 10 months ago

Text

chapter 29| Turning Page

WC-6.5k

Summary

The underground is filthy and dark. Dim lights, dull alleys, and desperate hearts. A place Levi knows as well as the back of his hand, and a place he would do anything to get out of.

Chapters of life roll by and with the turn of a page, things drastically change. In front of him is the opportunity to live on the surface. And the flimsy bridge that he has to cross. From an uncivil criminal to a disciplined soldier.

But life on the surface seems tougher amidst all the mockery, civilities, and the gaping hole left in his heart, after the demise of his dear friends Isabel and Farlan.

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, spoilers for No Regrets OVA, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language, self-hate, physical assault.

Author’s Note

OMG hiii guysss!

Can't believe that this is the last chapter!! There's so much gratitude in my heart right now. This has been a long long (irregular🤡) ride, and I'm grateful to everyone who's sticked around!

I've tried my best to write an amazing chapter since its the last, which is why this got so delayed. (And I might also have been overworked to the core at work lol ) But there's going to be a long ass note at the the end of the chapter about everything!

Song for the final chapter is by Turning Page by Sleeping at Last!

I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Chapters

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Masterlist | Playlist | Other Works

APRIL 857

It’s an hour past 12, and Levi sits on his balcony looking at the midnight sky.

The thick veil of pollution prevents the stars from being visible. Instead there's street lights and high beams from cars, twinkling on the ground.

He misses the stars from Paradis. It was the first thing he fell in love with once he came to the surface. And he wonders, whether Mae is looking at the stars and thinking of him as well?

The world outside the walls is beautiful.

There are soaring cathedrals that almost reach the sky, and beautiful temples with the most intricate architecture. There’s snow capped mountains and beautiful cherry blossoms. And everyday, from his tiny balcony, he gets to see the sun sink below the sharp silhouette of the towers.

He’s getting to experience the world his comrades died for.

But as beautiful the outside world is, it isn’t home

The development of technology seems unfamiliar. And the people around him haven’t lived their entire lives caged in fear. These people don’t know the cost of freedom.

It has been so long since he’s been back home.

It’s been so long since the Rumbling too.

The earth was left razen. Mountains crumbled to dust and forests burnt to ashes. Countries had simply been wiped off the face of the earth. Years of civilization and developmentsnuffed out in an instant, with no one to record their names.

But against the odds, humanity managed to survive. Traumatized and beaten, but still alive.

Miraculously Levi made it too.

Jean and Connie found him half dead, on the foot of Fort Salta. He was lapsing in and out of consciousness. Devoid of the strength to even stand up.

Tents were made into makeshift hospitals, food was meager. And his first few months were spent on a wooden cot,bed ridden with the stinging pain of his knee and his yearning for Mae.

He yearned to see her when he was trapped with Zeke for a month, he yearned to see her when he woke up with searing pain and bandages all over his face. And now the war was over, but he couldn’t get back to her.

The Rumbling destroyed everything humanity had ever strived for. Rail tracks, roads, ports, farms… everything was abolished as an aftermath.

It was impossible to get to the other side of the world.

Gradually Levi recovered, it took him almost a year. But his strength never returned. The tiniest task would turn him breathless, and the sight in his right eye was gone for good.

The doctors diagnosed him a plethora of health problems. And he was never allowed to look weak, but now he was in a wheelchair, needing help to pick things up from the floor. Life dealt him one blow after another.

Armin, Jean and Connie became busy, making peace with the remaining nations. Mikasa never returned. And Levi found himself, all alone. With a chaotic mind, and too much time on his hands.

Soon the Allied Nations rescued all the survivors from the Titan Waste Lands. Marley was no more, so most refugees ended up taking asylum in Hizuru.

And by the courtesy of Kiyomi Azumabito, Levi was gifted an apartment in the center of the city hall, and citizenship. A tiny apartment in between a lush square, in the city center.

It was tiny, but homely enough. And he would love sitting on the balcony and watching the outside world.

Life got more comfortable and Levi got to see the sights his comrades died for.

But there were still days where he barely had enough strength to pick his remaining fingers. Those days were the worst. And he felt like the walls of his apartment would swallow him up.

The purpose of his life was over. Hange was gone. Erwin was gone. Life came crashing down.

And sometimes, under the flicker of a candlelight, at his tiny desk, he would close his eyes, and imagine that he’s back in Mae’s old house. Learning the alphabet, listening to the soft scratches of her pen as she corrected his writings. It seemed like lifetimes had passed since then.

Mae was always with him, through all his hurdles he faced on the surface. And now he had to face an awfully big one, without her.

So he decided he’ll start to learn writing again. With two fingers of his right hand gone, he had to re-learn how to hold a pen again. He told Onyaknapon to get him books, so he could trace over letters, trying to perfect every curve. Just the way Mae had taught him.

It gave him a sense of purpose, and it also made him feel close to her in some way.

It took three years for the Yeagerists to finally agree to a cordial discussion with the Alliance. Historia sent letters to everyone. And this morning the Alliance left, back to their hometown.

Armin did extend an invitation to him too. But Levi didn’t want to be associated with the world anymore. He didn’t have the strength for it nor the will. His job was done.

“Captain,” A voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Behind him is a sliding door that leads to his room. And on the bed sits Onyakapon.

He points at the three thick journals that take up most of his space in his briefcase.“Are you sure you want to take these back?”

And Levi contemplates. Paper doesn’t spoil, and he should rather carry some spare clothes to keep himself clean.

“Leave the journals there.” His voice comes out gruff, and then it turns wispy. Everything he’s ever felt in these years without her and his limbs, is penned in these flimsy sheets of paper.

“It’s letters I have written to her.” There is no need to clarify. There’s no need to carry his journals all the way back either. But he does it either way. The war has changed him. And Levi realises he doesn’t have to torture himself anymore.

“I’m surprised you never got her to meet us.” Onyakapon smirks. He could have never guessed the captain had a lover.

And a faint smile appears on Levi’s lips as the curve of her smile plays on his mind. He wonders if she found the pearl ring and his letter. He never found the courage to directly hand it to her.

It’s been three years. Three long painful years. Perhaps, she’s forgotten all about him.

“Tch, as if I’ll let you filths near her.” He brushes his feelings off. Masking his thoughts with harsher words. Some things truly never change.

A flight passes over his head, he’ll probably sit in the next one.

“I hope everything is safe out there, hope there’s no hostility.” Onyakapon mumbles as he closes the briefcase.

And Levi gets off from his wheelchair, limping towards his bedpost. “No harm from a guy in a wheelchair.” He tries to joke, but there’s a prick in his heart.

He can’t pick things from the shelf. Some Days he also needed help to get to the toilet. And even though he’s returning back to Mae, there’s nothing he can do for her now.

And while happiness was never a part of his destiny. He hopes she’s happy. At least one of them must be.

“Well if things are bad, you can always come back here captain.” Onyakapon’s voice cuts through the constant torture of his thoughts.

The words bring him enough solace to take him through the night. A rare smile tugs on his lips. “Thanks Onyakapon.”

It’s going to be a long trip.

_________________________

It’s 10 am, and it’s sweltering hot in Mitras. Sweat clings to Levi’s skin, and he wipes it off with the back of his hand.

His briefcase sits on his lap. And he pushes his wheelchair through the dirt road,

Vast meadows stretch in front of him. The air is fresh, and a plethora of apple trees border the sides of the road. Its shade is very welcome in the sun.

Farmhouses are scattered at a distance, crops grow in structured rows. And Levi taps his heel, as he moves past them mindlessly. His thoughts are only set on one.

Historia told him Mae’s house was at the end of the apple plantation. Luckily the terrain is flat, and he’s able to maneuver his wheelchair with ease.

Nonetheless, it’s been a tiring ride.

The royal guards did offer to escort him to Mae’s house, but he declined the offer. The moment approaching was too personal to share with a bunch of strangers.

Soon, what he’s searching for comes to vision, and eagerly he moves forward.

100 meters away from him, down the mud path, is a humble home. Its stone walls are smooth, worn out by time. And the roof is thatched with wood and straws.

There’s a small garden at the front, with saplings that are beginning to sprout. And a few meters away from it all is a park. The sight of which bubbles a bittersweet feeling in Levi's chest.

“This is it.” He exhales, cherishing the cold air on his lips. It’s a breath that he’s been holding in for too long. A yearning that has been living in his heart for years now.

His mind jogs back to a small trip they took 5 years back, on Mae’s birthday. She had booked a small cabin nestled in the middle of farmland.

He still remembers the smile on her face, and the way her eyes crinkled in the sunlight.

Her hair flowed in the wind, and he thoughtlessly followed it. Too enamored by the happiness she radiated.

The birds sang, and the lillies seemed to beam.

Stories were told by the fireplace, and they would stargaze from the flower field. Cuddling under the sheets of the stiff bed, and eating lunch under a tree's shade.

She laughed, then he smiled. And for a fleeting moment, Levi had escaped from all his responsibilities.

He realized he could spend his entire life this way, under the shadow of the sun, and the warmth of their love. He couldn’t care less about saving the world, or his tea shop even…

He just wanted to be here with her.

Forever.

But time stopped for no one. And Levi’s prayers had a habit of going unheard.

And now, 5 years later, life has brought him here again. In a secluded countryside so full of beauty and peace, and so unlike him.

This is the kind of life Mae had always wanted to live. Away from the bustle of the city, where she could spend countless hours looking at the stars.

The door to her house softly clicks. And Levi leans forward, with his breath caught in his throat.

He has felt her caress in the warmth of the sunlight. He’s heard the faint echo of her laughter in the rustling of the leaves. Every breath, every movement, was just in the hopes that he’d get to see her again.

Seasons passed by like shadows, and now finally he’s finally here, moments away from her. The journey has been staggeringly hard.

Time passes at a lumbering pace, and Levi feels like he can almost hear the creaking of the door, as it gets swinged open.

Out steps a man with a basket in his hand. He’s well built and tall, and donned in a casual attire.

And Levi’s heart drops to the floor as a sickening feeling of jealousy takes over. All of a sudden the blood is thunderous in his ears.

He feels like he can’t breathe And his heart burns at the thought that her gentle smile turns to a man who isn’t him.

A moment later, a toddler comes out, chasing behind the man.

And Levi clutches the sides of his wheelchair so tight, that his knuckles turn white.

Fuck

He feels like he’ll vomit.

Like salt to his wounds, the man picks up the child. And she smiles so bright, he can see her sweet giggle, even though it's barely audible in the distance.

The man kisses the toddler’s cheeks, and takes her to the park. And Levi watches the scene with a sting in his eye.

He was her lover once but now he's a mere bystander. A powerless man who can do nothing but just watch. The realization is like a punch to his gut, and a bittersweet memory comes to Levi’s mind.

On their last night in the cabin, he told Mae he didn’t have the time to get her a birthday present. And then she shed a silent tear, telling him how she felt like she’s carrying the entire relationship.

It wasn’t too far from the truth. He had too much on his mind as a soldier. And life was not easy when the weight of humanity rested on your shoulder. Some days he didn’t even have the time to think of her.

And Levi knew he was being selfish by keeping her chained to him, but his heart didn’t know a way of living without her.

He asked what he could do to make it up to her, and she asked him to run away to a peaceful place.

All she had ever wanted was to stay next to him.

The decision was clear in his head then, but now he wonders if he should have just eloped with her… It's not like all the wars he’s fought have turned this world into an ideal place.

The impermanence of life… It’s something that he still can’t comprehend.

What is born shall die, what has started shall end. People come and go out at their own pace. The good moments turn stale, and eventually everyone ends up alone, with only memories to comfort them. Time is truly a fickle piece of shit.

The man places the toddler on the swing, before he heads the other way. And Levi gets consumed by his thoughts.

He had people who he once held close too. Erwin, Hange, Isabel, Farlan. But they left.

He wasn’t prepared for their deaths, but somehow he made his peace with it.

But he's not ready to let Mae go yet.

Not when her name is etched in the depths of his heart. Not when her thoughts have troubled him day and night. His heart yearns for her so deep, it doesn’t know another way of living.

It was supposed to be his kid, she was supposed to be his wife. He wanted to start his tea shop too. Life just had some other plans after all.

There were days when he didn’t have the strength to get out of his makeshift bed, there were days where his injuries hurt so much, he thought he’d prefer death over the pain of living like this. But he pushed and pushed.

Because at the end of this tunnel, he saw her.

The sweet end of his tiresome journey, The reward for his unyielding perseverance. His home after years of loneliness.

But it’s been three years now. And she’s not his anymore.

A part of him wants to throttle this man, for laying his hands on her. And a part of him wants to hate on her too. But it isn’t her fault as well.

His heart has been placed in the palm of her hand for far too long. And if she decides to break it, then he’ll just have to disseminate.

He guesses he’ll just have to live with the weight of being all alone.

The silence consumes,

And Levi taps his heel in frustration.

Time passes by painfully slowly. And one minute turns into fifteen.

The man and toddler are long gone now, but Levi still continues to bleed on the edge of his seat. He continues to sweat in the heat. Too nervous to move forward, yet too regretful to turn away.

Old habits die hard, he guesses.

The strength to move forward wanes from his body and every breath he takes only shatters his composure into pieces. He never thought he’d have to taste defeat, after winning over the entire world.

There’s some shuffling in the woods, and he swivels around aghast. His reflexes are not as sharp as he used to be. And he’s too exhausted to put on the act of a stone cold person.

He tries honing on the sound of movement but what use would that even be?

Back in the day he had the strength to beat any person to a pulp. But now with his crippled leg, he’s more of a burden, than a lover.

His hands trace back to his scars, a habit he has recently developed. And insecurity floods his mind.

He feels stupid pondering over something as trivial as his appearance. He wouldn’t even pay it a thought when he was in the Survey Corps. But he’s on the way to meet the love of his life and there’s these scars on his face that make him look fucking hideous.

The pit he's falling into is not unfamiliar. It’s something that bothers him everytime he looks into the mirror.

And in the haze of his insecurities. A sweet voice finds him.

“Dadd-a?”

He gasps, slowly turning towards the voice.

A little girl peeks at him from behind a tree trunk. He can’t see much of her, as she’s a few feet away, partly covered between the dense layers of trees. But he recognises her as the same child, who stepped out of Mae’s house a few moments ago.

The silence stretches, and she continues looking at him. With her eyes all wide and beaming. And Levi sighs, not knowing how to react.

He decides he doesn’t have it in him to see Mae or her happy family. He’ll just come back another day, when his heart hurts a little less.

And so he turns his wheelchair around, almost taking a U turn. But the same innocent voice stops him again.

“Dadd-a,” the girl squeals, and her tiny shoes squeak as she waddles towards him.

And Levi feels stumped, when she wraps her tiny body around his leg.

He’s always been quick to react to situations, but now he’s frozen.

He wonders why this little girl is hugging his leg, and how she’s not scared of how scary he looks with the huge scars on his face.

And as much bitterness his heart holds at the cruel turn of fate, her purity washes it away. Slowly, gently, deliberately. His features soften, and he decides the least he can do is drop her back home to safety.

He huffs, bending down to pick her up. And as he lifts her up by her armpits, his eyes are met with the same shade of silver.

Her skin is pale, papery white in complexion and her hair is the same shade of midnight black as his. Everything from the shape of her face to the shade of her lips comes from him. And there’s also a little cravat tucked inside her red polka dot dress.

“Daddaaa,” she chimes as if she recognizes him.

And a shuddered breath escapes his lips. Her smile… It comes from Mae.

She is his. Theirs. A part of him and a part of Mae.

And Levi has faced strong emotions before. He’s had his stomach churn with anxiety, and he’s had his heart overrun with grief and loss. He’s always anticipated all the things that could happen in his future, trudged every moment with caution. But no amount of preparedness could prepare him for the moment in front of him.

His hands tremble, as he puts her down on the floor. He’s a father now… he’s been a father for the past 3 years. It's too much to process. And his heart beats so fast in his chest, he’s afraid it will break out of his ribs.

“Lilly, Lilly,” A familiar voice cuts through the moment and his heart skips a beat.

“How many times have I told you not to-” Mae steps out of the trees, panting and worried. But the sight in front of her makes the words on her tongue scurry away.

Levi is a few meters away from her, in a wheelchair with 2 long scars running down his face, just the way the Queen had foreseen in the paths.

Everyday, she has stared at this road for countless hours, waiting for him to show up. It feels like she’s waited a lifetime to see him again.

The years of separation pass by her eyes.

Countless nights were spent crying into his shirt and every breath felt like a burden.

Everyone was ecstatic about the liberation of their island. And Mae was condemned to be alone, with her dwindling will to live.

Then she met Samuel and Claus, the soldiers who showed empathy to her, in a world that had become too hostile for anyone who supported the alliance.

They took her to the Queen, and the Queen recognised her instantly, as the doctor who helped when Trost was breached.

And as a Survey Corps Soldier who was once a part of the Levi’s squad, the Queen made it her mission to protect and provide for the ones who were close to the Alliance.

That’s when Mae moved into the peaceful countryside, with Jean and Connie’s mom.

Living with people who dealt with the same grief surely gave some solace, but life was still painful. And in the midst of her pain, like a beam of light into stark darkness, her baby came into this world.

And Mae never thought she’d get to see Levi’s eyes again, but they were right in front of her. Resting so peacefully against her chest.

That night she cried tears of gratitude. Life crashed into her as peacefully as it could.

“Mama mama, dadd-a has come back,” Her daughter squeals, with her tiny finger pointing towards Levi. Her grasp on her leg is still tight, and her eyes sparkle with joy.

And Mae tries to smile, but it gets dissolved in the trail of her tears.

This moment has haunted her every second, wrecked her entire being. And as she steps closer to the dream of Levi she’s had, every night since she was pregnant, the details of him come to life.

Her eyes follow the strong curve of his jaw, chiseled as if it has been carved by an artist. The ridge of his nose is sharp as always and his thin eyebrows are slightly disheveled.

She caresses him with her gaze, before her touch can even come close.

Two different Levi’s look back at her now. On the left, his face is marred, with two long scars running down his face. He is hurt and hidden away. And she can never see him through his cloudy iris.

But in his other eye, there are flecks of hope. The black of his pupil has expanded, and his iris shines blue in the sunrays. He wears his heart on his sleeve, Mae swears she has never seen him this vulnerable before.

And she might have lived without him for 3 years, but he has lived inside her every second, in her every thought. Her hand extends towards him out of deprivation.

Life hasn’t been the kindest to her.

But when the pads of her fingers reach the hollow of his cheek, her heart steadies itself. Whenever her eyes met his orbs , her ears met his voice, and her body met his touch. His familiarity always envelopes her. As if the hearth of a warm house, always welcoming and open.

Her hands reach to his lips, the shape of which she can trace on paper, even with her eyes shut close.

And Levi closes his eyes in alleviation.

There’s a search for words. Words for the longing, words for the separation.

And Mae shudders, as the pads of her fingers skim over his skin. They trace over his scars, the old and the new. From the top of his forehead, down to the edge of his chin. From the curve of his necks down the length of his arms.

Three years have passed by, but his features are still as strong.

Her caress reaches the end of his arm, and her fingers find the indents of his knuckles. Gingerly she takes his palm into hers,

And Levi is quick to wrap the 3 fingers that remain on his hand, around her.

Her touch feels both foreign and achingly familiar. He has craved this so much.

Mae’s eyes widen at the gesture, heavy with tears. And she kisses the spot where his 2 fingers once used to be. Levi is as real as ever, she can feel every divot of his skin against her lips.

The realization breaks her, and she drops to the floor. With her head on his lap, and her arms sprawled all over his thighs.

There’s disbelief, there’s elation. The feeling can never be put into words. Her shoulders wilt, heavy with the pain of separation, and she cries into his lap.

“I missed you… You weren’t there.” Her voice is muffled against his skin. “I thought I’d never see you again.” Her sobs pierce through the quiet of the farmland.

And he stares wide eyed, biting back his tears as well.

The pain she has carried with her all these years, is right in front of him. Laced into the heavy sobs that rake through her frame.

And Levi knows he should pick her up and kiss the shit of her, but he’s frozen. For his gaze is stuck on the familiar pearl ring that rests on her ring finger.

Words fail him, and his heart spasms in his chest. “D-did y-you ? He can only stutter, as his touch lingers over the pearl. ”A-after all this time?”

The question hangs in the air, but the answer is right in front of him. In the grief that occupies her heart, in the love that still brims in her eyes. And in the tiny girl who looks exactly like him.

It feels like all the sacrifices he’s made in life have finally come to fruition. His directionless quest has finally found its destination. His exhausted soul has found its shelter.

There’s such mercy in this moment, all he can do is shudder and let out an exhale. Maybe in exhaustion, maybe in fulfillment.

And Mae looks up at him, her eyes tinged red with tears. “I was only going to wait one more year, good that you came back in time.”

He puts his hand on her head, and her body trembles beneath his touch. All the grief she has held onto for so long, slows paroles in the form of her tears.

The scene is as heartbreaking, as it is rewarding.

“Ma-ma,” Lilly babbles, her voice as bright as sunlight cutting through storm clouds. And Levi looks at her as she tries to fit herself in the space between Mae’s hunched frame and his legs.

She settles into Mae’s lap, and Mae is forced to look into her eyes full of wonder.

“Mama…” she coos, and her tiny hands wipe the fat tears that roll down Mae’s face.” Dad-da’s back, don-t be sad.”

And Mae smiles at that, certainly she takes a lot from her father.

“You’re right, my love…let’s take Dada home shall we?” Her voice turns gentler, and she gets up with Lily in her arms.

“Levi?” Mae questions, gesturing towards his lap.

And Levi hesitates, a little too afraid that he’s too scary for the delicate human being.

“You’ll be a great father, don’t worry.”

The second time he looks at her, he knows he’s doomed. Her cheeks are round and full, as if there’s food stuffed inside them. And her eyes are just like his, but there’s a brightness in them that he never had.

She settles on his lap. And as he wraps his arms around her waist, she places her tiny palms on his scarred forearms. And Levi realizes there is nothing he wouldn’t do for this tiny person that he’s just met a few moments ago.

His heart feels full of love.

Mae starts pushing his wheelchair forward. And he closes his eyes, as he feels the wind against his face. It’s a moment that makes him feel grateful to be alive.

In a span of a few minutes, they’re already outside the veranda to her house. And Levi can smell the Lavender she has planted in the front garden.

“It’s not a big house but it’s enough. I stay here with Jean and Connie’s mom… Luckily for us though, they’ve gone to Trost for a bit.” Mae speaks, as she picks Lily from Levi’s lap, and places her inside the house.

“It’s a very sweet place though. All the farmers staying around often visit. It’s like a big family. Borris was here too, half an hour back. You might have seen him…he wanted to take some cookies for his son.”

“Ahh,’ Levi drawls, as if he didn’t spend fifteen minutes hating on that man. “I don’t think I saw him.”

She takes his briefcase in one hand, and hooks her other arm around his waist. Slowly helping him up the short flight of stairs. And he wants to do nothing, but melt in her embrace

“I can walk for a few minutes.” Her murmurs, almost embarrassed.

“You’re not walking anywhere until I check your leg myself.” She reprimands, but the softness in her eyes contradicts her strict tone.

As it turns out, Mae’s house is very much a home.

The interior is simple and modest. There’s a couch, two wooden chairs and a table in the front room. The wooden floor creaks as he steps in. And the walls are filled with the crayon marks.

“I’ll get your wheelchair inside.” Mae mumbles as she seats Levi on the couch.

And when Mae comes back in again, Lilly has already managed to climb on the couch. She’s standing on Levi’s lap with her hands on his cheeks. The faintest of smiles plays on Levi’s lips, and he holds her by the waist, making sure she doesn’t lose balance.

The sight makes Mae’s heart swell. Her entire world is now in front of her. Her heart feels so full and so heavy at the same time. And her eyes turn misty again.

“Oi oi, don’t start with all the crying again?” Levi mutters as he notices her standing by the door.

And Mae sniffs, overwhelmed. “I’ll make you some tea?”

“Yaa- Da-dda love teaaa.” Lilly squeals, before Levi can even respond to Mae.

And Mae smiles. Her family is finally complete... a few years back she would have never believed she’d get the privilege of experiencing this.

And just as she’s about to turn towards the kitchen, Levi stops her.

“Mae…” His voice drawls, and he pats the spot next to him. “Tea can wait.”

_________________________

The world outside fades into a quiet hum as the bustle of the morning stretches into the lull of the afternoon.

The sun has draped itself over the earth, like a soft blanket. And Levi rests on the bed. He’s just finished his lunch, and he allows himself to sink into the mattress.

Time seems to have been caught in the gentle sway of the trees, and Levi takes his sweet time looking at the things around him.

Lily's soft toys are stacked on top of the cupboard. And there's a wooden cabinet, filled with all of Mae's favorite books.

The curtains are made of colorful crocheted patchwork. And somehow Mae has managed to bring most of her things from her house in Trost here.

But it's not just that. Levi's stuff is here too.

There’s a cupboard next to Mae with his clothes folded and organized just the way he likes it. His favorite novels and teacups are kept in a separate cabinet. And right in front of the bed, there's a wall with paintings of the three of them together.

It feels like nothing has changed, like he was never away.

And everytime he closes his eyes, his heart begins to race. But for the first time, the adrenaline that flows through him isn’t nerve-racking. It feels exciting

The curtains above his head billow softly with the wind. A mild breeze enters the bedroom and Levi tilts his face to bask in its warmth.

His whole world now lies in his arms. Snoring peacefully, with her hand wrapped around his finger. She's so tiny, that all of her body fits on his torso.

And he lets out a sigh as he feels the subtle rise of her tiny chest against his own.

“Are you not able to sleep, because all of a sudden there’s a child on your chest, and you don’t know where she came from?” Mae steps into the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.

“I can clearly tell where she comes from.” Levi comments as he looks at his dear daughter. “Is this why you were crying so much the day I was leaving for Marley?”

“Mhmm… “ Mae nods, as she rests her back against the door. And Levi closes his eyes, listening to her voice.

“You had to save the world Levi, you had to give it your all. And you would have died hating yourself if you knew you had a child coming into the world, that you weren’t going to be there for… As much as I was dying to tell you about my pregnancy, I thought it was best to keep it from you…” It’s an uncomfortable topic that defines the rest of their future, Mae’s eyes fall to the ground.

If only she would look up, she would see Levi with the faintest of smiles, thinking of how he can actually see her instead of imagining her.

“I know a child was never something you wanted… So I understand how complicated this situation can be for you.” Mae goes on and Levi lays still with his eyes shut in contentment, hoping for time to slow down.

“What?” She gasps, finally looking up at him. “Say something? I’ll never know how you’re feeling if you don’t tell me about it.”

Finally his eyes flutter open, and he looks at her through the curtain of his lashes. A faint smile plays on his lips, and his cheeks turn pink as he stretches out his other hand towards her. “Come here.”

In an instant, her features soften, turning into one of relief. And she smiles as makes her way to him.

She rests her head on his shoulder.And he drinks in every detail. As if he’s a parched man, dying of thirst. His heart pounds in his chest, and then his gaze falls towards her lips.

It doesn’t take too long for their lips to fuse together. It’s a simple kiss, but it’s been years.

They part in bliss.

And Levi brings her hands to his lips, pressing a doting kiss on her skin. She’s his to keep, his to salvage.He can’t put his gratitude into words.

“Thank you.” His voice is heavy. “ I-I…” He wants to tell her how happy he is to be next to her. He wants to tell her how exhausting it was without her. And that he can’t believe she’s all his. He wants to tell her about all the letters he’s written to her. But his heart is lodged so deep in his throat that he can’t squeak out the words he desperately wants to say.

“Rest my love.” She keeps her thumb on his lip, tracing his bottom lip. “We have time.”

His eyes flutter shut at her words, and her hand reaches to the top of his head. She starts combing out the hair that falls on his forehead.

His old scars have faded, almost blending into his skin. And the hard muscles on his chest have been replaced with soft dimpled skin. The lines in the corner of her eyes run deep.

He’s softer now. Marked by age, but just as beautiful.

Her finger traces down his cheek, following the scar that runs across his face. The feeling of his skin dipping under her fingers almost feels overwhelming.

“Levi,” she calls, caressing the side of his face. And he responds by leaning into her touch.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” She murmurs.

The silence is blissful.

And Levi feels his heart flutter, just like it did when she held his hand for the first time.

“Mae…” his voice trails off and he gulps. “How did Lily recognise me?... It feels like she knows so much about me?”

And Mae tilts her head up. “She’s heard stories about you ever since she was in my womb, of course she knows a lot about you… We even got someone to draw a portrait of you last year, because she wanted to see you for her birthday.”

“She thinks you’re some kind of hero Levi.” Mae yawns, “A few months back, she was trying to eat food by herself, and she ended up making a mess… which was fine because she was just learning, but she started crying frantically, and I asked her what happened? She said Dada wouldn’t like her, because she made a mess and Dada hates messes.”

Mae’s eyes trail to the way her daughter sleeps, with her cheek squished against Levi’s chest, and her eyes are shut close in peace. “She thinks you’re some kind of hero.”

And Levi remains silent. Afraid the words will ruin the tender moment.

It might seem like he’s dozed off, but the pink crawling on his cheek tells otherwise.

And Mae looks at him with the softest of smiles. For the first time in a long while, her heart feels complete.

“Actually she is right… you are a hero.” She mumbles as she closes her eyes in peace.

And a single tear slips past his eye.

He’s finally home.

Thoughts? Thoughts? Thoughts?

I know its a very simple, cliche, happily ever after ending, but I really REALLY wanted Levi to have a family of his own, and experience a normal, happy life, which is why I made Mae pregnant lol.

To anyone who has made this far. I would love to know your thoughts on the entire story. Things you liked, didn't like. Your feedback is crucial.

I'm going to start editing this fic from now on, and whatever you say will be considered. So I would love to know your thoughts on what could get better and be improved.

Something else, I'm very excited about is designing and illustrating a book cover (since I am a graphic designer lol) and get a few hardcopies printed for myself!! I'm assuming I'll be done with it by DEC 25th, so right now I do plan to post an Epilogue/ bonus chapter and share the book cover designs on Dec 25th. (I don;t know if anyone is interested in this, but I'm just doing it for myself hehe)

I would like to thank the many people who have been a constant support while writing this. I don't think I can tag everyone since they are on different platforms, so I'll just mention their names here. @Alexandra218943 , Cupidcup, @musumusuhasi and Abha , I wouldn't have completed this without you, so thank you <3

And to all the people who have commented, and interacted with the story at any point. I want to let you know that I've had a shit month at work, my self esteem has been at an all time low , and the only thing that's made me feel capable of something are your comments, and I keep going back to them! So thank you for that, I am immensely grateful!

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violetsareblue-selfships · 6 months ago

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Cuddles

F/O: Caitlyn | Word Count: 593 / here to make up for the end of the last one, cait gets to cuddle her gf <3 (though this is technically set before yesterday's fic but shhh) also wintery vibes bc why not

"Cait, come cuddle…" April whines softly. She can hear her girlfriend rustling around in the adjacent room, doing who knows what. Her sketchbook's already been abandoned on the coffee table as the fire's warmth seeped into her bones and made her sleepy. It doesn't help that it's snowing outside.

A soft laugh is her response. "Just a moment. Be patient, love," Caitlyn responds, loud enough for her to hear.

April pouts in response and stretches out more on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling as she tries to be patient.

Her effort is rewarded by the sight of Caitlyn with her hair pulled up into a ponytail, a sight that always makes her heart flutter. She's traded out her Enforcer uniform for something cozier. All April can think is that she looks gorgeous like this.

It doesn't stop her from making grabby hands at her, which elicits another laugh from Caitlyn. "Alright, alright."

Cait gently settles onto the sofa with her, cautiously laying her weight down on top of April. Her nose buries into the crook of her neck, and she lets out a soft sigh. "Is that better, darling?"

"Much." April wraps her arms around her, letting her eyes fall shut as she relishes the warmth of Caitlyn's body. Her hand idly strokes her hip where it's resting, and her reward is feeling her girlfriend relax more in her arm.

They're both silent for a little while, simply basking in each other's presence. There's a certain kind of comfort being wrapped up in someone who's known you nearly your whole life.

April yawns softly, the scent of Caitlyn's floral shampoo lulling her into a sleepy state. After so many years, how could this scent mean anything other than safety, than home?

"Are you ready for this weekend?" Caitlyn murmurs into her neck, laughing softly at April's groan. "Yes, but no, huh?"

"Mhm… like do I have a dress picked out and everything, yes. But you know how I am at parties…" April mumbles. She likes these galas well enough for the opportunity to see Caitlyn dressed up and to dance with her. They also offer plenty of new clients for Caitlyn's mother to sweet-talk.

It's the holiday season. Plenty of people want portraits done, after all.

"I know. But I'll be there, and if it gets to be too much, we can always sneak away." Caitlyn's arm tightens a little around April.

April snorts. "Your mother will hate that."

"My mother will understand," Caitlyn murmurs. She raises her head a little, moving her free hand to move a strand of hair out of April's face. "She knows how you get too."

"You're right…" April murmurs, yawning again. The sight makes Caitlyn smile and lean down to kiss her briefly before burying her face back against her neck.

The girls chatter a little more before gradually falling asleep in each other's arms, reminiscent of the slumber parties they would have as younger kids. Though… they've never really grown out of them, even if the tone has changed.

Later, Cassandra walks downstairs to find the two of them cuddled up, a small smile resting on her face. She unfolds the blanket sitting on the armchair in the room and covers them up, ensuring her daughter and future daughter-in-law will stay warm through the night.

It would be a shame to wake them when they look so comfortable together.

Her eyes linger on them before she leaves the room, grateful that her daughter has found the kind of love she always wished she'd find.

#self ship #self shipping #self insert fic #self insert fanfiction #self ship fic #self insert #si x canon #canon x si #canon x self insert #self insert x canon #my writing #sweet like a cupcake 💖🧁

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stocious · 7 months ago

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✨Weekly Tag Wednesday✨

thank you for tagging me @jrooc and @gallapiech 🖤

Go quick--you get 30 seconds per answer (is that too long?)

Name: kaks

Age: no

Shower or bath: shower, ain't nobody got the patience for baths.

Weirdest snack you've had recently: i'm swedish. everything i ear is weird.

Favourite food right now: i'm craving sushi every day but the bank says no :(

Favourite song this week: move your body - my darkest days

What're you reading right now? i'm re-reading swa and getting all the mushy mushy feelings about it. i'll probably head over to tipdig after that because i miss them.

First association when you hear Shameless: well, the boys. the house. also the into music is auto playing in my head, thanks so much.

Random Gallavich thing you have: a gallavich ouija board. i fucking love it!

Favourite Band right now: sleep token (thanks sarah)

Do you have any holiday 🎄parties 🕎 coming up? nah.

Any you actually want to go to? also no.

Do you like this time of year or hate it? the seasonal big sads got to me hard this year, i've been struggling. and it's cold as fuck. and snowing. i'm just gonna hunker down and ignore the world until march-april again. (wow i'm a delight)

Favourite thing this time of year: ... my 30 seconds are up.

Cheersing 🥂 a holiday drink to:

@creepkinginc @transmurderbug @femboymilkovich @transmickey @sgtmickeyslaughter

@spookygingerr @mybrainismelted @deathclassic @thepupperino @spacerockwriting

@mmmichyyy @crossmydna @gallawitchxx @heymrspatel aaand anyone else hi 🫂

#tag games

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meshaamem-li · 10 months ago

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content I CONSUMED

idk this is just a list of shit I watched or played and stuff, ignore this I just like making lists.

im trying to write down every piece of media i ever interacted with even if I absolutely hated it, things that i'd either have thoughts about or would have a reason to reblog fanart of or just want to remember that I saw/read/played.

rankings (my rankings are subjective and based on how much impact that thing had on my psyche, don't take it too seriously):

SS S A B C F

ANIME:

a silent voice

aggretsuko

assassination classroom

attack on titan

BNA: brand new animal

carole and teusday

darling in the franxx

death note

death parade

dungeon meshi

evangelion

fairy tail

full metal alchemist

full metal alchemist brotherhood

free

haikyuu

high-rise invasion

hunter x hunter

jujutsu kaisen

Komi can't communicate

kotaro lives alone

kuroko no basuke

madoka magica

Magical Girl Raising Project

my hero academia

noragami

ouran highschool host club

parasyte

scott pilgrim takes off

soul eater

spy x family

stars align

summertime rendering

the disastrous life of saiki k

your lie in april

BOOKS:

percy jackson

CARTOONS:

arcane

avatar the last airbender

back in the barnyard

bee and puppycat

big hero 6 the series

bojack horseman

carmen sandiego

danny phantom

ducktales 2017

fairly OddParents

glitch techs

gravity falls

hazbin hotel

helluva boss

hilda

how to train your dragon (the tv series)

infinity train

inside job

kim possible

kipo

lackadaisy

miraculous ladybug

murder drones

my little pony

Phineas and Ferb

rick and morty

rise of the tmnt

scooby doo mystery incorporated

She-Ra

steven universe

tangled the series

teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012

the amazing digital circus

the legend of korra

the owl house

the penguins of Madagascar

velma

wander over yonder

GAMES:

ace attorney

deltarune

detroit become human

genshin impact

hollow knight

in stars and time

mystic messenger

omori

project sekai

the stanley parable

undertale

underworld office (small mobile game)

LIVE ACTION SHOWS:

BBC sherlock

house md

merlin

Once Upon a Time

the good place

queen's gambit

הפיג'מות

MOVIES:

101 dalmatians

a goofy movie

aladin

arrietty

atlantis

bambi

beauty and the beast

bee movie

big hero 6

bolt

brave

captain underpants

cars

cinderella

coco

cruella (I'm mad at how good it was)

deadpool

encanto

everything everywhere all at once

finding nemo

frozen

hercules

Howl's moving castle

how to train your dragon

inside out

kiki's delivery service

klaus

kong fu panda

lilo & stitch

marvel movies till endgame

meet the Robinsons

megamind

moana

monsters inc

mr. peabody & sherman

mulan

mune guardian of the moon

my neighbor totoro

nimona

onward

peter pan

pinocchio

princess mononoke

puss in boots

puss in boots the last wish

ratatouille

rise of the guardians

road to el dorado

robots

scary movie

scott pilgrim vs the world

shrek

sleeping beauty

snow white

spider man into/across the spiderverse

spirited away

star wars (original trilogy)

star wars (prequels)

tangled

the emperor's new groove

the fox and the hound

the hunchback of notre dame

the incredibles

the lion king

the little mermaid

the mitchells vs the machines

the nightmare before Christmas

the prince of Egypt

the princess and the frog

the son of bigfoot

the sword in the stone

toy story

treasure planet

wall-e

whisper of the heart

wreck it Ralph

zootopia

OTHER:

Epic: the musical

hermitcraft

sanders sides

here's my watchlist, feel free to suggest me stuff!

#bored.list #fandom

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chimerafflesia · 2 months ago

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KC CUP APRIL 2025: WITCHES AND PLANTS VERSUS THE META ❄️🌿

Or: KC Cup experience as told by some guy who just cannot let it go. ⬅️ I'm that guy. let's GO

starting this off with a shout out to my WINDWITCHESSSS we killed it this month oh my GOD. I climbed from lvl 10 to 19 with these girlies and it was amazing. I feel like I really got comfortable with the deck this month and was able to strategize quickly with it. I truly adore this deck and I love love love playing as my beautiful Rin so it's just a great time. I had a number of incredibly satisfying wins with this deck and that's what really counts between the meta nightmares. WINDWITCHES 4 EVER!!! 💚❄️💚

per usual here is my decklist ‼️I went through so much trial and error throughout (aka figuring out which cards I needed to deal w/ backrow (hi free fiendish chain !!!!)) but I ultimately went with the double MST / triple BOE. for me, this deck is a little better going first, just because depending on what's in my hand it can be hard to play through disruption. but when this deck gets rocking and rolling GOD IS IT FUN. AND FUNNY.

crystal wing synchro dragon as summoned with snow bell I love you so much. what's better than crystal wing synchro dragon? how about one that can't be destroyed by card effects? and what is the opponent going to do, battle it? 😂🫵

lots and lots of fun. I deeply enjoy when crystal wing gets attacked into. atk gain is SWEET. konami please hear my call we need crystal wing off the banlist now more than ever. it will save the meta. it will save your game. it will save ME. please consider 🤍

ultimately I did end up maxing out with my predaplants because they are a better match for the wave of terror that is RDA players 💔 Yuri simply will never get to rest as long as I'm still playing duel links. Jack decks are full of dark attribute monsters and well those are my plants favorite snacks 😋 I see dark attribute and I slam that mind control down IMMEDIATELY. of course we bait a little (usually with predaplast) to waste tuning gum's effect, then we EAT.

live footage of me using predaplant against RDA:

I've posted my predaplant decks like 374835 times at this point but because my brain likes to keep things neat here it is again. only thing I will say here is because of the wave of face up continuous/field spells (hi jack hi soulburner hi jaden players that use necrovalley) I may go back to double MST / one night beam, but we'll see. guess you could play spider orchid for the S/T zone spells. who am I kidding. none of us are playing spider orchid. sorry Yuri but we are waiting on your better pendulums.

I'm mainly mentioning jack here cuz he's the main villain of this KC Cup but we still have some returning villains, and a new one!

(I hate subterror so much please lord what are we even supposed to DO against it 💔💔💔)

all this to say despite everything, despite it all, the broken skills and all the handtraps in the world, I still knew I could do it. and well, a guy like me who loves freemium mobile card games just a little too much, enjoys a challenge and didn't want it to end on a sour note. many duel links players don't know this, but some of us play for fun!!! it all comes down to the fact I simply enjoy the game and enjoy playing it a lot. but I am not a fan of this trend in skills like please konami STOP 💔 because it hinders my fun. it's also just bad for the game. tbh.

made a little joke on twt abt it but yeah if Yuri dropped this year we wouldn't even need fusion recycling plant. we'd get infinite copies of polymerization anyways

ummmm in conclusion new skills are bad. we need a nerf/banlist/literally anything SOON. because I love duel links and I love playing competitively and I want it to be fun forever. this was my most challenging KC Cup yet but despite it all I still had fun. even when I got lava golem'd in back to back matches 😵‍💫 I think it's also because I played as my favorite characters 💚💜

windwitches and predaplant are number one to me. Rin and Yuri after I use their decks to defeat the evil meta:

#RINSWEEP #YURISWEEP and DON'T forget it !!

#also I know predaplant is still tier 2 and meta but it's tame compared to these other decks IDC #duel links #ava.txt

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princess-of-the-corner · 11 months ago

Note

I think the only one I like out of those Secrets is Ivan singing heavy metal lullabies to his little sister.

Ya know what I have the list pulled up so I can go over them and give my opinions real quick!

1.) "When Alix was a child, she was given a rabbit as a gift... from her future self!" - Kinda cute. Hope she at least like, warned her dad somehow because dropping a pet on a child is a bad time.

2.) "Juleka's song: "Even if nothing is decided, nothing as solid as stone, everything can burn up and then we are alone... So love life, eternity."" - this is just the lyrics to what she sang as a record in Migration. On brand for her though.

3.) "Nino's headphones were given to him by his favorite DJ after a concert. That's why he always carries them with him!" - that's cute!!

4.) "Nathaniel naturally has chestnut brown hair. His hair is dyed by Alix." - Brunette!Nath is cursed so this isn't canon to me but it's a fun tidbit in theory!

5.) "Ivan sings heavy metal lullabies to his little sister. And she seems to like them a lot." - Adorable!!! I'm debating on yeeting into HC/LL because I always planned on him being an only child.

6.) "Sabrina's best friend before Chloé was Cléo." - Naur Cléo!!! No seriously whomst the FUCK-

7.) "André sells his ice cream at locations where famous French films were shot." - Fair enough. It works in the sense of always being able to find him.

8.) "Miss Bustier was once a student of Mr. Damoclès and once pinned a fish on his back as an April Fool's joke!" - This one's cute I love it! This one should come with an anecdote for the foreign audience that the French have a fish-themed April Fool's Day and this is a common prank for children. Doesn't make it less fun!

9.) This one was a 'sketch from Marinette' rather than a fact, and was an image of a dress. It's a pretty basic but cute dress.

10.) "Sass's favorite food is a tofu" - why??? Why is the Snake's tofu?? What happened to the fridge magnets with the gummy worm snack? Granted that didn't make the most sense either but the consistency.

11.) "Marinette wears her 2 pigtails in memory of a very good friend from school who is sadly no longer at her school." - In theory this is cute but I hate nearly everything about Socqueline's existence.

12.) "Adrien's full name is Adrien Émile Gabriel Donatien Athanase Agreste." - the absolute fucking EGO from his parents to have two of his middle names be their names.

13.) "Since Plagg adores cheese, especially Camembert, Adrien had to convince Nathalie that he is obsessed with Camembert." - Absolute fucking hilarious.

14.) "Gabriel's real name is Gabi Grassette" - I actually hate this. I hate this so much. Like it's inconsequential in the long run and it makes sense but GOD I hate it for some reason.

15.) "Kim actually has two surnames namely "Ature" and "Lê Chiến", then after their marriage both of his fathers each kept their surname." - this would be cuter if I didn't know it was a retcon of a retcon. It was originally "Lê Chiến", then they changed it to "Ature", and then they got backlash for it. But hey two dads now if only htey'll show up on screen! (this may end up in HC/LL? Debating).

16.) "What if Lila's biggest lie so far was that her name wasn't Lila?" - so on principal I hate this whole superspy con artist plot, but this is fucking hilarious.

17.) "The real name of The Gorilla is Placide I.T." - I think I already dunked on this enough.

18.) "Alya has received various Chinese treatments from Master Fu. So, he almost chose Alya over Marinette... to be Ladybug!" - I hate this one actually. Like not that I don't like LB!Alya! But she's new to Paris but has somehow received various treatments from Fu? Yet on the other hand Fu knew her very well and could've easily mentored her, but he decided to go out and choose some rando???? the fuck???

19.) "As a child, Marinette dreamed of tailoring a hat for the Eiffel Tower to protect it from snow. And from then on, all she wanted to do was be a fashion designer!" - That's really cute I love it so much!!!

20.) "Zoé's best friend in the New York City was Jessica Keynes." - I hate this. I hate this so much. This makes Jess look like such a shitty friend.

21.) "Kagami has drawn a manga about her childhood in Japan but she hasn't dared to publish it yet." - Adorable, actually!

22.) "Rose and Prince Ali stayed in touch after they first met and have become really good friends." - We knew ofc but it's glad to have it confirmed!

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ganeshpnf · 7 months ago

Note

Are you a fan of httyd as well?! I agree how Percabeth they are :) If you are a fan, what do you think about the live action and casting? Since everyone is debating on it. Personally I dont like race-swapping but I like Nico Parker so much!

Hello! And yes I am a fan of httyd as well, it is one of my fav childhood movies :) Now I dont usually talk about races or other stuff on this blog, but since you asked, I gotta add some warnings first:

Please remember that these are mostly my personal thoughts, if you dont agree it is okay. You are free to add your own thoughts, but please be respectful. Okay, lets go-

I love Nico Parker and know her since her role in tlou. And I gotta say I dont like actors getting hate because I also got so many racist comments when I was a child too. I had a facebook account when I was 12 and you wont believe how people can be so cruel for someone's nationality. Thats why even today, I am rather secretive on my nationality, only sharing to people I trust and call them friends. So why would I be happy seeing actors getting the hate comments bcs of their skin color now? I would never blame the actors, but- I would blame the companies and todays "new era of televizion"

Whatever we like it or not, we cant deny the fact that they only do it for the new era, marketing. Look at Nico Parker, her face looks exactly like Astrid. If they give her a blond wig, she is Astrid. But they dont, also giving her braids. And the only reason is: To show us that she is black and would appear as so. They want us to see that. I hate live actions, because even though they do this for marketing and "diversity", they realize this would get hate for the actor, they are using them. And no we cant say "No it is not for diversity or wokeness". Well, it is since we see almost every og white character is getting race-swapped: Snow White, Ariel, Rapunzel, April from Tmnt, Annie the Orphan, Triss, Hawkgirl, Annabeth, Jimmy Olsen, Doctor Who and many more. I know, whitewashing is a big problem, but I dont think its ever a way to stop the racism. To me even, It creates MORE-

It is also giving double-standarts, because people flip when you even mention changing an og black character. Not that I support that either. "Their race has a meaning in the story!" You can change Snow White but you cant change Tiara. It gives the message "You can change white characters but you cant change poc characters". I am not fully white, but it is giving also racism to me. Not to mention, this new televizion era, tries to avoid blond characters, especially blond woman in any day. New httyd cast has 0 blonds and they are Vikings. Any blond character is replaced. Oh and people say "It is a movie about the dragons!" Well, these are all fantasies. Tiara has a talking frog yk? If you think that, that we should be able to change all of them.

But in today's televizion, race is everything to them. Everything has to be about race. Which is stupid. We all want to be equal, but now they made people look onto race only. Back then, we loved movies because of their plot, acting etc. But now, every remake only focuses on one thing: diversity, how to make it more diverse? Now I also love a good diversity, which means every races together on tv, which is amazing right? It is what we all want. But today, it changed all the meaning. And the only thing companies look for MARKETING. It is not fair to audience, it is not fair to the actors. I would prefer companies to stop doing live action but to make something new with diversity, with new characters who are white, black, latinos, Hispanic, Arabic, Turkish, Indian etc. Now that IS diversity. Not changing og characters to white to black OR change to black to white. Both of them are doing nothing but upsets the audience because people are aware the point behind it.

The worse part is, I think they know it wont do anything as well, but do it for money, using actors as shield. I dont think they deserve it, at all. Especially child actors would have that scars forever. Even how much people support them, at the end, the scars stay.

So yeah, this is what I think. Oh I gotta add, costumes looks like a school play kinda...Its like they only focused on Hiccup and Toothless. But we will see, I would watch it and then share my thoughts again ^^ Thank you for your ask :)

#long post #pls be respectful #you are free to add your thoughts #httyd #astrid hofferson #nico parker #wokeness #diversity #sometimes we gotta sit and remember the meaning of diversity #ask

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herzzgeist · 1 year ago

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Captain's Log

A/N: A highly self-indulgent piece. Not sure how I came up with this, but . . damn, I needed this after going through some tough times. Let a girl dream alright? ;-; Hope I still could give you a little smile with this. This is kind of a recap to last year and how I learned to love that silly boy Not really prove read

Content: first person pov of Law 'diary style' - him being lovey dovey for fem!reader in his own way

January, 2023

Noticed a new wanted poster hanging around in the towns and cities we dock at. A woman. I have heard rumors of her, (Y/n), but she looks rather strange. The bounty is quite high though - another worst generation rival perhaps?

February, 2023

Her bounty‘s higher now. Even the poster has a new, more clear picture to it. Strange looking. I wonder what her fighting skills are like.

March, 2023

Finally this pink bastard is down for the count. Breaking up to Zou - will be a long journey ahead.

This crazy woman sabotaged an admiral‘s fleet?! Is she mad? How?? She has to be one of the worst generation! At least I heard that rumor from Nami-ya.

April, 2023

Nico-ya mentioned this (Y/n) is headed towards Zou as well. It worries me even more, that she's supposed to bear a mythical zoan devil fruit. People died because of her singing? Ridiculous.

May, 2023

This is not what I expected. Shortly after meeting my crew, this blasted woman appears right around the corner and instantly disappears again? Bepo brought her back, introducing her to me and explaining her supportive acts. She was down right nerve wrecked as she looked up at me.

I'm an idiot for thinking about how velvet like her hand was

Guess she heard of me. Wouldn't be a surprise, she went pale as snow as she saw me.

June, 2023

I hate her. She's nosy, upright, supportive and . . cute. Those terms shouldn't be in a pirate's resume, at least the cute part. Yes she has excellent control of her devil fruit, true she helped out my crew , but it doesn't mean I'll fully accept her as part of the crew.

I learned about her powers. The Sonar-Sonar fruit. It acts like a submarine or bat I believe, using echo location to discern anything in a large radius. In addition, singing melodies, each having a different use, she can either make people fall asleep or lure them towards her. Her epithet 'Siren' sure makes sense.

That's all I know - but there must be more . .

July, 2023

She's part of the crew now. If I'd refuse her, Bepo would cry 24/7, Shachi and Penguin might as well talk my ears full with bullshit and Ikkaku will most definitely sabotage the Tang's motors. So I didn't have any other choice.

Besides that, it's (Y/n)-ya's birthday - if I wouldn't have taken her in . . yes that leads me to everything above.

Additionally, I learned she turned my age yesterday. She's so . . feeble for that age. So insecure and too nice for this world (besides being bold towards the government?) Why even is she in the piracy scene? How did she come this far?

August, 2023

What the hell is wrong with me? I fell for the oldest trick in the book! She merely asked for my help, saying she had something in her eye, so of course I take a look and she goes ahead and pokes my nose??

Not sure what she said, but I think it was: "You should smile more." What? Who does she think she is? Talking to her Captain like that?

God, I will never get rid of that image and her deep e/c eyes staring back at me. Damn it she was close. Or theoretically I was

September, 2023

Damn it, her scent is everywhere! It's outragous, she steals my clothes, Kikoku and even my hat when I'm not looking! I think I took on her odors now too! It's annoying . .

Not sure why, but the fragrancy reminds me of wildrose and chocolate. Maybe because she eats way too much chocolate, which she stashes somwhere aboard the sub. (Note to self - find her candy stash and eliminate it ASAP)

I can't help but think of her whenever wildroses appear randomly wherever I go. And I see them everywhere as soon as we dock on islands? What dumbass is into wildroses that much? I sure am not! They're nothing but cosmetic to me, nothing of use in real medical sense.

October, 2023

I am most certainly NOT giving in to her charms. She's just being nice and gifted me a yellow hoodie, a polar teddy bear and . . god damn tickets to Sora Con. Is she insane? They cost a shit ton of Berry and she just . .

She accidently grazed my hand as she gave me the plushie. How can it be so soft? Not the teddy I mean. She's warm and silky. And again - this forsaken scent of wildrose.

Speaking of which. I noticed how pink her lips are, almost resembling the petals of . . wildroses.

She's weird.

November, 2023

Something's different. She's not as cheerful and overly smiley as usual. I believe there's a private matter going on.

Whatever, she'll get over it.

December, 2023

She didn't get over it. Her mood is really annoying lately, but she's behaving like a totally different person. She truly isn't well.

So I asked her about her well being. It's nothing to get over quickly, that's for sure. It worries me, seeing her this absentminded. She'll get in trouble if she doesn't concentrate on the battles ahead. Her powers can be truly useful, if not crucial if we stick to my plans (which I highly doubt)

To be fair, I'd rather see her happy than all slumped and grumpy.

She's got a pretty smile

I like her, I must see to her after the raid

I think she's going to be alright

Last page of captain's log / Notes barely readable, for he tried to eliminate 'evidence'

She called me 'snow leopard' the other day. I believe her naive woman thoughts got the better of her, perhaps influenced by all the ‚adorable’minks at Zou. If she calls me that one more time in front of everybody, I swear I'll send her heart to the marines.

Anyway, she asked me what I think what kind of mink she would be? She's a human, why should she be a mink out of the sudden? But I guess I'll humor her tomorrow.

She reminds me of a red panda. It's her hair. As soon as the sun rays hit her, red glows from her strands, resembling the embers of fire. Besides, she behaves like one, silly and throwing paws. Plus they're cute. Kind of like her.

I heard her sing together with Brook at the outpost. Her voice sounds nice. Yet, the way she holds the notes, it reminds me of north blue folklore. Is she actually . .?

She hugged me. It felt strange. But I can't deny it was . . heartwarming? I tucked her into my blue feather coat, in hopes to suffocate her, yet her head just plopped right out front and she looked up at me . . smiling

I'm too young to have a cardiac arrest - still whenever she does this I get premature ventricular contractions.

#one piece #one piece law #fanfiction #fanfic fluff #self indulgent #one piece trafalgar law #first person pov

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tothesoundofthefreakyclock · 8 months ago

Text

Era IV - V Ghouls HCs (part 2)

Color shows who made what hc - reblogs are appreciated!

Cirrus

She/they/zir

Summoning day is April 4th, 2016

Favorite animal is kookaburra because of their laughter

MY WIFE OMG I LOVE MY WIFE SO MUCH

Wine aunt 2

Cat girl

Point to the fucker that hurt you, she'll take care of them

The sticking out tongue thing usually seen at Rituals is actually a habit even off stage. She doesn't even know how it first started

Definitely protective of Cumulus when the two were first summoned

Owns one of those cat pianos

Would hunt you down in the woods in the middle of the night while Leave It All To Me from ICarly plays in her head (you will not make it out alive)

Catgender

Huge fan of Avril Lavigne, Paramore, and Evanescence

Swiss [Quintessence, fire, and air]

Any pronouns. Mainly he/him, they/them, and /xe/xem/xyr

Summoning day is June 24th, 2015

Favorite animal is snow leopards because how silly they can be and how high they jump

The ADHD™

One of my three weed smoking girlfriends

“wtf is a gender lmao” (agender)

An accidental summon

Feral before being summoned. Took a much longer time to get him to calm down and learn the human world.

If he had a full legal name it would be Swisstopher Robin

Swiss would bring in prey from hunting and torment play with it before finally killing it

Has three favorite Rustycage songs (Family Friendly Noose Song, Jump Off The Trampoline, and The Cuss Word Song)

Second suspect of Smoke's torment. Sometimes teams up with Aether to be annoying.

Nearly killed someone when first summoned.

Any time someone takes away his phone he always manages to find extra, old and crappy phones that barely work, but he still uses them for gits and shiggles. Nobody knows where he keeps finding these old phones.

Has a “it's is my life - Jon Bovi” tattoo. Smoke fucking hates it.

The embodiment of those “never let them know your next move 😈😈” videos

Steals the ministry’s money to spend on mobile game currencies

Loves attention. He’ll mess with people just to get it

He would go into a different room, scream really loudly, and then come back into the room that he was previously in

Always has his hair in different, crazy colors and the colors change each day

—

Sunshine [Fire and air]

She/it

Summoning day is October 12th, 2018

Favorite animal is penguin because of how curious they are and how they slide on their bellies

Transfem (mtf)

Went back to the Pits when done. She loved every second of it, but she also missed her packmates

Girl really is a ray of sunshine. There's no way you can't smile when she is around!

Knows how to trick vending machines with fake money and the good ol "dollar on string" trick

Pokemon fan! Assigned everyone a Pokemon

Does everyone’s nails

—

Aurora [Air and fire]

She/they/it

Summoning day is February 15th, 2020

Favorite animal is rainbow lorikeet because of their color feathers and the different sounds they can make

The ADHD™

Also a Disney princess

You wanna learn makeup? Please ask her, she will teach you EVERYTHING.

Aurora has also done the whole "get fingertips wet and pretend to sneeze on sibling" thing with Phantom when younger. Probably still does to this day.

Must run around to let out energy. Down the halls, in a room around in circles, or outside is ideal. She gets zoomies the most and more intense than the others

Play bites the most

Has tiny wings since she’s not a full air ghoul

Hyperfixated on space and stars

—

Phantom

They/he/it

Summoning day is February 15th, 2020

Favorite animal is the maned wolf because of their uniqueness and their rare “roar bark”

The ADHD™

I know damn well he'd be a master at dodgeball

Please don't leave him unsupervised, especially with Aurora. It's guaranteed that something expensive is going to break

Expert at Clone Hero - he can play blindfolded

Tried really hard when first summoned and during the first few weeks of his first tour to fit in with the others, but he grew more comfortable being himself over time.

Puts band aids all over himself just for looks

Loves the laser pointer

Link to the first post!

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woundedwhitewolf · 26 days ago

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ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫

"So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings." - J. R. R. Tolkien (The Hobbit, 1937)

April 20th 1995. Thursday.

Today was her 21st birthday. Thankfully no one knew when it was and she’d keep it that way but it did make her reflect on how things had gone over the past few weeks. He was the only person alive that knew nearly everything about her. She’d given him a relatively detailed and broad rundown on her past and yet he still came around. He still wanted to talk to her and be nice to her, she couldn’t understand it but she was thankful. She’d taken the day off because yesterday he had to work late so they didn’t end up going out shooting. Realistically she would’ve anyway because she hated her birthday, it always made her extremely nervous, especially to be out in public. He called her and when she let him know she took the day off he said he’d pick her up after work. He had her shooting the shotgun since she had the single shot rifle down. She did good despite feeling a tenderness in her upper shoulder. Falling into a comfortable silence after talking for a while she looked out over the water. It was around 7:15 and the sun had started to go down from his tailgate. Putting the gun back in the truck he came back with the black box that he kept his pistol in.

She looked at him. “We aren’t done?”

He nodded towards it. “Open it.”

She did and saw an unfamiliar looking one inside. It was a Glock like his service pistol but this was just a bit smaller. “I haven’t shot this one.”

“Nope.”

“What’s different about this one?” Narrowing her eyes at him confused as to what he was getting at he grinned.

“It’s yours.”

She paused. “What?”

“I got it for you.”

Looking down at it she chuckled shaking her head. “No you didn’t.”

He nodded pulling on his cigarette, she looked down at the gun. “It’s a 19 instead of a 17 like mine so it’s a little smaller, easier to hold and conceal if you have to. Take it out, see how it feels in your hand.” She did and sighting it in despite it being empty it fit her hand better perfectly, felt a little lighter. “You like it?” Putting it back in the box she looked at him.

“You really got this for me? You’re serious?”

He nodded. “Brand new.”

She smiled wide but when she looked down at it she shook her head slightly. “We weren’t allowed to have them.”

“Well you can now and you do. You ain’t there anymore, Genevieve. You can protect yourself with this.”

“But..”

“Consider it a birthday present, alright?” Looking up at him and the fact he remembered her birthday had her pursing her lips together fighting off watery eyes.

“Can I hug you?” He smirked with a nod coming over to her after stepping on his cigarette standing in front of where she sat on his tailgate making them just about the same height. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders feeling him slide his arms around her back holding her. Exhaling heavily closing her eyes she whispered against her forearm as she held onto his neck. “Thank you.” His muscles felt rigid and taut against her as if years of tension was stored within them, his smell was distinctly his own but his hands on her were gentle.

He pulled back sooner than she wanted him to and looked at her with a grin. “You like it?”

She laughed despite her eyes watering that he noticed. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Chuckling she shook her head rolling her eyes. “Who the fuck else do you know that gets like this over a gun? It’s so stupid.”

He laughed slightly. “You’d be surprised.” Sighing she looked at him and he grinned. “It’s alright, I get it. It’s not stupid”

“You’re the first one who does.”

He pointed to the gun in its box. “Anyone knocks on your door that isn’t me, you keep that handy. Bring it with you to work or whenever you leave the house.”

She laughed. “My god Rust.”

“You see what happened in Oklahoma yesterday? You need to keep yourself safe. There’s no paperwork or anything tying that gun to you and it ain’t against the law to have it on you. I’ll get you a holster. It can only benefit you if you have it, alright?”

She nodded seeing and hearing his concern. “Okay I will.” It had started to spit rain and he closed the case her gun was in.

“Time to go.”

Back at her house she convinced him to stay for dinner which didn’t take much convincing at all. It was nothing crazy just pasta and garlic toast but he seemed to be enjoying it as they sat down to eat. “So when’s your birthday?”

He shook his head. “Un-uh. No way.”

She stared at him. “That’s not fair. I don’t have access to police data like you so I have to go right to the source, tell me.”

He stared back and after a moment he answered. “November 6th 1964.” He was 30.

She smiled. “Ain’t gotta expect any guns from me, I don’t have that kinda money.”

“I don’t need nothin’.”

“Neither did I but..”

“Yeah you did, ya just didn’t realize it.” Looking at him across the table with his sleeves rolled up, shirt slightly unbuttoned with his tie off and left in his truck with his suit jacket. He was devastatingly handsome and for some reason he was here with her in her house at her dinner table on her birthday.

That fact alone made her grin to herself. “Well you’ll get two presents for your birthday this year.” He looked up waiting for her to continue. “There’s supposed to be two meteor showers, one on the 12th and one on the 28th. That’s what the farmers almanac says anyway.”

He nodded. “I’ll have to remember that.” Sitting on the couch with him after dinner it was still raining, the dog had her head in her lap instead of his. “You don’t like this day do you?”

She shook her head. “She notices and so do I. You’ve been antsy all day.”

Grinning looking down at Lily she pet her velvet soft ears thinking of the day, the gift he’d given her. A thought came into her head and weighed heavy on her mind. “Can you promise me something?” He looked at her. “If something ever happens to me, promise me you’ll take care of her. She knows you, likes you.. she wouldn’t be good in a pound somewhere.” She felt her eyes start to water looking down at an animal that kept her alive when getting out of bed felt pointless. “She doesn’t need to be in a cage like I was. I don’t want that for her.”

Looking up at him he nodded slowly. “I promise.”

Sighing with a sense of relief she spoke almost at a whisper. “Thank you.”

He shook his head. “But you aren’t goin’ anywhere Genevieve.”

“Can’t be too careful.” Petting the dogs back he let his hand rest there. “Have you heard or read any more on them?”

He shook his head. “No. I keep up with it and there hasn’t been anything since his arrest two months before we met.” She nodded and when he looked at her he must’ve seen the uncertainties in her eyes. “You still worry they’ll find you.”

“This day more than others. They always made my birthday a big deal..” With a heavy sigh she leaned her head back staring at the ceiling. “It’s so stupid. It’s been almost five years Rust.”

“Look at me.” She turned to face him and he spoke. “It’s not stupid. You have every reason in the world to feel that way. You’re not stupid.”

Grinning she nodded slowly and he turned his palm upwards offering his hand so she took it. Seeing her hand in his she scoffed. “My fuckin’ midget hands.”

He laughed and the sound was one of her favorite things she’d ever heard. “You’re small, course’ your hands are gonna be small.”

“Like I said, midget.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have midget hands or feet.. stop it.” His thumb gently moved back and forth and all she could do was stare at his hand.

“They’re not as nice as yours though.”

“You’re right. They’re nicer.”

She rolled her eyes with a chuckle. “Thank you.. for today. For everything.”

“You don’t gotta thank me Genevieve.”

“I do and I am so get over it.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“Want me to read or do you gotta go?”

“I should git. Got a long day tomorrow.”

She nodded and stood halfway following him towards the door. “Before you go can I ask you something?” He turned and nodded. “If I asked you to kiss me would you?”

A pause settled before he answered. “I reckon I’d be happy to do that. You sure that’s what you want?”

She nodded. “And not just because it’s my stupid fuckin’ birthday either.”

He licked his lips slightly and exhaled through his nose. “I’m a bad man Genevieve.”

She shook her head. “Not to me.”

He grinned pushing her hair from her temple before gently resting his hand on her face. “You’re right about that.”

Leaning down the same time she tilted her chin up because he was so tall he kissed her. His lips were so soft, warm, and gentle. Reaching up she put her arms around his shoulders resting her hands at the back of his neck while she stood on her the tips of her toes. With his free hand coming to rest on the other side of her face gently pulling her against him she yielded to his touch, feeling completely safe at the mercy of his hands. When he deepened the kiss she let him opening her mouth to him sliding her hands into his soft hair. Feeling his tongue tease at her lips she heard him breathe in through his nose and exhale a slight sigh when he pulled away resting his forehead against hers. The electric current was so strong, a pull of gravity as if he became the center of her orbit, thrummed through her body and she wondered if he felt it too. No one had ever touched her gently, especially no one she had asked to, and she realized she was starved for it. She grabbed his wrists, his hands still on her face and slowly lowered down flat to her feet.

Opening her eyes he did the same a moment later and for the first time she saw him smile. It was a real smile, not a grin or a smirk, a smile so beautiful she couldn’t believe he was doing it to her. She couldn’t help but do it back. “You smiled.” It grew wider at her mention of it. “I made you smile.”

He nodded. “Mhm yeah I guess you did.”

She giggled. “That’s a better present than the gun.”

Leaning down he kissed her forehead hesitating as if he didn’t want to let her go. “I’ll call you tomorrow alright? Get some sleep.”

She nodded. “You first.”

He chuckled. “Goodnight Genevieve.” He looked over at the dog on the couch. “Look after your mama, Miss Lily.” Giving her one last kiss letting his lips linger he let go of her and left, she stood there feeling like a teenage girl. Despite this, the idea of her birthday weighed heavy on her shoulders. Looking at the dog she sighed and sat down with a pen and notepad just in case.

April 21st 1995. Friday.

Work couldn’t end fast enough but the clock seemed to drag on. She was walking to her truck, head on a swivel as always, when someone hit her like a freight train either pushing or pulling her between a big rig and a van. She fought as hard as she could but whoever had a hold on her was big. Their entire hand covered half her face and it was gloved. Screaming was no use, even after she was thrown into the van where more hands waited to grab her and keep her quiet. Faces she didn’t recognize were all around her as the door slammed shut. A hand was still over her mouth that was connected to the person who was behind her that kept her back pressed against their chest. More hands grabbed her ankles, another pair her arms, and when the car started to move all she could do was scream. It was useless and realizing that made tears fill her eyes thinking of the brand new gun at her house she should’ve had on her just like he had told her. That’s when she saw his face and those beautiful blue eyes, the black dog with yellow ones, that only made her sob for a different reason entirely. She was so close to finding a place she wanted to be all her life and she was being driven away from it.

Someone she had seen before but didn’t know moved from the passenger seat and straddled over her. Moving her hair from her chest he saw her cross lifting the chain with a single finger. “Hello Eve. You remember me?” She knew that voice and remembered being held up as Maddy had a knife in her throat. “Father is going to be happy to see you.” She fought with everything she had completely overcome with panic until they either knocked her out, there was no way she had survived this long to give up now. The only thing she could think of was how she should’ve brought her gun even though there was no holster.

Rust

Looking at his watch it was twenty minutes past the time she typically got back with a sigh. He had wanted to see her after she got done work but he had a bad feeling about her not being home yet. Getting out of the truck he went to the front door. Third brick to the left at the bottom of the stairs he found the key. The dog on the other side of the door hopefully wouldn’t chew him to pieces once he opened it but thankfully she listened to his commands spoken in German she taught him. He let her out, fed her, and called the bar asking for her which they stated she left. Searching for her gun case he found it under her bed and the gun was inside, he whispered under his breath not meaning to. “Fuck.”

Locking the door behind him he headed there and saw her truck in the parking lot. It looked fine, locked, and nothing out of the usual. When he went inside he didn’t see her anywhere so he went up to the bartender. “Evie, bartender, she here?”

“You the one that called? She left about half hour ago.”

“Her truck’s parked out front and she’s not here.” The guy paused. “Where’s your boss?”

“Uh he’s not here..”

“Where’s your phone?” He pointed to the end of the bar near what could only be assumed was an office. Without saying anything he acted completely on muscle memory as he called it in, made sure no one left the bar, asked for the surveillance of which they had none, and went out to his truck contacting dispatch over his CB getting them here faster. Regardless of how fast they moved it wouldn’t be fast enough because he knew someone had taken her. It felt entirely too long until the place was swarmed with cops, customers were being interviewed, her truck was behind tape, and the K9s informed them she’d likely been taken in another car based on the disappearance of her scent. One of the witnesses who was the driver of a Peterbilt stated there was a dark green Chevrolet van parked when he went inside the bar, no license plate number or knowledge of who drove it.

He paged Marty who took entirely too long to get on the CB. “I need you down at T Cupps right now.” Not wanting to hear any questions or protests he switched the channel to dispatch and informed highway patrol to be on the look out for a dark green Chevy van.

When Marty pulled up he told him what was going on. “Evie’s been abducted. Witness said a dark green van was parked next to her, dogs hit so she must’ve been thrown in while she was walking to her truck.”

“Hold on a minute, you mean Evie that I had dinner with? That Evie?” He nodded. “How’d you know?”

“She never showed up after work, I came here and found her truck. I think they’re headin’ outta state.”

“Woah wait hold on a minute. Slow your roll.. who’s they? What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“She’s from Missouri. Managed to escape some fucked up church, Children of the Holy Redeemer. The shit they’ve done..” He shook his head while Marty looked even more confused.

“What’s going on Rust?”

“Listen, I’m pretty sure I know where they took her and if it’s where I think she’s crossin’ state lines which means FBI has grounds to get on this. This is big Marty, big.”

With a sigh he put his hands on his hips. “Alright whatdya need me to do?”

“They’re gonna search her house since they’re in there looking at her paperwork now. I gotta go get the dog before they do or they’ll end up puttin’ her in the pound or worse shoot her when she tries to bite.”

“Where you taking the dog?”

“My place, I got a spare key to her house. I’ll come back after I do that alright? Lead detective is inside.”

“Does he know what you know?”

“Not yet but they will. In the meantime don’t say anything.” Getting in his truck he drove back to her house letting the dog out and opening up the closet where the dog food was. He stopped when he saw a yellow legal pad on the shelf beside it. Picking it up it was in her handwriting.

Rust,

You were right when you said you can never be too careful so consider this me just being paranoid but I’ve written down the things you’ll need to know right away if something were to happen. Liliths vet records and paperwork are in the yellow folder underneath the jar of treats on the fridge. The contacts to her vet are in there should something happen and you need to take her. She has no dog bed, just a small basket of toys by the couch. Take her food, treats, toys, and something of mine so she doesn’t whine. One other collar aside from the one she has on and one leash hang by the back door near her bowls. The notebook I’ve been reading to you of what I remember is on the coffee table, use it how you wish if you need to. Birth certificate, deed to the house and truck, along with some jewelry that was Maria’s and cash I’ve put away are in the safe in my closet (0422). Use it if something happens to the dog and she needs to see a vet. Should something happen please, please do NOT jeopardize your job or your life over me, just please look after Lily and we’ll call it even. I put the gun under my side of the bed in the case. If you’re reading this and something in fact did happen, thank you and I’m sorry. I only wish I had a longer respite I found in the time I spent with you. I’ll take it with me and cherish it all the same. With love, Genevieve.

Sighing heavily he ripped the page off folding it up and putting it in his pocket. He loaded up the dog food, her bowls, toys, spare collar, the yellow folder, and her gun into his truck. When he went back in to get the dog he went into her bedroom finding the t-shirt she had wore when he saw her last night discarded on the floor. She must’ve just taken it off and climbed into bed. He picked it up and grabbed the leash after making sure he got everything. “You’re gonna stay with me for a while alright Miss Lily?” She reluctantly got off the couch and sat in front of him as if she already knew. Locking the door behind him he put the spare key back where he got it from and walked the dog to the truck. He opened the passenger side door and patted the seat. “Hopp.” She sat not wanting to leave. “C’mon, hopp.” Reluctantly again she jumped up and got in. When he started the truck she whined as he drove her away from the house.

At the apartment he let her in off leash since Marty wasn’t there. Carrying her things in and going upstairs to the spare bedroom that wasn’t being used he put them in there. Giving her fresh food and water, he folded a blanket he took from her couch and set it down next to her toys. He was about to call her when he looked over his shoulder and saw her sitting in the doorway. “Hier.” She came over to him with her head down and got on the blanket after he pat it. He handed her the shirt from the bedroom floor, she smelled it looking at him with a high pitched whine and sad eyes. “When it’s just you and me here you can have free rein of the house alright? Until then I’m afraid this is what we got.” He put the shirt down and she laid with her head on it crying softly. Petting her head still crouched down to her level he offered her a treat which she didn’t take. “I know. I’ll find her. Alright?”

With one last pet on the head he got up and closed the door behind him. Closing his eyes feeling the pulse point in his carotid it was elevated higher than usual, the same way it was when he left last night after kissing her. He sighed heading back downstairs and out the door. There was more at stake than her safety no matter how much he tried to deny it.

April 22nd 1995. Saturday.

Genevieve

Even having her hands tied behind her back she had grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and used her fingernail to rip off tiny pieces to leave the next time she was taken out. She was blindfolded but she could tell the sun had just come up based on the shadows that came in through the windshield. No one spoke, the radio the only sound, as they started to turn instead of going straight. Pavement changed to gravel while the speed slowed and they came to a stop while she listened intently. People in the van started to move and the door came open allowing someone to grab her ankles yanking her towards the back. She was thrown over a shoulder and she could tell was she was outside so she dropped a piece of fabric, was carried a few strides and dropped another before being put in another vehicle sitting upright. It felt smaller the way a car felt. The blindfold came off, her hands were unbound only to be rebound in front of her but her ankles were kept secured.

Blinking the sun from her eyes she shook the hair from her face and looked around the car. The familiar face was sitting next to her with a revolver in his lap pointed at her along with a disgusting smirk on his face. A man in the drivers seat and a man in the passenger seat were not familiar but the passenger was big enough to be the freight train who grabbed her. They drove off leaving the van parked at what looked like an abandoned gas station. “Where are you taking me?” She wasn’t panicked but matter of fact and monotone.

“You really don’t remember me do you?” Looking at him he was grinning knowing she did. “James. We met at the motel on a rather unfortunate night for me. But to answer your question we are going to the new and improved Angels Landing. Father eagerly awaits your return.”

She stared straight ahead trying to figure out where they were. “It doesn’t matter where we go. I’ll get away same as last time.”

He chuckled. “Then you can end up just like your parents. Like Maddy.”

“Fuck you.” They were on 167 so she was still in Louisiana.

“So what have you been up to the past 5 years Eve? Did you enjoy your birthday?” When she said nothing he continued. “I sure hope so since it’ll be your last one free. The cop you’ve taken a liking to kept us from reuniting on your actual birthday and the dog kept us from breaking into the house but we made do. This cop what’s he like?” When she didn’t answer he tilted his head. “If he knows what’s good for him he’ll forget all about you.”

She clenched her jaw knowing he was trying to bait her into getting angry and act out so she kept her voice even despite it working. “Anyone touches him, he gets hurt in any way, I will fucking kill you that’s a promise.”

He laughed. “You aren’t in the position to make promises Eve.”

“He’ll be onto this bullshit before you even know it.”

His eyebrows raised in faux surprise. “Oh really? You think he’ll come for you? If he does Father asked to see to his fate himself.” Going quiet all together she stared straight ahead watching where they were going. “I wonder though.. have you let him fuck you like you let Liam? Surely that didn’t take you long.” Turning without even thinking about it she spit in his face watching rage spread under what came from her mouth and landed on his face. Before she realized she was leaned against the window and everything went faded out after he hit her.

Rust

Sitting across from Quesada with her notebook he grimaced at the entries she’d written. He hadn’t slept, found it impossible knowing the people she was with. Closing the journal he set it on his desk with a heavy sigh looking as disgusted as he felt the first time she read it to him. “And you think these people are the ones who took her?”

He nodded. “It has something to do with her birthday that was yesterday. The last sighting of them after the arrest of Connor Thorne, also known as Father Thorne, was in Missouri end of last year for fraud. He posted bail, charges dropped, and last known location was Mound City Arkansas. The letter written by Madalyn Woolley and mailed to local police was what got her killed. She was going to come back and help her escape.”

Quesada looked at Marty. “And you said she has scars on her ankles and wrists?”

Marty nodded. “Yes sir. And on her forehead near her hairline too, said she was made to wear a crown of thorns.” Of course Marty didn’t know that until he’d mentioned it to him but if he was going to stay on this case he couldn’t do it without Marty vouching for him.

“If she’s taken across state lines the FBI’ll be notified and if they catch em, that’s federal charges. Anything on the Chevy van?”

He shook his head and Marty answered. “No sir not yet.”

“And her house?”

“It’s been searched. Only thing relating to any of this was the journal.”

Quesada nodded slowly when the phone rang. He answered it and wrote something down before hanging up handing a piece of paper to Marty. “Van was found by highway patrol at an abandoned gas station. They’re headin’ there with dogs now.” Wasting no time getting up he opened the door. “Ya’ll better watch your asses on this or I will pull you, especially you Cohle. You hear me?”

He nodded. “Sir.”

Climbing in Marty’s car he put the light on the dash where he thankfully took the hint and drove fast occasionally glancing over at him.

He sighed. “You got somethin’ to say, say it.”

Marty cleared his throat. “You uh.. you two sleepin’ together?” Turning his head he glared at him where Marty held a hand up. “I’m just askin’ is all.. if Quesada finds out..”

“There’s nothin’ to find out. These people make Ledoux look like a fuckin’ amateur Marty.”

Marty paused. “What are the scars from?”

“Thorns, rope, cable, barbed wire. They’d use em to tie her to her bed.”

Marty sighed. “Jesus.”

“She left me a note in case somethin’ happened. She was afraid. The night of her birthday she was jumpy. Must’ve wrote it that night after I left.”

“What’d it say?”

“Told me the code to the safe in her closet, where the dogs information was, things like that.”

“Where is the dog?”

“At the apartment in the spare bedroom across from yours. Didn’t want her to get put down or thrown somewhere by animal control.”

Marty looked at him. “You know how to control that thing?”

“She knows me well enough.” Pulling up to the abandoned gas station where the K9s were sniffing something on the ground.

He got out and one handler came up to them. “What’d ya find?”

“Scraps of fabric with her scent on it.” Going over to it he knelt down getting a better look. “There was no trail picked up on so she was put in another car. Treads are being measured and photographed.”

Marty looked over his shoulder. “What is that?”

He lifted one with a gloved hand taking a closer look at the purposeful ripped white clothing. “They’re pieces of her shirt. She’s leaving us clues.” Looking at for signs on the road there was none. “I wanna see the treads.”

Going over the handler put the dog up before coming up behind him bending down. “Wait a minute.. I know these tires.”

He and Marty looked at him, he was the one who spoke. “How?”

“My wife just got a new car from the Dodge dealership and picked up a nail. See how it has a Z pattern in the treads? It’s a stratus, came out this year.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Had to patch it.”

He stood. “What road is this?”

Marty answered. “Route 167 innit?”

The handler nodded. “Yes sir. That’s the one.”

“That goes all the way up to Arkansas right?”

“Right into Little Rock I think.”

He turned to Marty after looking around and seeing no houses so no chance of witnesses. “Go have a look just to be sure, I’m gonna let highway patrol know to look out on 167 north.”

Sitting in the car he grabbed the radio. “I-23 dispatch.”

“Come in I-23.”

“I need an all state APB on one Genevieve Fox, abducted from T Cupps truck stop bar. Last known location is heading north on US 167 out of St. Landry Parish from an abandoned Carters Fuel station. Suspects have switched vehicles into a 1995 Dodge Stratus, color and plate unknown, heading towards Arkansas. Victim last seen wearing jeans, white t-shirt, with long black hair and hazel eyes. Height 5’0, weight approximately 105 pounds. All US Marshalls and Highway Patrol be advised suspects are armed and dangerous believed to be headed towards the state line. Over.”

“Roger that, Detective. We’ll process that now.”

Genevieve

Stopping off for fuel still in Louisiana she spoke. “Untie my feet and hands.”

“And why would I do that?”

“I have to use the bathroom.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Fine. I’ll just piss myself and sit in it for all of you to smell until we get to wherever the fuck we’re going.”

Shoving the gun into her side as he leaned over to untie her feet he spoke. “Anything funny you’ll regret it.”

“Or what you’ll hit me again? Do your fuckin’ worst asshole.”

Undoing her hands he grabbed her arm pressing the gun back into her ribs looking inside the convenient store seeing customers in there. She really did have to use the bathroom and she rolled her eyes when he followed her in and locked the door behind them. As she took her jeans down she reached into her pocket taking a scrap of her shirt and dropping it on the floor next to the toilet when she gathered toilet paper. After going and washing her hands he walked her out and she waited until they were in view of the people inside before trying to fight out of his grasp. She was making a scene and that’s what she wanted. When he wouldn’t let her go she fell on purpose hoping someone saw him holding a gun.

Someone came outside when he gripped her up and practically carried her back to the car. “Hey!”

“It’s alright, this is my sister. She’s very ill, it’s okay. Everything’s fine.”

Getting her inside he slammed the door and she tried to open it but it wouldn’t open. The mechanism inside the door itself had been tampered with, the dread of the proof of planning made her stomach turn. Screaming and banging on the window he got in and they sped off.

James grabbed the back of her hair yanking it back hard. “You stupid fucking bitch!” Taking the butt of the gun he hit her so hard in the jaw blood came from her mouth and splattered on the window. He grabbed her ankles to secure them even though she couldn’t even get out of the car and she fought kicking, swinging trying to get his gun but it wasn’t enough. Grabbing her face he slammed it into the window making her head ring. “I told you you’d regret it.” When he did it again everything went dark.

Rust

“I-23 come in.”

“This is I-23, go ahead.”

“We received a call from a cashier at a rest stop in Williana off US 167 west of Kisatchie National Forest. Caller states a woman meeting the description of Genevieve Fox was seen involved in an altercation before being placed in a white 1995 Dodge Stratus with Arkansas license plate. Plate is young, ocean, 3, 7, 1, 6, frank. Heading northbound on US 167. Over.”

“10-4 dispatch.” Getting out and hurrying around to the drivers side he yelled. “Marty! Let’s go!” He hurried over and got in the passenger seat. “She was spotted in Williana at a rest stop gettin’ shoved into a 95 Dodge Stratus. Made a scene.”

“Jesus that’s all the way in Grant parish.” He was well aware which is why he was driving the way he was with the light on the dash. “If they cross state lines how fast does the FBI jump in?”

He shook his head. “Not soon enough but hopefully they’ll move their asses with all we have.”

Marty looked at him. “Did you know? I mean.. did she tell you what she wrote in that book?”

He lit a cigarette. “Not all of it but some. Enough for me to get the picture.”

Not saying anything else until they got to the rest stop cops were already there. He went right inside wanting to see the surveillance footage. When he did he knew she did it on purpose, there were people inside and he knew she saw. Seeing the car drive away north he sighed as the officer he didn’t know spoke. “Customer said the guy she was with apologized. Referred to her as his sister and that she was sick.”

“Anyone hear anything from highway patrol?”

The man he didn’t bother asking the name and shook his head.

“Arkansas needs to be notified that they’re heading towards the state line.”

Marty nodded. “I got it.”

“Cashier said they just used to the bathroom and got fuel. There was two other men in the car, passenger never got out just the driver and her with the guy who followed.”

“Nothing was left in the bathroom?”

He shook his head. “Nothing in the bathroom, on the ground near the pump or in the parking lot.”

Nodding his head he went back outside wanting to check the bathroom for himself and just like he was told, there was nothing. Looking closer he saw a white scrap of fabric on the ground next to the toilet.

When Marty came in he looked for himself. “Her shirt?”

“Mmhmm.”

“She’s smart.” He nodded. “Quesada paged. Wants me to call so I’m gonna use the payphone out front.”

“Alright.” He knew exactly why he wanted a phone call, so he could tell them to head back and let Arkansas PD handle it. If they had their claws in the local police it would be useless so he could only hope the FBI would step in and take things seriously. Lighting another cigarette the sun was getting lower as he looked at it until Marty came back over.

“He wants us to head back, hand it off.”

“They haven’t crossed state lines yet.”

Marty nodded. “I know.”

“Let’s go.” Walking back to the car he drove towards Arkansa despite what Quesada told them.

Genevieve

Coming to her hands and feet were bound, her head was pounding, and she tasted blood in her mouth. Her neck was sore, barely holding her head up forcing it to pull to the side.

“There you are.” Opening her eyes she was in the passenger seat in a different car while James drove. No one was in the back seat. The sun was starting to go down and she looked around for signs. “How are you feeling?”

She spit blood towards his feet. “Fuck you.”

“You did that to yourself, Eve. I told you not to try anything didn’t I?” Trying to open the door desperate enough to jump out he spoke. “It won’t work. None of them will, only mine.” She thought about unbuckling and crashing the car to kill them both, at least she wouldn’t go back there. “Father wants you alive and in one piece. When we get there I would suggest you not try to run because you won’t get anywhere fast. If you do we’ll find you and when we find you, we won’t be half as nice as we were to Maddy.” Staring at him she was trying her absolute best not to panic because she knew they had to be coming up on the state line. Rust couldn’t help her once she crossed it. “Is that a flicker of fear I see? What happened to the tough big girls don’t cry act?”

She shook her head and spoke even though her voice wavered. “I’m going to kill every single one of you.”

He chuckled. “No you aren’t.”

“I am. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

He smirked. “We’ll see.”

Rust

They were nearly to the state line when they came up on a white Dodge Stratus. “Is that it?”

Marty squinted leaning into the dash. “Young, ocean, 3, 7, 1, 6, frank. Call it in.”

While he was on the radio he tried to see if she was in the back but from what it looked like he could only see two people inside. Once backup arrived they pulled over with no problem at all and he got out with his gun drawn.

“State police! Shut the car off and drop the keys out the window now!” Whoever it was did so without a hitch.

“Driver step outta the car keep your hands on your head!” Doing as he asked he hollered another command.

“Walk back to the sound of my voice!”

Once he got close enough he told him to stop. “Down on your knees now!”

Nodding at Marty he went over slapping him in cuffs and they did the same with the passenger. When he went up to the car it was empty, the trunk was empty too. Opening the back door he looked in and saw blood on the passenger side rear window, some on the floor, and on the seat. He clenched his jaw when he saw a scrap of white t-shirt on the floorboard near the door.

Marty came over and looked. “God dammit.”

A highway patrol officer came over. “Should we take em in?”

“It happened in Lafayette not Lincoln parish. Take em there.” Grabbing the bigger guy he yanked him to his feet leading him to a highway patrol car. “Where is she?” The man just smirked. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Where all sacrificial lambs go to be slaughtered.”

His stomach dropped but he didn’t let it show. “You better have a fuckin’ answer when we get back to the station if you know what’s good for you boy.”

Slamming the door shut before he could say anything else Marty called for a tow on the car to come back with them along with the two they arrested. They were only about three hours from the state line but with them switching cars again no one had a clue what to look for.

Going to the other patrol car with the smaller guy he opened the door. “Where is she?” Silence. “Where are they taking her?”

“Where she’s always belonged. Back to the garden she was created in.”

“What are they driving?”

All he did was grin.

Another slam of the door he searched the car. There was nothing in here at all except her blood and the scrap of white t-shirt. Nothing in the glove box, center console, or trunk despite the car looking nearly brand new. Marty came over standing within arms reach. “We takin’ them back for questioning?”

He nodded. “Let’s go, I’ll drive.” Just as they drove here, they sped back to the police station to get them to talk.

Genevieve

Turning down a long dirt road where the only thing in sight was grass the sun had gone down. It eventually led to a tree line that looked dense and ominous, like something she’d seen before in a dream. The road was still dirt even after they crossed what looked like a bridge that seemed handmade from wood allowing them to go over a small stream. She felt like she was on a cattle truck being delivered to the slaughterhouse. Time didn’t exist on this road, it could’ve been hours or days, there was no center to base her current position on. Closing her eyes she saw two pairs that weren’t her own, one yellow and one lapis blue. It brought her comfort but she couldn’t keep her eyes closed because seeing her surroundings felt more important. If she were to escape again she needed to know where to go. They pulled up to what looked like a small village behind a chain link fence crudely placed to keep vehicles out with private property signs. As the car slowed that’s when she saw him. Time had not been kind, he had aged, but still had the same black eyes she remembered. There was no way she could forget those eyes since she first saw him as a child. The same large gold cross around his neck she felt her body reacting to the panic.

When the car stopped James got out and walked around to her side and her stomach dropped. She scooted to the drivers side locking the door and tried to do the same with the passenger side but it didn’t work. When he opened the door she cowered in the corner like a kicked dog as he reached in grabbing her ankles, she clutched onto the steering wheel with everything she had.

“No.. no no no! No please no! Let me go! Stop please don’t make me go back! No please!”

A hard yank pulled her hands free so she grabbed whatever she could pleading as she cried but it wasn’t enough. James got her to her feet and guided her around the car towards him.

He wore a smile on his disgusting face and held his arms out with his palms raised. “Praise be to Him for she has returned. Release her hands.” The restraints were taken off but she wrapped her arms around herself wanting to curl up into a ball and burrow herself in the dirt.

“My child. My sweet Eve how you’ve grown. Welcome to the new Angels Landing. New and improved since last you saw it.” Seeing his hand move she closed her eyes trembling when he touched her sore jaw and tender temple. “The fire still burns bright in you I see. Poor thing. Let’s get you cleaned up shall we?” He put his arm around her leading her inside a house she assumed was his wanting to throw up at his touch. “How I’ve missed you, little lamb.”

Guiding her into a wooden chair at a table that looked just as handmade as the bridge she couldn’t stop shaking and silently crying. When he returned it was with a rag and a bowl of water. Pulling up a chair he encompassed her legs with his invading her personal space on purpose. “You must be exhausted from your journey.” Even with her eyes closed she could feel his own assaulting her just as his hands feigned tenderness. “You knew this was bound to happen didn’t you?” The tone in his voice was soft and condescending while he mocked her. “I take it you got my message yes? Red wax?”

She felt tears roll down her cheeks but not for her parents, he wiped them with the rag. “Not to worry. They went willingly for you for they knew it was all part of His plan. And they truly loved you. They knew the plans He has for your soul, for you and I.” Her bottom lip quivered and she shook because it was all lies, she knew that now. “Why do you cry Eve?”

Exhaling a shakey breath she shook her head. “Please.. I don’t wanna do this anymore just let me go please.”

He grinned at her. “I can’t. We’re all depending on you. Don’t you see, little lamb?”

She choked out a stifled sob hearing that term and it made her feel like a child again, she wanted to throw up. “Come now none of that. I know it’s been a hard day for you. So for tonight I’ll let you rest, how does that sound?” She started to recede to that place deep in her head where she was no longer apart of her body as he guided her to her feet. There was a small bedroom with a twin bed, a quilt, a nightstand that held a lamp on top, and a cross hanging above the headboard.

He took her clothes off studying her as she tried desperately to cover herself. “I’ve been told you’ve met a man. A detective no less.” By his voice she could tell he was grinning. “I can hardly say I’m surprised. However I am curious..” When he stopped at her back he made a sound like a fake gasp. “What is this, my child?” His finger ran up her spine where her tattoo was and she flinched whimpering as she pulled away from him. He chuckled and lifted the white cotton shift that came down practically to her ankles over her head before guiding her arms in.

“Now this man. Tell me about him.” When she didn’t answer he turned her around to face him. “We don’t have to talk today but soon enough.” Moving her jaw aside he looked at her neck clicking his tongue in a tsk. “Now Eve. You’ve scarred your neck.” She closed her eyes so tight as if it would make him disappear. “I’ll need to be sure the holy blade is sharp won’t I?” Pulling back the blankets he guided her into bed turning off the lamp leaving the only light in the room coming from the moon outside. “Not to worry. I’ll deal with that soon enough. Rest now, little lamb. Your penance will begin tomorrow.”

After he shut the door she heard it lock with more than the one in the doorknob, she looked at the window seeing nails from the outside. Pressing on the glass it wasn’t glass at all. It was clear acrylic plexiglass and she knew attempting to break it would be useless. He had covered his bases this time, the reality settled on her chest like a bear. Curling into the fetal position she let herself cry as she tried to breathe wondering how long she would be stuck in this room and how long it would take until she finally gave up.

Rust

Back at the station neither of them would talk so he ordered them to be put on suicide watch as a precaution until he could revisit tomorrow. Walking up the stairs he went into the spare bedroom with the leash. “Hey Miss Lily.” She didn’t get up from her blanket, she hadn’t eaten her treat, and hadn’t touched her food. Crouching down next to her seeing she was still lying on her t-shirt he sighed petting her head. “Gotta go outside? Hm? C’mon.” He clipped the leash to her collar and led her down the stairs out the door. While she did her business he pulled on his cigarette looking up at the stars peering through the clouds. It gave him a sinking feeling when he wondered what they looked like wherever she was, if she could even see them. When he took her leash off since Marty was in his room she laid right by the door silently telling him she wanted to go home. He moved all her things downstairs near his mattress on the floor and offered her another treat before getting a shower. After he was finished he came out and saw she had carried the t-shirt to his bed and laid down with it. Chuckling to himself he was glad she at least ate the treat. “Couldn’t help yourself could ya?” He lit a cigarette and sat at the table opening her journal to a random page. If he could get more of an insight as to the habits of these people maybe it would lead him to where they would be.

At the farm before the F4 my favorite place was the barn but my least favorite place was the attic of the house. It was technically my bedroom but it was the place I felt the least safe. The old floors would creak whenever someone would come up the stairs and since it was the attic there was no where to hide. Under the bed was the first place they’d look, eventually I gave up trying to hide. Sometimes I’d put up such a fight they would just use my own bed if I had penance to be owed. A four post twin with groves in the wood where they’d put whatever I was being tied up with and a cross on the wall above the window. My linens were constantly stained from my wrists and ankles, my forehead to if I wore the crown. There was a spot on the roof that I would stare at to disappear, a knot in the wood that belonged to a tree cut down long ago. In that knot I escaped whenever he would come upstairs. I would picture myself a spider, a wood bee, or a termite that was small enough to hide within the wood. I’d go to the barn to be with the horses and cows, lay down in the hay listening to the deep breathing of the draft horse as he slept, or listen to the call of the barn owl that lived in the rafters. There I knew what I thought to be peace. After the F4 he forced me to see the barn, the earth had been chewed up and spit out. I remember the red hay and how it smelled after they shot the horse. “You are his savior, little lamb.” That’s what he said only I didn’t feel like a savior, I felt like a monster covered in the blood of an animal I had loved. An animal that had the ability and every opportunity to kill me but never did. He was gentle, soft, kind. I would’ve rather stabbed myself in the stomach over and over than to have that horse lose his life but I had no choice. I never had a choice since birth.

About two and a half hours passed of him reading leaving him even more sick to his stomach than before when the dog started whining. Glancing over at her he paused. “What?” She just looked at him from where her head was. With a sigh he got up and got in bed watching as she came over with the t-shirt in her mouth and rested it along with her giant head on his chest. Thinking back on what he said to her while she was on the couch he felt his pulse point, it was racing. Gently he pet her head. “I’ll find her. I will.” He vowed to himself he would and he’d get the motherfuckers responsible for doing all of this shit. He just hoped she could hang on long enough for him to do it.

April 23rd 1995. Sunday.

Joshua Leeds, the bigger man from the white Dodge wouldn’t talk. He tried everything, even offering a deal he knew wouldn’t stick, and he still didn’t open his mouth. He’d go to jail anyway but he didn’t need a sentence, he needed information. The smaller man, Christopher Falc, however was showing promise of breaking due to his fear.

“When you say she’s chosen what do you mean?”

“Born a week after His resurrection in the veil. Father was told his lamb would be born in the veil.. it was her fate.”

“What does being born in the veil mean?”

“You’re born with His sight, the answer to all questions. All knowing, you see? He needs the blood of the lamb to ascend for she belongs to him and no one else.”

“Ascend?”

“424 days after the turn of the century will bring the Sacred Seven Alignment, the day God has chosen for ascension into His Holy Palace. Father and Eve will meet Him there.”

“How?”

Christopher grinned. “They will leave all this behind, walk the staircase of seven planets and swallow the power of the sun. When the blood of Father and the lamb join, the eternal child will be born, and they will be welcomed into His Grand Hall. All of us will follow them there.”

“Why did he take her now?”

“To retrain her so she can learn how to please God again.”

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw knowing what that meant. Leaning over the table he stared into the eyes of a delusional man. “Where did he take her Christopher?”

“I told you. Back to the garden.”

“Where is the garden?”

“Angels Landing of course.”

“Where is it?”

“A place your eyes cannot see. They won’t ever be able to see.”

He put his hand on the back of his neck he spoke softly leaning down next to him. “Do you believe in forgiveness, Christopher?” He nodded. “You’re not a bad man. There’s something that pulls you down towards the depths of hell isn’t there? Towards evil. And that isn’t your fault, alright? I know these things. You got one way out of this and it’s through the grace of God. You believe that don’t you? There’s forgiveness for all and all you have to do is ask for it. Right now you’re facin’ hard time that’ll keep you in prison until you take your last breath. Okay? Help me help you. All you have to do is tell me where he took her.”

He just smiled and looked at him. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because your eyes won’t allow you to see. You aren’t worthy.”

As much as he wanted to roll up his right sleeve, he couldn’t, but there was other ways to make him talk. “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter 8 here!

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