#lord Remington x you

[liliesandparchment]

“Colin, Lord Remington has asked to call on me tomorrow.”

“Well that is excellent. Do you…………….likehim?”

“I did enjoy myself. Very much”

If you need another reason, go look at his face right after for the 3 seconds before he hears the whispers i beg you go do it it’s gonna be worth it

[myfairstarlight]

The Innocent Game of Flirting

AO3 Link.

Rated: T

Length: 10.8k

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington

Canon Divergence

Based on the replies on my jealous Colin post here.

Summary:

It is the 1812 season. Penelope Featherington, out in society a year too early and watching the love of her life court her cousin, refuses to wallow in self-pity. Determined to escape her family home, she resolves to secure a proposal. Following a piece of advice from Daphne, Penelope successfully attracts the interest of a suitor in Lord Remington. However, her little scheme brings about unexpected consequences. Or: A season 1 AU where a determined Penelope uses her friendship with Colin to practice her flirting skills, leading to a very confused and flustered Colin, who soon forgets which Featherington lady he is meant to be courting.

*additional notes on ao3

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Penelope grins as she unveils her new dresses, devoid of that horrid yellow she was forced to adorn in her first few social events. Instead, an array of light pink, green and blue now adorn her wardrobe and she could not be more pleased.

“Thank you Papa!” she exclaims, hugging him despite his stiff demeanour.

“I will never hear the end of it with your mother,” her Papa sighs, even as he hugs her back with one arm then pats her head. “But you’re welcome, darling.”

She hums, bouncing on her feet as she releases him. She can now prepare for the ball tonight with a sound mind. The plan worked much more efficiently than she expected, as her Papa managed to resell the old yellow gowns, giving her some extra pin money, and she had Eloise to thank for such a success.

“Your Papa has a soft spot for you, does he not?” her best friend had said, the night after Penelope’s first ball, wherein she spent the whole night sticking to walls. “And you have two older sisters, as well as an older cousin out in society with multiple suitors already, surely your Mama will focus on them first. If you stubbornly refuse to attend events, she will leave you be but your Papa might notice! He’ll ask what’s wrong and voilà, you get better gowns than those ill-fitting yellow atrocities.”

“And even if he does not notice, frankly, you will not miss much at these balls,” Daphne had sighed. “Outside of my brother being insufferable.”

Her wardrobe is now sorted out, but there is still the issue of… well, her personality. For that, Daphne is the one who gives her a piece of advice when they find each other at the Vauxhall Ball.

“Your personality is dazzling as it is,” the other debutante chides. “You simply need to be comfortable, and courtship is meant to do just that— allow you to get to know someone so you may feel comfortable enough to speak your mind.”

“But for that, I would need to not chase them away with my awkward ways in the first place.”

“Well, some gentlemen like that. My brothers never seem to mind!”

“Your brothers have known me for years, it is hardly a good argument.”

“But you never tried flirting with them! It can be good practice, without the pressure of securing a proposal at the end.”

Penelope hums at that. Daphne is right, it could be good practice. Although she hardly sees herself trying to flirt with Anthony, she knows Benedict would humour her and so would Colin.

And if it could allow her to let her feelings about the latter out without any consequence…

“So… how does one flirt?”

“Men are rather simple creatures, my brothers are no different, though they pretend otherwise. Feed their ego, compliment them, but do not appear too eager.”

“Uh…”

“Oh! Anthony is heading this way, I must go,” Daphne says suddenly, promptly untangling their arms and fleeing towards the garden.

“Wait Da— Oh well.” Penelope pouts, watching her go, and then raises an eyebrow when she catches the Duke of Hastings also disappearing in the same direction after avoiding Lady Danbury.

Penelope is about to follow suit, curiosity guiding her thoughts, when she hears a familiar voice call her name.

“Pen!”

She startles, promptly twirling around to see Colin approaching.

“Colin!” She curtsies. “I did not know you would be here!” she says, trying to contain her excitement but failing miserably at it.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Colin jests. “Have you seen Miss Thompson?” he asks next as he looks around.

The smile drops from Penelope’s lips, which she promptly hides behind her hand as she pretends to be thinking. She knew Colin to be deeply infatuated with her cousin, but she expected at least some remark from her friend about her absence in previous social events, instead of asking about Marina’s whereabouts. No such luck, she supposes. 

Daphne’s words echo into her mind again, and resolve settles in her heart.

“She is ill,” she responds, watching the disappointment fall on Colin’s face, “my mama had to stay home with her, my papa had to chaperone tonight.” She points towards her father who’s already downing his third drink of the night, if she has counted correctly.

“It is quite a shame,” she continues, “you look dashing tonight.”

“I—” Colin stammers, clearly taken aback. Penelope tilts her head, does he not think her honest in her compliment?

“I am being earnest!” she insists. “Of course, you always do. This outdoor ball just brings out quite a whimsical atmosphere, do you not think?”

Colin seems to finally find his composure as he smiles fondly. “I agree, it is a breath of fresh air compared to the usually stuffy ballrooms.”

“Exactly!” she chuckles, fiddling with her dance card. She recalls Daphne doing the same to incite gentlemen to sign it, without outright asking for it. The movement draws their eyes to it, and a gentleman never denies a lady a dance, even if the request is unspoken.

“And— you look whimsical as well, Pen,” Colin compliments, making her flush, “that charming green dress suits you finely, one could mistake you for a mystical wood fairy.”

“Colin, you flatter me!”

“I am being earnest,” he repeats her words with a bright smile of his own.

Penelope chuckles — she was right, Colin would humour her without a second thought.

“Mr Bridgerton,” a grating voice interrupts their conversation and Penelope barely holds herself back from rolling her eyes as Cressida Cowper suddenly appears, not so subtly pushing her aside.

“I believe you owe me a dance this evening, and I have only one space left remaining on my card at present,” the blonde debutante coyly says, dangling said card in front of Colin’s eyes.

“How convenient,” Penelope slips out.

Cressida promptly spills her drink on her, and Penelope gasps, jumping back at the sudden coldness hitting her skin. Fortunately, the forest green of her dress hides the stain that the lemonade would have left but Penelope can hear the women accompanying Cressida already giggling and whispering between themselves. She turns around, willing her tears not to fall, but refusing to let Cressida see how affected she is by her action.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you that dance, Miss Cowper,” Colin says, disdain barely hidden in his innocent tone.

A gentleman never denies a lady a dance.

“I am to escort Miss Featherington to the dance floor.”

Huh? Penelope turns around, blinking away her tears while Colin simply offers his hand, blatantly ignoring the gawking debutantes and a scowling Cressida witnessing the whole scene. When Penelope fails to move, too stunned, Colin gets closer and simply takes her hand and leads her away.

Penelope follows along numbly.

“Colin, you did not have to do that,” she whispers as they take their place on the dance floor. A quadrille.

“I needed a reason to not dance with her, frankly,” he says. “And I wanted to dance with you, too.”

The dance begins before she can think of an answer.

Well, he is just humouring her again now. They used to practise dancing together, before either of them was out in society, in the safety of the Bridgerton drawing room, yet he never expressed a desire to dance with her ever since. At her first ball, she had hoped — foolishly perhaps — that Colin would ask for her first-ever dance, if not as a suitor, at least as a friend, but his eyes quickly settled on Marina and the rest of the room had faded. And now, this instance does not stem from Colin’s desire for her company, but rather his desire to escape Cressida’s vicious claw, is it not?

Even so, Penelope smiles. This remains her first dance as a debutante, and although she wishes to move on, she can at least cherish the fact that this first is with Colin.

“Well, you are my favourite dance partner, after all,” Penelope says suddenly, during a short pause in the frantic steps of the dance. “Did you know?”

“Mm?”

Their hands join as they spin together, never breaking eye contact.

“Your eyes shine the brightest when you are kind. I think I can easily get lost in them.”

Colin’s step suddenly falters, and Penelope almost steps on his feet. Colin promptly winds an arm around her waist so she does not trip. She squeaks, she hopes discreetly, at the way her friend effortlessly lifts her up and then resumes the dance like nothing was amiss.

As the dance ends and they bow to each other, Colin clears his throat.

“Thank you.” His voice cracks. “You’re—” He never finishes his sentence. Penelope almost feels bad at his flustered state.

Daphne was right, flattering men is easy. Penelope grins, emboldened by this successful attempt. She turns around and catches the eye of a gentleman, alone by the refreshment table, with two glasses of lemonade in his hands and a bored pout on his lips. Lord Remington, if she recalls correctly. He raises an eyebrow, maintaining eye contact and Penelope makes her decision right then. She will enjoy her night!

“Well! Thank you for this dance Colin,” she says, “I am quite parched now.”

That seems to startle Colin into reality. “Oh, I can fetch you—”

“No, it is alright, I shall take this as an opportunity to scour for suitors, should I not? Have a good evening, Colin!”

She cannot quite help the way she bounces on her feet, perhaps a bit too eager, as she makes her way to Lord Remington. Fortunately enough, the gentleman only chuckles, as he offers her the extra glass.

For the rest of the evening, she shares two more dances with Colin, who seems rather reluctant to dance with anyone else since Marina is absent, but she spends the rest of her time discussing with Lord Remington at that same refreshment table. When she comes home, she hugs her father once more for the evening — he only half-heartedly returns it as always before disappearing into his study — and collapses on her bed with a relieved sigh.

She still had no name on her card, as Colin monopolised her night otherwise — though she did take it as an opportunity to practise putting her heart out in the open — but it is a start.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

A week or so passes like any other, surprisingly enough without any nagging from Penelope’s mother about her new wardrobe — in fact, her dear mother seems quite distressed about something else, refusing to give more details regarding Marina’s condition and forbidding all her daughters from seeing their poor cousin. 

Penelope does not see Colin nor Lord Remington at the next events in that period either. She knows Lord Remington had business to attend to outside of London, as for Colin, she simply assumes that with Marina indisposed, he is not bothering to entertain other interested debutantes.

(Though, now that she thinks about it, she has not seen any of the Bridgertons at social events at all, not even Daphne or Anthony.) 

On her part, she has tried to speak to suitors again, and she managed short conversations with Lord Debling and a certain Lord Basilio the night before, but she did not feel the same easiness with them as she did with Colin or Lord Remington. And she still has no name on her dance card.

With her mother refusing any visitors for the duration of Marina’s mysterious illness, Penelope could not exactly secure a caller either. It simply feels like a waste of time.

However, that morning, her father abruptly declared that they would be accepting visitors, forcing Marina out of the prison that her room had begun to become.

Therefore, due to Marina’s absence from past social events, her long line of suitors are quite eager to see her again, so it is no surprise that as soon as calling hours fall upon their day, a few gentlemen are already announced. Penelope swiftly finds her place by the windowsill to read, expecting a lively afternoon for her cousin, but a rather boring one for herself, that is, until their footman Briarly announces:

“A visitor for Miss Penelope.”

Her sisters and mother exclaim in surprise, meanwhile, Penelope manages to maintain her composure, somehow. She jumps to her feet when Lord Remington is escorted in.

“Miss Penelope!” he greets with a boyish smile that has Penelope giggling. “For you, dear lady.”

Flowers! Ironically enough, yellow ones, but she is much too elated to care about such triviality. Penelope grabs the bouquet carefully, a wide smile stretching her lips.

“Thank you, Lord Remington,” she says. “I did not expect your visit…” she admits sheepishly.

“That was rather rude of me to not tell you I was back in London indeed, but I wished to surprise you. Your father owed me a favour as well.” Oh, that explains why her father insisted they open their house to society once more, although when she looks at her father, he guiltily looks away. “And I was much eager to continue our last conversation.”

Penelope playfully gasps. “My, have you heard more about Lord Fife’s failed attempts at charming maids?”

Lord Remington chortles. “Perhaps so! Although, I was also hoping to learn more about you, Miss Penelope.” At that, he offers his hand and Penelope gently reaches for it with her free hand. Swiftly, he deposits a kiss on the back of her glove and she turns bright red.

She can hear her mother gasping, a mix of surprise and delight. She refuses to look in her sisters’ direction, however.

“You two might feel a bit crowded in this corner,” Portia chimes in then. “Prudence, stand up and go sit with Philippa instead, let your sister and her suitor be there.”

Prudence glares but eventually listens and stands from the armchair near the fireplace. Penelope has to bite her lips not to grin in triumph.

Therefore, she sits down on the armchair, setting the flowers on the small table near it, while Lord Remington angles his wheelchair so they can comfortably speak to each other. Penelope rests the book she had been reading on the arm between them as they engage in conversation.

Penelope loses track of time afterwards. Her discussion with Lord Remington feels easy, and natural, though she fails to find it anything other than friendly as her heart has not fluttered once outside of that kiss on her hand. She also cannot find it in herself to place any flirty comments to perhaps stir the conversation into more courting material, but she is quite enjoying his childhood tales and hearing all the gossip he seems to have amassed within his family. Perhaps she does need more practice after all… she cannot remain a friend in the eyes of another gentleman she is trying to pursue after all! She refuses to be stuck in that situation a second time!

“Pen,” a familiar voice calls her suddenly and she startles. Lord Remington, on his part, only tilts his head with a raised eyebrow at the intrusion.

Or at the awful familiarity with which this other gentleman has just addressed a lady.

“Oh, Colin, good d—” She is interrupted by Colin suddenly shoving a bouquet of lilies and lavender in front of her. “Thank you…?”

Colin beams, eyes shining akin to a puppy getting praise.

It takes her a few seconds to realise Colin is also kneeling in front of her.

“Uh. I thought Mr Bridgerton was announced for Miss Thompson,” Philippa comments. She probably meant to whisper it, however, the middle Featherington girl has never been good at keeping her voice down.

A heavy silence ensues. Penelope catches Marina’s narrowed eyes, and she is not quite sure if she is supposed to say something — she is just as lost by Colin’s behaviour, and she hopes her confusion translates into her gaze.

“Well, I realised I never gifted Pen anything before despite our years of acquaintances and my many visits here, that makes me an awful friend, does it not?” Colin says eventually.

Friend. Right. Penelope smiles, trying to ignore that familiar feeling of disappointment tugging at her heart.

“Thank you, Colin,” she whispers, as chatter fills the room again. “Have you met Lord Remington?” she asks, not recalling if the two ever exchanged even pleasantries at the Vauxhall Ball.

“We’re familiar,” the latter says. “Though we have not spoken since Eton, have we, Bridgerton?”

“Indeed, Remington.”

Lord Remington narrows his eyes. “So, how are you?”

“Fine.”

What a stilted conversation.

Penelope bites her lip, eyes going from one gentleman to the other and coming to an uncomfortable realisation — they look alike, do they not? Brunettes with deep blue eyes, along with a boyish and charming smile. Oh dear, did she unconsciously seek someone similar to Colin, at least in appearance?

“Will you be staying on the floor, Mr Bridgerton?” Portia asks, confusion apparent in her voice. “We can get you a cushion, at the very least. Although I believe there is still a seat near Miss Thompson available.”

Penelope sees Marina not so subtly shoving a suitor away, forcing the poor gentleman to stand up.

“Oh!” Colin blinks, looking rather lost himself, and he nearly loses his balance, if not for Lord Remington grabbing his arm before he could fall. “Uh, thanks.”

“No worries,” the other gentleman smiles. “Your lady awaits you I believe.”

Penelope gives a bemused smile when Colin looks at her as if asking for guidance. Eventually, although reluctantly, it seems, Colin stands up and takes the seat next to Marina.

“The room is getting rather crowded,” Penelope says, as many others of Marina’s suitors have arrived in the meantime. “Shall we go to the garden, my lord?”

“Please!” the gentleman agrees, letting out a low chuckle. “Some fresh air would be wonderful.”

Penelope quite agrees.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Unfortunately, at the next ball, Lord Remington is not present; he did inform her it would be unlikely for him to attend events where dancing is at the centre, which unfortunately tends to be most of them. The Vauxhall ball just happened to intrigue him with the promise of the light show.

Truth be told, it is a bit frustrating — her father has told her that though Lord Remington specifically asked to call on her, the gentleman has not requested permission to start a proper courtship with her. She wonders if, once again, she found herself a friend, rather than a suitor.

She is not sure where she has failed, once isolated in the garden of her childhood home, she had complimented him the way she had with Colin, and Lord Remington seemed rather unaffected compared to the way Colin had reacted, instead of stumbling with his words and turning a subtle shade of red, Lord Remington had simply smiled and thanked her, giving her compliments of his own.

Her heart also did not flutter at his words, but that was to be expected. Although determined to marry, she knows a love match is not a possibility, for her heart is too stubborn to let go of the man she was born for, but who was born for another.

Even so, she supposes she must entertain other options than Lord Remington, as kind and funny he is, lest she still spends most of the season clinging to walls once more.

“Our host looks a bit fussy,” a familiar voice suddenly says behind her, startling her. “Do you think if he goes to bed we all have to leave?”

Penelope chuckles. “Colin!”

Colin grins cheekily. “It is lucky the lady produced an heir before the old earl croaked, no?”

“Lucky indeed,” she agrees, unconsciously leaning against Colin’s side. “But do you not think the boy bears a passing resemblance to Lady Trowbridge’s footman?”

“Penelope, what a barb!” Colin chuckles before he reaches for her card.

Instinctively, Penelope pulls it away before he can catch it. She regrets it immediately when Colin sends her the saddest look she has ever seen on a human being.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“What are you doing?” Colin counters. “I simply wished to secure a dance with you.”

“... Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

Yes! The desire to court me! She does not say that.

“Well, there is no notion of securing a spot on my card, as it has remained empty, and you know this. I hear Miss Thompson has yet to leave the dance floor, however.”

“I have already spoken with Miss Thompson, all her dances have been claimed indeed.”

Penelope is unsurprised, however she keeps her dance card close to her chest, even with Colin’s hand still hovering in front of her. Perhaps it is petty, but she already had her first dance as a debutante with Colin, and she wishes to have an actual suitor as the first name on her card.

Eventually, Colin seems to understand she will not relent, so he clears his throat. “So… you and Lord Remington?”

“What about him and I?”

“Are you considering him a proper prospect? He’s… young…”

Penelope blinks.

“Colin, he’s your age.”

Colin gapes as if he has forgotten this fact.

“... My point still stands, somewhat. He may not be as serious as you about courtship.”

“Colin, thank you for looking out for me, but you do not need to.”

“Pen that is not…” He pauses. “You love to dance.”

She narrows her eyes at the sudden statement. “Careful before you utter a rude remark.”

“What? Oh! No, I did not mean in regards to his… oh this came out wrong,” Colin stumbles on his words, cheeks turning red in shame. “Simply, you love to dance, and I know you and Lord Remington have… started… uh, a courtship.”

“Do not sound so pained and surprised,” she deadpans, not bothering to correct him anyway.

“But you do not need to deny dances for his sake,” Colin continues, ignoring her remark. “You are not a claimed woman. Should you not entertain other suitors?”

Well, do you see any lining up for my hand?! She almost petulantly answers. Instead, she takes a breath, turning her gaze to the dance floor, where she meets Marina’s eyes for a brief moment. She currently is dancing with an old earl, and looks rather displeased about it — is it cruel of Penelope to despise how ungrateful her cousin is with the natural attention she has brought to herself? Even so, she sends her a supportive smile and does not miss the way Marina’s eyes flit towards Colin for a second.

“Are you volunteering to start my empty list?” Penelope mutters, more of a derisive question than a true request. Before she can find out if he heard her, however, she tugs at his sleeve. “Would you do me a favour?”

“Mm? Of course.”

“Miss Thompson seems rather eager for a rescue.”

Marina’s name seems to startle Colin into reality. He straightens his back. “Oh! Indeed she does.”

Penelope’s heart flutters and breaks at the same time at the hopeful look now in Colin’s eyes. “You’re so cute,” she says  — because she has gotten used to being honest. “Now go.”

“Pen what did you just say—”

She nudges him onto the dance floor before he can finish his question. She then promptly blends into the crowd and leaves the ball early, feeling quite defeated and refusing to admit the fault may lie with her treacherous heart.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

That very night, Marina tells her, in an elated voice, that she has settled her attentions on Colin at last, praising his kindness, his humour, and, more importantly, his youth. Penelope only smiles and wishes her and Colin the best, in a voice she hopes is not half-hearted.

And yet, in the days that follow this declaration, in which Colin visits almost daily, Penelope senses a shift in Marina, she who once treated her gently the way her sisters never did, her cousin now is rather cold, looking at her with apprehension and resentment, though no cruel words leave her lips, at the very least. It makes Penelope itch — she thought she finally found a friend in this dreadful house but it seems she was being naive.

Perhaps it is fate being gentle on her, but just as Marina has decided to regard her as a hindrance, a certain Mr Finch starts to show interest in Philippa, prompting the latter to cling to Penelope as she asks her younger sister for advice — and to have an ear to gush to about the loveable cheese-enthusiast gentleman. As a result, Penelope spends many of her afternoons with her, Mr Finch and Lord Remington around a cup of tea.

(That is when Colin does not decide to make an appearance to steal some cookies from Penelope’s plate every time.)

And yet, as the days pass, no proposal seems to be on the horizon, for any of the ladies in the house. Penelope is not surprised for herself, Lord Remington has not shown any sign of seeking a wife this season despite his flirtatious ways, but Mr Finch seems so besotted with her sister that she is surprised they have not already eloped. As for Colin and Marina, she had been so sure that as soon as Marina started denying her other suitors, Colin would jump on the opportunity to secure his future with her, he who seemed so eager at the beginning of the season.

Penelope has heard the servants talk, however. She knows of her father’s gambling addiction and the very possibility that her and her sisters’ dowries may have gone into one of his dangerous and reckless games. Marina’s dowry, separated from their fortune, should still be intact, however.

She suspects the lack of proposal and this rumour may not be unrelated.

When they get an invitation from the Bridgertons for Daphne and the Duke of Hastings’ engagement party, Penelope cannot help the sense of foreboding taking over her heart as she catches her mother and Marina sharing a conspiratorial look. Even so, she turns to Philippa instead who excitedly intertwines their arms, insisting that they must invite their suitors as well. Penelope agrees wholeheartedly.

Only to learn they cannot.

“It will only be a small gathering, the Duke insisted, and we forgot to put the details in the invitation,” Colin explains later that day when he visits. “You are old friends of the family, so Daphne insisted you must come.” Penelope has to stop herself from laughing. She knows he does not mean the rest of her family. “Oh, and this is for you, Pen.”

He hands Penelope a copy of Sense and Sensibility. She gasps, successfully distracted.

“I heard the wedding is only a week from now, that is rather quick, was your sister not just being courted by the prince?” Lord Remington, who also happened to be calling on Penelope at the moment, inquires.

“The Duke has simply come to his senses and secured my sister’s hand before anyone else could,” Colin responds, and Penelope swears his eyes fall briefly on her. “I do apologise that you cannot be of attendance, my friend.”

“I will pretend that your words are sincere.” The other gentleman chuckles. “Well, if you are to monopolise Miss Penelope’s time tomorrow, my lady, shall we leave for a promenade this afternoon? The weather has not been quite this nice in a while, after all.”

“Oh! Mr Finch should arrive any moment, shall we all go together?” Philippa chimes in, jumping from her seat to wrap her arms around Penelope from behind.

Lord Remington smiles politely, though it is obvious he expected a private outing. “Uh, of course.”

“Splendid! Oh, we should have a picnic as well! Varley, could you have the cook prepare something?”

“I have not even answered yet…” Penelope mutters, meeting Lord Remington's amused eyes. The man has also grown used to her sister's air-headed and excitable ways.

“Shall we join as well, Mr Bridgerton? Some fresh air may be quite pleasing,” Marina says.

Colin seems taken by surprise. “Ah, I'm afraid I cannot, I must help with some preparations.”

“But you said it would be an intimate gathering,” the other gentleman points out.

“Pen, I expect a full commentary of the book tomorrow, yes?” Colin asks, thoroughly ignoring the pointed remark and Marina’s narrowing eyes.

“You… read it?” 

“Of course! You know how Eloise is not so fond of these books, and I need someone to talk about them with. So. Promise?”

Penelope chuckles. “Very well, I promise.”

Colin beams before swiftly taking his leave without meeting anyone’s eyes.

Penelope is not quite sure why, upon the door closing behind him, the rest of the room sends her an incredulous look.

“What? Colin and I are friends, this is not the first time he’s come simply to give me something.” Last time, the flowers were a surprise, but a book is not necessarily a courting gift. This is just Colin being thoughtful — Penelope recalls lamenting being unable to find this book at the beginning of the season although she only shared this information with Eloise.

“Ah! That is true,” Philippa concedes, prompting Marina to relax on the couch. 

Lord Remington looks at the book thoughtfully, and at the way Penelope cradles it ever so gently to her chest. He remains silent, however.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

They find a quaint little spot below a willow tree where they decide to settle for the picnic. Philippa sets the food and baskets with Mrs Varley's help, while Penelope helps Lord Remington out of his wheelchair.

“I can usually manage on my own,” he shares, leaning ever so slightly against her as they sit, “but this is good practice, is it not?”

Penelope’s heart skips a beat. “Do you mean—” 

“Well, perhaps I am getting ahead of myself.” He pauses, looking at Mr Finch for a moment. The other man seems entranced by a piece of cheese Phillippa is presenting him. “Miss Penelope, you must know that your father has advised me and Mr Finch from proposing.” Penelope only sighs. “You do not seem surprised.”

“I have had my suspicions, especially considering our quickly shortening staff. And the fact I have had to wear some gowns twice, to my mother’s dismay”

“A lady such as you should not have to worry about such things.”

“Why should I not if my father’s careless games define my future, my lord?” Penelope says. “On your part, you do not seem angered.”

Lord Remington gives a sheepish smile. “It is true my concern lies more with Mr Finch. To be honest, my lady, I had no intention of finding a wife this season.”

“I gathered.”

“Observant as ever, my lady.”

Penelope chuckles. Her heart feels lighter than she expected to — in fact, it is a bit of a relief to have the confirmation, rather than constantly overthink where she may have failed in her plan to entice a gentleman.

“But I do like you, Penelope.” She startles a little at the sudden familiarity in the lord’s voice. Her breath hitches as Lord Remington reaches for her hand, gently bringing it to his chest. “However, and I apologise for how vain this will sound, but I cannot allow myself to marry if the lady has no dowry. My parents can be… insufferable, in those matters, and I would rather not put you in this situation, especially given how costly my treatments can be. This chair and its maintenance, for one.”

Penelope smiles, fingers curling around his palm and squeezing once. “I understand. And your parents only worry about your well-being as well, I am sure.” Her lack of dowry is a reality she now needs to face. Her prospects have significantly lowered once more, with this factor that is outside of her hands, though, really, it is so late in the season now, she wonders if she simply has to accept that she must wait another year — that is if she is lucky enough to get a second season.

“You give them too much grace,” Lord Remington laughs. “I believe I can settle this matter with time, and as I have mentioned, your father owes me as well. Next season, perhaps, I can proudly present my ring to you, if you are willing to wait for me.”

Penelope does not answer for a while, although that is a dilemma she has just pondered in her head. Her eyes observe the man before her, a perfect suitor by all means. Kind, humorous, young, devoted… Well, does that not sound quite familiar? She looks at her sister and Mr Finch afterwards, noting the lovesick looks and Philippa’s wide smile. It frustrates her, that after all, she still wishes for such a carefree and loving romance. She knows Lord Remington has chosen his words carefully. He likes her. And perhaps it is unfair of her to expect any man to still wish for her hand without a hefty price behind it. Her pragmatic side knows it is not a possibility — Mr Finch is as smitten as they come and yet has not fought her father for Philippa’s hand.

And then, there is the poor romantic soul in her. Perhaps her mother is right, she reads too much, after all.

“It is not a matter of willingness, but rather one of ability, is it not?” she answers eventually.

“You evade my question.”

“Observant as ever, my lord.” She looks at their joined hands. “I cannot honestly promise I will wait,” she admits.

Understanding, rather than disappointment, shapes the curve of Lord Remington’s smile.

“Although, frankly, if I can be in Mayfair again for next season, you would not have much competition anyhow, even without me promising,” she jests.

“You underestimate yourself, Penelope,” the gentleman is quick to refute. “In fact… Someone else has warned me to be careful. That was not the word he used, but I would hate to subject your delicate ears to such language.”

Penelope sighs. “Mr Bridgerton is a protective friend, that is all.”

“I did not even need to say a name.” He laughs at her wide eyes. “Mr Bridgerton is neither your family, nor your suitor, and yet the way he spoke to me gave me the feeling he had a pistol ready to draw.”

“Surely you jest!”

Lord Remington shakes his head. “I wish it was merely an entertaining piece of gossip. Mr Bridgerton is quite blind, or perhaps stupid.” Penelope cannot help the small noise of protest that escapes her lips before she can stop it. “But he has clearly shown his interest these past few weeks, only not in Miss Thompson.” He takes a breath. “Your heart belongs to him, does it not? He is the one you are waiting for.”

“I do not want to!” Penelope refutes, implicitly confirming the man’s suspicion. “I— it was merely an infatuation, when he decided to court my cousin, I knew I had to move on. And please, do not assume I do not like you! If you proposed right at this moment, I’d…” She falters — she cannot even finish that sentence.

Her friend gives her a knowing look. “We can pretend I have. It would simply be a half-truth. If by next season, you are still a debutante, then we shall marry. Otherwise, there is no harm. Simply a promise between us without the pressure of the final decision. And perhaps the rumour of your engagement will spur him into action.”

“James, that is ludicrous.”

“Oh, now you use my name!” He laughs. “Allow me this opportunity to mess with him after the hassle he put me through.”

“You will be thoroughly disappointed, Colin would be supportive, rather than insanely jealous over you as you expect him to be.”

“I would wager a bet over this matter, but that is a dangerous path. As your father would know.”

Penelope rolls her eyes.

“You would lose anyhow,” she insists.

“We will see, my lady.”

She suspects he simply is pleased to be the source of some entertaining piece of gossip for once.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Penelope is not quite sure why she and her family were invited to this engagement party when, aside from Lady Danbury, the Duke does not seem to have invited a family of his own. If they desired an intimate gathering, inviting the eccentric Featheringtons was far from a good idea. And if she has to listen to her mother embarrassingly try to make Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury laugh with her jokes, Penelope might fake an illness to be able to escape.

“A blue dress today? Trying to become an official part of the family?” Benedict Bridgerton comes up to her with that signature charming smile of his.

“Are you volunteering to make that happen?” she jests back, self-consciously brushing her skirts, indeed noting the eerily similar colour to Eloise’s dress or Benedict’s and Colin’s waistcoats. Not a deliberate choice, truth be told.

Benedict laughs. “I hear that you soon won’t bear the Featherington name, I may be too late?”

Ah. So the rumour has already spread in a mere day, for Benedict, of all people to hear about it.

“Tonight is not about me,” is all she says. “Your brother seems miffed.”

“Which one?”

“The Viscount.”

“Ah. The Duke is a close friend of his, yet he does not trust him with our Daphne. I think he’s being purposely obtuse. These two are quite smitten, as we say.”

Penelope recalls Lord Remington’s remark about the pressing wedding date, and despite her best judgement, it makes her observe Daphne and the Duke with more scrutiny than she ought to. They seem happy and content indeed, but she cannot help but sense some guilt from the gentleman, and some tension in the curves of Daphne’s smiles. Penelope sees love, yet one not quite yet resolved, in a sense. But she supposes, married life ought to refine the shape of their bond.

“Colin has been looking for you, so I am surprised to be finding you alone, not even with Eloise,” Benedict says.

“Eloise retired to her room early to avoid your mother,” she responds, prompting the man to chuckle under his breath. “As for Colin, I have not seen him at all apart from a brief glimpse upon arrival.”

“I have not seen your cousin either.” A shiver runs down Penelope’s spine at the remark. Benedict looks troubled, brow subtly furrowed as he scans the room. “Our mothers and Anthony seem fortunately occupied, if you understand what I mean.”

She nods. However, before they part in search of the missing pair, she asks, “Do you not trust your brother?”

Benedict smiles, a bit guiltily. “It is not him I do not trust.” He shakes his head. “I will check upstairs in the bedrooms, could you check the studies and library?”

Penelope has no time to respond before he leaves. She sighs, rubbing her left arm before she swiftly exits the room as well.

Eloise has told her how uneasy her family felt about the courtship between Colin and Marina, yet she has never witnessed it first-hand. Knowing her friend, Penelope assumed Eloise was being her usual hyperbolic self, but if even Benedict seems to distrust the courtship, he who is usually so welcoming, then… She shakes her head, her steps leading her to Anthony’s study by the staircase.

And noticing the door being half-opened, a faint light coming from inside. Her lips press into a thin line — she has heard her mother talk about her youth, when she prepared her and her sisters for the season, of how to secure a gentleman, some ladies would intentionally lure men into an isolated room, but leave the door slightly ajar, in the hope of another guest, or even a servant, taking notice. It could be the other way around as well, although her mother was sure to point out that men are much less eager about a marital prospect. Penelope’s heart sinks — surely Marina would not…?

She tentatively approaches the door. As such she can vaguely discern Colin and Marina standing in the middle of the room. Well, Penelope can only see Colin’s back, completely hiding Marina behind his imposing figure, but she can catch a glimpse of Marina’s yellow dress peeking between his legs.

Suddenly, Colin takes a step back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice shaking with an emotion Penelope cannot quite place.

“I was hoping for a kiss,” Marina answers frankly.

Penelope stifles her scandalised gasp behind her hand while Colin takes several steps back then, shaking his head vigorously.

“You are a lady, and I am a gentleman. I cannot take liberties of the sort with you.”

“You agreed to an unchaperoned moment with a lady, you believe that to be gentlemanly?” Marina says.

“It did not feel like a choice in the first place when you dragged me here,” Colin responds in kind, sounding just as exasperated as Marina. “I have told you long ago, that I wish to end our courting.”

Penelope blinks. But he has kept visiting?

“But… you kept calling on me,” Marina says softly, voicing Penelope’s thoughts. “I thought you simply needed a little push.”

“I have not?” Colin sounds genuinely confused. “I was visiting Penelope.”

“Penelope!?”

The girl in question winces. She has heard enough as well. She knocks on the door, prompting a loud gasp from the pair inside.

“You are being rather loud, if you wished to have a private moment,” Penelope quips as she steps in. She sees relief fall on Colin’s face meanwhile Marina looks horrified, refusing to meet her cousin's gaze.

“Pen! It is not— I assure you nothing—” Colin tries to explain, surprised when Marina shoves past him and Penelope to get out of the room.

Penelope watches her go, worried, but the glare her cousin gave her just before closing the door behind her tells her she might be the last person Marina would wish to confide in at the moment. She sighs, focusing her gaze back on Colin who is leaning against Anthony’s desk with a hand rubbing his forehead.

“It is lucky I was the one who found you, and not your brother,” she says, earning a derisive laugh from her best friend.

“I know,” Colin sighs. “How much did you…?”

“I heard the mention of a kiss.” Colin stiffens. She shakes her, reaching out to rub his arm reassuringly. “I know nothing happened, Colin, you are a gentleman, a kind and considerate one.”

“Pen…”

“In fact, if you wish I can speak with Marina, surely something—” Her voice trails off as she notices that Colin is starting to lean in, breath caressing her forehead. “Colin?”

Instead of a response, his hand reaches for her chin, tilting it forward so their eyes may meet. Penelope’s breath hitches upon meeting the dark forest of her friend’s gaze.

“I heard…” Colin starts, voice barely above a whisper. “You are not wearing a ring.”

Penelope frowns, before showing him her ring-empty hand with a small derisive smile. “Indeed, I am not. I doubt I ever will.”

“Pen, do not say that.”

“You are sweet, Colin, but the reality is as such — Lord Remington has asked me to wait another year, but he may change his mind, or I may not be able to be here next season anyhow.”

It is Colin’s turn to frown.

“Why would you not be?”

“Colin, I have learned I have no dowry.” Her friend’s eyes widen. “My parents are very much trying to hide it, but no sane gentleman shall wish for the third daughter of a Baron with not even a dowry to evaluate her status.”

Colin’s hold on her is stronger suddenly, both hands framing her face and his gaze piercing through her soul.

“You are wrong,” he announces, fervently.

“... About?”

“So many things. Everything you have just said.” He leans closer, eyes never leaving hers. “You have been driving me insane, Pen.”

“I— I apologise?”

“All the flirting, the compliments, and sweet smiles… but then you turn around and entertain another, leaving me to gather dirt in your devastating garden.”

“Colin, you are not making any sense.”

“Remington is besotted, enchanted. How can you even think for one second he would not propose even without a dowry when he was oh-so bragging about it at the gentleman’s club last night?” He scoffs. “How can you not see the effect you leave in your wake?”

“Do not mock me!”

“May I kiss you?”

Penelope’s eyes widen, too stunned by such an abrupt question, yet before her thoughts can understand, her heart decides to be the bearer of decisions for the first time in a long while and she finds herself nodding.

Colin does not let her take another breath, capturing her lips with his.

And what a glorious moment it is.

Penelope sighs, melting under Colin’s touch who cradles her face as if she were a precious diamond. She tentatively moves her lips to the rhythm he has set, feeling her heart flutter for every brush, for every caress.

“Pen,” Colin whispers as he pulls away. “A kiss is for two people.”

“I–! I am trying my best.” She is not pouting.

He chuckles. “Do you trust me?”

She should not. This is highly improper, and the very scenario she has just prevented Marina from executing. Besides, they were having a very important conversation about her prospect, and she seriously needed to have a word with Lord Remington the next time she saw him. And yet— “Of course— oh!”

Strong arms suddenly wrap around her waist, effortlessly lifting her so she may sit on the desk, with Colin standing between her legs. Then he kisses her again. Penelope hums pleasantly, now able to wind her arms around his neck without straining, inviting him closer and closer. Colin is relentless now, barely allowing her a breath in between kisses, like a stranded man in a desert whose thirst can only be quenched by her lips.

Penelope feels him reach for her face, a thumb caressing her left cheek before it travels to her lower lip, pulling at it before she feels his tongue probing inside and claiming her mouth fully. She moans a sound she never knew she could even produce, and to grab into any sense of self, her hands find her friend’s hair, tugging at it just as Colin inhales deeply, his movements suddenly a bit shakier. Penelope can feel a warmth start to build up and a tingle in her legs — she is thankful to be sitting or she would have surely collapsed. But she needs— she needs—

“Colin! Are you in there?”

They pull apart abruptly, both of them recognising Benedict’s voice. Penelope is the first to react, promptly jumping off the desk to hide under it, just as the door opens.

“There you are!” Benedict says. “And you look a mess, have you taken out Anthony’s secret stash of alcohol in here?”

“Wh— no, I just needed a moment,” Colin manages to reply with a somewhat steady voice. “Bracing myself to announce the end of my courtship at our sister’s engagement party, like the insensitive brother I am, it seems.”

“Uh, alright…? Have you seen Penelope? I had asked her to search for you here or at the library, but I could not find her there.”

Penelope hopes her heaving breath is not as loud as it sounds in her ears.

“No. Perhaps one of our sisters kidnapped her. I heard Eloise retired to her chambers early.”

“Mm. Perhaps.” Benedict sounds entirely unconvinced. “Well, Mother is asking about you, we better get back to the party.”

“Right, yes of course.”

As the brothers leave, Penelope allows herself to simply lie on the floor for a moment as she lets the moment sink in. She brings a hand to her lips, still tingling from the kisses given by the love of her life.

And she is supposed to stand up, and simply exist as if the world as she knew it has not simply collapsed.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

A few days later, they are all invited to a garden party on a quaint sunny spring day, and Lord Remington is pouting. He looks incredibly young in his petulance.

“How come the end of a courtship is gaining more attention than the possibility of an engagement?” he complains, as he watches on the many debutantes surrounding Colin, trying to “comfort” him, and the many gentlemen back by Marina’s side, hoping for her favours.

It seems that nothing has truly changed, after all. Penelope supposes Marina shall get a proposal soon after all, even if from someone she did not choose at first.

Penelope chuckles, poking the lord’s arm. “I did tell you no one would truly care. The Bridgertons are the darlings of Mayfair, after all, and my cousin the diamond of the season.” Well, the second one.

“No, you told me Mr Bridgerton would not care,” James — she might as well start to refer to him as such, as they have agreed on a friendship until next season — corrects with a tut. “And he very much cares if he has ended his courtship with your cousin!”

“Colin ended it a while ago, it had nothing to do with us.”

“Now we both know that is false, as he kept visiting.”

Penelope’s lips form a thin line. Ever since the engagement party, she has been unable to talk to Colin. The news of the end of his and Marina’s courtship broke out the next day, and naturally, the third Bridgerton son did not try to call on her afterwards — would be quite the scandal, if he were to visit the cousin of the woman everyone thought he would be proposing to.

And at this garden party, Colin has not had a single moment to breathe in the middle of his many admirers. It makes Penelope wonder if what she has experienced is even real. It all feels like a distant memory, or a dream even.

“No matter,” James huffs, taking Penelope’s hand, “I suppose it is not so bad.”

She rubs the back of his hand. “I hope your ego is not too bruised, my lord.”

“Why would it be? I get your delightful presence all to myself.”

“James, I already agreed to marry you next season if everything is settled, you do not need to flatter me.”

“Penelope, I am being sincere, dear. And I still need to win your heart, don’t I? If Mr Bridgerton does not hurry…”

She drops his hand. “James.”

He holds his hands in surrender. “Very well, I will stop mentioning him. But I am being earnest, Penelope. I like you, and I know that I could learn to love you.”

Penelope’s heart flutters. How can you not see the effect you leave in your wake? She shakes that voice away.

“Thank you.”

James smiles. “May you help me? I wish to go see the flowers over there.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Carefully, and under the eye of James’ butler, Penelope pushes the gentleman’s wheelchair towards the edges of the garden, where fewer people are gathered, wishing to enjoy a cup of tea among the flowers, rather than the crowd. Jame directs her towards a corner with an empty table, on a ledge. As their respective maid and butler prepare them a glass of lemonade, Penelope quietly sits on a chair, a hand on James’ armrest.

“Would you care for a dance?” James asks suddenly.

“Wh—” Before she can ask, the gentleman takes her hand, prompting her to stand up before he directs her towards the short sets of stairs on their left. Penelope gasps, smiling wide as she understands his plan. She gleefully skips down the few steps, their hands never unlinking. “It is odd,” she says, as she looks up at James now. “I usually have to go up some stairs to meet anyone’s eyes.”

“I am delighted to be an exception,” he responds, leaning forward a little. Penelope holds back a giggle as his butler rushes to his side, worried he might somehow fall, while James waves him away with a roll of his eyes. “Shall we? I think I owe you more than one dance.”

Penelope nods. It is unconventional, she is aware. They are outside, in broad daylight, and she can see the few people around already turning a curious eye on them, but truthfully, she cannot care any less at the moment. The end of the season is near, her prospects are… insignificant as long as her father swims in debt, but she has a promised engagement in the future, and so, she can do whatever she pleases now, she can hardly be ruined, as the Ton believes her to soon be engaged to the man she is currently inappropriately dancing with, the only way she may be truly ruined were if she was caught unchaperoned with another gentleman, like in a closed study, with only the candles for witnesses—

Well, is that not a thought?

She shakes the memory away once more as she lets James twirl her and they improvise a routine with minimal steps, but allowing many spins for Penelope, wherein their hands never stray from each other. She laughs, feeling lighter than she has ever felt before.

After a few minutes, they bow to each other to end their impromptu dance, with Penelope now leaning against the handle of James’ wheelchair to catch her breath. Dancing under the sun sure is a different experience than under the moonlight, she realises, it is much more exhausting, for one. A glass of fresh lemonade is presented to her and she grabs it without looking up.

“Oh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. That was quite the dance.”

She almost spits out her drink at the voice.

“Bridgerton!” James greets him with a friendly smile. “Wasn’t it? Penelope is an excellent dancer, despite having me as a partner.”

“James!” Penelope exclaims. “Do not speak of yourself as such, this was one of the best dances I ever had.”

“Oh,” Colin says, looking rather pained. “Shall I take offence, Pen?”

“Do not start too,” she huffs. “You kept stepping on my feet during our first lessons.”

“Now, those did not count, we were children!”

“So you are very old friends, are you not?” James remarks with a hum.

“Indeed,” Colin says, then he grabs Penelope’s free hand, kissing its back. She squeaks. “And hopefully we will continue to be for many years, yes?”

“Certainly, I will let you visit when we marry,” the lord says, but Penelope can tell he is entirely teasing.

“I do not see a ring attesting to such a promise…” Colin, on the other hand, cannot. “Nor was Lady Featherington boasting about it.”

“I have not asked the patriarch's permission yet indeed, although I have the lady’s agreement, which is the most important part, is it not?”

“And yet you wish to wait for next season. For monetary reasons, I hear.”

James is briefly taken aback. “How— Ah, you told him, didn’t you?”

“I do not like secrets,” Penelope mumbles. “It is not like I will be getting another proposal before the season ends anyhow. Papa would deny it.”

“We will see about that,” Colin huffs.

“Colin?”

He grins, throwing a challenging look at the other gentleman before he winks at Penelope. He explains nothing and simply leaves after giving Penelope’s hand another kiss.

“That was odd,” she comments after a while, trying to undermine the way her heart is now beating wildly, hope fuelling its frenetic dance.

Colin wishes to marry her.

“Entertaining, you mean,” James snickers. “Do you reckon he will allow me to visit?”

Penelope rolls her eyes.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Daphne will be hosting the last ball of the season, Penelope learns when she receives a personalised and handwritten invitation from the former Bridgerton, now the Duchess of Hastings.

Colin delivers it to her personally, in fact.

“It is odd to see your house this empty,” he comments.

She hums, sweeping her gaze across the empty drawing room — Rae is by the door as a chaperone, but she and Colin are otherwise alone. Her mama and sisters are out promenading, while Penelope feigned a headache to stay at home. As for Marina…

A mere week has passed since the garden party, and yet so much has happened at once. The next morning, a certain Sir Phillip Crane showed up at their doors, and before Penelope could understand, Marina jumped in his carriage, leaving Mayfair behind without a second look. Then, James had to retire early to his country estate, a thing he has always done so he may avoid the high temperatures during the long journey there, but he has been sending letters regularly to compensate, and invited her and her family to one afternoon at his estate, whenever they so choose over the off-season.

And then, there is Colin, who has been sending gifts every single day, to her Papa’s growing dismay but her Mama’s astonished delight, who, with Marina now gone, Prudence with no suitor, and Philippa’s Mr Finch having been scared off by the head of the household, has been focusing all her attention on her youngest one. Penelope is both horrified and proud, somehow, an odd mixture she cannot fully grasp.

Her Mama knows James plans on proposing next season, and though pleased, she also seems rather apprehensive of Colin. Overall, she seems frustrated at the lack of imminent proposal from either man.

“These Bridgerton boys, so unreliable,” her Mama said one morning while breaking their fast. “That third one, stringing Marina along and never proposing, I simply do not wish for you to foolishly hope. Lord Remington is a secure match, although as young as Mister Bridgerton, he seems much more serious about marriage!”

Her Mama truly has no idea how similar James and Colin truly are, the only difference between them being a title.

Penelope wonders if Colin has some godly instincts, allowing him to avoid her Mama as he somehow chose the very day she is out of the house to call on Penelope.

“You have mastered the ways of avoiding my family,” she replies at last.

“Not really, Anthony forbade me to leave the house until now. Something about preventing me from tempting scandal,” Colin huffs. “As if he did not try to run away with an opera singer two nights ago.”

“What!”

“Benedict was panicking. Mother thankfully does not know… yet. And I am hoping to bring some news that might distract her. Anthony will owe me.”

Penelope laughs. “It seems you had your own eventful week. But why did he think you would try to tempt scandal?”

Colin clears his throat. “I may have hinted, jokingly, of course, er, perhaps not, that I wished to elope. With you.”

The atmosphere shifts.

“Colin…”

“Penelope.” He takes her hands in his, leaning in. “I must apologise for my blindness. And for taking such… liberties with you.”

“I was very much consenting, to be fair. We can bribe my maid to look away if you wish,” she teases.

“Pen!”

She laughs. “Sorry… sorry. Go on?” she prompts.

“Do not marry him.”

A pause. Penelope pulls back with an unimpressed look. “Try again.”

“Wh—”

“Colin, try again.”

“I was not done actually.”

“You stopped talking!”

“I— got distracted.” Only then does Penelope notice he has been looking at her lips the whole time. He shakes his head and goes down on one knee, hands never letting go of hers. “Penelope Featherington. Penelope. My Pen.”

A smile tugs at her lips. “That is my name, indeed.”

“And are you…?”

“Am I what?”

“Mine.”

“You still have not asked the question.”

He huffs out a smile. “My Pen, my dearest friend, and perhaps something more if you allow us to be. It seems there has been a misunderstanding, for I thought I had made my intentions clear. Every time I came here after the Vauxhall ball, it was you I was hoping to see. It was you I was wishing to court, and I— I believed you knew. And you preferred Remington anyhow, so I sat by Miss Thompson, waiting for an opportunity to speak. One Remington didn’t leave me.”

“Briarly kept announcing you for Marina…”

“And he is lucky I am a gentleman or I do not know what I would do considering his mistake made all of this more complicated than it needed to be!” For emphasis, he glares at the closed door, behind which the footman should be standing. “You could have been mine… weeks ago.”

“Would I be?” she inquires. She tugs at his suddenly tense hands, bringing his gaze back to her. “Colin. My friend, my life, my love, please ask me properly?”

Colin’s eyes shine, hope and adoration swimming in the dark pools of them. Penelope could drown in them, indeed.

“Penelope Featherington, I do not remember a world where you weren’t by my side. From childhood to now, I had a pocket of sunshine by my side. And perhaps I took you for granted, I thought you would always be there, even if our paths may stray. But as I saw you with another, and I felt dissatisfied with the path I had willingly walked on at the beginning of the season, I realised how foolish I had been. It is incredible, how a mere compliment and smile from you pierced through the infatuation I had found myself in. Oh, it is you, of course, it is you. And I can only hope you feel even a slither of what I feel for you, for I know you may simply see me as a friend you felt comfortable enough to… practice, as Daphne put it.”

Penelope blinks. Of course, Daphne told him. She wonders… if the now Duchess had predicted this outcome.

“I love you,” Colin continues, an easy smile on his lips, and all the relief and adoration in the world in the depths of his eyes. “I wish to see the world with you, so we may spend our past, present, and future together. Penelope Featherington, if a husband is what you seek, then let me be yours. Will you marry me? I also already asked your father until he could not take no for an answer, but that is less romantic.”

She laughs, loudly and carefree. “Colin Bridgerton,” she breathes out, a hand reaching for his face. “I have loved you from the moment we met. Yes, I will marry you.”

“From the moment—”

Penelope flushes. “We can discuss that later. Would you kiss me?”

And Colin will, rather gladly.

As luck would have it, the door opens a few moments later before Rae can warn them, and a scandalised Lady Featherington screams at Colin to get away from her daughter.

(Surprisingly enough, no special licence is issued.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Daphne fans herself with a proud smile as she overlooks the ball from the top of the staircase. She can see Penelope Featherington, soon to be Bridgerton, discussing vividly with Mr Finch on one side of the room, until Colin strides confidently to her side, finally signs her dancing card, and then swiftly brings her to the dancefloor.

“Your plan, I presume?” Simon whispers into her ear, his eyes equally following the newly engaged pair.

“Indeed,” Daphne confirms firmly. “The moment I heard Penelope wished to find a husband, I knew Colin would need a little push.”

“Seems common in the family.”

“Excuse you! I was willing for a courtship from the beginning, you were the one being difficult with this fake courting nonsense!”

Simon shrugs. “It worked, did it not?”

“You were the one tricked by your own plan,” she huffs. “Anyhow, see? I told you we needed to invite the Featheringtons to our engagement party, for Penelope’s family is an acquired taste, and would soon become a part of ours.”

“Joy,” he deadpans, before he kisses her temple and takes her hand. “Shall we go dance as well, dear wife?”

Daphne closes her fan with one sharp move. “Gladly, dear husband.”

Being the hosts, they easily find a spot right next to Colin and Penelope, so when the dance requires a brief partner change, Daphne finds herself dancing with Colin. She grins at him, nodding towards Penelope who is now dancing with Simon and engaging in a friendly conversation.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” she tells her older brother who rolls his eyes.

“Let’s say we’re even now, yes?”

Daphne hums. Indeed, she may not be married now if it weren’t for Colin telling her about the duel, and later encouraging her to speak with Simon regarding their marital expectations.

“Fair enough. Congratulations, Col.”

“Thank you, Daff.”

She pats him on the arm before they find their respective partner, and dance the night away as a celebration of their future.

[sacredsanguine]

take my heart between your teeth (parlan x sam; scaredycat)

Mat's late for their meeting. Again.

Parlan doesn't know why he expected anything else, but it smarts anyway, hooking under his skin like stinging nettle. He waits even after Enya heads out with a little shrug and a smile that tries very hard not to be pity, sucking on his teeth as the night grows colder around him on the rooftop.

The stars are harder to see here in the capital, clouded by the lights of the city and the spires of the palace that reach up as if to spear them. Back in Aixois, the stars had been clear enough to navigate by. Parlan had never been without a map back then - even in the darkest of winter nights, he'd always felt sure of his steps. Never as lost as he was now.

"Sorry, I was with Rory - lost track of time--"

"Figured. Here." Parlan shoves the packet of dried ironweed at Mat and pushes past him while Mat catches his breath. "Get Enya to catch you up tomorrow," Parlan adds over his shoulder. "I can't keep sneaking onto the grounds."

He means it, but Parlan finds himself holding his breath on the way up from the kitchens of the Remington estate the next day anyway. Halfway down the hall, Parlan catches the faint scent of blood, followed by the spymaster's voice - panic flings him forward and through the door to the painting room. No one ever uses it, in all the time Parlan has spent lurking through the halls ‐ except for today, apparently.

Samael Remington looks enough like his father that Parlan's throat clenches. They stare at each other for a long moment before Parlan - Pheles has given him the fingers of a thief and the mind of one on the run - bows and says, "Aurora sent me to see about the kittens, my lord."

Parlan doesn't really expect the flimsy lie to work, but neither does he expect Sam to look him up and down with all the appraisal of someone deciding what cut they'd like from the butcher, then sigh and grumble something about his best friend. And that's where the end begins to unravel.

It doesn't make him feel good or even better, listening to Sam lambast Matteo (and not just because half his complaints are about things Parlan shares with their target), but it does make him feel less alone. He hates Sam. Hates everything he stands for and everyone that stands behind him. But there's a fatal kind of attraction in the way that spending time with Sam and doing the things Parlan never could with Mat numbs the pain of his absence. Of being forced to confront the fact that it's time to give up. To pick his battle.

It's an addiction and Parlan doesn't realize how deep he's fallen into it until Sam catches his wrist one day in those pale, thin fingers and squeezes. Parlan's throat flexes and tingles under a green gaze that suddenly reminds him of two very different people.

"Come here," Sam orders, voice sweet and imperious in the way that Parlan has come to need. He obeys, rebelling only to stroke his fingers through Sam's dark hair and hate himself for how gentle he makes the motion.

"Lower." Sam's lips touch Parlan's neck like it belongs to him, plush against knotted skin. The fingers in Sam's hair shake but don't clench into a fist; Parlan's blood roars in his ears as Sam's kiss travels up, his mouth igniting a soft, small version of the circle where Parlan's flesh ought to be gaping.

Even with Joel's care, the nerves Sam's father had torn asunder never fully recovered their original sensitivity, leaving a little bit of death like a reminder at Parlan's neck - but now, Parlan feels the touch of Sam's lips with twice the sensitivity he can recall from the life before. He swallows and Sam laughs - even now, he sounds like a songbird - at the throb of it against his lips.

He looks up at Parlan and for a moment, the flush blooming over his lips looks like blood. "Come back tomorrow."

Parlan can't focus during the meeting that night. Matteo nudges him towards the end; the concern in his eyes feels like a stab. "You alright?" Mat's eyes flicker to Parlan's scar. "Is it bothering you again? I've still got some sheets from Joel--"

"Don't," Parlan says roughly. "Just don't."

He shouldn't go to Sam tomorrow. Doesn't want to obey. He will.

[julie-su]

Some folks on the BK server asked more for the ask game, so here we go on Omega, Battle Lord Kukku, and Julie-Su!

Julie-Su: Sexuality Headcanon: Bisexual - but she doesn't know this, until Rouge one day flirts with her to try and cause maximum chaos, instantly confusing Julie-Su... Cue new rendition of Kick the Rock. 'I don't love you!' .. I think she's poly like I think Knuckles is. Gender Headcanon: I said before 'she/her gay', and I think if you can decipher that, then you get what I'm saying. But if you can't, I can't help XD A ship I have with said character: .. -looks up- -looks down- -looks all around- -up in the air and on the ground- I mean, Knuxsu is the only one for me XD I'm also open to others, as long as Knuckles and Julie-Su are together still. A BROTP I have with said character: We already did Mighty and Julie-Su when I went through Mighty headcanons, so... I think that Julie-Su really enjoys hanging out with Remington. I mean, the second thing he did was pop a helmet on her and give her a gun and tell her to ride along and shoot things XD I think when she finds out he's her nephew, she's overjoyed. And a little confused at the timeline, but overjoyed nonetheless XD also she gets away with way too much. "Hey, Remy? .. I know you play by the rules, but you're not getting this gun back. It's mine." A NOTP I have with said character: Mighty x Julie-Su, I also don't like Julie-Su x Shade as I see Shade as someone who is ... 23-26? I won't like, stop anyone, as there's really no canon age for Shade, though - it's just my personal headcanon. A random headcanon: I think that it takes Julie-Su a long while to truly come down from how she was treated as a soldier, but Knuckles slowly helps her to lower her guard. The Chaotix slowly become a family to her, she even lets her guard down with Vector! Sure, she wants to clock him over the head half of the time, but she will also march right into battle if anything ever happens to him or his. She cares in an... Intense and scary way. General Opinion over said character: Julie-Su is my absolute favourite - something about her just makes me happy. It's funny, I kind of didn't like her at first! But the more I re-read, the more I just felt myself drawn to her. I suppose it was a 'I hate you because you remind me of that part of me that I hate' - but you learn to love yourself, and then you look at the character, and you want to weep for how you have tried to inhibit loving yourself and this character. I don't know, it does run deep with my dear Julie-Su ^^

Battle Lord Kukku Sexuality Headcanon: ... He's straight, for sure, but he for sure says things like 'Everybody looks at men, it doesn't mean anything'. So he's not straight. But he is. You get it Gender Headcanon: -looking at him- ... Cis male A ship I have with said character: ... ... Okay, this is left-field, and also begs questions of 'how did you even get there..?' but that's MY butterfly effect in convos. Dr. Quark and Lord Kukku have got soemthing going on. It's like Eggman and Wily type. Don't worry about it. A BROTP I have with said character: This man spends waaaay too long completely on his own, secluded from society. We have got to start doing a villains mixer, and see who he befriends. A NOTP I have with said character: ...? I really don't know XD A random headcanon: I think that he secretly enjoys millet sticks. You walk in on him and he is just eating that thing with reckless abandon. It's kind of cute, kind of disturbing. General Opinion over said character: I think he's so fun! I love the two different iterations in the comics for a guy from a game like Tails' Adventure. How fun! I really like that he sits on a bird perch in the comics.

Omega: Sexuality Headcanon: Explosions and Death and and Murder Gender Headcanon: Murder and Death and Explosions A ship I have with said character: ... Shade and Omega intrigues me. I wouldn't say that I ship it, but I DO find it fun enough to mention. "Your weaponry is........ Adequate" ".. Is Omega flirting with that echidna?" A BROTP I have with said character: Team dark is too easy! I really like when he finds unlikely allies. Everybody he gets along with in Treasure Team Tango, THAT is gold, and I have subscribed to it. I also think it's hilarious when people take it one step further, and have him get along well with Vanilla because he has decided to protect Cream with his life. A NOTP I have with said character: You know, I don't think I've ever seen any Omega ship that has made me reel back. But it's possible I haven't seen a lot of Omega content on the internet. A random headcanon: I think that sometimes Shadow monologues to him at length, and Omega isn't replying, so he asusmes he's listening. Omega is simply recharging his firepower before going to find something to blow up. But he does appreciate it. General Opinion over said character: I .. Absolutely adore omega. He never fails to make me laugh, he's just so... FUN. He genuinely is one of my faves!

[cursivetalk]

Morning Light

Chapter 1

Remington Leith X F!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: very brief mention of blood

Summary: in the year 1855, you received an invitation for a ball. One of the young lords catches your interest but you'd never imagined that it would be the most meaningful night of your life

Info: this right here was the idea of the wonderful, talented @remingtonisleithal and she was awesome enough to let me collaborate with her on this series. This will be a multi-chapter story that will be posted chapter by chapter, alternatingly between both our accounts. The next chapter will be posted on @remingtonisleithal

As the mist rolled into the courtyard, the night air became thick with an ominous feeling. Tonight was the night someone would die. 

But the orchestra continued inside the sandstone estate, without knowledge or perhaps simply without care. Dancing people under lit chandeliers cast shadows of figures drunk on champagne and their own beauty. Drinking, dancing, gossiping, betting; the works. And Remington was bored, wasting his time waiting for something to start. He just didn’t know what, until she walked in. 

And good Lord, had he been living long but never encountered a person quite like this. She looked dashing, beautiful even. Remington had met a lot of beautiful people in his life - sure, how could he have not? - but no one had ever enchanted him like her. The dress flowed down her body like water, hugging her upper body with thin layers of sky blue silk that got thicker towards the ground. Golden embroidery in soft curls made her look ethereal, a curved neckline with off-the-shoulder sleeves made her truly a vision to behold. He could hear her blood pumping through the veins on her neck from across the room, calling out. Not that Remington would listen to that call. No, he never killed merely to satisfy his hunger. 

It was hypnotic in a way, the rhythm that sped up at the mass of people in front of her and slowed down as she found a familiar face in the crowd. She made her way through the room, a kind smile on her face that made her even more beautiful.

Remington's interest was piqued. 

For now, he stayed where he was, trapped in a conversation he wasn't the least invested in while his eyes followed her across the room.

The conversation ended and Remington saw her standing alone. He took his chance, making his way over to her.

“It is a pleasure to have you at our estate, miss…?” Remington spoke softly, trailing off with a smile, and hoping the woman would understand that there were so many people here that he didn’t know half of them. 

She understood “Y/N.” she said with an ever so slight curtsy. 

“What a lovely name.” Remington said. “I’m Remington.” 

“Well, what a lovely name.” Y/N returned with a cheeky grin, gaining a chuckle from Remington. She took a look around for a moment, taking in the music, the dancing, the handsome stranger next to her. “You’ve a beautiful manor.” 

“Thank you.” he replied, unclear of what to say next. Those eyes had captivated him, it was a wonder he was still able to form words at all. 

Remington noticed a slight frown cross Y/N’s face, brows furrowed, a look of hopelessness in her eyes as she met the gaze of someone across the room. He was about to ask if she was alright when she spoke. 

“Forgive me for being so forward, but would you like to dance?” she asked. Remington blinked a few times in surprise at the bold move (she was a woman in the 1800s, after all, so this was unexpected) and he couldn’t trust his lips with words, instead offering a smile and his hand. 

He led her to the centre of the room as the orchestra started a new song. He bowed. She curtsied. They got closer together and began to dance on the outside as their hearts danced within. There was just something about her, she was important somehow. An enigma, a wonderful mystery he wanted to dive into. 

"You dance very well," Remington broke the silence between them. He couldn't help but feel foolish for the plump words but he longed for a conversation with the captivating woman in front of him.

She smiled at the compliment, a faint blush dusting her skin. There was no telling whether it came from the exercise or his words. "You as well, my lord."

"Just Remington, please," he insisted. The title was a formality, a distance where Remington wanted to be as close as the little time they had spent so far would allow. 

A change in song held Y/N back from reacting. Instead, she just nodded as the melody carried her away. Remington's eyes followed her skirts that swished as her partner swirled her around. A cold hand gripped for his heart as the man's arm fell lower and lower on her waist.

Their eyes found each other over the heads of the crowd. The uneasiness sent Remington flying to her side. "I believe I promised you a drink, Miss Y/N."

"A drink would be great," her hand fitted itself on top of his forearm, the fingernails digging down. There was no mistaken in the fact that she'd rather be with a man she spent merely one dance with than the one that was right in front of her.

Her former dance partner glared at Remington as he whisked Y/N away but the lord didn't spare him even a glance. The woman next to him was far more important. True to his words, Remington brought her to the refreshments table and handed her a glass of champagne but unlike one would expect, he wasn't happy with staying where they were.

It was a good thing that the manor belonged to his family. Y/N still on his arm, Remington went through the glass doors towards the faintly illuminated garden. The cold air didn't bother him much but he felt Y/N shiver. So he slipped out of his jacket and put it around her shoulders, balancing the glass in his free hand.

"Thank you," she said quietly and pulled it closer with one hand.

Remington felt his silent heart warm at the gesture. She felt safe in his clothing. "It's nothing. Are you okay?"

"Much better now," she was smiling again, this time genuinely. It was the most beautiful thing Remington had ever seen in his life.

The faint light of the lanterns all over the garden reflected in her eyes, making their colour stand out almost magically as she was looking up at him. The corners of her mouth were turned up as if she was waiting for his next words to make her laugh again. That was an expression Remington was familiar with and still it was so much more interesting on the woman in front of him.

"Why did you bring me out here? A little bit of intimacy maybe?" 

Once again, she surprised him with her words. There was a teasing tone underneath them, one no one dared to use with him on the first day of knowing him. It intrigued Remington and made the need to learn more about her all the more important to him. 

For now, he settled on laughing lowly and leaning against the tree he had guided Y/N to. The manor was still in eye distance, even through the fog. Remington wanted Y/N to feel safe with him, not like he was pushing her into a dark corner. "I have to admit that you're not entirely wrong. But not entirely right either. I wanted to grant you some peace and grant me a little bit of time to get to know an intriguing woman."

"Well here I am. What would you like to know?" She was getting more confident with every new word she addressed to him.

A man with less self control would have kissed the words from her lips. But Remington wasn't that man. "Who taught you to dance like that for starters."

A startled laugh fell from her mouth at the unexpected question. She answered him a heartbeat later that her father taught her.

Remington asked her every question he deemed harmlessly friendly enough and slowly pieced together the puzzle that was the woman in front of him. In exchange, he offered bits and pieces of his own life and a few stories that he knew would amuse her.

Unfortunately, they couldn't stay outside forever, against Remington's strongest wishes. Their glasses empty, cheeks red from the cold, they went back inside and mingled with the crowd. The music wasn't playing for now so conversations had to suffice as entertainment. Remington always kept an eye on Y/N and noticed her watching him in return more than once.

Finally, the orchestra took their seats again (Remington presumed that Emerson had a hand in that as the youngest of them had always picked up the faintest nuances in their state of mind) and played a waltz. It took one eyebrow raised for Y/N to nod and let him lead her back to the dancefloor.

They danced for hours, exchanging a few words. They felt as if they already knew one other, and were at peace in each other’s arms. To stay like this forever would have been bliss. But the unforgiving night had other ideas, and Time marched on. The orchestra stopped. People said goodbye. And Y/N got lost in the crowd.

-

Please let either of us know if you want to be added to the taglist for this story

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 1

Summary:  As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl's indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé's demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it's too late.

Ships: Logince (Logan x Roman)  Moxiety (Virgil x Patton)

Content Warnings: arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst

Word Count: 2604

Read on AO3: here!

Cowritten with @ironwoman359 masterlist

False masterlist

As the son of the Baron of Falkirk, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement. There was a small part of him that mourned the loss of the chance to meet a beautiful stranger and fall hopelessly in love, like the characters in the fairytales that his nanny read to him as a child. But those fantasies were just that, fairytales. The fanciful whims of a child had no place in Roman’s life now that he had come of age. His marriage was to serve one purpose: to elevate his family. 

And Roman had been training for that purpose his entire life. 

Barely a month had passed since Roman’s twentieth birthday when he was called into his father’s study. He knew that whatever the reason for his summons, it must be important, as his father hated more than anything to be interrupted in his work. Roman knocked twice on the familiar, thick oak doors, and held his breath until he heard his father’s muffled answer from within. 

“Come in.” 

Roman stepped inside, and was surprised to see his mother and older brother already in the room, seated opposite his father’s old mahogany desk. As he entered, his father stood, gesturing to an empty chair that sat beside his mother. 

“Have a seat, son.” 

Roman sat. 

“I have good news,” his father continued. “As you have now reached the proper age, one of my primary interests has been to find an appropriate arrangement for your marriage.” 

Roman’s heartbeat quickened, and he forced himself to remain calm, folding his hands in his lap. This was it. This was the moment that he’d been preparing for nearly all of his life; the moment that would shape his entire future. 

“There were many factors to consider,” his father said, stepping around the desk to stand beside his wife. “It was not an easy decision. However, your mother and I have entered an agreement that we believe will be very profitable, for you and for the family.” 

Roman nodded. His father was a shrewd negotiator; he was sure that, whatever the terms of the engagement were, the Sanders family would not lose more than what it stood to gain. 

“So, you’ve reached a decision then, Father?” he asked, taking a deep breath and willing his expression to remain neutral.

“I have,” his father agreed. “You are to be wed to the Earl of Asberg, Lord Garret Howard. I have just received a message from his footman: they arrived at the Fireside Inn late this afternoon. Tomorrow, they will come to the manor to bring you to Lord Howard’s estate to begin the engagement period.” 

Roman bit back a gasp, his eyes growing wide. 

“Lord Howard?” he repeated. “I was not even aware the earl was looking for a suitor.” 

“For many years, he was not,” Roman’s mother spoke up. “His youth was spent primarily securing the political and financial status of his late father’s estate. Only recently has he turned his attention to more social matters.” 

“Your dowry aside, the connections we will gain through this marriage will be of an immense benefit to us,” said Roman’s father. “I know you know your duty son; I trust you will make us proud.” 

“I will, Father,” Roman said, getting to his feet. His father held out a hand, and Roman shook it firmly, doing his best to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “Thank you.” 

His mother and brother stood as well, and Roman let his mother pull him into a quick hug and plant a kiss on his cheek. 

“Congratulations dear,” she said as she pulled away, a proud smile on her face. “I know you’ll do just wonderfully.” 

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, squeezing her hand, and then his brother was in front of him. 

“Congrats, Ro,” he said quietly. 

“Thanks, Remy,” Roman whispered, and when they shook hands, Roman hoped Remy didn’t notice the slight tremble in his grip. 

“The carriage will arrive at eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” Roman’s father declared. “I’ve already instructed the maids to pack your clothing. Whatever other preparations you need, I suggest you make them now.” 

“I will. Thank you, Father,” Roman said again, bowing his head slightly to his family.

He left the study, walking through the halls of the manor as though walking through a dream. He reached his quarters, and it was only after he shut the door behind him that he realized he very well might never walk the path from the study to his room again. He sat on the edge of his bed, his formal posture falling from his shoulders like a forgotten shawl now that he was alone. 

True to his father’s words, a trunk lay open at the foot of his bed, his shirts and trousers and suits all carefully folded and placed inside by the maid. Another, smaller trunk had been placed beside it, no doubt for Roman to fill with whatever else he wished to bring with him to his fiance’s estate. 

His fiance…

Sun, moon, and stars, he was engaged. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know it was coming; he was the youngest of his parents’ three children, after all. As the oldest son, Remington would inherit the title Baron of Falkirk and all the duties that came with it, while Roman and Remus would be married into other families to increase the Sanders’ political influence. So Roman had always known that he was destined to leave the family manor. 

That didn’t necessarily mean he was ready to. 

He sighed, sweeping his eyes around his room. What would he even take with him? A single evening was hardly enough time for him to consider all that he owned and decide what to bring on a permanent move halfway across the country. Should he bring his books, his star charts, his journals and quills? Or would he be able to find suitable replacements for them all at Lord Howard’s estate? Would he even have time to indulge in his hobbies as the husband of an earl? If only he’d had more than a day’s notice of his departure, then he’d have time to think!

A light knock on the door pulled Roman from his thoughts, and he straightened instantly. 

“Who is it?” he called. 

“It’s me, Roman,” came the answer, and Roman relaxed at the sound of his brother’s voice. 

“Come on in, Rem.” 

Remy stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and giving Roman what was probably meant to be a smile, but came out more like a grimace. 

“So, it’s finally time,” he said, and Roman rolled his eyes. 

“No need to sound like I’m on my deathbed, Remy. It’s just an engagement, we all knew this was coming.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy sighed, plopping down on the bed next to Roman and leaning back against the headboard. “Still...I had sort of hoped you’d end up somewhere decently close by. Gremont, for instance, I know Lady Lishan has a daughter who’s eligible. Or maybe Ravenhold. Then you could at least visit. Asberg is…” 

“Far,” Roman agreed. 

He’d been trying not to think about it. Asberg was at least four days away by carriage, maybe longer depending on the weather, and Roman had never been so far away from home unaccompanied in his life. 

“Hey though, the wedding’s only six months away. I’ll get to see you then! And who knows, maybe I’ll be able to come visit for the harvest festival next year...or you could come visit me!” 

“Only if you serve coffee,” Remy joked, and Roman laughed, the tension in the room easing just a bit. 

“Help me pack?” Roman asked. “I can’t figure out if I should bring everything or nothing.”

“Hmm…” Remy sat up and scanned the room. “My advice? Bring only what you think you can’t live without.”

Roman hesitated, then looked up at his brother. 

“You?” he suggested. He tried to shoot Remy a playful smirk, but he could feel the corners of his mouth wobbling, and he knew from the sad smile on his brother’s face that Remy didn’t buy it. 

“I wish, Ro-bro,” Remy said, nudging their shoulders together. “But I think one son running away from home is enough of a scandal for Father to deal with.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” Roman said, looking down and fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “What...what do you think Remus would say? If he were here to see me off?”

“Honestly?” Remy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then snorted. “He wouldn’t say anything, he’d just lock you in the bedroom and throw away the key to make you stay. Or kidnap you and hide you somewhere so that the wedding had to be cancelled altogether.” 

“You’re probably right,” Roman said. He chuckled, but the laugh felt hollow, like a piece of it was missing...gone forever and irreplaceable, just like his brother. “Did...did I ever tell you that he came to see me, the night he left?” he asked quietly. 

“No,” Remy answered. “But I had a feeling that he did.” 

“He asked me to go with him,” Roman said. “To leave you and Mother and Father and everything we’d ever known, to go chasing ‘freedom’ and ‘adventure,’ like we were children again.” He shook his head, closing his fingers into fists. “I told him I couldn’t.”

“I think he knew that,” Remy said. “But I...I also think he felt he had to at least ask you for himself. I don’t think he’d really believe that you wanted to stay unless he heard you say it.” 

“And I did want to stay,” Roman insisted. “I begged him to stay. But he wouldn’t listen, and he left, and now it’s been three years and I have to leave you and Mother and Father and everything I’ve ever known anyway, except now I’ll be alone.” Roman looked up at Remy, his eyes shining with un-shed tears. “What if...what if I made the wrong choice?” 

Remy pulled him closer, hooking his chin over Roman’s head like he did when they were small and Roman would trip in the garden and scrape his knee. 

“I can’t answer that for you, Ro-bro,” he murmured. “That’s something you have to figure out. But for what it’s worth...I’m glad you stayed. It- it would have been even harder, I think, to lose both of you.” 

“You’re losing me now,” Roman whispered, but Remy shook his head. 

“No,” he said vehemently. “I’m not. You said it yourself, Roman, the wedding’s only in six months. And Asberg may be far, but it’s not like it's across the ocean or anything. We’ll still be able to see each other once in a while. Remus…” Remy sighed, and tightened his grip around Roman’s shoulders. “Remus left us for himself. You’re leaving us for the family. That’s the difference.” 

“Yeah...I know,” Roman said, sniffling a little and nestling deeper into his brother’s hold. “I’m still gonna miss you though.” 

“I’ll miss you too, Ro-bro,” Remy said, dropping a kiss into Roman’s hair. “I’ll miss you too.”

Remy eventually left Roman to pack, and the rest of the night passed in a blur. Roman finally decided what to bring with him (his used notebooks and journals, his collection of star charts, and an old cloak that the maid hadn’t packed because it was torn, but that Roman couldn’t bear to part with) and what to leave behind (unused sketchbooks, his set of inks and quills, and the ancient paint set that he hadn’t touched in almost a year), but when he lay down to try and get some rest, sleep evaded him. He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to stop his thoughts from racing. Morning arrived far too soon for his liking, and before he’d really processed what was happening, he was standing at the bottom of the front steps of the manor with his family, waiting for the carriage to arrive. 

"Now Roman, remember," his father said, and Roman looked up at him. "Lord Howard oversees an estate far larger than our own. Whatever duties you are expected to perform, they will be on a scale far greater than what you are accustomed to here."

"He may look to you to aid him in business, but he may also expect you to oversee more of the social obligations. He has dealings with many different families, after all," Roman's mother added, and Roman nodded.

"Politics is never just about numbers," he recited, and his father's lips twitched in a small smile.

"That's right, son. Remember all that we've taught you, and you'll do fine."

A carriage pulled in at the end of the manor's drive, and Roman took a deep breath.

"Remember to write!" his mother said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and giving his shoulder a squeeze. 

Roman placed a hand over hers, then shot Remy a lopsided smile.

"Any last words for me, Rem?"

Remy smirked, and ruffled Roman's hair.

"If you let Earlship go to your head, I’ll cut you out of the estate when I take over."

"Honestly, Remington," their mother said, rolling her eyes, and Remy winked at Roman.

The carriage reached them then, and Roman quickly moved to fix his hair. A footman hopped down from a seat on the rear, and bowed to Roman's father.

"Good morning," he said as he straightened. "I come on behalf of my Lord Garret Howard, Earl of Asberg, to deliver a dowry payment to Lord Phillip Sanders, Baron of Falkirk, and to collect his lordship's fiance, Lord Roman Sanders."

"Thank you, sir," said Roman's father, nodding to the footman. "Our family is honored by this union. May I present my son, Roman."

Roman inclined his head to the servant, who bowed again, quick and low.

"A pleasure, my lord. Allow me to gather your things."

Roman's luggage was loaded onto the back of the carriage, and Roman tried not to think about the large trunk that was unloaded and left at his father's feet. He hadn't been told the amount of his dowry, and he didn't want to know. For some reason, it made him feel strange to think about money being given to his family in return for his hand; it made it seem more like he'd been bought, when that wasn't the case! 

“Well,” he said when everything was ready to go. “I guess this is it.” 

“Safe journey, son,” his father said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Make us proud.”

Roman swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He gave his family as strong a smile as he could muster, then he stepped into the carriage and the footman closed the door behind him. Roman drew the curtains back from the window and peered behind them as the carriage pulled away from his home. Remy and his mother were both waving, and even his father raised his hand briefly in farewell. Roman watched them grow smaller and smaller, and then the carriage turned out of the grounds and he couldn’t see them anymore. The manor that had been his entire world for the past twenty years shrank into the distance, until it was nothing but a speck on the horizon. 

Roman finally turned around so he was facing the direction the carriage was traveling. His father’s words echoed in his mind, and he took a deep breath. 

Don’t worry, father, he thought. I’ll make you proud. I’ll make our whole family proud.

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[jwillowwolf]

Magic and Miracles - Chapter 3

Sanders Sides Big Bang fic, Chapter 3! < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter > | Masterlist Summary: “Remy? Remy? Remington? Oi, Remy, wake up!” Virgil said, shaking the snoring man.

“Huh? Where’s the dragon?”

“Here,” Janus answered.

“Eh? Oh, hey Snake-Eye, Wolfie, Lo, Violent.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You weren’t responding to the gentle shaking.”

“That’s no reason to make a man think there’s an earthquake.” Warning/s: food mention. Characters: Logan, Remy, OC, Virgil, Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus. Tag List:@theimprobabledreamersworld @remy-please-come-back

Read on AO3

3 | Lessons Begin

Waking up, walking to the dining hall, and eating breakfast had been uneventful. Logan felt like the atmosphere was relatively peaceful despite the tension from last night. Then again, everyone was still rather groggy from sleep, so he wasn’t going to make any assumptions yet.

Once the seven students had reached the classroom though, they seemed much more awake, aware, and eager to learn about the mysteries behind magic. They all sat at the desks they had claimed the day before and waited silently as Remy came into the room. Remy looked at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you all in trouble already? I’ve never known kids to be quiet without adults shouting for them to be so… never mind, let’s get this lesson started. The first spell that all young magic users should know is Stat Check. Do you know what that is?”

The class shook their heads no.

“Good! Because it’s meant to be a closely guarded secret. Never written down or spoken of among anyone but wizards and their first-year apprentices. Before I can even teach it to you, you need to solemnly swear to me that you shall guard this secret as fiercely as all mages before you.”

“That seems rather dramatic,” Janus commented.

“This is magic we’re talking about! Of course, it’s dramatic,” Remy said with a grin. “Now, swear that you’ll keep this secret locked inside your soul.”

The class did as Remy asked, with a bit of speculation but agreement all the same. Unfortunately, I can not repeat the spell, but I can tell you that it is activated by holding a finger to your wrist and saying the ‘activation’ word which I shall from here on censor as ‘stats’.

Remy demonstrated the spell and once he said stats a sheet of light projected from his wrist. Written on the sheet of light was:

Remington Animosni

Titles: Lord Animosni, Friend of the Crown, Expert Wizard, +...

MP: 52 - Full

HP: 100 - Full

Skills: Magic, Potion Making, Charisma, +...

“So this is your main status board,” Remy explained. “It shows your name, titles, MP aka magic points, HP aka health points, and skills. You can interact with it by tapping on whatever to expand the information on it.”

Remy demonstrated this by tapping on the title Expert Wizard, which caused the screen to change to this:

Expert Wizard.

Title earned by increasing MP above 45. Perks: increased HP. Drawbacks: none.

“This is how you can better understand your own magical capacity and skill set. If you want to view your stats privately, then just say S stats. If you want to see someone else’s stats then say X stats while pointing your wrist at the person you want to check. You will only be able to see their name, HP, and MP, but that’s still good to know if you’re perhaps fighting them.”

“Why would magic-users fight one another?” Patton asked.

Remy sighed. “The world is a complicated place, Pat. But never mind that. Try checking your stats, everyone.”

The students nodded then tried out the spells for themselves. All opting to view their stats privately. Logan opened his and read it critically.

Logan Picani

Titles: Loyal Friend, Loving Son, Apprentice Wizard.

MP: 10 - full

HP: 40 - full

Skills: Magic, Baking, Student, +...

He raised an eyebrow curiously and tapped on the skill Student.

Student.

Level: 23/100

Rare Skill. Perks: faster reading and comprehension, easily picks up new skills. Drawbacks: none.

That seems like a good skill to have. Logan wondered if it was the reason for his ability to teach himself so well. He tapped the word again and the screen changed back to the main status board. Then he tapped onto the title Apprentice Wizard.

Apprentice Wizard.

Title Earned by unlocking the skill Magic. Perks: MP access. Drawbacks: HP conversion.

“Um, Mr Ainmosni?”

“It’s Remy, kid. What’s up?”

“What does the drawback HP conversion mean?”

“Ah, well, if you run out of MP during casting a spell, then your HP will automatically be turned into MP. This is a drawback because it can mean draining your HP to below five, which causes you to fall unconscious and die if it reaches zero.” Remy explained.

“Isn’t there a way to stop that from happening?” Willow asked.

Remy shook his head. “It’s an automatic drawback that comes with becoming an apprentice wizard. There’s no way to stop it apart from being conscious of what spells you’re using and how much MP they take. Calculating this will hopefully help you to keep from draining yourselves, so keep that in mind when you’re trying out new spells, kay?”

Everyone nodded.

“Okay, now that you’re more familiar with your stats, let’s do a quick assessment of your magical knowledge, shall we? What are the basic magical categories… Virgil?”

“Rock, animals, water, plants, fire, air, healing, and mind.”

“Correct. Logan, why do these categories exist?”

“They are the eight-core magics. All spells fall under at least one category, and depending on which there will be a different Initiation Word.”

“Correct. Willow, what are the eight Initiation Words?”

“Mowntayn for rock, Pawyng for animal, Ignyght for fire, Groh for plants, um... Rayne for water, Stahwynd for air, Embraes for healing, and... Wysdome for mind.”

“Right. Janus, how is a spell cast?”

“You say the initiation word, draw whatever runes are necessary, then end off with the sealing word.”

“Good. Patton, why do we use runes?”

“The runes represent what specific spell you want to cast.”

“Yep. Remus, how many runes are there?”

“A million?”

“Close enough. Roman, what is the sealing word?”

“Solhart.”

“Correct! Now,” Remy grinned. “Let’s get to the tough stuff.”

The following days were pretty much the same as this one. The class either revised what basics they knew or Remy explained what they didn’t know. They practised pronunciation, studied runes, and learnt about different potion ingredients. Within the first month, the kids had pretty much memorised the basics of magic.

Logan had visited home every weekend and told his dad and Everleigh about it all, but his eagerness from that first week seemed to be slowly wearing out as the class did nothing new. He had thought that today was going to be the same, but instead of leading the students to the classroom this morning, Remy led them to the gardens.

“Uh, Remy? Where are we going?” Roman asked.

“Today, you kids will be going on your first quest,” Remy announced.

The group perked up. “Quest?”

“Yep. I’m confident in your understanding of basic magic, so I am going to let you go off on your own to find some potion ingredients for our first potion making class.”

Remy pulled out seven different pieces of paper. “I’ve made each of you a checklist for what we will need, and while you all have different items, I hope you’ll work together to find what you need. Oh, and before I send you off, I need to teach you a new spell. Inventory.”

Remy stopped and the kids circled around him to watch as he demonstrated the new spell. He picked up a stone and held it in front of him. “Stawynd.” with the indigo light that flowed from his fingertip, he drew a rune that looked like a locked box onto the stone. “Solhart.”

The rune turned white and then vanished with the stone, causing the students to gasp.

“Where did it go?”

“Right here.”

Remy opened his status board and showed the kids a small icon in the corner of the screen that looked like the rune he had drawn. He tapped on this icon and the screen changed to show a bunch of different slots, mostly empty apart from two. One with a picture of Remy’s flask and the other a picture of the stone from before.

“This is an inventory,” Remy explained. “You can put different items into each slot, and depending on your proficiency you will have more or fewer slots. To add items to your inventory, you do as I did to the stone. And to take them back out, you just double-tap,” Remy tapped the stone and it reappeared in his hand. “Tada! Okay, you try with your lists.”

Everyone tried out the new spell and practised it a few times before Remy let them all go on their quest. They went out a gate by the fence that seemed almost hidden and set off into the deep dark woods. Of course, it wasn’t very dark since the sun was shining brightly in the sky, and filtered through the trees to light their way.

“Should we check what each of our individual lists says?” Logan asked.

Patton nodded agreeingly. “Yeah, then we can keep an eye out for the different things.”

“Actually, I think we should just look for our own stuff. More things to look out for means we might miss our own.” Roman said.

Willow frowned. “But this is meant to be a group project.”

“Technically, Remy said he hoped we’d work together.” Remus pointed out.

“I have an idea,” Janus suggested. “Let’s work in teams.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I just said that would be hard.”

“I mean smaller teams. One team works individually and the other works together, then we’ll see which way is better.”

“How are we going to split up though? There are seven of us.” Virgil pointed out.

“We can have a team of four for the working-together group. That’s four people working together but also the team of three will have fewer things to find, so It works out fairly.”

“Well, how are we choosing teams then?” Patton asked.

“Well, obviously I would be one of the team leaders. I’m a natural-born leader.” Roman declared.

“Yes, the leader of the losing team, because I’ll be leading the winning team.” Janus states.

“Remus and Patton are with me, and we’ll be the individuals.”

“Sounds good. We’ll see you three later then.” Janus said before walking away from the group.

Virgil, Logan, and Willow followed after them till the four were out of earshot. “So, lists?”

“I have blackroot, ginfleck, and wild ginger,” Willow reported.

Virgil frowned. “What’s ginfleck?”

“A medicinal herb used commonly in potions for stomach aches,” Logan replied. “It looks like a sunflower but pink.”

“Why not call it a pink sunflower then?”

“Because… I honestly don’t know.”

“Logan, you live nearby here right?” Janus asked.

“In town, but yes.”

“Any idea where we could find some of this?”

“Well, I think I remember seeing a ginfleck patch somewhere along the road.”

“Let’s go there first then. We can keep an eye out for everything else along the way.” Virgil said, turning in the direction of the road.

And so they went and collected the pink sunflowers and everything else on their lists. It was only late afternoon by the time they returned to the house, but they found Remy lying on a hammock in the garden, napping in the sun.

“Remy? Remy? Remington? Oi, Remy, wake up!” Virgil said, shaking the snoring man.

“Huh? Where’s the dragon?”

“Here,” Janus answered.

“Eh? Oh, hey Snake-Eye, Wolfie, Lo, Violent.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You weren’t responding to the gentle shaking.”

“That’s no reason to make a man think there’s an earthquake.”

“Whatever. Have the others come back yet?”

Remy shrugged. “I think the twins are in the house.”

“Patton wasn’t with them?” Willow asked.

“No. Did you all split up?”

“Yes, but we didn’t think they would split up. We divided ourselves into two teams.” Janus stated.

“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about and Pat will be back soon. Why don’t you guys head inside and get some lunch.” Remy suggested.

The kids exchanged anxious glances but nodded and headed off to the dining room. While they were not exactly a close group of friends, the one person who’d befriended each of them was Patton. He was a kind little ball of sunshine and no one wanted any harm to come to him. Once they were inside the house, the four found Remus worriedly pacing by the door and Roman gloomily watching her from the corner.

Remus paused. “Did you guys see Patton?”

“No. Did the three of you split up?”

“I thought we could cover more ground that way,” Roman answered. “This is all my fault.”

“Let’s not go jumping to conclusions just yet,” Logan said. “Maybe he couldn’t find one of his items?”

“No. I saw Pat’s list before we split up. They were three common types of wild berries that he could have found easily.” Remus declared.

“You’re sure?” Willow asked.

“I saw them all over while I was getting my stuff.”

“He must be lost. It’s rather easy with how thick these woods are,” Virgil said.

“We need to find him,” Janus declared. “We’ve got to go back and look for him.”

“Where and how though? He could be anywhere,” Roman said with clear fear in his tone.

“Willow can track him. They’ve been trained in finding lost people.”

“Yeah, but I’d need a scent to go off of.”

“Like from clothes?” Remus asked.

“Clothes, or a personal item he keeps close.”

Remus ran away then returned in record time with a teal blanket. “Would this work?”

Willow took the item and smelt it. “Yes, this is perfect.”

“We might have to sneak past Remy, in case he tries to stop us.” Janus said.

“There’s another gate that’s closer to the house that we can get through.” Virgil declared.

“Who’s we though? We’re going to need to choose who is a part of this rescue.” Roman pointed out.

“I don’t think any of us are willing to stay behind, not if we could help. Patton may be in danger, and his getting lost is evidence enough that no one should venture off on their own. We need to work as a team here. A real team.” Logan stated.

Janus looked at the twins. “I’m willing to call a truce in the name of teamwork if you are.”

Roman nodded in agreement and Remus grinned. “Let’s go save Pat!”

The group followed Virgil outside and through the second hidden gate. From there, Willow took the lead as she sniffed out Patton’s scent. The group grew anxious the further Willow led them. Patton had gone quite far, from the looks of it, but it felt like something was wrong.

“Why would he have gone so far?” Logan wondered.

“I hate to suggest it, but something may have chased him,” Janus said and Willow nodded agreeingly.

“Wouldn’t that leave a scent of its own?”

“Yes, but I can’t discern anything. There are a lot of smells out here.”

“Can you smell anything?” Roman asked Janus.

“No. I can’t smell at all.”

“What?”

“I’m a dragon. We don’t have a sense of smell like humans do. We use a special organ on the roof of our mouths.”

“Aren’t you half-human?”

“That just makes it easier to shift between my humanoid and dragon form. There aren’t many other differences.”

“Wait, do you hear that?”

The team paused and listened. The only sounds Logan could make out were the normal ambience of the forest. But then he heard it.

“Hello? Is anyone up there?”

“Patton?!” Remus bolted towards the voice, the others followed him close behind.

He came to stop at the edge of a hole and looked down. “Patton? How did you get down there?”

“Remus! Hi! I jumped.”

“You jumped? From this height?” Janus asked, eyeing the drop disapprovingly.

The hole looked like the beginnings of a well, around three stories deep and some stones piled like a wall around the one side. Either the well-maker had abandoned their project halfway, or half of the well had mysteriously been taken away. That wasn’t important though, because right now the team had to figure out how to get Patton back up.

“I’m fine! The water was here to break my fall!”

“Why did you jump in the first place?” Roman demanded.

“I was being chased by some bees.” Patton sheepishly admitted. “My mom always told me, if that happens then you should get below water, quickly. Bees don’t like water.”

“How did you antagonise these bees?” Logan inquired.

“I was trying to get some honey for Remus.”

“Aw, Pat, that’s really sweet. But I’ve been worried sick about where you went!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You’re safe now. Um, how do we get him back up though?” Remus asked the group.

“I can grow a long strong vine to use as rope for us to hoist him up,” Roman suggested.

Janus nodded. “Well then, get to growing. We don’t have all day.”

Roman quickly did as he was told and once the vine-rope looked long enough the team tossed one end down to Patton. Each of them lined up and held onto the other end then pulled to get him out of the hole. With all six of them working together, it was a quick and easy task. Once Patton was clear of the well, Remus attacked him with a hug, and he thanked everyone for coming to rescue him.

The entire group was relieved to have him back. So relieved that they didn’t feel any worry, until they returned to the manor and came face to face with Remy.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was? You didn’t even suggest you were going out! And what do I find? Not only one of my students is missing- all of them are! Gone without a trace! Like, poof, never there! What were you thinking? Actually, scratch that were you even thinking?!”

He went on like that until dinner time and the kids decided that among all the lessons they’d learned today, ‘Don’t Freak Remy Out’, is now at the top. Also, maybe it would be better to stick together than separate. They made a good team when their prejudices weren’t getting in the way. But above all, they should never freak Remy out.

---

A/N: thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. I'll be posting two chapters a day until the full fic is up, so if you want to be tagged, you can just ask.

I'd love to hear what you thought about the chapter if you wouldn't mind commenting. Thanks again for reading! Here's hoping you have a magical day 💜

[zen3to5]

J/H 3-22: Eric’s Drunken Tattoo

Another episode, another all-new "B" story, this time following up on the new material from the last ep and pushing the Zen along.

(NOTE: While I said from the outset that I wasn't out to "correct" anything in the show as it is, I did decide here that, in this rewrite, the show stays in 1977 until somewhere in Season 5. It doesn't really make anything about T7S's timeline make more sense, but it does at least correspond to when junior/sophomore year for the gang should've ended and senior/junior year begun.)

FF.Net AO3

---

SHOW TITLE   INT. DONNA’S ROOM - DAY   The afternoon sun shines in through the window. DONNA lies across her bed, writing in her JOURNAL. “Freak Out” by Chic plays on the radio. The door opens, and ERIC enters.   Eric: Hi.   DONNA: Hey.   ERIC: Whatcha doing?   Donna sits up.   DONNA: Oh, just writing in my journal.   ERIC: Like in Star Trek?   He jumps onto the bed and holds his hand up to his mouth as though it were a microphone.   ERIC (cont’d): (doing Shatner) “Captain’s log – star date 1977. God, I’m so hot. My beautiful red hair and giant jugs seem to drive all life forms wild.”   DONNA: Oh, my God, Eric. That’s exactly what I was writing.   Eric pulls a wowed face. Donna laughs and stands, setting her journal down on her writing desk.   DONNA (cont’d): I’m gonna go make some popcorn and get some sodas.   She moves toward the door. Eric watches her, still miming his microphone.   ERIC: (doing Shatner) “My beautifully sculpted hindquarters flounce downstairs to procure nourishment.”   DONNA: Shut up.   ERIC: (doing Shatner) “Okay.”   Donna exits. Eric stays on the bed and looks around the room. His eyes pass over Donna’s journal.   MYSTERIOUS VOICE (v.o.): Eric... Eric...   Eric looks down at Donna’s journal. It’s clear now that the voice is his own imagination at work.   ERIC: Yes, Donna’s journal?   JOURNAL (v.o.): I am the book of secrets, Eric. Don’t you want to know what she really thinks about you? Read me... read me...   ERIC: You know, I really shouldn’t.   JOURNAL (v.o.): Suit yourself.   The voice of the journal sings nonsense lyrics innocently. Eric considers for a second, then climbs off the bed and steps toward the writing desk.   JOURNAL (v.o., cont’d): But beware: what you learn here cannot be unlearned.   ERIC: Okay, do you want me to read you or not?   JOURNAL (v.o.): Sorry.   Eric picks up the journal and opens it. We hear Donna’s voice reciting each passage that Eric reads.   DONNA (v.o.): Eric and I went to second base tonight. He was hilarious... The prom is gonna be magical. I think tonight I’m finally gonna sleep with Eric... Which is like Woodstock, but for vans. Anyway, I think I’m finally gonna sleep with Eric... I love him so much. Tonight, I’m finally gonna sleep with Eric...   ERIC: Okay, let’s just skip to the last page...   He flips ahead.   DONNA (v.o.): I had the weirdest dream about Eric last night. He was Eric, but he was also Steven Tyler from Aerosmith, and he looked really wicked and dangerous...   Eric looks up from the journal, very pleased.   ERIC: Yeah! “Wicked dangerous!”   He looks back down to continue reading.   DONNA (v.o.): Which is so not Eric. Sometimes I wish he were like that.   All the pride in Eric’s face falls away.   Footsteps sound off-screen.   JOURNAL (v.o.): Quick! Put me down! Someone’s coming!   Eric sets the journal back down just as Donna returns with Jiffy Pop and two soda bottles. Eric snaps upright in attention.   ERIC: Hi! Hello. How are you? I didn’t do anything. You look pretty.   Donna looks around, confused. Eric takes one of the sodas from her hand and takes a big gulp.   ERIC (cont’d): (burps) I have to go now.   He hurries past her and out the door. Donna looks from the doorway to her journal and back. Her eyes narrow.

MAIN CREDITS   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - DAY   It’s almost a normal afternoon in the basement; HYDE’s there. But instead of sitting in his chair, he lies face-down on the couch, his head buried under his arm. Soda cans and chip bags litter the floor nearby. He snores softly, deep in sleep.   JACKIE sits in Hyde’s chair and watches him with a long face. KELSO paces up and down behind the couch. FEZ sits in the lawn chair, reading a comic. He has on a ridiculous pair of X-RAY GLASSES.   KELSO: All right. No one’s gonna say it, I’ll say it. (to Fez) Fez, what is with the glasses?   FEZ: (looks up) Well, the ad in the Richie Rich comic said they would let me see through a lady’s clothes. (beat) I have been swindled again.   Jackie shakes her head, but not at their stupidity.   JACKIE: Poor Steven. Abandoned again. See, this is why Daddy doesn’t believe in giving money to poor people. Because they don’t know how to handle it, and then stuff like this happens.   Kelso nods sagely, while Fez turns back to his comic.   JACKIE (cont’d): I wish there was something we could do for him.   Kelso thinks for a second, then snaps his fingers.   KELSO: I got it. We need some whipped cream and a feather. We put the whipped cream on Hyde’s hands, and tickle his nose with the feather, so when he goes to scratch it, he gets a face full of whipped cream.   He and Fez giggle silently.   JACKIE: How would that make Steven feel better?   KELSO: (beat) Well, he’ll have fun beating Fez up if we tell him he did it.   Fez glares up at Kelso, incredulous. Jackie shakes her head and stands, crossing to Kelso.   JACKIE: No, Michael. Look, this is a horrible thing Steven’s going through. We should... we should get him a present or something, to cheer him up. Something thoughtful and personal. And I know just where to find it. Let’s get down to the mall!   She hurries out the door, Kelso in tow. He pulls the door shut hard behind him, which wakes Hyde up. His sunglasses are missing. He looks around, sees Fez looking at him with the X-Ray glasses.   HYDE: Get a good look there, Richie?   Fez slowly sinks down in his chair and raises his comic up to cover the glasses.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - DAY   Also an almost normal afternoon. KITTY works on a salad bowl on the stovetop. RED enters through the patio door, holding his right thumb.   RED: Kitty, where’s the Band-Aids? I cut my thumb with a hacksaw.   Kitty tuts and retrieves a Band-Aid from a cabinet drawer.   KITTY: Oh, Red, you know those things are dangerous.   RED: Well, I tried cutting the metal pipe with a flower, but it was real slow going.   Kitty frowns at him and starts applying the Band-Aid.   KITTY: Well, seeing as how you’re being all snarky anyway, I may as well tell you: Pastor Dave is coming to dinner tonight.   Red moans and pulls away.   RED: Not tonight! There’s a Packer report on tonight. They’re doing a tribute to Vince Lombardi.   KITTY: Red, you know I’m trying to get more involved in the church, so he is coming.   RED: Kitty, if Pastor Dave comes over, we’ll never get rid of him. He’ll just go on and on about how great God is.   Kitty gives him a long look.   KITTY: Well, He is.   What can Red say to that? He sighs and shakes his head.   CUT TO:   INT. MALL - DAY   The Point Place mall, not terribly busy for a Saturday. Jackie and Donna stroll through the courtyard side by side.   DONNA: And then he says “I have to go now” and runs off with that guilty look he gets whenever he does something stupid. I’m telling you, Jackie, I think Eric read my private journal.   JACKIE: Oh... is this about the dream where you wished Eric was Steven Tyler?   Donna glares at Jackie. She looks back, not seeing the problem. Donna pinches her arm, hard. Jackie shrieks and slaps Donna’s hand down.   JACKIE: Don’t pinch me, you lumberjack!   Kelso runs up to them, his arms full of hair products.   KELSO: Check it out! The salon’s having a sale on everything. Look at this! Shampoo, conditioner – they’ve even got the Remington Mist-Air Hot Comb!   He holds up the comb box. Jackie beams and claps.   JACKIE: Oh, my God, Michael, that’s perfect! Steven would look fabulous with straight hair.   KELSO: (beat) Right! Hyde’s present...   He chuckles nervously, then cradles his collection of items more tightly, as if loathe to part with them.   Donna shakes her head and leans over Jackie’s shoulder.   DONNA: You do remember you’re here for Hyde, right? I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna use a hot comb. As a matter of fact, I’m not sure he uses a comb. Or shampoo.   Jackie looks disgusted and shudders.   JACKIE: Eww!   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN DINING ROOM – EVENING   Kitty got her way: PASTOR DAVE is over for dinner. He sits between the Formans as they all work on their salad.   DAVE: Hey, do you know who I love?   RED: Jesus.   DAVE: (beat) Well, yes. But I was going to say Vince Lombardi.   Red looks up.   RED: You’re a Packer man?   DAVE: Are you kidding? I bleed cheese.   Red grins. Suddenly, he’s enjoying this dinner.   RED: Well, I’m not sure, but I think there may be a Packer report on tonight.   DAVE: Red, I think you may be right. And I think it could start in eight-and-a-half minutes.   RED: Then what do you say we choke our dinners down, get our asses on the couch?   DAVE: Amen!   They go to work on the salads. Kitty, not amused, stands.   KITTY: Red, can you help me in the kitchen, please?   He doesn’t get up.   KITTY (cont’d): Right now, please?   She goes into the kitchen. Red follows, patting Dave on the back as he passes into:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – EVENING   Kitty is at the stovetop, spooning the main course onto plates. Red hurries over to her.   KITTY: Red, this night is not about football. This night is about company.   RED:  And our company wants to watch the Packer report. He spends his life doing the Lord’s work, and if you would deny this holy little man that simple pleasure... well, God have mercy on your soul.   KITTY:  Just can it, Red.   She pushes a plate into Red’s hands.   KITTY (cont’d): Bring him his food.   Red takes the plate and hurries back to the:   INT. FORMAN DINING ROOM – EVENING   Red drops the plate in front of Dave and takes the salad plate.   RED: You got six minutes.   DAVE: (mouth full) I’m eating.   Red returns to:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – EVENING   Red brings Kitty the empty salad plate. She looks down and notices his thumb is bare.   KITTY: Red, where is your Band-Aid?   RED: Oh, I don’t know. I had it on a second ago. Must’ve come off while I was serving the -   It hits him and Kitty at the same time. They share a look of shock, then race back into:   INT. FORMAN DINING ROOM – EVENING   Pastor Dave is scarfing down dinner as fast as he can. By the time Red and Kitty reach him, it’s too late; he finishes his last bite and throws his hands up in the touchdown signal.   DAVE: Done!   Red and Kitty shift on their feet, neither prepared to say anything.   BUMPER   INT. LEO’S HOUSE – EVENING   A modestly-sized apartment, somewhat shabby but tastefully decorated in a Japanese style. “Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon plays on the radio. Hyde (sunglasses back), LEO, Eric, and Fez (still wearing his X-Ray glasses) all sit around a low table. LEO has a sake set laid out.   ERIC: Hey, Leo, thanks for letting us hang out here. I just – I didn’t want to see Donna after what she wrote.   HYDE: Forman, no one cares.   LEO:  (to Eric) That’s true, man. (to everyone) Listen, you guys know I don’t allow alcohol in my house, so you’re just gonna have to drink sake instead.   The guys look amongst themselves; they all know the score on sake.   FEZ: “Sake” it to me, Leo. (laughs)   HYDE: Don’t start with the sake jokes, Fez.   FEZ: Oh, put a “sake” in it. (laughs)   Leo pours and passes out the cups. Eric takes his and holds it near his mouth.   ERIC: Well, this would be fun if I wasn’t so miserable.   HYDE: Look, Forman, we’re willing to sit here and drink these tiny, allegedly alcoholic drinks, but we don’t wanna hear you bitch about Donna all night.   ERIC: Oh, don’t worry, Hyde. I don’t feel like talking about Donna.   He downs his sake and sets the glass upside down on the table.   CUT TO:   Moments later. Eric has a pyramid of cups stacked, and he’s well into drunk.   ERIC: You see, the thing about Donna is...   HYDE: Here we go.   ERIC: She acts like everything’s all cool, okay? And then, all of a sudden I’m no Steven Tyler. (scoffs)   FEZ: Oh, Eric, give it up, for heaven’s “sake.”   He laughs at his own pun again, and this time Leo joins in.   LEO: (to Fez) You’re still the king, man.   ERIC: Man, I thought were past the phase where we had to impress each other.   HYDE: You are. Now you’re in the “she dumps you for a biker with a wicked tattoo” phase. The most entertaining of all phases.   Eric stands, almost gracefully.   ERIC: Oh, my God... oh, my God, Hyde, that’s it! A tattoo’s dangerous! There’s a place next to the liquor store. I could go get one right now!   Leo stands, and we cut to:   ERIC’S POV. Sake has him seeing three of Leo, overlapping and waving against the wall, and each of them talk.   LEO: No way, man! We’re not gonna let you go to some sleazy tattoo parlor and spend money for something you’ll regret for the rest of your life. I’ll tattoo you for free, man. I’m pretty sure I used to do this for a living.   FADE TO BLACK   COMMERCIAL   BUMPER   INT. LEO’S HOUSE – EVENING   A short time later. Eric, still drunk, leans on a cabinet, his pants pulled down. Hyde and Fez hold his hands while Leo sits on a stool in the back, working on a tattoo on Eric’s ass.   ERIC: How cool am I? A tattoo of my girlfriend’s name – how’s that for dangerous?   LEO: Yeah, I think Debbie’s really gonna like this.   ERIC: (beat) Wait. Debbie? No, Donna.   LEO: (beat) Right. Okay, no problem. I can fix it.   ERIC: Fix what?   LEO: Relax. Debbie will never notice it.   Eric looks back toward Leo.   ERIC: It’s Donna.   LEO: See, now you moved, man! It’s okay. I can make that into a flower.   He goes back to work, and Eric looks forward, much less sure about this.   FEZ: (to Eric) Oh, you know what you should get? Boobs. Big boobs on your butt.   HYDE: That’s classy.   LEO: Hey, I can turn the “Bs” into boobs.   ERIC: (beat) Wait, what “Bs?”   LEO: Like in “Debbie,” your girlfriend?   ERIC: It’s “Donna!”   LEO: Oh, right. (beat) Oh, I can fix that.   CUT TO:   INT. MALL - EVENING   The shopping continues. A promotional table for WFPP is set up against the wall, a phone and microphone set up. Donna chats with the ATTENDANT while Jackie looks around at the different stores.   DONNA: (to attendant) So has the call-in contest started yet?   ATTENDANT: No, but we start taking calls any minute. Hey, did you ask Max about tickets for you and your boyfriend?   DONNA: No, he said he needed me to work that night. And I think Eric read my journal, so not getting him in to see Zeppelin seems like a good punishment.   The attendant shrugs and nods.   Something in a shop window catches Jackie’s eye, and she tugs on Donna’s sleeve as she points with the other hand.   JACKIE: Donna, look! Baby blue bell bottoms. See, if Steven wore things like that, no one would know he was poor.   Donna smiles in pity.   DONNA: Yeah, um... no.   Jackie groans and stomps her foot.   JACKIE: Donna, you haven’t liked any of my ideas. The mall’s closing soon and we haven’t found anything for Steven.   DONNA: Look, Jackie, it’s nice that you want to do something for Hyde, but shopping is not that thing. Hyde doesn’t care about bell bottoms or leisure suits or hair, and I’m pretty sure the only thing he’d do with a Pet Rock is break a window with it.   Jackie sighs and throws up her hands.   JACKIE: Steven’s just so complicated. I’ve never had this much trouble finding a gift for Michael.   Kelso runs up to them. His hair care products from before are stuffed in a large salon bag worn on one arm, a white sport jacket is draped over the other, two clothing boxes are balanced between both arms, and the box for Sorry! is balanced on top. He’s grinning ear to ear.   KELSO: Is everything in this mall on sale or what? This is awesome!   Donna shakes her head and Jackie scowls at Kelso.   JACKIE: Michael, you’re supposed to be helping us find something to cheer Steven up.   KELSO: Jackie, Hyde’s not a “cheer up” kind of guy. That’s not how he gets over stuff. He gets over stuff by punching people, rockin’ out to bitchin’ tunes, and dipping into his stash.   DONNA: Wow, Kelso, that was actually pretty insightful.   KELSO: Yeah, well...   (beat, to Jackie) I can still get all this stuff, right? I mean, just ‘cause we didn’t find anything for Hyde, that’s no reason to waste all these sweet deals.   Donna puts a hand to her forehead. Jackie steps up to the radio table and starts chatting with the attendant as we fade to:   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – EVENING   Now it’s Red turn to have his way: he, Kitty, and Dave are on the couch, the Packer report playing on TV. Kitty is clearly unhappy. Not that the men notice; Red has a diagram worked out on the coffee table with peanuts.   RED: And then Bart Starr fakes a hand-off to Anderson and finds Dowler in the endzone for the winning touchdown!   DAVE: Wow! On TV it seemed confusing, but with peanuts, it’s all so clear!   Kitty taps Red on the arm.   KITTY: Red, um, can I see you in the kitchen for a minute, please?   RED: Yeah, just one second.   He and Kitty stand. Red pats Dave on the back.   RED (cont’d): You go ahead and set ‘em up again, and I’ll show you how the Packers won the Ice Bowl.   DAVE: All right!   He eagerly starts rearranging the peanuts as Red and Kitty step into:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – EVENING   Red and Kitty stand by the stove. Red looks happy; Kitty is decidedly not.   KITTY: Okay, Red, don’t you think it’s time your little friend went home?   RED: Kitty, I’m just being sociable, like you asked. Just being a good host.   KITTY: Oh, sure. All good hosts feed their guests Band-Aids.   RED: Band-Aid, Kitty. Don’t exaggerate.   From the living room, Dave lets out a pained moan. Red and Kitty move back into:   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – EVENING   Dave is curled up on the couch in a fetal position, clutching at his stomach as he moans. Kitty’s jaw drops as she looks up at Red.   KITTY: Oh, my God!   Dave looks up piteously at his hosts.   DAVE: Hospital, please.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - NIGHT   Much later, probably near 2 or 3 in the morning. Hyde is in his chair, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he sleeps. Eric is also asleep, on the couch. He has no pants, and his shorts are pulled down just enough for the ice pack on his ass to cover his tattoo. We slowly zoom in on his face as we cut to:   INT. DONNA’S ROOM – DAY   DREAM SEQUENCE. Donna lies on her bed, writing away in her journal. She pauses and chews her pen in thought.   Her door is kicked open. With a burst of smoke, Eric dances into the room as Steven Tyler, with a microphone at the ready.   ERIC (lip-sync): Walk this way! Walk this way! Walk this way! Walk this way! Just give me a kiss...   He performs some of Tyler’s finest moves as he sings. On “give me a kiss,” he leans in close to Donna, only to pull back just before their lips meet.   ERIC (lip-sync): Like this!   He wraps up his routine with a burst of pyrotechnics. Donna leaps off the bed and starts making out with him. She pulls back, breathless, and looks him over hungrily.   DONNA: Eric, how did you get so hot?   ERIC: (proudly) I got a tattoo.   Beaming, Donna rips out the last page of her journal and scribbles in a new entry.   DONNA: “Eric’s perfect.”   She looks back up at Eric as he makes Steven Tyler lips.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT   Back to reality. Eric grins in his sleep. His eyes slowly open.   ERIC: Oh, yeah.   His smile slips, and he puts a hand to his head.   ERIC (cont’d): Ow.   He adjusts the ice pack on his ass.   ERIC (cont’d): Ow.   He looks down toward the ice pack and remembers why it’s there. The grin returns.   ERIC (cont’d): Oh, yeah.   He adjusts his arm under his head and drifts back to sleep.   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – DAY   The next morning. Pastor Dave, looking the worse for wear, sits between an uncomfortable Red and Kitty at the kitchen table.   DAVE: So, are you telling me that you fed me a Band-Aid?   KITTY: Well... um, to be honest – Red fed you the Band-Aid.   Dave looks to Red, who rolls his eyes.   DAVE: How did this happen?   KITTY: Red, why don’t you diagram it for him with peanuts?   Red frowns at Kitty, then turns toward Dave.   RED: Look, Dave, I’m real sorry. I didn’t realize how sick a Band-Aid would make you.   DAVE: Well, thank you for your belated honesty, but the doctor said I had food poisoning from an undercooked sausage.   RED: Food poisoning? That’s Kitty’s department.   Dave looks to a stunned Kitty.   KITTY: I have never undercooked a sausage in my life. I have a system. It’s foolproof.   RED: Hey, Kitty – it’s okay. We all make mistakes.   Kitty glares at both men.   KITTY: I... Vince Lombardi is overrated. That’s right. He is overrated!   Red and Dave recoil in horror. Red puts a bracing hand on Dave’s arm.   RED: Ignore her. She’s hysterical!   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - DAY   Hyde is still in his chair, still asleep. He hasn’t moved since last night. Not until the door bursting open stirs him awake. A beaming Jackie hurries to stand over him. Her hand is clasped tight around a small, thin envelope.   JACKIE: Good, Steven, you’re up! Your hair’s clean, right?   Hyde gives her a funny look. Jackie shakes off any unpleasant thoughts of unwashed hair and presents the envelope.   JACKIE (cont’d): Surprise!   With a skeptical look, Hyde takes the envelope and starts to open it.   HYDE: Jackie, if you’re trying to get me to roller disco again, you can just – HOLY HELL!   Hyde leaps to his feet. Even through his sunglasses, his eyes bug out as he stares at the two slips from the envelope in his hand.   HYDE (cont’d): Zeppelin? You scored Zeppelin tickets, center row, tonight?   JACKIE: Yeah! Donna’s radio station was giving them away. They were supposed to go to the seventh caller or something, but I’m rich and cute, so they’re mine now!   Hyde looks up at her, his eyes still wide.   HYDE: And you’re just giving them to me?   Jackie nods. Hyde looks down at the tickets, then back to her.   HYDE: Jackie... I don’t know what to say, man. Why’d you do this?   Jackie wrinkles her nose up; she’s confused by the question.   JACKIE: For you. Steven, you don’t deserve what your parents did to you again. You’re a really great guy. (Hyde scoffs) Yes, you are! I know, okay? I mean, everything you’ve done for me, even when we didn’t get along – taking me to the prom, helping me stand up to Laurie, going to jail...   HYDE: That reminds me, I think I slept past my probation meeting this week.   JACKIE: And, when you and Donna told me I should take some time to be alone, I didn’t want you to be right. But I feel like I’ve really grown a lot with that time, and I was finally able to forgive Michael, which I wouldn’t have. So you were right. And that was a nice way to make sure I didn’t slip back into that crazy crush I had on you.   Hyde’s face starts to slip. Jackie doesn’t notice.   JACKIE (cont’d): Remember how I got so worked up, I really thought you were the one who felt something after that kiss?   She giggles. Hyde gives a very small, guarded smile.   JACKIE (cont’d): So I wanted to say “thank you,” for being such a good friend. And I wanted you to have something nice... something where no one got punched and you wouldn’t forget once you came down.   HYDE: Jackie...   He gives her a long look. There’s something he wants to say, but it won’t come. Jackie leans in, attentive.   HYDE (cont’d): (beat) Thank you.   Jackie holds her arms open. Hyde shrugs, lets her give him a big hug; he settles for wrapping one arm loose around her shoulders. When they break, he looks back down at the tickets.   HYDE (cont’d): So, what time should we head out?   JACKIE: Oh, no, Steven, I can’t go. Michael asked me to help him set up his new hot comb and... well, let’s just say after the last time he tried using one, I don’t think he should be left alone with it.   HYDE: Then what do I do with the other ticket?   Fez enters through the basement door, still wearing X-Ray glasses.   Hyde lets out a long sigh and holds up the tickets.   HYDE (cont’d): Fez, man, Zeppelin! You in?   Fez beams and clasps his hands together. He hurries over to them.   FEZ: Oh, Hyde, that would be wonderful. Just you and me – for old times’ “sake.”   He and Jackie both laugh at the pun while Hyde frowns.   CUT TO:   INT. HALLWAY – DAY   The upstairs hall of the Pinciotti house. Eric strolls confidently up to Donna’s door. He tries to kick it open, but instead pushes himself back against the far wall and falls flat on his ass, leaving a giant footprint on the door.   Donna opens the door, sees Eric sprawled out.   DONNA: Eric, what the hell? Did you just kick my door?   ERIC: (beat) No.   He stands, and they both enter:   INT. DONNA’S BEDROOM - DAY   Eric, regaining some of his mojo after the fall, loosens his belt.   ERIC: But I got a surprise. I got a tattoo. Guess where? On my butt!   DONNA: (beat) Why?   ERIC: Why? Because I’m dangerous, lady!   Donna frowns at Eric. She passes him and retrieves her journal from her bed, holding it between them.   DONNA: Eric, I want you to be honest with me, and I promise I won’t get mad. Did you read my journal?   ERIC: Um... yeah.   DONNA: You sneaky little dillhole!   She whacks him in the arm with her journal. Eric recoils and juts a finger out at her.   ERIC: No! You know who’s sneaky? People who go around writing their feelings in their journals and not telling their boyfriends what they feel. So, you know what? I’m not sorry. (beat) I’m so sorry.   DONNA: You want to know how I feel? Fine. I’ll tell you how I feel!   She opens her journal and flips to the last page.   DONNA (cont’d): (reading) “Today at lunch I was looking at Eric when he didn’t know it, and I just couldn’t believe how much I love him and how lucky I am to be with him.” (looks up) Why couldn’t you read that page?   ERIC: Because you came back. (beat) Look, Donna – look, I’m really sorry, but... you know, it’s just sometimes I get worried, you know?   DONNA: Well, you know what? Suck it up.   She puts her journal away in her writing desk.   DONNA (cont’d): Eric, these are my private thoughts, and I’m allowed to have them. You have to stop trying to be what you think I want you to be and just, like, be yourself.   ERIC: Okay. I think I’m gonna go.   He turns to leave.   DONNA: Well, wait. Take off your pants.   Eric’s eyes light up.   ERIC: Really? All right!   Donna laughs.   DONNA: No. To show me your tattoo.   ERIC: I knew that, yeah. I knew that. I think you’re really gonna like it. Just... don’t be mad if it says “Debbie.”   Eric turns around, drops his pants, and lifts his shirt up to expose his ass. Donna takes a look and chokes down a laugh.   DONNA: Woodstock.   ERIC: It says “Woodstock?”   DONNA: No, it’s a picture of Snoopy’s friend Woodstock. You have a little yellow bird on your ass!   She finally cracks as Eric considers all the regrets now tied into this tattoo.   FADE TO BLACK   CREDITS   INT. DONNA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT   DREAM SEQUENCE. Donna and Jackie sit on the bed, rocking out, while the boys perform “Walk this Way” – Eric as Steven Tyler, Hyde as Joe Perry, Kelso as Tom Hamilton, Fez (still wearing the X-Ray glasses) as Brad Whitford, and Leo as Joey Kramer. Eric flirts with Donna as they perform, while Hyde and Kelso do the same with Jackie.   ERIC (lip-sync): So I took a big chance at the high school dance With a missy who was ready to play Was it me she was foolin’? ‘Cause she knew what she was doin’ Taught me how to walk this way She told me to   ERIC & HYDE (lip-sync): Walk this way! Walk this way! Walk this way! Walk this way!   END.

[iplaydrake]

FULL CIRCLE - CHAPTER 12 - CHANCE WORTH TAKING

Catch Up Here :

CHAPTER 11 - JUST TO SEE YOU SMILE

Current Author’s Note : HUGE SHOUT-OUT TO @ao719 for giving life to Aria Lockwood! She would NOT exist without you, girl! No seriously... I literally just wrote her in! 😊

Main Author’s Note : HUGE THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REBLOGS, LIKES, OR EVEN JUST READS!!! ITS WHY I KEEP GOING!!! As always, positive feedback, constructive criticism, and reblogging are always welcome. I own nothing except the storyline of my MC. Everything else belongs to Pixelberry.

Pairing: Drake x MC

Song Inspiration : Chance Worth Taking - Mitchell Tenpenny

Tag List: @likethetailofacomet @carabeth @rhymesmenagerie@speedyoperarascalparty @butindeed @wannabemc2 @client-327@jovialyouthmusic @be-still-my-aching-heart@riseandshinelittleblossom @lodberg @drakesensworld @alj4890@rainbowsinthestorm @ao719 @andy-loves-corgis@drakewalkerisreal @whenyourheartskipsabeat@furiousherringoperatortoad @silentcoyotesong@choicesmacmakes @ladyangel70 @lady-alex-keith @notoriouscs@lynne1993 @qammh-blog @gnatbrain @sirbeepsalot@crookedslimecreatorpasta @moneyfordiamonds@annekebbphotography @desiree-0816 @emichelle @addictedtodrakefanfic

The smell of food carried as she walked the now familiar hall to his room. She dropped a big bag at the nurses’ station with a wink to the men and women she’d gotten to know over the last few days before continuing on her way.

She’d nearly passed out from sheer exhaustion in the shower when she'd gotten home, somehow managing to drag herself to her bed before falling asleep with nothing more than her towel on. She woke up hours later, panicking when she realized how long she’d been out and, after changing and doing a quick check-in with Drake's doctors, she packed a bag for herself with a set of clothes for him and headed back to the hospital, deciding only at the last minute to make a quick detour first.

She paused outside his door to calm the leftovers of her nerves before knocking and opening it, peeking only her head in. “Hey, you look like you're feeling better... Are you hungry?"

“For you?” He sat up slowly, smirking as she rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. Even still, she was unable to contain her smile.

“Close your eyes.”

“Oh yeah! I definitely like where this is going!”

She laughed, waiting for him to comply and stepping in once he did. “No peeking!” She dragged his overbed tray towards her, placing her phone along with 2 large bags on it. “Ok, you can look now!” He opened his eyes, noticing first the excitement on her face as she bounced on her toes; the bags second, the smell that emanated from them and the familiar logo: Spiros. He met her eyes again as she spoke. “I know it’s not the same, but I figured we could have that date you promised me... I talked to the doctor and he said you didn’t have any restrictions food-wise, just to go easy and… I, uh, I probably should have called you to make sure you were up for it before I-”

“It's perfect. You… Are perfect... I can’t believe you did this!” She blushed under his stare and he reached out, grabbing her and drawing her to him. His hands wrapped in her hair as he tenderly pressed his lips to hers, slowly pulling back after a few minutes and resting his forehead against hers with a smile as he spoke. “Damn, I love kissing you.”

She kissed him once more before she stood up and began setting up their dinner, placing the different foods on the table in front of him. The chime of her phone interrupted them. “Can you grab that for me?” Drake picked it up, sliding his finger across the screen to unlock it.

He chuckled as he read the messages. “Someone named Peaches wants to know if you’re under me or on top of me… At least I’m hoping it’s me she’s talking about. And who’s Glenn Coco?”

“Glenn Co-” She grabbed the phone out of his hand, laughing to herself as she sent a quick message back and put it back down on the table. “That’s Aria… She’s my friend from New York… Actually, she’s probably my only friend.” The sadness in her voice was gone as quick as it came, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Drake as he watched her shuffle around him, finally situating herself on the other side of the table at the edge of his bed. She spoke up when she saw the pitied look he was giving her.

“Drake, it’s fine, really. I don’t trust people. And with Aria, I literally had no choice… She forced herself into my life.”

“Ok, so tell me about her.”

“Well… I met her in nursing school and ended up getting her a job at the same bar I’m at. She’s this tiny thing with the biggest mouth; no filter as you can clearly see from her messages… Actually, you two would probably get along really well. She has no problem saying what’s on her mind.” He smiled as she continued. “She likes to tell me all the time that she challenged herself to become my friend because of how introverted I was… She says she only had 3 goals: finish school, find a gorgeous husband, and get me to like her. We’ve kinda been best friends ever since, even though she knows I still keep her at arm’s length… She was a huge part of helping me try to get past everything despite not even knowing what happened. I mean, before her, I was sure that no one had good intentions. I still don’t trust anyone but at least now, I’m willing to make some kind of an effort.”

Drake's heart constricted at her admission, unable to stop feeling like he was partially to blame for what happened. “Remi, I know you don’t want to talk about what happened and I completely understand… I just… I want you to know that you can if you ever need to.”

She took a deep breath before looking up to meet his eyes, smiling. “Ugh, this conversation seems way too heavy for a first date, don’t you think?!” She finished with a small, uncomfortable laugh. She focused on the food in front of her, desperate to find something lighter to talk about, but everything that came to mind had a backstory of sadness to it. Before she could think of anything, Drake cleared his throat and spoke up.

“So, I had a plan when I asked you out that night…”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah…” He smiled, hoping to calm the tension that suddenly engulfed them in the room. “I would have waited until after we’d finished our dinner but if I’ve learned anything from this experience, it’s that we shouldn’t take any time we have together for granted. That being said… Spending time with you this past week and getting to know you all over again has made it that much clearer that I want to be with you, Remi. I want us the way we planned to be all those years ago… I want a future with you... I know that neither of us are the same people we were back then, but that’s what makes this feel right; the fact that despite how different we are now, we still fit… We still make sense.”

She shook her head, struggling to keep her composure at his words. “And what if it doesn’t work, Drake? What if something bad happens and we end up hurting each other? I don’t think we’d be able to come back from that and I don’t want to lose what we are to each other now.”

He brushed his thumb across her cheek, hoping she’d meet his gaze, but continuing when she didn’t. “Listen, I’m sure there’s gonna be times where we do hurt each other, but that’s a chance I’m willing to take because I know we belong together. What’ll matter most at the end of the day is how hard we fight for each other when that time comes… I’ll promise you right now that I’ll protect your heart with everything I have. All you have to do is jump, baby. Jump in with me… All the way.”

She finally looked up at him, nodding as tears fell from her eyes. “Okay… Okay, Drake.”

“Yeah?” The huge smile he wore was contagious and Remi couldn’t contain her own as she laughed.

“Yeah!”

He pushed the table to the side and grabbed her arm, drawing her closer. He reached up with his good hand to cup her cheek and he quickly pressed his lips to hers before pulling her into a tight hug.

After finishing their meal, they spent the rest of the night in each others' arms; Remi taking care to not hurt him as she curled into his side while they talked, both enjoying the happiness of their moment, and leaving the rest of the world outside his room.

*****

Drake was released from the hospital the next day, with strict instructions from the doctors that included rest and no strenuous activity. He'd tried to put up a fight on that one, earning a glare from the doctor and a blush from Remi when they realized his reasons. It was only after Remi assured the doctor he'd follow her orders, that Drake was wheeled out to Remi's SUV. After staying in Valtoria for 2 weeks helping Drake recover, they headed to Applewood together to meet up with the rest of the court.

*****

Remi stretched, smiling as she heard the soft snore coming from the other side of the bed. She leaned over, kissing him softly before slipping out of bed and heading to her room to get ready for her day. After showering, she picked up her phone to check the time, hurrying to finish before heading down to breakfast with their friends. As she walked into the dining room, she spotted Liam and Olivia, Savannah and Bertrand, and Hana and Maxwell all sitting around the table. Liam looked up, smiling at her before standing to kiss her cheek. “Hey, you! Is Drake not coming?”

“I thought he was. He must still be sleeping... I’ll be right back, go ahead and start without us!” She turned and headed out, quickly making her way towards the west wing of the estate. Halfway to Drake’s room, she was stopped abruptly by a booming voice from the opposite end of the hall.

“Dear sweet lord, dost my eyes deceive me?! Remington Beaumont?!” She turned with a shake of her head, watching Liam’s older brother make his way towards her. Aside from their handsome looks, the two were polar opposites.

“Leo Rhys… You still have a flare for the dramatics!”

“Life would be boring without it, Goose!”

She giggled as he pulled her into a hug, sweeping her off her feet and twirling her around. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you know, a little birdy told me that not only were you back but you were more gorgeous than ever… So, I just had to see it to believe it.”

“Yeah well, I’m pretty sure that same little birdy told me you’d screwed your way through all the hearts in the Mediterranean and had to move on to the States.”

He put his hand to his chest, pretending to be hurt. “Ouch… That cut me deep…” He said, finishing with a smile. “Speaking of hearts, I heard you captured an asshole…”

Hearing that caused her to laugh out loud. “First of all, how is that speaking of hearts?! And second… Yes, I did!”

It was Leo’s turn to laugh. “So… Where is he?”

“Um, I’m not sure, actually… He was supposed to meet me a few minutes ago, but he probably slept in. I was just heading back to his room to check on him.”

“I’ll head over there with you!” They made their way towards Drake’s room and as they turned the corner, Remi stopped suddenly, causing Leo to walk right into her. “Whoa, did you forget how to walk?... Goose?... What is it?” She stared ahead, saying nothing and Leo turned to see Drake and Kiara outside his room, his hand on her arm. “They’re just talk-” He stopped mid-sentence, catching the look Kiara threw over Drake’s shoulder before she pulled him into a kiss.

Want to continue? Click below for the next chapter :

CHAPTER 13 - THERE GOES MY EVERYTHING 

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Fate (c.e.) (1/6)

Chapter One- Coincidence

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans x Student!OFC

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: fate (noun): the development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power. (verb): be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way. 

Amara is about to start her senior year of college with her newly single best friend, Elizabeth. She goes out one night and meets a handsome stranger, Chris. Sparks fly. Fast forward a week and she finds out Chris is her professor. What happens when she also meets Sebastian, a cute guy from another one of her classes?

Series masterlist

“Do you really have to go out tonight? I was hoping we could watch The Notebook and The Last Song again while shoving tons of junk food in our mouths while I bawl my eyes out at how my perfect love story couldn’t be like Ronnie’s and Will’s or Allie’s and Noah’s.” My poor, heartbroken best friend, Elizabeth complains while watching me straighten my hair.

“We’ve been binge-watching Nicholas Sparks movies for the past three days. I need to rejoin civilization, even if you’re not ready to.” I run the straightener down the last chunk of hair before shutting it off and setting it back down in my bathroom sink. I love her to death and I’ve been as supportive as I possibly can through this break-up, but there’s only so much Nicholas Sparks and junk food that a girl can take before she goes nuts.

“But, I’m shattered.” She whines, leaning against the doorway.

“I know, which is why I’m not forcing you to go out with me. You take as much time as you need to recover. Just remember, we start our senior year of college in a week.” I pat the top of her extremely messy bun and continued applying my liquid foundation.

She sulks, “You’re no fun,” before finally leaving me in peace.

I finish with my foundation before moving to my eyebrows. I fill them in with a deep brown eye shadow to shape my heart-shaped face. I apply a shimmer, cream colored eye shadow to my eyelids to make them pop. I use black eyeliner to draw on my top lid. Last, but not least, I added mascara on my top lashes. I spritz some body spray all over for the finishing touch. I double-check my appearance in the full-length mirror on the back of my door. With a nod of satisfaction, I’m finally ready to go.

“Damn, you look hot Rems. You could turn a gay man, straight.” Elizabeth bellows from the couch, covered in numerous blankets and pillows, already snacking on another pint of ice cream. I feel bad leaving her after her asshole of an ex broke up with her after four years together over text message. Oh, the ass-kicking I wanted to deliver to his doorstep… They started dating in high school, went through the long-distance thing while we went away for school and he stayed in our hometown, and beat the odds until recently when all they’ve been doing is fighting. As her best friend since ninth grade, after our common ex screwed her over, thus us becoming friends, I heard all about it. I was starting to think that maybe they weren’t meant for each other and so were they. It technically was a mutual break-up because they both agreed that their relationship wasn’t working anymore, but he instigated it. Therefore, it’s his fault my best friend has been wallowing in self-pity on the couch in our living room for the past seventy-two hours. You can see why I need a break.

I wink her way while slipping my cross-bodied purse over my shoulder. “That was the plan!” I lean over the back of the couch, placing a quick smooch on her cheek. “Call me if you need anything.” Her shaking her head is the last thing I saw before I shut the door. Freedom at last.

I descend the three flights of stairs to the underground garage where my car sits. I climb in and am on my way to my favorite little bar in town. It‘s a Wednesday night so I knew I could escape there without having to be bothered by too many people. I just needed a getaway. I pull into the parking lot moments later and walk in. The bartender knows me because Lizzie and I have worked here since we started school. I find my seat at the bar and my favorite drink is there waiting for me. I chug it down before slamming the glass back on the bar.

“Bad day?” Robert, the bartender and owner, asks already making another one. He’s owned this place for longer than I’ve been alive. He’s almost like a second dad to both Lizzie and me. Without the over-protectiveness and judgmental attitude. And he’s not like other people his age. He likes today’s music, but nothing pop or rap. If anybody blares that “nonsense” in his bar, they are out. He’s more of the rock and alternative type, which he plays in the bar a.k.a. one of the main reasons I come here.

“Bad week. Liz and Robbie broke up on Sunday.” That was all I needed to say for him to have my favorite food ordered. I look around the bar, not surprised to see only handful of people at the tables. Wednesday is a slow night, which is the way I like it. I can hear the music over the speakers better that way instead of everybody’s constant, loud chatter.

I decide to go easy on my second drink now that I got the first one out of the way. I don’t want to get hammered tonight. That isn’t the reason for this outing. I check my phone to see if Lizzie sent me anything only to find nothing, thankfully. I put it back in my purse just as my food is placed in front of me. Deep-fried green beans with ranch dressing and a bacon cheeseburger with pickles, ketchup, and crunchy peanut butter. The chef here calls it the Skippy burger for obvious reasons. It’s the most amazing burger I’ve ever tasted. I will never order anything else from here, ever.

Well after I had inhaled my food  like the lady that I am, I continue to sit at the bar and listen to the music. I take out a small notebook from my purse and continue writing in a book I was writing. I also like coming here because it’s a great place to get my creative juices flowing. It’s basically what I would be doing at my own apartment, the music is just louder and there’s more people around. I was just pausing to think of what to write next, when someone speaks to me.

“Whatchya writin’?”

I look to see who that deep, baritone voice came from. To my right is probably the most beautiful man I had ever seen sitting a couple seats down from me. His golden brown hair is slicked back. His eyes are a light color, but he’s too far away to decipher exactly what color they were. He’s fair skinned and not a blemish in site. He’s smirking at me with beautiful full lips and straight white teeth. He has facial hair, which I normally find revolting, that was hiding an incredible jawline, only added to his sexy factor. And that’s only his face. He’s built. His torso is long and defined. He has broad, muscular shoulders that stretched his poor t-shirt he wore. His arms are thick, too. He could easily bench me more than enough times- and I’m not small by any means. His biceps make the sleeves of his white, short sleeve, V-neck stretch just enough to show how big they truly were. From what I could tell, he looks to be tall- one of his feet is resting easily on the floor while sitting at the bar stool. I can’t touch the floor if I tried. He’s just gorgeous. Plain and simple. And he’s talking to me.

“I’m sorry for prying. You were so intensely writing, I had to ask.” He sends me an apologetic smile which nearly knocked me off this stool. Dear Lord…

Do I be snarky and say mind your own damn business? Or do I tell him the truth about what I’m writing? He seems like a decent guy just from the few sentences he’s thrown my way. And he’s hot. Way too hot to be a bitch to.

“Just jotting down all of the ways I could kill every single person in the bar and make it look like an accident.” So, I decide to go the sarcastic route. At least I had hoped that I came across as cynical and not sound like a total lunatic that needs to be committed. According to the sweet sound of his laughter, I was successful.

“Oh yeah? What are some of those ways?” He inquires, angling his body more towards me preparing for my answer.

I fake a gasp, pressing my notebook to my chest, hiding the “contents” from any prying eyes. “A sociopath never reveals their methods.” His laughter continues, his hand is thrown over his heart, making my heart feel like it was soaring. Don’t ask me why. 

“Is that your spin on ‘magicians never reveal their secrets’?” His eyes sparkle even in this horrible lighting. How is that even possible?

“Maybe,” I shrug. He’s right though. I guess that was my twisted take on that saying. I just thought it would work in this situation if I tweaked it to fit. 

The beautiful stranger moves to the chair right next to mine. “I’m Chris.” He holds his rather large hand out towards me.

I place my hand in his. His fingers curl around my hand, dwarfing it. “Amara.” Amara Remington. Elizabeth calls me Remi and she’s the only one allowed to. I call her Lizzie and I’m the only one allowed to as well. It’s a great friendship we have going here.

“Well Amara, what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a bar on a Wednesday night?” He takes another sip from his drink. Every move he makes is so fluid and natural… Is this guy even real?

“It’s the slowest night of the week. I like to come here for the food and to listen to the music.” If I was going to get anywhere with this guy, friend drama is not something to bring up right away. I most definitely want to see if this will go anywhere. Even if it’s just for a night.

“I could tell by the way you inhaled that burger. It must have been good.” He chuckles while I most certainly did not. Thank God for the poor lighting in here, I must have turned either beat red from embarrassment or stark white from mortification. That burger was so messy. I was licking my fingers right and left and wiping my face after every single bite. I must have looked like a pig! And he still called me beautiful?

“I can’t believe you saw that and are still wanting to talk to me.” I want the floor to turn into a black hole and swallow me up. How did I not see him before? I for sure would have noticed him when I sat down. I must have been so engrossed in my food that I was oblivious to my surroundings. Damn that delicious burger.

“It was endearing, actually,” He admits.

Is he nuts? Or just blind? “How could that have possibly been ‘endearing’?”

“I like a girl who isn’t afraid to make a mess while eating and who doesn’t care about counting calories and all that weird stuff that people do nowadays.” He shrugs like it was no big deal. “So, I was wondering if you weren’t too full from dinner, maybe we could go get some dessert? I saw this little bakery down the street that I’d like to try out.”

Was he asking me out? If so, jeez he’s forward. But hey, I’m not complaining. I know exactly which bakery he’s talking about and it’s phenomenal. That’s where Liz and I go for our comfort food during our time of the month. It’s remarkable. I could go for one of their fluffy cupcakes. I happily agreed, left some cash on the bar, and we walked out.

When we were walking down the sidewalk, my previous assumption about him was true. He’s taller than me. I have to look up at him in order to talk to him, making him at least 6’0”. I found out he’s from Boston. He just moved here to start a new job. He has two sisters and one brother. His favorite sport is football, he’s a diehard Patriots fan. He loves Disney as much as an adult as he did as a child. He was passionate about space and politics, going off on an elongated tangent on our current Commander-in-Chief. He even had to interrupt himself when he went on his rant. I didn’t mind watching him. One of my favorite things is watching someone talk about something they’re passionate about.

We finally made it to the bakery and each got a treat for each other that we wanted the other person to try. I had him get a triple chocolate brownie to be safe, and he had me get a piece of key lime pie since I had never had it before. We stroll down the block to the small park that was completely empty. We eat our desserts and just talk about random things. He'd ask me questions and vice versa. He’s so easy to talk to. I feel like I had known him for years instead of an hour.

After we're done eating, we decide to hit the swings. We have a contest to see who could get the highest the fastest. I welcome the challenge even if I knew I was going to lose. My shorter legs are at my disadvantage here. Establishing that he was the winner, he decides to be reckless and jump off when he got to the highest he could. He almost made the perfect landing, but he stumbled a little and wound up falling to the ground. I laugh so hard, I have to clutch my stomach at his silliness while I tried to slow myself down.

When I’m low enough to where I could get off safely, he’s walking towards me, looking determined. He doesn’t stop, even when I almost hit him. He calmly grabs the cold chains and keeps going until I’m well off the ground and our faces are impossibly close. It's the first time since I met him that I felt nervous. I tighten my grip on the chains and lock my ankles together underneath the seat. His eyes flicker to my lips for a split second before speaking.

He grunts, “One last question.” All I could do was nod, so he continues, “Do you believe in coincidences?”

I take a second to think about the concept of “coincidences.” I do believe everything happens for a reason. There was a reason why I decided to come out tonight instead of any other night. There was a reason why I came to this bar at the time I did and had the food I did because that caught his attention. And there’s a reason why I had the ideas I absolutely had to write down, which got him to talk to me. Same thing goes for him. Every decision we’ve made up until now has brought us here in this park, on this swing, in this position. So, do I think that it’s a coincidence that we were brought together tonight?

“Yes.”

In a second, his lips lock with mine. I respond quickly, hands pulling his face even closer as my legs wrap around his waist as his hands support my backside. As we deepen the kiss, he lays us down onto the rocks with me straddling him. Our lips move in sync as we both deepen the kiss. His lips are everything I thought they would be: soft and plump. His kisses are gentle, but full of passion. I feel how passionate he was all the way down to my toes. One thing I liked was he never pushed his tongue in my mouth. I hate when people automatically thrust their tongue in someone else’s mouth as soon as their lips make contact.

His hands wander up my back and tangle into my hair. Mine wander down to his pecks and around his shoulders, which are incredibly firm. I’ve never been so close with a guy this fast. But, despite everything inside telling me not to, it feels… right. Every fiber of my being tells me this is right, that I was supposed to be here in this moment with him, that I was meant to be with him…Which is why I need to stop this now.

I try to pull away, but every time I do, he would just bring his lips back to mine making me not want to leave. I knew I had to though before this went any further. I gently push on his chest so I can sit up, separating our lips. “Oh God, I need to leave now.” I get off of him and start to walk away.

“Where ya goin’?” He calls after me, sitting up on his elbows now.

“Home before we both do something we regret. I had a great time tonight. Hope your new job goes well!” I jog down the road, back to the bar to obtain my car. 

I make my way home resisting the urge to let the butterflies in my stomach influence the smile that wants to form on my face. Lizzie is not going to believe the story I’m about to tell her… I’m not even sure I believe it. Did that really happen or did I imagine it? When I park my car in the underground ramp, I take out my notebook to see if I had written it, thinking it happened. But nothing I wrote tonight reflected the events that happened in real life. But how could one human being be so perfect? He was the easiest person to talk to, made me feel so at ease with him, and incredibly handsome. And the way he made me feel? It was indescribable. Butterflies in my stomach when he looked at me, palms sweating when he was close to me, the sparks I felt when he touched me… Chris. Such a simple name for the perfect guy.

I climb up the stairs back to the apartment. I close the door and lean against it, still in a trance. Now that I'm in the privacy of my own home, the cheek-hurting smile that was begging to come out makes its appearance.

“You’re back earlier than I expected.” Elizabeth was talking while she was in the kitchen, but when she comes into the living room, she gasps. “You totally met a guy!!” She shrieks after seeing my face. “Tell me everything! And I mean every detail. Don’t leave anything out!” She drags me to the couch, forcing me to sit down.

So, I do tell her everything. From the second I got to the bar, to coming home; from every thought I’ve had to everything I’ve felt. She squeals through the entire story, expressing her excitement for me. She then asks me when I was going to see him again. 

Every thought I’ve had within the past couple hours is gone. I never got his number, where his new job is, or even his last name. There’s no way I can get into contact with him. I sigh falling over onto my best friend’s lap. “Never,” I groan.

“What do you mean?”

“I have no way to contact him or know where to find him. I never got his phone number or his last name.” I groan again wanting to crawl into a ball and mourn the loss of the love I will never have with this guy.

“There’s more ice cream in the freezer.”

“I’ll get a spoon.”

For the last week of freedom we had, we wallow in pity on the couch. The thoughts of Chris are always on my mind. His smile, his laugh, his kisses… Ugh why didn’t I at least get his number? I wonder if he feels the same way about it or if he’s completely forgotten all about me by now. That thought depressed me even more.

We watch every rom-com we can find and consume copious amounts of ice cream in this last week. So, when the first day of school comes, we reluctantly peel our butts off the couch to rejoin civilization. We shower and get ready in our rooms. I straighten my hair before putting half of it up into a bun, and do my make-up with eyeliner and mascara, and fill in my eyebrows. I brush my teeth and wait for Liz to be done so we can leave. Our classes start at the same time so we decided beforehand to ride together.

Once we got to campus, we agree to meet up for lunch at one after our first couple classes. I head to my first class, English 5116: Advanced Writing of Fiction. It’s one of my final classes for my major in English with a concentration on Creative Writing before I start my internship next semester. I heard from past students that it’s a hard class, but that was with the old professor. Said professor retired last year, so they had to hire a new one. There wasn’t any news of who the new professor is or his or her teaching style, so this should be interesting.

I find the lecture room with plenty of time to spare. This lecture room is like any other. It’s smaller than normal ones on campus; there are only five rows of ten seats to each row, all curved so it formed a semi-circle around the room. There’s a wooden podium off to the right side of the front and a huge projector screen just waiting for something to appear on the screen. I descend the stairs, and choose a seat close to the front. I found out during my freshman year that I learn better when I’m in the first couple rows. I take out the designated notebook for the class, write the date on the top line, and wait.

There’s still ten minutes ‘til the class starts so I also take out my story and see if I could continue where I left off. More and more people pile in as it gets closer to start time. There isn’t any sign of the professor yet. I hope that he or she is late. I think I have where I want my characters to go next and I don’t want to lose my train of thought.

But then everyone hears the bang of the door closing, startling everyone. “Alright, everyone. Welcome to Advanced Writing of Fiction. I am Mr. Evans, the professor for this course. You may call me Mr. E. or Evans. I will answer to either.” He trots down the stairs, handing stacks of papers to the first person in each row until he gets to the front of the room. My heart does that leaping thing just listening to him speak. What the hell is wrong with me? I look up to see why that happened. A gasp escapes and I think my heart stops completely. 

Chris? The guy I met in the bar was standing at the front of my classroom. The guy I had an amazing make out session with is my professor. Oh boy…

He keeps talking about something I couldn’t tell you about because my mind went into shock. He looked so different in a tight, white button-up with a black tie, black slacks and shiny black dress shoes. His hair is done the exact same way it was in the bar. His facial hair looked shorter than it was before. But it was his eyes that looked the most different. In the bar, they looked vibrant and full of life. Now, they look flat and uninviting. I wanted to know why.

“I will not have a formal sign-in sheet,” an overwhelming relief falls over the entire room. “But, there will be a daily written submission due at the end of class every day.” Just like that, said relief was gone. I didn’t mind really. I love making short stories. “The submissions can be from something you’re currently working on, or something you make up on the fly. It doesn’t matter to me. But please, a five-page maximum. I do have a life outside this class.” Chuckles peppered the room. 

“I am a little bit old fashioned, so you will have to physically turn it in to me. I will be copying them and handing them back to you at the beginning of each class. I will be keeping a profile of said copied excerpts until the end of the semester. I will meet with each of you three times this semester. First meeting will be to get to know you and your writing style. Second will be at mid-terms to check-up and see how your works have improved throughout the first half and see what there is left to improve on. And the last meeting will be a final assessment of how you have advanced in the writing of fiction.” His pun is cleverly placed and very funny. I wonder how many times he practiced that one at home.

“Now, there will be no formal tests.” Again, relief washed over the room. “The excerpts that you write are your tests to see if you are grasping the concept of what I am teaching you. If you need extra help, my office hours are on the syllabus. Feel free to make an appointment during those hours and I will happily help you with whatever you need.”

“He can help me with something else.” I hear a girl whisper suggestively in the row behind me. I roll my eyes. Does she really think he’s going to be anything more than her professor?

“Since today is the first day of class, how about we go around the room and introduce ourselves? Say your name, major, and what kinds of things you like to write about.” He pulls a chair out from behind the podium, placing it in the middle of the front, sitting on it backwards. He starts in the back row so I was safe until the end since I'm the first person in the front row. Everyone’s answers to what major they were and what kinds of things they liked to write about were all different. From aspiring authors to journalists and poems to novels; so many different combinations.

As it got closer to me, the more nervous I got. Would he recognize me? How will be react to seeing me again and realizing he made out with one of his students? Will he freak? No, probably not. He most likely wouldn’t want anyone to know what occurred between us. Would he request that I transfer out of this class because it’d be too weird? I don’t know what I would do if he did. I need this class to graduate this spring. I might have to beg and plead for him to let me stay if that’s the case.

When it got to me, I try not to look at him for fear of seeing his real reaction. But I had to know what it was. When our eyes lock, nothing happens. His expression never falters. No sign of recognition, fear, shock- nothing. That should be a good thing, right? I can stay in this class and not be weird… But then why does my heart hurt?

“I’m Amara. I’m an English major with a concentration on Creative Writing. And I mostly write novels.”

“What kind of novels?” He pries for more.

“Romance, mostly. Some fantasy. Just depends on my mood,” I shrug, “but they’re definitely all fiction.”

“Well I look forward to reading every one of your submissions.” He concludes, turning back to the rest of the class. “Now, with the rest of the time we have, which is about an hour, I want you to write whatever you want to write about. Your first day, the greatest party you’ve ever been to, the love of your life, anything you want. Just keep it clean, please. This will give me an idea of what I’m dealing with this semester.” He stands up from the chair. “When you’re done, you can leave.” He goes back behind the podium and just stands watch.

I look down at my notebook and nothing. Nothing came out. Zero ideas. Nada. Zilch. El zippo. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I guess I could jot down something from the story I have with me… But that’s personal. I don’t know if I want him to read something so personal to me. Not yet anyway.

I glance back up at him, only to find him staring back at me. I observe the classroom to see everyone writing furiously in their own notebooks.  When I bring my eyes back to him, he's holding up a piece of paper. It reads: “Class after this?” I shake my head. He sets the paper back down, scribbling something else down. “Be the last one out” was the next thing he said.

Oh gosh, he does recognize me. And he wants me to stay after. My heart started racing just thinking of what he might want to say to me… I nod once before focusing back to my still blank paper. What could I possibly write about that will get my mind off what’s going to happen after class? I could write about how I felt when my childhood cat died. That’s still personal, but less personal than my novels. It was decided then.

An hour and three and a half pages later, I break out of my trance to see I was the last person still working. Chris is still behind the podium, watching me with what looked like amazement. “You okay?” He asks, breaking the silence. It was in that moment that I realized I had tears running down my face. I immediately run my hands over my face, trying to erase all the wetness on my cheeks and chin. It’s been four years since my cat died and I still get emotional about it when I talk or think about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a sore subject.” I jot down my name at the top before tearing out the pages.

“You had a pretty intense look for the entire time you were writing again.” He smirks at me again. I pack up my stuff then bring my submission over to him. He continues, “You always have that look when you’re writing. I’ve never seen someone so engrossed in their work before.”

“You’ll see why when you read it.” I hand it to him reluctantly.

“You know, I knew it was you the second I saw you.” He blurts after a silent moment. “I was wondering if I was ever going to see you again, and now here you are.”

“Your student.”

“My... student.” He repeats slowly.

“What are we gonna do? I can drop out of your class, if it’d be too weird.”

“Why would it be weird? We’re both adults. We can be rational about it. It was before I knew you were my student. No harm, no foul.” He shrugs, brushing it off as if it were no big deal at all.

“So, we’re okay?” I ask confused by how calm and nonchalant he was about everything. Maybe he didn’t care about me, like I cared about him…

“Absolutely. I’ll see you on Wednesday.” He grabs the rest of the papers and started up the stairs. I follow when he disappeared from the room.

He can forget everything just like that? He has been on my mind every second of the day since that night. How could I feel so much for him and him feel nothing? He was like a completely different person from when I saw him last. The Chris I met was passionate, careless, and full of life whereas this one was cold and stoic. I guess being in his class will be easier than I originally thought…

I shake it off and went to find Lizzie. She is going to die when I tell her everything.

Chapter Two- Fortune

Permanent taglist: @elusive-beauty @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @naniky @drakesfiance @fantasy-is-my-reality

[mirkwoodshewolf]

My little angel, I will always protect you; Castiel x toddler reader

This was the first Castiel request that I got on my wattpad and it was my first taste of writing for Castiel. Now for any hardcore SPN fans please go easy on me, at the time I was writing this I was still on midway of season 5 now I’m just starting s.6 so I haven’t gotten to see the Leviathians yet nor do I know their story plot yet so go easy on me okay? Other than that not really any warnings except for Infertility (on a female character), death, violence and CAS FLUFF.

__________________________________________________________

It all began in the hometown of Batesville, Arkansas.  It was late at night possibly around 5 minutes to midnight and a couple around their late 30’s early 40’s were out looking up at the stars.  The couple had some bad news delivered to them, for a few years now they both have decided on trying to have a baby but when they went to the clinic to see what the problem was, it turns out that the woman was infertile.

It devastated them both especially the wife, she had longed to have children of her own and it absolutely crushed her that she couldn’t provide a child for either her or her husband.  After receiving the news, the husband took his wife out to the fields nearby their home and he set up a blanket with some candles in order to help comfort his wife.

As the couple lay there under the stars, they saw what seemed like a meteor falling down from the sky.

“Hey honey, you know what they say about meteorites? Some believe that they’re angels falling from the sky” said the husband.  But as they both looked back up at the sky, it wouldn’t stop falling nor would it disappear like any other meteorites, soon a loud boom was heard and the earth briefly shook and a huge light exploded like a bomb.

The couple let out a brief shriek before all was quiet once more.  The husband picked his wife up from the ground and asked her.

“Diana, sweetheart you alright?”

“Yes Harold, I’m fine, but what was that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it was really a meteor or maybe a satellite”. Diana soon took off running with her husband crying out to her to not go and to come back to him.

When the two of them arrived at the crash site, they saw a huge crater right in the middle of their property.

“What the Sam hell is this?” asked Harold. Diana began to feel like something was up so she cautiously walked towards the crater and Harold grabbed her arm and said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I feel like something’s down there”.

“No baby you ain’t going on down there by yourself, who knows what could be down there”.

“Harold, please just let me have a look. Maybe it’s a spaceship and someone could need our help”. Harold looked at his wife and saw the true strength that made him fall in love with her to begin with. He then agreed and let his wife’s arm go and she walked towards the crater and slowly got into it.

After a long almost eternal silence of no sound or even a scream, his wife soon came up and said to him urgently.

“Harold, get over here!” Harold then cautiously walked up towards his wife and said.

“Well—what is it honey?”

“It was a baby, look”. She then pulled back the white sheets and it revealed a baby.  On the top of its head it had (h/c), it appeared to be at least a year, year and a half old at least, (s/c) and when it opened its eyes it revealed to be (e/c).

“What in the…..how did it get way out here?” asked Harold.

“I don’t know, she seems to be alright though, no scratches or cuts or anything”. The baby babbled softly and reached out and touched Diana’s cheek and she felt something spark in her that he had lost since earlier this afternoon.

Warmth.

“Harold, what if—what if God sent us this child knowing we couldn’t have one?”

“Diana—”

“No, no think about it. For so many years we prayed to him to bless us with a child, and probably knowing our problem now, he must’ve answered our prayers with this child”. Harold looked down at the baby and he reached out his hand and the child grabbed onto his finger with a strong grip but not so strong that it caused him pain, in fact it felt……great.

Harold smiled softly and said to his wife.

“You’re right Diana, our Lord and Savior must’ve given us this child to raise as our own, we can finally be a true family”. Diana and Harold smiled at each other before kissing one another and the two of them cooed at their newest child.

Meanwhile at the bunker, Castiel opened his eyes feeling that a strong presence had come to Earth.  He now appeared on the rooftop of the bunker and could feel the presence grow stronger. He had once felt this aurora before but not for a long time, he almost began to question if it was really her or not. Last he had heard, all of them had died, including her.

With that he remained at the rooftop of the Bunker until dawn had arrived.  When he appeared in the kitchen, he saw Sam getting his coffee after just returning from his early morning workout.

“Morning Cas”. Cas didn’t say a word. “Uhh Cas, Cas hey”. The angel snapped out of his daze and Sam said, “You feeling alright? You looked really out of it”.

“Look up Batesville, Arkansas” Castiel stated urgently.

“What?”

“Look up and see if anything happened in Batesville, Arkansas”. Sam immediately went to his computer and typed in the city and state and soon a news story of a Meteorite striking down on someone’s property.

“You were right check this out, witness’s state seeing a single meteorite falling from the sky. But there hasn’t been a single meteorite sighting since 1989, how did you know about this Cas?”

“It was a feeling, I could be wrong but—”

“Could be wrong about what?” Dean’s voice soon came out. Sam and Castiel turned to see Dean now standing there rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with a cup of coffee in his hands trying to wake himself up.

“I thought they had all died when the Leviathans came but last night I—felt one of their presences coming to Earth. They are known as young angels. Made from the grace of a chosen angel and molded from the earth to create a young angel. I was destined to protect one of them but I had been told that she was presumed dead”.

“And you think this young angel is yours?” questioned Dean.

“I’m not sure but I have a strong feeling she is, what that meteor fell I felt like I was feeling a piece of myself returning to Earth”. Castiel stated. “But we must hurry, it won’t take long for them to find out there’s still one left”.

“Who you mean the other angels?” asked Sam.

“No, the Tracers. Specific demons set to hunt and slaughter every last angel child there is”.

“Alright let’s get going, don’t worry Cas we’ll get there before it’s too late”. Said Sam. The three of them soon packed up and soon they all piled into the impala and Dean drove out of the garage and onto the open road.

Back at the ranch where the angel child had fallen, Diana was in the rocking chair in little (y/n)’s (as they both had named her after finding out she was a girl) nursery. She fed her daughter and the proceeded to burp her, once she did she walked around singing a soft lullaby.

Harold watched with pure adoration at the sight of his beautiful wife of 22 years finally in the dream she’s always wanted, singing to her child a lullaby just before she puts her to bed.  

He just couldn’t wait to see this little gift from heaven grow up, be raised right, go to school, make new friends, then soon go to college and become whatever she wants to be, and then one day he’ll be there with his shotgun sitting right on the porch should some boy come into her life and he’ll be the one to judge on whether he’s the one for his little girl.

Suddenly there was a howl outside the door.  Thinking it was probably the neighbor’s sheepdogs who had gotten out again, he thought nothing of it.  That was until the house began to rattle.

Diana held onto their daughter tightly as little (y/n) began to cry fearfully and Diana tried to calm her down.  Harold soon led his wife and child to the attic and quickly grabbed his shotgun and ammo and raced up the stairs behind them and pulled up the doors to the attic and led them to the corner to hide while he stood guard readying his gun.

The house kept shaking until finally it stood still.  The rattling ceased and all was quiet.  Too quiet.  Only the sound of Diana and Harold’s heavy breathing could be heard as well as (y/n)’s whimpering.  Suddenly frantic barking was heard outside as the floors began to break apart, Harold fired at the floor hoping to shot the rapid dogs that were probably down below.

Suddenly the windows were broken in and black smoke came in and formed two shapes.  They appeared to be wolf-like dogs except they were almost as big as a full grown lion.  Their large canine fangs gleamed like the stars and blood literally dripped from their mouths.

Diana held (y/n) close to her chest trying to protect her and Harold stood protectively in front of his wife and child with his gun pointed at the wolves.  As they snarled and all that could be heard from the house was a single gunshot, the sound of rapid barking, and screaming.

By the time they got to Batesville, and the supposed property they came across something that they hoped they wouldn’t run into.  A crime scene.  Police by the dozens were all over the property.

“Oh great what now?” snapped Dean.  They all exited the car and walked up and they showed the cops their FBI badges telling them that they were now taking over the investigation.

Castiel looked up towards the attic while Sam and Dean were getting the details on what had happened to the couple Diana and Harold Remington.  According to police, they believe that some rapid wolves must’ve found a way into the house and torn the couple to shreds, their faces were almost unrecognizable and blood was literally spewed everywhere.  The angel felt like there was something up in the attic so he quickly walked into the house.

Once he reached the attic, photographers were taking pictures of the crime scene and only when the Angel of the Lord and the Winchester brothers got to the attic, they knew immediately that this could only be the work of hellhounds with this much blood.  It also helped that they took notice of some bloody dog prints that were too big for your average sized dog.

“Excuse me who gave you clearance to be in here?” asked one of the crime scene photographers dressed all in contagion white garb.

“FBI we’re taking over the case from here so you and your buddies here all need to get out” stated Dean. It was then Castiel knelt down to the floor and touched some of the blood and just stared at it.

“What the hell is his problem?” asked a female cop skeptically.

“He’s like a real life Sherlock Holmes so all of you get out, go! My partner needs to concentrate” Dean urged every single cop and photographer out of the room before shutting the door and bolting it shut.

“What do you think Cas? Hellhounds?” asked Sam.

“Definitely hellhounds”. Castiel stated.  Suddenly a small cry was heard.  Castiel and the Winchesters all looked up as they kept hearing the whimpering.  Cas walked towards a half crushed open chest and looked inside to see something squirming underneath a pink blanket.  He slowly reached in and pulled the blanket off to reveal the one and a half year old baby girl whimpering as she rubbed her face.

He tilted his head and the baby did the same thing while making a confused baby noise.  The brothers came up behind him and Sam asked.

“Is—is that her?” Castiel continued to stare down at the toddler until it started making happy coos up at him, almost like she knew him. Reaching up with her tiny arms and smiling widely.  The angel was skeptical at first simply thinking that this could just be normal baby reactions, so he went down to pick her up and he held her close to his face and diagnosed her.

But it wasn’t until she touched him that he felt the connection. Both their graces intertwining with each other’s and that feeling of his soul within her.

“Cas?” Dean stated.

“It’s her” Castiel said for the first time with a fatherly smile.  He brought the toddler close to his chest as she let out a soft yawn and then cuddled close to the angel’s chest gripping his trench coat. Castiel held her protectively and he felt his wings come out and fluff up before wrapping them around himself and the child. “Sam, Dean, meet Dina, the future angel of learning”.

“Dina? She don’t look like a Dina to me” said Dean.

“It was the name I picked out for her the moment she was created” Castiel snapped defensively.

“I’m just saying she doesn’t look like a Dina”.

“Well then what does she look like?” asked Sam as he gently tickled the baby angel’s tummy.

“She looks more like an (y/n) to me” stated Dean.  Castiel and Sam looked at each other before looking down at her and Sam began to see what his brother was saying.

“How about to hide her true name, we call her (y/n) if anyone asks. As long as that’s alright with you Cas, I mean she is yours after all”.

“It’s fine, it may even better protect her from revealing her true name to the Tracers”. With that being said, Sam and Dean told Cas that he could take his ‘daughter’ back to the Bunker while they cleared out everything with the cops.

Once Castiel returned to the Bunker, he quickly got his young angel settled in and well gave her a portion of his grace to feed on since young angels depend on the next several weeks on their destined angel’s grace, much like how a normal baby feeds on their mother’s breast milk.

And since angels don’t really eat that much, he only needed to give her his grace once a week.

Currently now little (y/n) was getting a little fussy and wanted to go to sleep but she couldn’t find it in her to fall asleep.  So Castiel thought it would be best to maybe try a lullaby.  He lightly bounced her up and down a little as he started to sing.

Look at what's happened to me-,

I can't believe it myself.

Suddenly I'm up on top of the world,

It should've been somebody else.

Believe it or not,

I'm walking on air.

I never thought I could feel so free-

Flying away on a wing and a prayer.

Who could it be?

Believe it or not it's just me

Believe it or not it’s just me.

And with that little (y/n) was starting to fall asleep.  Castiel looked down at his child and softly smiled and held her close and gave her a gentle kiss.

Suddenly he felt a presence above him.

Castiel’s eyes immediately opened as he could feel a dark aurora surrounding the Bunker.  He looked up and through the shadows he saw two cat-like gleaming eyes staring down at him.  The female creature stalked down from the ceiling and stood about seven feet tall and had a panther-like face but had two proud dragon-like horns on the top of her head and an extremely long dragon whip-like tail that kept twitching every so often.  Long black hair and her skin scarred with the tortures of Hell itself.

“Hello Castiel, been a long time hasn’t it?”

“Bast” The angel sneered.

“Well when I heard of a young angel falling to Earth I almost didn’t believe it myself, that was until Crowley pointed it out and gave us a bit of help”.

“I knew he had to be involved with this somehow. You tracers can’t stand the sight of Hellhounds, what did he offer you?”

“Calm down bird-boy don’t get your feathers in a ruffle, Crowley has no interest in the angel. He only wanted the two souls of the people that found her, in return my people and I can have the honor of clipping off the wings of the last of the young angels” Bast mocked to him.

“Over my dead body will you touch her!” Castiel hissed as the lights began to explode and his wings began to open up as he held (y/n) protectively.

“That’s exactly what I’m counting on” Bast mocked as she hissed out like a cat revealing her long canine fangs as her tail twitched.  Castiel put his daughter on his bed and stood protectively in front of her as he took out the one thing that is known to kill a Tracer.

An iron forged dagger made from the tooth of a dragon.

It was then the two beings charged head on at each other.

Meanwhile Sam and Dean had just pulled into the Bunker but as they entered, they saw flashes of light and magic shining out from the endless windows.

“Dean you don’t think…..”

“They’ve found her!” The brothers raced inside but as soon as they opened the door, one angel Castiel was literally flung at them thanks to Bast’s whip-like tail sending all three of them across the garage.

“Cas, is it those Tracers?” asked Dean.

“Yes, their Queen in fact Bast” they all stood up and raced back towards Castiel’s room to see the Queen of the Tracer’s now holding little (y/n).

“Love to stay and continue this little rumble especially now that the Winchester brothers are here, but I’ve got what I came here for so thanks ever so much for allowing me to find this precious gift of heaven”.  Then as Bast tried to disappear, her magic suddenly stopped working, in fact she found herself paralyzed.

Castiel’s eyes sparked pure blue and he told Sam and Dean as his voice dropped even lower than his normal range as thunder and lightning began to sound off from outside.

“Sam, Dean. Shut your eyes”. The boys not wanting Cas to repeat himself a second time did as he said. He pressed his hand against Bast’s forehead and a bright light came from Castiel’s body.

His true angel form was starting to blind Bast as she let out a scream of agony then as she let go of (y/n), Castiel quickly caught her while at the same time he plunged the dagger straight through Bast’s heart which disintegrated her to dust.

His angel aurora soon died down and he now held his daughter who was trying her best not to cry after seeing herself just moments ago in the arms of a demon.

Cas held his daughter close to him and comforted her then used his grace to have her go back to sleep as Sam and Dean came up and Dean picked up the knife and he said.

“So she’s gone?”

“Yes, but it won’t be long before the other Tracer’s get word of their Queen’s death, then they’ll be coming here knowing of her existence”.

“Well, then it looks like we’ve got another person to make sure we don’t lose” stated Sam like a proud Uncle taking a vow to protect his new-born niece.

“Damn right. We’ve lost too many people already, I’ll be damn if we lose her too, count us in to help you protect her Cas”. Dean stated proudly.  Castiel looked to his friends and thanked them.

[pdfreaderlibrary]

[PDF  mobi  ePub] Fantastic Paintings of Frazetta ^DOWNLOAD EBOOK^

[PDF, mobi, ePub] Fantastic Paintings of Frazetta ^DOWNLOAD EBOOK^

Fantastic Paintings of Frazetta

[PDF] Download Fantastic Paintings of Frazetta Ebook | READ ONLINE

Author : J. David Spurlock Publisher : Vanguard ISBN : 1934331813 Publication Date : 2020-8-6 Language : eng Pages : 120

To Download or Read this book, click link below:

http://read.ebookcollection.space/?book=1934331813

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Synopsis : [PDF, mobi, ePub] Fantastic Paintings of Frazetta ^DOWNLOAD EBOOK^

Discover, or return to, the world's greatest heroic fantasy artist, Frank Frazetta in this landmark art collection entitled, Fantastic Paintings of Frazetta. The New York Times said, 'Frazetta helped define fantasy heroes like Conan, Tarzan and John Carter of Mars with signature images of strikingly fierce, hard-bodied heroes and bosomy, callipygian damsels' Frazetta took the sex and violence of the pulp fiction of his youth and added even more action, fantasy and potency, but rendered with a panache seldom seen outside of major works of Fine Art. Despite his fantastic subject matter, the quality of Frazetta’s work has not only drawn comparisons to the most brilliant of illustrators, Maxfield Parrish, Frederic Remington, Norman Rockwell, N.C. Wyeth but, even to the most brilliant of fine artists including Rembrandt and Michelangelo and, major Frazetta works sell for millions of dollars, breaking numerous records.This innovator’s work has not only inspired generations of artists, but also movies and directors including the Conan films, John Carter of Mars, the sensationally successful Lord of the Rings trilogy, Robert Rodriguez’ films including From Dusk Till Dawn, Ralph Bakshi films, the epic, award-winning Game of Thrones series, Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow, Disney’s animated Tarzan films, Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now and George Lucas’ Star Wars series. The Forbes magazine article Schwarzenegger's Sargent led with the line, 'Which artist helped make Arnold governor? Frank Frazetta, the Rembrandt of barbarians.'J. David Spurlock started crafting this book by reviving the original million-selling 1970s mass market art book, Fantastic Art of Frank Frazetta. But, he expanded and revised to include twice as many images and, presents them at a much larger coffee-table book size of 10.5 x 14.625”! The collection is brimming with both classic and previously unpublished works of the subjects Frazetta is best remembered for including barbarians, beasts, and buxom beauties. Game of Thrones creator George R. R. Martin said, “Though he bears only a passing resemblance to the Cimmerian as Robert E. Howard described him, Frazetta’s covers of the Conan paperback collections became the definitive picture of the character… still is.” Schwarzenegger said, “I have not been intimidated that often in my life. But when I looked at Frazetta’s paintings, I tell you, it was intimidating.” Game of Thrones, Conan and Aquaman film star Jason Momoa said, “I am a huge Frank Frazetta fan. Both of my parents are painters, so I'd known Frazetta's paintings, that's what I wanted to bring to life.” See the revolutionary art that helped inspire Schwarzenegger, Momoa, the Lord of the Rings films and Game of Thrones: FRAZETTA!

[toss-some-coffee-to-your-witcher]

Rules-Tag 9 People You Want To Get To Know Better…

I was tagged by the gorgeous @loveofmylonglife! * Relationship status? Single * Lipstick or chapstick?  LIPSTICK! Always red/purple and dark, vampy colors! * Last song I listened to? Believer by, Imagine Dragons * Last movie I watched? Lord Of the Rings: The Two Towers * Top three characters? Ross Poldark, Sherlock Holmes, Little Joe Cartwright (don’t laugh) * Top three ships? Ross x Demelza, Kili x Tauriel, Remington Steele x Laura Holt (again, don’t laugh)

I tag @chocolatepigat221bteasatfour, @elizabethwarleggan and @letterfromtrenwith

[iplaydrake]

FULL CIRCLE - CHAPTER 8 - NOT WITH MY SISTER, YOU DON’T!

Catch Up Here :

CHAPTER 7 : I’VE GOT YOU DOWN TO A TEE

Author’s Note : HUGE THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REBLOGS, LIKES, OR EVEN JUST READS!!! ITS WHY I KEEP GOING!!! As always, positive feedback, constructive criticism, and reblogging are always welcome. I own nothing except the storyline of my MC. Everything else belongs to Pixelberry.

Pairing : Drake x MC

Tag List : @likethetailofacomet @carabeth@rhymesmenagerie @speedyoperarascalparty @butindeed @wannabemc2 @client-327 @jovialyouthmusic @be-still-my-aching-heart @riseandshinelittleblossom @lodberg @drakesensworld@alj4890 @rainbowsinthestorm @ao719 @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerisreal @whenyourheartskipsabeat @furiousherringoperatortoad @silentcoyotesong @choicesmacmakes @ladyangel70 @lady-alex-keith @notoriouscs @lynne1993 @qammh-blog @gnatbrain@sirbeepsalot @crookedslimecreatorpasta @moneyfordiamonds

*****

They stayed in his room catching up on conversations they’d missed now that she was home, Remi telling him the story of her bracelet and her run-in with Madeline on the balcony. They both laughed as she told him what happened in the gym, obviously leaving out the part where Drake kissed her. It was almost 2 hours later that she made her way out of Liam's quarters, smiling at Bastien who still stood at the door. “Bastien, don’t you ever get tired of just standing around? I'll have your back if you want to tell Liam to 'shove it' and go take a break!"

"I heard that!" They shared a smile as Liam yelled out to them.

“It’s not all bad, Lady Remington. Especially when my day is brightened by a beautiful smile!” he said with a wink.

“Careful, Bastien. You’ll make me blush!” She teased as she stepped into the hallway. Her smile quickly faded as she saw Madeline walking towards her, slowly clapping.

“Well, someone is certainly getting around.”

Remi had every intention of ignoring her until she grabbed her arm, stopping her as she tried to walk past. “Madeline, take your fucking hands off me.”

“Such language! It must be an ‘American’ thing… Though, I must admit, ‘Duck’, I'm impressed. I mean, the way you've jumped from bed to bed in such a short amount of time; Liam, Drake, Drake, Liam… I hope you're not dumb enough to think no one saw you two last night… And now, not even hiding the fact that you were in Liam's room... But, by all means, have your fun now… Because at the end of this, I WILL be queen and you will go back to being nothing more than a whisper of embarrassment for the Beaumont Family.” She said as she squeezed Remi's arm harder.

“I am not going to tell you again to let go of me...” She yanked her arm out of Madeline's grasp before she spoke again. “You know, you continue to underestimate me, Madeline... Liam is one of my closest friends and he trusts me, which, I know both are difficult concepts for you to grasp, being Satan’s spawn and all… But make no mistake; all I have to do is hint to him about what you did to me and its over for you. I will do whatever I have to, to make sure he sees you for what you really are...”

“The only way you could ever have Liam's ear is if you’re lying on your back for him. Which brings me back to my original point, 'Duck'. Who's next? Are you planning on whoring yourself out to the rest of the nobility? Bastien and the Royal Guard? Or... Maybe Tariq and Lord Neville could help you finish what was supposed to happen at your party. I'm sure they would be willing lower their standards this time.”

The slap Remi delivered across Madeline's face echoed through the hall and Bastien appeared within seconds, the stunned look Madeline wore telling him all he needed to know. “Lady Remington?” She put her hand up, letting him know she was ok before stepping closer to her. “You are really pushing me, Madeline. Maybe you didn’t hear me when I told you to leave me alone and stay the FUCK out of my way, so consider me generous and this your final warning.” She turned on her heels, not giving Madeline a second glance.

*****

The sunlight filled Drake’s room as he reached to pull her close, finding nothing but empty space where she had been only hours earlier. He groaned as he buried his head in his sheets, the scent of her perfume the only indication that last night wasn't a dream and it made him miss her instantly. He got up and quickly showered before heading out, spending the better part of the day searching for her. She had not been at any of the day’s activities and when she didn’t show up to dinner either, he’d begun to get worried. He made his way over to Liam, pulling him aside. “Li, can we talk for a minute?”

Noticing the look on his face, Liam knew something was up. “Sure, come on…” He led him out of the dining room into Liv’s study and motioned for him to sit, immediately noticing the nervous tell of his leg bouncing up and down. He poured Drake and himself a drink, before sitting next to him and after a few minutes of silence, Liam spoke first.

“You alright, brother?”

“Do you, uh, do you know where Remington has been today?”

The confusion was evident as Liam spoke. “She left, Drake…”

“She what? Where did she go?”

“No one told you? She said she needed clear her head... That she’d meet us at Applewood, but for now, she was going back to Ramsford with her brothers and Savannah.” Liam eyed him carefully, pausing before he continued. “Look, I don’t know what exactly is going on between you two and frankly I don't want the details, but after everything she’s been through, what I do want, is for her to be happy.”

“I want that too, Li. More than anything... And I know that if she’d let me, I could make her happy… Which is why I need you to convince her to drop out of the social season.”

“Drake...”

“Liam, please? I’ve never asked you for anything, ever. I need her, I just... Listen... Before she left, we had gotten close... Closer than anyone knew and as soon as I found out she was gone, it broke my heart and it almost broke me. And now, I can't help but feel like this is a second chance for us... Please, brother?”

Liam smiled. “I was just gonna say that I’m not going to have to do that… She told me this morning before she left that she couldn’t compete anymore.” As the realization of his words settled in, Drake pulled him into a hug before quickly turning to leave.

“Drake?” Liam called out to him, giving him a knowing look as he paused in the doorway. “I know I don't have to tell you this, but I'm going to anyway... Take care of her. She’s got a lot of men in her corner if you don’t.” He nodded as they shared another smile before taking off in a run towards his room and quickly packing his bag. He made his way out of the estate to see a car already waiting for him, sending Liam a silent thank you, knowing he was responsible for it. As they headed to Ramsford, he picked up his phone to call her, swearing to himself when he realized he didn’t have her new number. Besides her brothers, there was only one other person that would have it and he knew she was the only person who would give it to him. He pulled up his sister's name and sent her a text.

He breathed a sigh of relief and stored the number in his phone, deciding to wait to message her until he got to her estate.

*****

Clad in yoga pants and an off the shoulder sweatshirt, she laid on her bed as she studied the books in front of her. She suddenly heard the chime on her phone, alerting her to the new text messages.

 As she waited for his response, she heard another all too familiar sound, this time the ping of rocks against her window. Unable to contain her smile, she opened it and leaned out as they yelled back and forth in whispers so no one would hear them.

“Drake, what are you doing?”

“Just like old times, remember?”

“How could I forget?! The last time you threw rocks at my window, we got thrown in the back of a cop car and almost got arrested!”

“I promise I won’t get you in trouble… At least not tonight!” He said, that classic smirk on his face. “Come on!”

She didn't hesitate, climbing out of her window and down the trellis as he waited for her at the bottom, helping her as she got closer to him. After reaching the ground, he grabbed her hands and leaned down to pull her in for a kiss before slowly walking himself backwards, reminding her of so many nights just like this. She knew exactly where he was leading them as they quietly made their way across the vineyard, her hand in his as her other held onto his arm.

He stopped abruptly, turning her to face him before crashing his lips to hers as he continued to walk her backwards, never breaking contact. Before she knew it, they were standing beneath the trees, their trees, breathless as he finally released her, resting his forehead against hers. “I wanna do that forever...” It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her, seeming to make up for the last 3 years that they were supposed to have together. He couldn't help his smile as he stared at her before asking, “Dance with me?”

“There’s no music…”

“When has that ever stopped you?” He grabbed her hand and held her tight against him, singing a whispered song in her ear as they swayed in the moonlight together. “In case you didn't know... Baby, I'm crazy 'bout you... I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you... Even though... I don't tell you all the time... You had my heart a long, long time ago... In case you didn't know.”

She smiled to herself as she listened to his words before taking her turn to pull him into a kiss. “Spend the night with me?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

They made their way back to Ramsford and he helped her climb back up and through her window, their lips meeting instantly once they were inside her room. They took turns peeling clothes off in between their kisses and she whispered to him, shyly. “Can we… I want to try something…”

“Whatever you want, baby…” She pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top, aligning herself before slowly sinking onto him, allowing him to fill her completely. She gasped at the sensation she felt as she rolled her hips over and over, keeping her rhythm going. Before long, they were meeting each other thrust for thrust as she felt her tension building. “Oh my God… Drake… I’m so close...”

“Good girl… Come for me, baby…”

She bit her lip to keep from screaming as she found her release and the feeling of her pulsing around him was enough for him to find his as he let go inside her. She collapsed on top of him, giggling to herself as they tried to catch their breaths. “That was… I have... no words to describe... how amazing that was…”

“Hey…” Her eyes met his at hearing his serious tone, and he slowly brushed his hand across her cheek. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

All logic was screaming at her not to, but seeing the way he looked at her, his eyes so full of love, she knew there was no way she wouldn’t do whatever he asked of her. “… I promise, Drake.” Now all she needed to do was figure out how to keep her word.

*****

For the second morning in a row, he reached for her blindly, this time succeeding in wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him as he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” They both shot up at hearing Maxwell scream. “I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!”

Before they could react, Maxwell lunged at him and they both toppled to the floor. Drake managed to get out from underneath him and did his best to dodge while trying to calm him down. “Max... Maxwell, wait... You don’t understand…”

“I understand perfectly! You took advantage of my baby sister and now I’m going to kill you!”

“Maxwell, stop it!” Remi yelled, as he chased Drake around her room. Bertrand and Savannah suddenly appeared in her doorway hearing the commotion, both shocked to see a half-naked Drake in a stand-off with Maxwell.

“Enough!” Bertrand yelled. “Maxwell, out!”

Maxwell looked him, stunned. “Bertrand?”

“I said out, now!”

He turned, giving Drake a dirty look before walking out into the hallway.

“Bertrand, this wasn’t Drake’s fault. I-” He put his hand up stopping Remi from going any further.

“Drake... I am going to step out of my sister's room. You have 60 seconds to get yourself dressed before I step back in to speak with her. Remington, get dressed as well.” He stepped out without another word, pulling Savannah with him as he closed the door.

Drake looked over at her as her hands covered her face. He sat in front of her and pulled them away, moving his hand to lift her chin. “Hey... It'll be alright.” He said smiling. He kissed her softly, helping her off the bed and into the bathroom before grabbing his pants and shirt, slipping both on quickly.

Sure enough, one minute later, the door opened and Bertrand stepped back in, Maxwell in the doorway. “Drake, please wait in the study. After I speak to Remington, I'd like to speak with you.”

Drake and Remi shared a quick look as he winked at her, mouthing to her that it would be ok. He slowly slid past Maxwell, the look on his face deadly as he slammed the door behind him and turned his attention to Remi. “What the hell, Remington?! You wanna explain what that was?!”

Drake stood with his head leaning against the door as he listened to Maxwell lay into Remi, the guilt that he couldn't do anything to help her upset him. He looked up to see Savannah, the disappointment clear on her face.

“Savannah, you don't understand... We have history no one knows about... And now that she's back, I-”

“She's not BACK, Drake! She's here... For now. Did you forget that she has a life in a completely different country? That her reasons for leaving in the first place are all still front and center? What's gonna happen when she goes back to New York? You think I want to see you go through again what you did 6 years ago?... You know, I told you not to make me regret it... And now, here I am… Feeling nothing but!” She shook her head as she turned to walk away.

“Sav… Sav, come on…”

The door suddenly opened, everyone stunned to run into the other in the hallway. The 2 brothers said nothing as they walked past him and he turned, following them down the hall and into their father’s study. Bertrand gestured for him to sit on the other side of the desk as Maxwell stood in the corner with his arms crossed. As he looked from one man to the other, he couldn’t help but notice the vast difference in who they were to him just yesterday; Bertrand, his brother-in-law and Maxwell, his best friend, were both gone. All he saw now were 2 brothers who had just caught their little sister in bed with him.

“Drake, I’m going to handle this… in the exact opposite way I believe my father would have. What exactly are your intentions with Remington?”

Maxwell’s jaw dropped at his older brother and Drake stared at him, unsure if this was a trick question. He took a deep breath as he prepared his answer. “I care very deeply about Remington and I would never do anything to hurt her. I just… I want to be with her. And hopefully in the near future, if she wants the same, I’ll come and sit you both down and ask your permission to marry her, just like I would have asked your father.”

Bertrand nodded, seeming almost content with his answer before Maxwell spoke up. “NOT WITH OUR SISTER, YOU WON’T!” Before Drake could say anything, Bertrand continued. “Maxwell, I’m having trouble understanding you, more so than usual. Why are you so against this? You’ve been Remington’s biggest advocate for as long as I can remember. Isn’t her happiness what matters? Do you not think she took her time and thought about this before making her decision? And Drake is one of your best friends. Do you not think he is a good man? That he won’t put Remington’s well-being above his own?”

“Of course, her happiness matters! More than anything! And I… I didn’t say he wasn’t… He’s not good enough for HER, Bertrand.”

“Would you be saying this if it was Liam we’d just caught her in bed with?” Drake was stunned as he listened to Bertrand defend him. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t understand Maxwell’s position as he had his own feelings that no one was good enough for his sister. He watched Maxwell sigh, clearly realizing Bertrand had a point. He turned and stared at Drake. “If you do anything to hurt her, they will never find your body.”

“Fair enough” Drake stuck his hand out and waited before Maxwell slowly put his hand in Drake’s and shook it as Bertrand opened the door to the study.

“Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to. Please see yourselves out.”

Drake and Maxwell walked out, seeing Remi sitting on the floor against the opposite wall. She stood quickly, looking back and forth between the two, trying to gauge how their conversation went. Maxwell walked towards her and pulled her into a hug. “I love you, kid.”

“I love you too, big brother.” He pulled back and kissed her cheek before walking away. She shifted her focus to Drake and waited for him to explain. “What the hell just happened?”

Drake smiled at her before speaking. “You wanna go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

Want to continue? Click below for the next chapter :

CHAPTER 9 - FAIRY TALES ARE NOT ALWAYS HAPPY

[iplaydrake]

Full Circle - Chapter 4 - WE'RE BROKE... SEND HELP!

Catch Up Here :

CHAPTER 3 - GOOD-BYE TO ALL THAT

Author’s Note : This story is gonna get a little dark. Suicide, Assault (both physical and sexual), Gun Violence, Blood, Swearing. Please read with caution. Positive feedback, constructive criticism, and reblogging are always welcome. I own nothing except the storyline of my MC. Everything else belongs to Pixelberry.

Pairing : (Eventually) Drake x MC

Tag List : @likethetailofacomet @carabeth @rhymesmenagerie @speedyoperarascalparty @butindeed @wannabemc2 @client-327 @jovialyouthmusic @be-still-my-aching-heart @riseandshinelittleblossom @lodberg @drakesensworld @alj4890 @jlouise88 @ao719 @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerisreal @whenyourheartskipsabeat @furiousherringoperatortoad @silentcoyotesong

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She thought she had prepared herself to deal with her past, but nothing could have prepared her for the feelings she had when she saw Drake for the first time. She was proud of herself for keeping her cool, but as she walked away from him and Kiara, she suddenly felt overwhelmed. She texted Maxwell to let him know she was not feeling good and she was going back to her room to lay down. After packing her bags, she laid on her bed thinking about how she got to where she was and much to her dismay, her mind slowly drifted to that night... 

*** FLASHBACK – SWEET 16 *** 

She walked out of the bathroom and heard someone call out to her. “Happy Birthday, Lady Remington. My, don't you look... Pretty!” She couldn’t help but recoil at the tone in Madeline’s voice, but still smiled as she greeted her, Kiara, and Penelope.

“Thank you, Countess Madeline... Girls... And thank you all so much for coming to my party!” 

“Oh, of course dear! So, listen… We have a little surprise for you!”

“Really? You didn't have to. Just having you come-”

Before she could finish, Madeline grabbed her by the hand and led her outside towards the stables. It was dark and Remi could barely see anything in front of her. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she was grabbed from behind, a hand clamping down over her mouth. She began to fight as hard as she could as she recognized the voices around her, and she feared the worst at hearing Lord Neville and Tariq. She screamed for help but it was no use.

“Hurry! Get the cloth for her mouth!”

“Tariq, hold her down!”

She continued fighting, and as soon as she felt the hand lift from her mouth, she screamed with everything she had. “Drake, help-!"

She could feel Madeline’s breath near her ear as the cloth was roughly placed in her mouth, and Remi’s eyes went wide as she spoke, “Oh Duck, you can’t be THAT dumb… You think Kiara's boyfriend is going to help you? What makes you think he's not guarding the door?” 

***** END OF FLASHBACK *****

She was quickly brought out of her thoughts as Bertrand came barging into her room, Maxwell behind him with apologetic eyes. “Remington, have you forgotten where you've come from? You were incredibly rude today. These people came to your home to support you after the death of your parents and you just ignored them all day.” 

After everything she'd been through that day, that was the last straw. She did nothing to hide her anger as she slowly stood up and glared at him. “You know, you have a lot of nerve, Bertrand. Don't you DARE tell me these people, who, in case you forgot are the reason I left home to begin with, came here for me because that's bullshit and you know it!” 

“Remington watch your tone.”

“No, Bertrand! I'm not a child, and you will not scold me like one! I owe these people nothing and I’ll be damned if you think I’m going to kiss ass for-”

As she was speaking, Maxwell noticed her bags packed by the door and interrupted her. “Remi, what... Are you leaving?”

“You're damn right, I'm leaving. I'm going back to MY life in New York where I've been doing just fine without you people.” As much as it was aimed at Bertrand, she immediately regretted it as a look of hurt flashed in Maxwell's eyes. 

Before she could apologize to him, Bertrand spoke up. “You can't leave. There is an urgent family matter we need to discuss.”

“Whatever my inheritance is from Father's Estate, keep it! I've been fine without anyone’s help since I turned 18 and I'll keep being fine on my own.”

“There is no inheritance, Remington! We're broke! And this year's social season is about Prince Liam trying to find a Bride. So, you need to step up for your family and try to win his heart so some semblance of normalcy can be returned to us.”

Maxwell knew what was coming and winced involuntarily. “Are you kidding me right now?! SERIOUSLY?!” she screamed. “You haven't spoken to me in 6 years! How many times were you around when I was on the phone with Maxwell or Mother and you couldn’t even be bothered to say hello?! Hell, you didn’t even let me know you had a goddamn kid! And now, you're trying to PIMP me out so you could continue living in the 'lap of luxury' you've become accustomed to?! Well, you know what, Bertrand? GO FUCK YOURSELF!” she stormed out, leaving him stunned. As she made her way out of her room, she nearly ran right into Liam and Drake, who quickly jumped out of the way, knowing they had been caught eavesdropping. They avoided eye contact with her, each pretending to admire a painting on the wall. “Just fucking perfect.” She mumbled to herself.

Maxwell was so proud of her in that moment. He smirked and shook his head at Bertrand, before following Remi out of her room and down the hall. He knew exactly where she would be. It was her favorite spot in the whole house and at this moment he was grateful he was the only one who knew about it. As he walked past Liam and Drake, they all shared a quiet laugh at Remi's outburst. If there was any question as to whether NY was good for her confidence, she just proved it had been.

She sat with her legs dangling off the edge of the roof, shaking her head as she heard Maxwell come up behind her. She took another puff of her cigarette before putting it out on the shingles. “You know, that should have been included in one of our many conversations over the years... Along with the tattoo!” He said, motioning to the small semi-colon on her wrist.

“Tattoos... Just in the interest of full disclosure.” She said with a laugh. “And this I don’t do often, just when I'm stressed. And trust me, right now I am definitely stressed... Maxwell, I'm so sorry about what I said. I didn’t -”

“Stop! I know what you meant.” They smiled at each other before he continued. “Listen Rem, as much as I don't want to agree with Bertrand, he's right. We need you and it's not just because of the money.”

“Maxwell, you can't be serious?! You, of all people, know what I went through as a kid at court. You think I want to willingly put myself through all that again?”

“I know, but you’re not that kid anymore; there is no more “Ugly Duckling”. And hey, who knows? Maybe this is exactly what you need to help put everything behind you, to put that night behind you…” She started to interrupt, but he put his hand up, stopping her. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m here when you’re ready. I promised you in New York and I’ll promise you again. I’ll protect you this time, no matter what! You won’t be alone!” 

“I… I don't know if I can face everyone, Maxwell. Today was a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be. And to have to rub elbows with the likes of Madeline and Kiara, just to get to spend a couple of extra minutes with Liam, I-” 

“Woah, LaLaLaLaLa!” He put his fingers in his ears before continuing, “Listen, I'm the VERY LAST person that wants my best friend to be dating my sister, so let’s pretend that’s not why you’re doing this... Look at it this way: if you stay, you'll get to show everyone else up. You could use this as an opportunity to beat Madeline at something she’s convinced she’s already won! Not only that, I just got you back. I'm not ready for you to be gone again. And as for our brother? He means well… I think when you showed up 21 years ago he had no idea what to do with you!” He laughed at his own joke as he put his arm around her, pulling her close to him and she laid her head on his shoulder.

“I don't know how you keep convincing me to do things I do NOT want to do...”

His head shot up, “Really?! Does that mean you'll stay? That's so great! Let's go tell Bertrand.”

She sighed as he helped her stand up and they headed inside through the window. They walked the way they sat; His arm around her, her head on his shoulder. They stopped in the living room, noticing Bertrand talking to Liam and Drake. 

“Remington, we should continue this discussion in private.”

“No need, Bertrand, I'll stay.” He was about to interrupt when she put her hand up to stop him, before continuing. “I have a few conditions though.” He eyed her expectantly. “First of all, you are not allowed to have any expectations. I'm staying for myself, to get closure. Whatever happens, however this plays out, is on my terms. Second, you will not interfere, in anything…” Her voice had been firm until that point but softened as she continued. “Unless I need you to. And finally, me and you… We’re fixing our relationship. You must have dinner with me once a week… and we have to talk... The whole time! That’s it, it’s not up for discussion.”

She held her hand out for him to shake as an agreement of her terms and he stared at her, seeming to weigh his options. He stuck his hand out as well, but she immediately pulled him into a hug and smiled to herself as he tensed up. “Get over it, Bertrand. We’re family!”

Drake, Liam, and Maxwell watched the exchange, all feeling relief that she was staying for now. She slowly pulled back from Bertrand before turning to face everyone else. She smiled at Maxwell and Liam, but as she looked at Drake, it slowly faded and she turned to walk away. She made her way into the kitchen and opened the freezer before grabbing a pint of ice cream. She propped herself on the counter, opened the drawer in between her legs, and grabbed a spoon before digging in.

“Ahem? Can we talk?”

She looked up before rolling her eyes. “Why talk to me when Kiara is probably waiting for you in your bed…”

“I guess I deserve that... I mean, I really don’t, but...”

“Really? You don't?”

“No, I don’t… and if I do, I have no idea why. From what I remember, me and you had an understanding. I thought we were good, Remington. When Maxwell called me and told me what happened that night, it felt like my heart stopped. The next thing I knew you were gone, and I was devastated and alone and-”

She started talking over him, almost as if he hadn’t spoken a word. “I mean, looking back now, it makes complete sense… Kiara must be REALLY good in bed if you were willing to help them do that to me. Tell me something, was the "haircut" your idea?” She laughed lightly but she could feel herself on the brink of tears, and this time she was going to do nothing to stop them. “Do you want to know what I think the most disgusting thing might be, though? The fact that you hugged me… You remember that? Right before we left each other at the table, you wiped my tears and you hugged me. You’re good, Walker, I’ll give you that and you may have everyone else fooled but-” He was suddenly confused as he really listened to what she was saying, and he cut her off before she could go any further.

“Do that to you?... Wait... Do WHAT to you?! You think I…?” He fumbled again with his words and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach as he realized that all this time, she thought he had something to do with her birthday. “Remington, I... I promise you, I had nothing to do with what happened to you... I would never... You mean too much… You know me! You know-”

“No! Everything I thought I knew was wrong!” She looked right at him as she spoke through her tears, “Just tell me why, Drake... Why would you do that to me?... Why would you make me believe-... Did I mean nothing to you?” She lowered her head, her tears finally falling. He could feel himself fight his own as he slowly walked up to her, coming to a stop between her legs, and spoke quietly.

“Remington... I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you I had nothing to do with that night. I promise... Whatever it takes.” She kept her head down, but through her tears, she watched his hand pull something out of his pocket, before putting it on the counter next to where she was sitting. He hesitantly kissed the top of her head, letting his hand linger in her hair for a moment before turning to walk away. She cried harder as she picked up the slightly tattered blue Tiffany box and looked at the tag. Now more than ever, she was sure that everything she thought she knew was wrong.

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CHAPTER 5 - DRUNK HIM CAN’T GET OVER HER