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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

Predicament

Summary: The reader’s pack has captured Dean as a gift for her to do as she pleases to him after discovering John wiped out her family as a child. Only the reader isn’t exactly in the mood for revenge and has to find a way to help get Dean out before he winds up dead...

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Werewolf!reader

Square: Werewolves

Word Count: 1,000ish

Warnings: language, kidnapping, mention of minor character deaths

A/N: Written for @spnabobingo

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“Wow,” you said. Dean huffed behind the tape over his mouth and you shook your head at him. He was strung upside down, hands bound behind his back. His face was red so you figured he’d been up there for at least an hour. “Look what I found all wrapped up for me. Must be Christmas morning.”

He growled and you bared your teeth, Dean breathing deeply.

“Dean Winchester. Any relation to John Winchester?” you asked. You ripped the tape off his mouth, stepping out of the way to avoid him spitting at you. “He was your daddy, wasn’t he.”

“He’s dead. You want to take some shit out on me for his-” said Dean before you stuck the tape over his mouth again. Dean tried to shake if off but stopped moving quickly, resigned to the fact he was stuck.

“Your daddy killed my daddy,” you said. “And my mom and brother. I grew up all alone, a werewolf in a world of hunter Alphas. An omega werewolf. You hunt me for sport. To kill me, to claim me. Only problem is I can’t be claimed by anything other than a werewolf.”

Dean showed the first sign of nervousness when you stepped up to his face and pressed a hand over his bonding gland.

“My new pack caught you as a present for me. A birthday present. Trussed you up for me to do whatever I want to you,” you said. Dean swallowed and you ran a finger through his hair, Dean shuddering. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You were a kid, same as me. I just...I want to know what they did. Did they hunt people? My mom said we were vegans but...I just thought maybe Dean Winchester knew the truth. I’ll let you go. I’d like to know is all.”

You took off the tape again, Dean closing his eyes.

“What year? Town? Help me out here. Not like all the blood is going to my brain or nothing,” he said.

“Um, ‘91. Topeka,” you said.

“Not ringing any bells, sorry.”

“Oh.” You went over to the rope holding him up and undid it, Dean dropping to the ground. “Sorry.”

You untied his ankles and knelt behind him, freeing his hands after a moment. He grabbed your wrist but just sat there holding it, his eyes closed as the blood rushed back to the rest of his body.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Am I going to be kidnapped again?” he asked. You shook your head and he stayed seated. “I’ve been up there for hours. My head is killing me.”

“Play along,” you said, taking the rope in your hand, Dean staring up at you. “If my pack sees you free, they’ll kill you.”

“If you’re so nice why are you hanging around a pack like that?” he asked, letting you bind his wrists behind his back.

“They offer protection. Omegas with no packs, even werewolf ones…” He stared past you and you spun around with a swallow.

“Y/N. Do you need help with this filthy hunter?” asked Harold, your pack leader. Dean narrowed his eyes and you yanked Dean to his feet. “I’m surprised you haven’t started to play with him. Do you require other tools?”

You ignored the cart off to the side and shook your head. You knew Harold loathed hunters, especially Alpha ones. He wouldn’t let Dean leave alive unless there were a few pieces missing. You put a gag back on Dean, not sure if he was playing along when he glared or was genuinely pissed.

“I’ve decided on another form of torture for him,” you said. Harold grinned and you knew he was waiting to hear the news. “What worse fate for a hunter than to be made into one of us?”

Dean’s face fell and you saw Harold’s eyes light up.

“That’s genius! But unless you plan to claim him as your mate he will be even more dangerous.” Dean cocked his head and Harold did it right back. “Omega’s claim their Alpha counterparts in werewolf packs or didn’t you get the memo? He’ll make the perfect pet until you find a more suitable mate.”

“My thoughts exactly. I would like some privacy though if you don’t mind,” you said, heading towards the door. “I’ll bring him back in a few days once he knows his place.”

“Of course,” he said. “One second.” He popped Dean in the face and Dean nearly fell back save for your hand on him. “We’ll see you in a few days then. Call if there’s any trouble.”

“Oh I will.”

“Sorry about that,” you said half an hour later, your bag packed and in your trunk as you headed down the highway. You reached into the backseat and pulled down Dean’s gag, Dean sitting up right and taking a deep breath.

“You’re not seriously-”

“No. I’m taking you back to your car and then you and me both have to get the hell out of here.”

“You’re walking away from your pack?” he asked, his hands in front of him now and free. He climbed into the front seat and you nodded. “You sure you want to do that?”

“I’m vegan. They aren’t. I’m not cool with torturing people too so I’m better off on my own,” you said.

“You know I have a friend that’s a werewolf. They’re vegan too.”

“I’m alright Dean. If I’m not in a pack it’s only myself I have to feed once a month and that’s really easy. I’ll settle near a meat processing plant or something and make a few trips in sometimes. I’ll be fine. Just stay out of Alberta for awhile.”

“You know how to cross the border?” he asked. You pursed your lips and he smiled. “I’ll get you in the states for saving my ass.”

“It’s my fault you were taken in the first place.”

“Funny. You weren’t the one to kidnap me. You really want to stick around here or do you want to try a shot at a new life where Omega’s are a bit safer, even on their own?”

“I want to live somewhere warm,” you said.

“You got a deal sweetheart.”

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#spn abo bingo #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #abo #alpha!dean x omega!reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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whumpcollector · 4 years

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Lucas Pt.5: Obedience

Hey everybody! I’m not dead. Sorry I haven’t updated in uh *checks watch* hahahahaha we don’t need to worry about that. Hope this one was worth the wait.

CW: Mouth gore, mouth whump, caning, suspension, suspension, stress positions, dehumanization, conditioning, the rack, muzzles, waterboarding, torture, magical whump, healing whump, forced drugging, weird religious stuff but only if you squint.

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The air was silent save for the sound of footsteps and clinking chains. Lucas was being led down a hallway, flanked by two witch hunters. His normal shackles had been joined by matching manacles on his ankles and a heavy iron collar, all of them etched in the same magic dampening runes. All of the restraints were connected by short and heavy chains, forcing Lucas to hunch and hobble awkwardly to avoid straining his body. A large muzzle was strapped to his head, gagging him and muffling the small sounds of exertion he made as he continued down the hallway.

Lucas and his guards continued their journey, winding through hallways for what felt like an impossibly long time. Neither of the witch hunters had uttered a word, and Lucas found himself wishing they would say something, anything, to pierce the nerve wracking silence. After turning one last corner the trio found themselves in front of a large wooden door. One of the witch hunters pulled the door open, and Lucas found himself once again face to face with Edwin.

The boy was terrified, his eyes going wide and his skin paling as he stared at the witch hunter captain. The larger man looked down at him impassively, his gaze betraying no emotion whatsoever. After a moment Edwin turned around and walked down the hallway, Lucas following behind after a rough shove from the witch hunter behind him. The group traveled in silence for a short while longer before Edwin’s voice finally broke the silence.

“Welcome to the witch hunter’s stronghold in Ulbrisk Lucas. I do hope you have enjoyed the tour thus far.”

Lucas couldn’t tell if Edwin was joking or not, the captain’s voice maintaining the same poised, even tone it always had.

“I just got back from a meeting with your master Harold. He has business to attend to and must leave the city today, but has decided to leave you in our care until he returns in a few months time. He has requested that we...remind you of your place while he is away.”

The captain suddenly stopped and turned to face Lucas. The mage tensed, leaning back and swallowing a lump in his throat.

“Something I am more than happy to do. Come, we're almost there.”

With that the group continued their journey through the stronghold. Lucas had not seen the outside of the building, but he figured it had to be massive if they were still moving towards their destination. After a while, the group came to a narrow stairwell that led downwards. Edwin grabbed the small lantern attached to his belt and lit it before gesturing for Lucas and the other witch hunters to follow. As they descended further down the stairwell the light from the upstairs corridor began to fade, and soon the only light was coming from the lantern Edwin held.

The stairwell led to another narrow corridor, and Lucas couldn’t tell if the shiver that went down his spine was from the cool air or the anticipation of what was to come. He had heard whispers of what the witch hunters were like with their prisoners. Something was telling him they were understatements if anything.

“I’m sure you are wondering what we are planning to do with you.” Edwin spoke suddenly, as if he could tell what Lucas was thinking. “My brothers and sisters in the order would have you killed on the spot. They take the title ‘witch hunter’ very literally, and believe that the best course of action is to hunt all magic users and put them down like dogs.”

Edwin paused, reaching for his belt and pulling off a key ring. Fiddling for a moment he found the key he needed and inserted it into the locked door in front of him.

“I am not so fanatical. I believe that magic users can be very useful, that their abilities can benefit mankind so long as they understand their place in this world.” Edwin stepped into the room and Lucas was pushed in after him. “Something you have very clearly forgotten.”

Lucas looked around the room. It was small, the dim light from Edwin’s lantern being more than enough to fill the room entirely. The walls were lined with various chains and mounts for restraints. At the center of the room was a wooden table, tilted at an angle. At the bottom of the table was a winch, and Lucas’ stomach dropped when re realized what he was looking at.

“I see you recognize the rack.” Edwin said as he turned to face the mage. “Rather primitive in its design but effective nonetheless.”

He nodded to the other witch hunters and the two men grabbed Lucas by the arms and lifted him off the ground, carrying him to the rack as he struggled uselessly in their grip. His chains connected to his shackles were undone just long enough for him to be secured to the slab, his weak protests muffled by the muzzle around his face. Almost instinctively the magic in his body began to flare, only to stop uselessly before the enchanted restraints on his body.

Edwin let out a small chuckle. “I see there is still some fight in you. Take my advice Lucas, don’t resist, don’t struggle.” The captain moved slowly towards the winch attached to the rack, his hand resting on its handle. “Once you come to terms with what you are things will be much less unpleasant.”

Lucas could only shake his head, pleading desperately with his eyes. The captain was unmoved, and without another word began to slowly crank the winch, the chains secured to Lucas’ arms and legs growing taut.

There wasn’t any pain at first, just a slight pulling sensation. But slowly, surely, the feeling grew as the chains lost slack. The pull on Lucas’ limbs became more and more severe, his arms and legs stretching ever so slightly more and more. Lucas began to panic, his breaths becoming quick and shallow as he began to feel his limbs strain.

“I take no pleasure in this Lucas,” Edwin said, pausing as the winch began to put up more resistance. “This is merely a means to an end for me. I assure you I hope for this to be over quickly as much as you do.”

Lucas was screaming behind the muzzle now, his limbs feeling like they were being torn off. Every crank of the handle sent waves of agony through his body. He begged for mercy, for the captain to simply stop drawing the chains tighter. The words were lost behind the gag and the winch kept slowly, agonizingly turning. Less than a minute passed before Edwin spoke again, though to Lucas it had felt like hours.

“However, I am also not one to leave a job half finished. When this stops depends entirely on when you learn your place. Not a moment sooner.”

He punctuated the last sentence with one last cranking of the winch handle. With a sickening pop Lucas felt his shoulders dislocate, a strangled cry being ripped from his throat. Sweat beaded down his forehead and his eyes were wide and treaty as he watech Edwin approach him. The captain was holding a small syringe filled with a thick bluish liquid. He plunged the syringe into Lucas’ neck, injecting the liquid and addressing the mage again.

“This will keep you awake and aware. Unconsciousness will not be an escape for you unless I allow it.” He turned away, motioning for the other witch hunters to follow. “Have a good night Lucas, I will see you tomorrow.”

With that the hunters left, leaving Lucas in pitch darkness. The mage panted heavily behind his muzzle, pain wracking his body. Moments crawled by and Lucas desperately tried to find some distraction from the burning in his arms and legs. The darkness of the room offered none and coherent thought was not something the boy could manage in his current state. Still as time passed it felt like he was acclimating to the torture, approaching a point where he could allow himself to be lost in the fog of pain.

Then his magic began to try and heal him.

A primal, guttural scream forced itself from Lucas’ lungs. Magic flowed into his shoulders and arms, twisting and contorting muscles in an attempt to drag the dislocated bones back into place. The restraints around Lucas’ wrists did not provide any slack and as his arms failed to heal properly the magic’s efforts became more severe. Tendons and ligaments tore themselves apart and the bones in Lucas’ arms fractured and cracked under the pressure that was exerted on them. It was an agony unlike any the mage had experienced, any he could imagine.

The futile attempts at healing didn’t stop, only ceasing to become worse when Lucas’ body couldn’t be pushed any farther without ripping his limbs in half. The mage screamed and wailed into the darkness, fleeting prayers for mercy or respite taking hold in his mind before being replaced with another shock of pain. Despite his wishes the serum that Edwin had given him prevented the overwhelming pain from fully consuming him and casting him into unconsciousness. There would be no escape until someone decided to release Lucas, and as this realization dawned on him all he could do was scream into the empty room.

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Moments, years, an eternity. Lucas could not say how much time had passed when the door to his room opened and Edwin walked inside. The boy looked towards the captain, using what little energy he had left to beg as hard as he could with his eyes. Edwin was, as usual, utterly impassive as he hooked his lantern to the wall and slowly approached the rack.

“Hello Lucas.” His voice was as level and polite as ever. “I imagine you would like me to release you from this rack. You look a bit worse for wear if you don’t mind my saying.”

Lucas nodded as quickly and as enthusiastically as he could. Yes, please, he would do anything if it meant making the pain stop. Edwin tilted his head and looked at the mage as if he were studying the produce at the city market. He stood there and pondered for what felt like an impossibly long time before nodding his head once and pulling a key ring from his coat.

Without speaking the captain undid the bindings around Lucas’s wrists. The mage fell to the floor with a dull thud. Without the chains to stop them Lucas' arms began to heal, and in a symphony of sickening cracks and pops his shoulders we relocated and the magic finally, finally, ebbed. Lucas let out a small sob of relief, the pain and tension in his body had become tolerable and the residual soreness in his arms was nothing compared to how they felt before. A part of him wanted to truly and genuinely thank Edwin for his mercy, though he lacked the energy and capability to do so.

Edwin looked down at Lucas passively as he unlocked the bindings on Lucas’ ankles. He lowered himself down, squatting next to the mage’s prone form before patting Lucas on the back.

“I imagine you want to rest after that ordeal. I would be more than happy to allow you but there is one thing we must do first. Come along, all going well this will soon be over for you.”

Lucas looked up at Edwin, a desperate hope in his eyes as he watched the captain stand up and gesture for him to follow. He groaned softly, the exhaustion and pain soaking his body making the mere act of standing up seem impossible. A short time passed before Lucas heard Edwin speak again, the captain’s patience having apparently run thin.

“Lucas, we have something we need to attend to, please stand up.” The captain took a step towards the mage's prone form, his voice turning just a tinge colder. “Unless of course you would like to spend another night on this rack.”

That managed to spur Lucas into action and with what felt to him like a herculean effort he managed to pull himself to his feet. Edwin nodded slightly before exiting the room, Lucas following closely behind him. They walked the labyrinthine halls of the stronghold for some time. Lucas wondered to himself just how large this stronghold was, and if he would ever get to leave it.

“Here we are.”

Edwin’s voice pierced through Lucas’ thoughts, and the mage found Edwin and himself in front of a wooden door. The captain opened the door and gestured for Lucas to enter. The mage obliged, hesitantly keeping his eyes on Edwin. The room he entered was plain, with only a small table and a single chair taking up any space. Lucas looked back towards Edwin, who gestured for the boy to take a seat.

“Please, sit.”

Lucas sat down as the captain moved to the other side of the table. Silence hung in the room as Lucas nervously fidgeted in his chair under Edwins gaze. The captain undid the muzzle around Lucas’ face and then walked to the other side of the table, turning to face the mage.

“Do you remember what I told you yesterday Lucas?”

The mage startled slightly before desperately trying to think of what Edwin was referring to. Vague fragments of sentences formed in his mind but whatever Edwin had been talking about had been clouded by the pain he endured shortly after.

“I said…” Edwin began, pulling Lucas from his thoughts. “That your kind, mages, are meant to serve their betters. And that once you understand and embrace that fact life for you will become so much simpler, so much easier.”

The mage nodded slightly, unsure of where the captain was going. He got his answer when Edwin tossed a pair of rusty pliers onto the table.

“Pull out one of your teeth”

“W-what?” Lucas stuttered out.

Edwin raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t understand what there was to be confused about. “I want you to pull one of your teeth out with those pliers.”

The mage stared at Edwin with wide eyes, before frantically shaking his head and begging. “P-please, no. I-i promise I’ve learned my lesson. Please.”

“No, you clearly have not.” He stated, disappointment laced in his voice. He snapped his fingers and two witch hunters entered the room, pulling Lucas up from the chair and strapping another muzzle onto his face.

“I gave you an order, and you resisted.” Edwin turned to the hunters. “Do what you wish so long as he survives.”

Lucas struggled frantically against his captors, pleading as best he could through his gag. Edwin merely shook his as the mage was dragged out of the room.

“You brought this upon yourself Lucas.”

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Lucas screamed as another heavy blow landed on his ribs. The boy was strung up by his feet, his head hanging a foot or so off the ground. The shackles on his wrists were secured to the floor, with the shorter chains forcing his body taut. A cloth sack had also been tied over his head, leaving him unable to see what was coming.

Another blow, this one aimed at his left knee, another muffled cry of pain. The hunters that had strung Lucas up paced around him, tapping heavy canes against their palms as they planned their next strike. They had been going at it for hours, taking turns beating Lucas’ dangling body. The lack of sight and unpredictable timing left the mage constantly on edge, dreading the next strike but unable to truly prepare for it.

Seconds dragged by as the slow footsteps of the hunters filled Lucas’ ears. He hated this, hated the waiting, almost more than he hated the beating itself. The anticipation drove him mad and all he could do was whimper behind his muzzle and hope that the next blow wouldn’t-

A cane slammed into Lucas’ stomach, driving the wind out of the mage, causing him to choke and gag. He felt like he was going to be sick, not that there was anything in his stomach to begin with. Lucas sobbed softly, his cries muffled behind the gag and the sack over his head. A tense silence fell over the room again, and Lucas found himself almost wishing it were Devran beating him. The man’s angry swearing and taunts gave Lucas something other than the beating to focus on, some minor distraction. Here he had nothing. The hunters were dead silent, and with his vision blocked all Lucas could do was wait and dread and hurt.

A metallic clinking reached Lucas’ ears and suddenly he felt his body slam into the ground, his arms bent at an awkward angle. The hunters undid the chains that secured Lucas’ wrists to the ground and pulled him upright and began leading him somewhere. The sack hadn’t been removed from his head so Lucas couldn’t see where they were going. The group walked for a time until Lucas felt himself forced into a chair, his arms and legs secured to it with leather straps. The sack was pulled off of his head and Lucas looked around confused before one of the hunters grabbed his head and removed the muzzle from his mouth.

“W-wha-”

A sharp slap to the face interrupted Lucas’ question, and the sack was pulled over his head again. He felt the chair tilt backwards and wondered what exactly was coming next. He got his answer when he felt a stream of water being poured onto his face, soaking the cloth sack on his head. The fabric pressed against his nose and mouth, and Lucas began to gag and cough. The mage struggled against his bonds, his head held firmly in place and his restaurants not budging.

He couldn't breathe. He was drowning. He couldn’t breathe and they weren’t stopping and he needed air and he couldn’t breathe and he was going to die if they didn’t stop and h-

The water stopped and the sack was pulled off his face. Lucas hacked and coughed, desperately gasping for air. His reprieve was short, and the sack was quickly pulled back over his head. Lucas began to panic shaking his head and trying to plead for mercy. His objections were cut short as the flow of water began again.

The sensation of drowning returned immediately and Lucas once again began to struggle. He couldn’t take this. He couldn’t. It was too much. He needed a break, a moment, just one moment, to rest.

The water stopped, the sack was pulled off of his head, and Lucas was given an all too short window to breathe before the process repeated itself. On and on, over and over. Each break felt shorter, each second under the water stretched out longer than the last. Lucas wondered if this would be how he died. He had a feeling his captors wouldn’t be letting him off so easy.

Hours passed and the sack was pulled off on last time. The hunters secured the muzzle back onto Lucas’ face and pulled the mage to his feet again. They dragged him out of the room and down the hall, another torment awaiting him just around the corner.

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Footsteps echoed through the empty hallway as Edwin made his way towards the mage’s cell. It had been just about a week since he had last seen the boy, and he was hopeful that they would come to an understanding this time. The captain stopped in front of a door, taking some time to fiddle with his key ring before unlocking the door.

Lucas stood in the middle of the room, his occasional pants and grunts of exertion breaking the silence. The hunters had left him in a stress position last night. His arms were tied behind his back and a length of chain attached that looped through a hook in the ceiling pulled them upwards. The other end of the chain was secured to a collar secured around Lucas’ neck and to prevent himself from choking Lucas needed to strain his shoulders. The short length of the chain also forced Lucas onto the tips of his toes, forcing the mage to strain his entire body in order to avoid being strangled or dislocating his shoulders.

Edwin walked towards Lucas, whistling a song he had heard in the city square earlier that day. The mage flinched when Edwin got closer, a good sign. The captain unlocked the chains connected to Lucas’ wrists and neck, watching impassively as the boy fell to the floor with a thud. Edwin crouched by Lucas’ prone form casually pulling the sack off of Lucas’ head and pulling him off the ground. Lucas regarded Edwin with bleary bloodshot eyes, his endurance having been long since spent.

“Hello Lucas. It has been a while since we last saw each other.” Lucas stayed silent and Edwin continued. “Come now son, I’m certain you’d like a chance to rest but there is one little thing we must take care of beforehand. Might as well not drag it out right?”

Edwin did not wait for a response as he began walking out of the room. He heard soft footsteps following behind him and smiled to himself for a moment. Their walk was silent as usual, and Edwin led them through the halls of the stronghold until they reached the room. The captain opened the door and gestured for Lucas to enter before following shortly after.

Lucas stood awkwardly next to the chair and Edwin motions for the boy to take a seat. Lucas obliged and Edwin nodded before pulling a pair of pliers out from his coat and placing them in front of the mage.

“Lucas. Take those pliers and pull out one of your teeth.”

Lucas stared at the pliers for a few seconds before hesitantly picking them up. His hands were shaking and Edwin could see his resolve begin to crack as he brought them closer to his mouth. Lucas opened his mouth and began to move the pliers closer but then froze. He stared at the tool in his hands, unable to bring them any closer. He needed one last nudge.

“Lucas. Do I need to have my brothers continue your education?”

That managed to push through whatever hesitation Lucas had. With a shaky breath he clamped the pliers around one of his teeth and, after one last second to prepare himself, twisted hard and pulled.

An agonized cry crossed Lucas’ lips as the tooth came out. He hunched over the table, blood dripped from his mouth onto the table and his knuckles were white from gripping the pliers, the tooth still held between its jaws. Edwin walked forward, standing next to Lucas before gently placing a hand on top of his head. He looked up at Edwin, unsure of what was coming next.

Edwin gave the boy a small smile. “Good boy, Lucas.”

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Tags!: @ladygwennn @dramaticcollapse @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @brutal-nemesis @haro-whumps @rippedjeansandfadeddreams

#whump #fantasy whump #lucas #magical whump #me? take 4 months to write about 10 pages? neveeeeeerrrrrrrrr

43 notes · View notes

number1yisuchongfan · 3 years

Text

Summary:

Omega realized she was crying, watching as the Havoc Marauder was turned to a fiery explosion.

What the kark was she going to do now, stuck in this escape pod with only a small bag of belongings and food?

What was she going to do?

Rating:

Teen and Up Audiences

Warning tags:

No Warnings Applied

Word Count:

2,174

Characters:

Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Saw Gerrera, and CT-7567 | Rex

Fan fiction:

She was being held, woken up by shouting as she was placed into or onto something, (maybe a pod of some kind?) with Hunter’s face looking down at her.

She was still so tired, not hearing anything but soft ringing, Lula was in her hands, pressed to her chest when the world finally came back to her in one breath.

The ship was being attacked, most likely by Crosshair and his men, their ship and fighters attacking the Marauder from all sides.

He found them from their last mission on Batuu, their ship getting tagged by the Empire as they left the spaceport.

“Hunter!” Omega shouted out, reaching out for her brother’s arm, him just pushing her back into the only escape pod, a bag being pressed into her hands along with a canteen and bow. “Hunter!”

“Stay in here until we come back for you okay, kid?” He explained fanatically, moving to the pod’s door, looking at her with a worried expression. What was going on?!

A hiss of a door opening.

The sound of shouting and blaster bolts filling their home, her home.

The faint smell of sweat in the air.

“Got it!?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder to where she knew Echo and Tech were, Wrecker’s shouting becoming louder as more blaster bolts shot past Hunter’s own head, nearly hitting him.

She nodded and the door closed with a hiss, the pod shooting out of its dock as she watched their ship grow smaller the more the pod traveled away. Omega picked up Lula, holding the plush to her chest as she waited then-

It blew up, the ring of fire causing her pod to shake and malfunction from the force of it. She just closed her eyes, hoping to wake up from this… this nightmare. She wanted to be back in her brother’s arms, those arms comforting her with gentle words and soft pats of her back.

That was four standard hours ago, her pod had stopped, waiting right outside of the debris of the Havoc Marauder and that imperial ship. The stars never changed as she floated in space. Lula was still in her lap, covered in crumbs from the ration bar she had, tear streams dry on her cheeks.

“What if Hunter’s still alive, Lula?” She asked her toy and her small little trooper toy, bringing both closer to her chest as new tears ran down her face. What if she had stayed? Maybe if she did, they’ll all be alive and back with Cid on-

The pod moved, as if in a tractor beam, she moved towards the view port and saw a blue Y-wing and some kind of XS freighter. Rex and whoever his people were. She felt her heartbeat quicken, her tears streaming down her face as she cried tears of joy.

She was safe, and when she stared up to the hatch, a tan skinned man with a blue mask and a dark skinned man with green eyes were staring down at her.

“Are you Omega?” The green eyed man asked, (Saw Gerrera maybe?) his hand outreached to pick her up. Omega just continued to cry, the man having to get into the pod to pick her and her belongings up and into the freighter. “Sh, kiddo, Rex’s dockin’ right now and be right with you shortly.”

He was fixing her hair, pressing Lula to her chest as she clung to his shirt and armor, sobbing into his neck. She was safe, she was saved by Rex and his people. Whoever Rex trusted to pick her up clearly was good with little kids, petting the back of her head as he swayed them. Omega was being carried off to a small med bay, a man with dark purple eyes pushing up her sleeve to get a blood sample? Or maybe just giving her something to calm her down?

She was still clinging to this tall man’s chest, his reassuring voice telling her she was safe, that she needed to rest.

Omega didn’t need to sleep, she need to talk to Rex and tell him about Crosshair and-

She yawned, rubbing her eyes of sleep and the tears she could feel collecting there, the edges of her vision becoming darker as she blinked slower.

“Shh, kid,” The man muttered into her hair, his hand petting his hair as he sat down in a seat. She was tired, but just from crying or from that tranquilizer they gave her, she was just… tired. “Rex will be here soon and you can tell him everythin’, ‘kay?”

“‘Kay…” She slurred, the word being drawn out with the clear exhaustion in her voice.

Omega felt warm, as if she was back in her room, the fairy lights above her on the lowest setting, with a blanket over her exhausted body. She loved that feeling, the world so still as she looked over the stars from her little view. Everything felt airy, soft and fluffy, like she was breathing in laughing gas. The hand at the back of her head slowed, as a blurry figure in a cloak or something came forward.

Omega was too tired to keep her eyes open, too tired.

So warm. So comforting.

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“Did you really have to drug her?” He heard Rex ask with a sigh.

Saw looking up from the little girl in arms to his husband, his face in that cute tight-lipped expression he loved to make when in thought.

“Omega was going to have a panic attack on my ship. Pretty sure she was going to pass out before you docked anyway.” Saw explained with a sigh, craning his neck up to catch Rex’s kiss.

“Seems they got her out before they died,” Rex sighed out, sitting in the copilot’s seat, looking over the remains of Clone Force 99’s last stand. “I know that this old hunk of junk has quarters, let’s get her a bed.”

Saw nodded, looking at all the broken metal and glass in front of them, nothing remaining but the small, little girl in his arms and those belongings in her bag. She was clinging to his shirt as they walked out of the cockpit, walking though the main hold to the bunk room.

“She seems a little younger than thirteen,” Saw said, waiting for Rex to grab one of the thermal blankets. His husband just huffed out a laugh, placing the blanket on one of the small cots, fixing the small pillow. “At least ten basic at the most.”

“I know just,” Rex started to explain, moving out of the way as he placed the small girl on the tiny cot, her hands grasping at the blanket as if she was trying to grasp his shirt again. He looked over to his lover, his face in that soft look he made before he cried, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“It’s okay, I’m gonna to be right here the whole time, ‘Kay?” Saw tried to comfort, leading Rex out of the bunk room. Harold and Lufi were waiting outside, the two teenagers at a perfect ready. “Private Desncuni, watch over Omega and Sargeant Munica, try to find some alcohol for me and the Captain.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” They both shouted together, Lufi walking into the bunk room and Harold moving quickly to the cargo bay. He looked back to Rex, those eyes closed as he took a deep breath. He never wanted Rex to cry, never wanted Rex to worry about anything and he’ll make sure of that.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, cyar’ika.” Rex said into his gloved hands, letting himself get pulled into his lover’s arms, pressing his face into his chest. He just keeped them walking slowly, towards the cockpit and the only bit of privacy on his shitty ship, pressing kisses and short, sweet admirations of love. He opened the door with a hush of cold air hitting their faces, getting Rex to the copilot’s chair. He sat in his own chair, looking over at his partner, his dark eyes looking over the debris. “I just don’t know.”

“It’s okay love, I hardly know what to do either. With Admiral Ambino and the Empire breathing down our necks,” Saw sighed, taking Rex’s left hand in his own, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. Rex just looked back at him, eyes teary as Harold walked in, passing him the alcohol and glasses. He poured them both the liquor, the amber liquid glowing blue from the ship’s sensors and lights.

“Thank you, cyare.” Rex thanked, taking the glass into his lap. Saw took a drink from his cup, the sour liquor making his throat sting, before looking back at his now crying lover.

Saw moved over back towards him, pulling Rex onto his lap. He pushed Rex’s head into his neck, letting him sob and shake in his hold. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m right here, love. Right here.”

Rex just sobbed harder, hands on his own glass shaking so hard the glass nearly tipped over, drenching out over his lover’s blacks and his pants.

Rex rarely cried this hard, only once while they were on a tough mission in Iziz, seeing families getting ripped apart as they walked the city’s streets, but this was different. He was crying because he’s just lost more brothers, more of his only kin.

He hadn’t cried when Steela died, pushing those emotions down so much he could barely feel them anymore. He just held his lover close, placing both of their glasses onto the floor.

“I’m- I’m sorry, Saw. I shouldn’t be- I shouldn’t be crying.” Rex gasped into his neck, hands now grasping at the lip of his chestplate.

“No, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to show emotion.” He whispered into Rex’s temple, kissing that little scar which had caused his brothers so much pain. Rex pulled back, he and his face red and cheeks wet from tears as he looked into his green eyes, expression soft. Saw just pushed him back in that little space, kissing the top of his head as Rex took in deep breaths, “It’s okay, my love.”

“I- I love you.” Rex muttered into his neck, his lover’s strong arms now wrapped securely around Saw’s neck.

“I love you too.” Saw muttered, kissing Rex's head again before looking over the stars and broken metal. What was this little girl going to become to him and Rex? A daughter? He had wanted to give Rex children before the War, adopt a few and raise them in Saw’s beast ride out in the jungles of his homeworld. But that was before the war, but now?

What child deserved to live in constant fear of dying or seeing their parents die, with nightmares plaguing?

Well, him, he guessed. But this little girl? She acted just like Steela when she was nine, tired from school and running their shop, clinging to him when he tried to set her down.

“We’ll both protect her, I’ll protect her, Rex.” Saw swore. “With my last dying breath, I will protect Omega.”

————————————————————

Wrecker…

Tech, Echo…

Hunter!

Omega woke up in a gasp, breathing harshly as light filled her small cot. She went for her bow, finding it missing as she panicked. Was she captured by the Empire? Pirates? Maybe Cad Bane or Fennec Shand found her in the debris? She needed to get out of here. Two people stepped forward, her blurry vision making her captures look like glowing figures.

“Omega, everything’s fine,” A familiar voice said. Rex! She tried wrapped her arms around his neck, but her limbs felt too weak to move, to grab onto her brother.

“Rex. Where am,” Omega was interrupted by a yawn before she could finish, her eyes still heavy with fatigue. “Where am I?”

“You’re on my… partner’s ship,” Rex explained, fixing the blanket she was wrapped in and picking up her toys, placing them on her lap. “We just got into hyperspace so it will be a few days till we see Onderon, you don’t need to worry kiddo.”

“Onderon?” She asked, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Yes, Onderon,” Rex murmured with a smile, going to move her curly hair out of her face. “My rebel group and partner are stationed there at the moment.”

“That’s… that’s good,” She agreed, the sleepiness hitting her again as the second figure came by Rex. Her vision was still blurred, the figure still so unreadable but for their eyes, their glowing green eyes. “Who are you?”

“I’m Saw.” The figure simply stated, roughing up her hair with a large, gloved hand before stepping out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Odd.

“Don’t worry about him; Saw has a soft spot for children.” Rex seemed to reassure, looking at the door with a smile, before fixing her, again, wild hair out of her face. Omega was too tired to complain or push away his hand, just nuzzling back into her pillow and blanket, before letting sleep take her once again.

#star wars #tbb #bad batch #the bad batch #saw gerrera #captain rex #omega bad batch #bad batch omega #fan fiction #my fanfiction #ao3 tag #tumblr fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #rexsaw #sawrex

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joeygallagher · 2 years

Photo

Harold Hunter (RIP)

Photo by Gunars Elmuts

#Harold Hunter #Gunars Elmuts #NYC #Zoo York #DC Shoes #Cost #CostKRT #Cost KRT #Skateboarding #90s

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dex-xe · 3 years

Text

I’ve made Spotify playlists inspired by each of the ghosts and I’ve made these little written pieces to talk about them. if you wanna read them, please go ahead - if not then enjoy the music!!

This is Pat's playlist:

Dancing In the Dark - Bruce Springsteen

A 1984 hit that Pat definitely would have loved, it’s brilliant tbh.

I Will Follow You into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

Poor Pat. I feel so sorry for him having to leave his family so young, like as someone who lost a parent very young (although I’m assuming slightly older than Daley would’ve been) it breaks my heart to see Pat’s family turn up at Button House. I’ve been to the place my parent died a number of times since and every time it makes me feel kinda sick. It’s an interesting idea for the show to explore, sometimes I forget just how dark this show actually is but like it’s a comedy but it’s literally about the trauma of death like???

Kids In America - Kim Wilde

I too adore Kim Wilde, Pat.

Dance With Me - Alphaville

RIP Pat Butcher you would’ve loved this song. Like Pat’s a dancing king as has been shown in ALN (one of my favourite episodes O.o) and that’s legit one of my favourite scenes where Pat and the Captain are arguing on the dance floor. I say “naff off, you wazzock” more than is socially acceptable XD

Sweet Caroline - Neil Diamond

Pat was obviously a fan of Sweet Caroline, man was a DJ extraordinaire and a huge football fan therefore obvious. It’s kinda weird to imagine Pat at the local game on a Sunday afternoon but like he definitely did, maybe he took Daley a few times. More of Pat’s life please, Parent Pat plsss.

Radio Ga Ga - Queen

The Grey Lady is one of my absolute favourite episodes cause I think ghosts hunters are a really great concept for an episode and Pat trying to host a radio show is just so incredibly funny. Pat’s little “apologies to those still waiting for the pop quiz” is just so good. But yeah, radio guy.

Video Killed The Radio Star - The Buggles

More radio references but also, I think Pat (and Julian as well) are most indicative of the increasingly rapid passage of time through technology. Like when Pat’s like”knocks the socks off Betamax!!” And Julian says “that must be two CD noms max” or something (I can’t remember exactly what he says). There’s a thing called Moore’s Law that states that technology doubles in capability and halves in price every two years (I know that’s not right but that’s the basic gist don’t come at me) but that means that growth in technological accessibility is increasing at a more rapid pace every year. Anyway, I think watching Pat and Julian struggle with modern technology is so fascinating cause they’re so different to today despite only living a few decades ago.

Together In Electric Dreams - Phil Oakey & Giorgio Moroder

Pat would’ve just missed this and honestly big sad. Such a cheesy song and just pure 80s cringe and I adore it XD But yeah, “we will always be together”.

Dancing in the Moonlight - Toploader

I put this on so many character playlists (I have literally hundreds of private character playlists on my personal spotify, there’s legitimately tons) because it’s just a nice song and yeah, Pat would love it :D

Alright - Supergrass

This was more placed here as something for Pat’s scouts. Like the song is so often used to show young people having fun and being care-free and I just love the image of Pat driving the scouts out into the country and it being a superrrrr long drive and then finally they get off the bus and just run free with this song playing. I loved being in Scouts and most of the Masters were so much fun and I just really wanna see more of Pat making sure his scouts have a great time!!

Come On Eileen - Dexys Midnight Runners

(Dexys Midnight Runners are actually the reason behind my username on here…) But yeah just the 80s personified this song. And I hope your proud of me for not making the classic Australian Radio joke I always make when this song comes up… XD

December, 1963 (Oh What A Night) - Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons

Pat was born in 1945/6, right?? Well then he would’ve turned 18 in 1963. I always forget that Pat was not just an 80s guy like he was a teen in the 50s and 60s and then in his 20s in the 70s like that’s sick!! But yeah sorry, this is just a great song!!

(Feels Like) Heaven - Fiction Factory

Pat, my guy. My heart breaks in that scene where Pat really thinks he’s going to heaven. My. Heart. Breaks. I’m assuming the ghosts don’t know what happens when you “move on” but Pat immediately assumes upon seeing a bright light that that’s it for him?? Maybe it’s just based on films and pop culture that he’s aware of?? Or maybe it’s just because he was emotional and had had a massive revelation of sorts and assumed he would move on??

You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real) - Jimmy Somerville

Just a good song againnnnnnnnn, but also since Alison turning up like how incredible would it be to finally have a living breathing human who you can talk to. Like how real would that make you feel?? Like okay Jimmy, come back to me once you've been dead 40 years and meet a woman who half died and can now see you, then that's real!! XD

Don’t You (Forget About Me) - Simple Minds

I feel like Pat more than anyone is concerned about being forgotten but is also one of the least likely to be forgotten for the time being. Like he has a whole family who won’t forget him for at minimum two generations in addition to God knows how many scouts who will clearly not forget him. He passed on skills that they will pass on to others who will pass on to others like one day his name will be forgotten but not what he imparted onto the world. Okay got philosophical but yeah, you shan’t be forgotten any time soon Pat!!

Top Gun Anthem - Harold Faltermeyer & Steve Stevens

A great film, good choice Pat.

Wake Me Up Before You Go Go - Wham!

1980s icon George Michael. Just a fun song.

Somewhere in My Heart - Aztec Camera

Pat still loves Carol despite what she did to him… That is either an incredibly emotionally mature man or a man in denial who knows?? But this song is just so lovely, like it feels very pure and uncomplicated if that makes sense.

I’m Still Standing - Elton John

Having just said that, I feel like this is part is just kind of a fuck you. Like just a moment to be like ‘i’m still living (hehe dying) a good life (hehe death) despite what you did to me.'

The Wanderer - Status Quo

This is the song that plays when Pat gets into the bus after being shot. It’s basically just about being a player and hitting on loads of women, so not particularly relevant but it’s still a good song and I genuinely find that scene really eerie and yeah, *shudder* just find it weird.

#bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts pat #Spotify

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jackbatchelor3 · 6 years

Video

youtube

Mel and Hunter's Plan EastEnders

Warning: Emotional scenes

#EastEnders #Doof Doof #Omnibus #EastEnders Omnibus #Hunter Owen #Mel Owen #Ray Kelly #Jack Branning #Max Branning #Karen Taylor #Dr Legg #Harold Legg #Judith Legg #Dot Branning #Dot Cotton #RIP #RIP Dr Legg #RIP Harold Legg

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years

Note

Hi, just wanted to say your portrayal of Arthur is so hot. Can you write some headcanons of him teaching the reader the way of an outlaw? ( She was normally a beautiful city girl in Saint Denis but meets him and becomes interested to know his way of living, kind of like Jack and Rose from Titantic.)

Anon, I’m so sorry this has taken so long! Anyways, I hope this is satisfactory.

You’ve lived in Saint Denis for over twenty long, mostly good years. Your family moved here when you were little and you don’t remember your home before then. Your father got a job as a state official in the city which allowed you and your mother to live luxuriously. While it had its obvious perks, you’ve recently been finding yourself longing for something more. What that something is, you don’t know.

The past few weeks you’ve taken your days to go to the library or one of the stores you never went to as a child since your parents didn’t see the need to visit them. Before, you used to spend most of your nights going to endless parties with your mother. Sometimes your father came, but most nights he locked himself away in his office to work. These parties used to be entertaining when you were a teen, but as you got older, you realized that they were designed more to reiterate the obvious differences of the sexes. The women always had to look perfect, the men refined. The girls with the most expensive jewelry or finest headdresses got the most attention and it seemed every couple of weeks, someone announced their engagement. The women who were engaged stopped coming to these parties and it left a horrible suspicion in your gut.

One night, a few weeks back, you approached her mother and asked her what the function of these parties were for. She simply said that women of yours and hers positions were expected to attend these social outings, to keep up your good family name. However, one night at one of these parties, you overheard her talking to some of the other mothers how she was surprised you hadn’t found a husband yet. She was debating sending you to university to accomplish this very task.

When you found out she was trying to marry you off, you hated her for it. How dare she try and dictate your life? Sure, you wanted to go to university, but you wanted to learn there, not find a man to marry. After that, you stopped going to many of these parties, despite your mother and the maids pressuring you to go. That was when you started leaving the house on your own in the early afternoon to go to the library or a new store. Your mother was highly disapproving, stating you needed a chauffeur, but you brushed her off every time stating that none of the other women in the city had them.

You found yourself loving the library, something your father pointed out was useless. He stated if you really wanted a book, you could just buy it and not rent some dusty, worn out piece that everyone else used. You didn’t tell him you went to the library mostly to get away from your irritating mother.

Today’s no different than most the others. Your mother told you there’s another party tonight, something at the art gallery. You left soon after she told you this. You know you’re pushing her patience and she’s likely to start having the maids or butler prevent you from leaving. Honestly you’re surprised it hasn’t already happened. Walking down one of the crowded streets of Saint Denis, you see an art supply store. On the window is a poster advertising art lessons. You’ve never tried your hand at anything artistic. Perhaps you can change that. You open the door and walk inside, looking at the various brushes, canvases, pencils and a plethora of tools you couldn’t even begin to name. There’s a small shelf with a stack of journals.

As you’re looking around, a man walks in the store. You look up and know immediately he’s not from around here. He’s what your father would call a “yankee”. You’ve seen men like him in the books you’ve read. A man of the West. You’ve read about it, the heat, the deserts, the outlaws, bounty hunters and saloon girls. Lately you’ve been fantasizing about it. The whole idea of the West represents one thing to you: freedom. By the looks of this man, he’s been hardened by that freedom with his tanned, rough skin, his scuffed up leather hat and the spurs on his heels. He doesn’t glance at you and he walks over to a shelf with loads of drawing pencils. He inspects a few of them and then heads up to the counter, paying for one. You’re extremely curious about him and follow him out the door, staying a few paces back.

You follow the rugged man down the street. He looks horribly out of place among the refined people dressed to their best that walk and linger about. He passes a tailor’s shop and you do too, passing a couple where the woman is blabbering about finding something in purple.

The man turns down a smaller street, heading east in the city. If he keeps going, he’ll soon hit the slums of Saint Denis, a place you were never really allowed to visit. Your father said that only thieves and the scum of the city went. You doubt it’s true, your father has a lot of harsh opinions about people who don’t live the way he does.

The man turns down an alleyway and when you follow him, you find he’s gone. There are no doors though, just a stack of crates against a wall. You furrow your brow and walk slowly down the way, wondering where he went. Was he just a figment of your imagination? He couldn’t be.

Just as you pass the crates, someone grabs you and pushes you into the wall, holding you hard against it.

“Why you followin’ me?” the man demands in a rough voice. You try to slow your breathing down.

“Please mister, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Would you believe I was simply curious?”

“Curious? About what? What I got in my satchel, maybe?”

“No, sir! Believe me when I say that I’ve no doubt I have much more money than you. Please mister, I meant no harm.”

He glares at you with his hard, blue eyes and then lets you go. “Fine, I believe you. But do us both a favor and don’t follow me.”

He stomps out of the alleyway, disappearing down the street. You rub your shoulder where he grabbed you. Something tells you he’s not just a cowboy from the west, perhaps something more. All you want to do is follow him again, but you decide not to. He’s not wearing that gunbelt just for show, after all.

**********************

A few days later and you’re still thinking about the man you saw. You went back to the library, pulling out as many books as you could find on the West. The librarians gave you odd looks when you asked about them but said nothing. You study the books, finding several paintings of rugged men on horseback, running along scrubby deserts with proud vistas behind them. You read stories about gold panners, trappers, gunslingers, outlaws, sheriffs, ranglers, cowboys and ranchers. Your idea of the West grows and you’re even more drawn to it. You wish you could go there, but no way could you do it on your own. You don’t even know how to ride a horse, having always ridden in carriages and stages. You wish you could find the man again. He seems to be a doorway for something you desperately desire.

When the library closes, you walk home slowly, fantasizing about what it must be like to live out West, to see the wide sweeping plains. Even to see a buffalo or an elk. Just as you’re passing down the street, two men come out of an alleyway. One of them pulls a revolver out and points it at you.

“Give us all you got, lady,” he says. You gasp and freeze.

“Please, sirs, I don’t have any money on me. Not today anyways. Please, sirs, I beg you!”

The men chuckle darkly and the one not holding a gun grabs you, taking you down the alleyway. “You rich people always have money. Now give it to us!”

He pins you against a wall and slaps you hard.

“Please, sir!” you beg. “I don’t have anything!”

The man growls and takes your purse, rummaging through it. He pulls out the few bills you have in it and grins. “Ah, just what I thought. You did have money. I think, Jerald, we should make her pay for lying.”

Jerald, holding the revolver, grins stupidly. “I like that idea, Harold.”

Harold pushes you back against the wall and tries to kiss you, but you fight back, slapping his face. He growls darkly and backhands you. “That ain’t a way for a lady to act!”

He starts tugging at the top of your blouse, ripping a few of the top buttons off.

“Help!” you scream. He slaps you again, cutting your lip.

Suddenly, there’s a loud click behind the men and they turn to find the rugged man from the West pointing a shotgun at them. “I think you two should leave the lady alone,” he growls.

Jerald drops the gun and runs off. Harold tries to as well, but the man grabs him by the collar. “I think you took somethin’ of hers. Give it back!”

The man doesn’t wait for him to respond and he goes through his pockets, taking your money out. He lets Harold go, who runs off. You massage your shoulders and pull the top of your shirt closed with one hand.

“Thank you, sir,” you say, blushing. The man shoulders his shotgun and hands you your money back.

“Ma’am, you a’right?”

“Yes, thanks to you.” He hands you your money back but you don’t take it. “You keep it, sir. I have lots more at home. Please take it as payment for helping me.”

He nods and puts it into his satchel, thanking you. “Ma’am, I hate to leave ya like this. Let me walk ya home. I’d feel better knowing you got there safe.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank you, sir.” Normally you’d expect a man to hold out his arm for you to take, but he doesn’t. He gestures for you to walk next to him though.

“Mister, you obviously are not from here, if you don’t mind me saying. May I ask where you’re from?” you say as you walk with him.

He scratches his chin and you see two small scars hidden in the stubble. “Well, I ain’t really from anywhere. Been too many places to really be from any of ‘em.”

“Are you from the West?” you say foolishly.

He chuckles. “Well, I suppose I am. I only got here a week ago, ain’t ever been this far east.”

“Are you a gunslinger?”

He laughs again. “Why? You like gunslingers?”

“Sir, I’ve read a lot about the West. I’ve read that it’s untameable. A land of freedom and wilderness.”

“So what? You fancy yourself livin’ out in the sticks with the animals?”

“Perhaps, mister. It can’t be much worse than the city’s animals.”

“No I guess it can’t. And between you and me, I prefer the other animals over the ones that live here,” he says.

You stop in front of your home and turn to him. “Thank you again, mister. May I at least know the name of my rescuer?”

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

“Well, thank you again, Mr. Morgan.” You turn away to head inside when you look back at him. “Say, Mr. Morgan, would it be prudent of me to hope we meet again?”

He chuckles and looks away. “Ain’t too sure why you’d wanna see me again.”

You blush and look down. “Well, perhaps I’ve fallen in love with the ideas of the West, mister. But I have not had the luxuries to truly know it. Perhaps I’m being foolish, but something tells me you know a thing or two about how it really is.”

He huffs a small laugh. “I guess I do. Well, ma’am, perhaps I can. I got some things to take care of, but if I see ya again, maybe we can have a little chat.”

You smile, knowing it’s the best you can get. “Then I surely hope we meet again, Mr. Morgan.”

****************

A week has passed since you were rescued by Arthur. You’ve found yourself hoping to see him around the city and you’ve been leaving earlier than usual, thinking you might bump into him. Finally you do. You’re in the garden near the mayor’s home, sitting on a bench and fanning yourself when you see him riding past on his horse. You get up and run over to him.

“Mr. Morgan!” you say. He smiles when he sees you.

“Hello, ma’am. Hope you ain’t in trouble again.”

“No, sir. Just enjoying the beautiful day. I hope I’m not being forward, but I was hoping we could have that chat. If you’re not too busy, that is.”

He smiles and dismounts his horse, hitching it to a post. He follows you back into the garden and takes a seat next to you on the bench. There, he tells you stories of his own experiences out west. You get the feeling he’s leaving parts out, but you don’t push. As you listen, you realize your ideas of the West were heavily romanticised. Sure, there’s freedom out there and wide open spaces, but other people have freedom out there too and don’t necessarily have good intentions. He describes going to sleep many nights, wondering if his throat would get slit before morning.

It’s nearly noon and you stop Arthur. You offer to buy him lunch and he accepts, taking you over to his horse. You had thought to take a stage or perhaps the trolley, but he hops onto his horse and then offers you his arm.

“Excuse me, Mr. Morgan, but I’ve never ridden…”

“Ya ain’t never ridden a horse?” he says.

“No,” you say, feeling childish. He gestures for you with his arm again and you take it. He lifts you up easily to sit behind him, instructing you on how to sit and to hold onto his waist. You feel a bit wobbly on the horse, but he walks slow. When you get to the saloon on the main street, Arthur hops off and then helps you dismount.

“Can’t believe ya ain’t never ridden a horse before,” he teases.

“As I said before, Mr. Morgan, I have not had many of those kinds of luxuries in my life.”

He chuckles and offers his arm, leading you inside where you get two plates of prime rib. Sitting at the table, Arthur continues on about some of his experiences about the west. After a while, he gets quiet. “So tell me what it’s like living in the city,” he says.

“Oh trust me, very dull in comparison to your life, Mr. Morgan.”

“Arthur. Call me Arthur. And I never did learn your name.”

You tell him and then go on to describe your life. As you talk, telling of the parties, the chauffeurs and valets, you realize how meaningless and sad your life has been so far. You pause. “You must think I’m such a silly girl,” you say, looking down at your empty plate. “I’ve had all these conveniences in my life but it’s so boring and droll. Yet here you are, a lifetime of adventures and knowledge and you don’t have my luxuries.”

“If ya don’t mind me sayin’, miss, it sounds awful,” he admits. “I don’t fancy city livin’. Give me the open country any day and I’m a happy man.”

“I’ve never really been to open country. I’ve only read about it and seen it in paintings.”

“Would you like to change that?” he asks. You look up at him in surprise, sure he’s just playing. Instead, his face is serious.

“I’d love to, Arthur, but I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“Sure it is. First thing you’ll have to do is learn to ride a horse. Can’t go far without one. You say you got money?” You nod. “Good. Then maybe, after you get acquainted with how to ride one, you can get one yourself.”

He makes plans with you to meet up every few days and have you learn how to ride his horse. The thought is a little daunting but you’re determined.

*******************

It’s been three weeks since Arthur promised to teach you how to survive in the open country. You’ve met up with him at least three times a week to ride his horse. He’s a wonderful teacher, able to read his horse like a book and tell you how to respond. In the beginning, you were awful, hardly able to hold yourself straight or maintain balance. After a few lessons, though, you got the hang of it. He hasn’t had you do faster than a steady trot and you’re not confident enough in yourself to try faster than that.

You finish today’s lesson, which involved pivoting and tight turns, and the sun glints off his gun in its belt. “You, uh, ever have to use that?” you ask, nodding to it.

“More than I’d care to admit,” he says. He looks more tired today, but won’t go into why. You know by now he doesn’t live in the city and he seems to be part of a party, but again he’s very tight lipped about all of it. You don’t care to pressure him either, grateful to have such a willing teacher.

“Could… could you teach me how to use it?” you ask, wondering if you’re pushing your luck. Your father certainly wouldn’t be happy if he found out. He has very firm ideas on what men and women should be allowed to do and he finds guns abhorrent. You don’t care though.

Arthur fingers the butt of his gun. “Perhaps, though I ain’t too sure it’ll ever come in useful for you.”

“I’m not saying it will, but I like to learn, Mr. Morgan. Forgive me for my craving of knowledge.”

“No apologies needed, ma’am. Well, I guess I can teach ya. Only we’ll have to do it outside the city. I don’t know much about this place, but I’m sure folk around here don’t take kindly to gun shots.”

He’s right on that front, so you agree to meet him outside of the city limits for horseback riding and gun shooting. It’s a location out in the swamps south of Lakay. On your way home that day, you stop by the stables and decide to buy a horse, knowing it’ll be less conspicuous of you to meet him alone rather than have a driver of a stage take you out there. You buy a rather handsome blood bay stallion named Jake. He’s got an incredibly soft disposition, even though he’s a very tall horse, but it’s perfect for you.

Before heading home, you stop at the general store to buy some clothes. You’ve never been in this one by the train tracks as your servants bought everything you needed and your clothes were all custom made. However, riding horses in skirts and dresses were proving to be difficult and uncomfortable. You look at the clothes sold in the store and find some jeans and button down shirts. You’ve never worn pants before, your mother always said it was improper for a lady of your class.

You try the jeans on in the dressing room, thinking they feel almost too constricting but you’re able to still move in them. You buy the jeans and a few shirts along with a hat and boots and then mount Jake. It feels odd to be riding your own horse in these new clothes through the city. Once home, you stable Jake, explain to the stable boys to keep quiet and change clothes in his stall.

************************

Another couple of weeks have passed since you bought Jake. He earned Arthur’s approval immediately. He’s taken to teaching you more than just how to ride and shoot a gun, but also how to start a fire, cook your own food and a few other things that are required to live outdoors. He’s been toying with the idea of teaching you how to hunt as well, which you’re optimistic of.

More and more, you’ve found yourself yearning for his lifestyle. You’ve come to realize that living out of the city means you live without expectation. People won’t demand you to get married or dress certain ways or eat certain food. You could truly be who you are out there.

Not only that, you’ve grown fond of the cowboy. While he’s definitely got rough edges and a short fuse, he’s incredibly patient and kind. One day you were learning how to shoot his shotgun and two men rode by, taunting you that someone as little and “refined” as you couldn’t do it. Arthur yelled at them and drove them off, the sight of him was intimidating. It didn’t help that he was so big in the shoulders and chest, nor that he was handsome. You often found yourself lost in his eyes. You hoped you weren’t getting a crush on him, that would only make things awkward and complicated, but at the same time, you knew you could do a lot worse than him. You didn’t know if he was sweet on you though, his behavior didn’t change much, so you kept your own behavior in check.

You’re preparing to go out and meet Arthur now. You’re in your room, putting on a day dress as you keep your riding clothes hidden in Jake’s stall. Your parents luckily haven’t caught on yet. A knock comes to the door and your father strides in. He announces that he, your mother, and more importantly you, are going to a party at the mayor’s mansion. You try to argue with him, telling him you have premade plans. He glares at you.

“Your mother and I know you’re up to something, young lady. People are beginning to talk. Why, your poor mother was told by many of her friends last week at the gala that they haven’t seen you but they’ve heard of someone who sounds like you hanging around some damn yankee. Now I know that can’t be you, you were raised with finer tastes than that. But we need to squash these rumors. You are coming with us tonight and I won’t hear another word.”

He leaves your room and two maids come in, holding a fine dress, petticoat and corset, prepared to make you over. You’ve no choice, you realize, since it’ll be unlikely for you to be left alone at this point. You change into the uncomfortably tight dress and then head out to this awful party with your family in your father’s stagecoach. There, your mother reprimands you yet again for having skipped out on so many dinners and dances. “I do hope you’re learning a lot out of those books you’ve been reading,” she says. “The way you’re going, I’d think you were already enrolled in university.”

“Oh I have been learning a lot,” you say much more brusquely than you would have normally. Now that you’re spending so much time with Arthur and away from the city, you’ve started to drop the refined ways you used to talk in, picking up a much more leisurely Southern drawl.

“And what have you been reading up on?” your father asks.

“I’ve been studying the wild West,” you admit.

“Filthy place,” your mother says. “Bandits and thieves, running around with the savages. Might as well be running with the animals.”

“It ain’t like that, mama,” you say. “Them people you call ‘savages’ are just people who lost everything to savagery. It’s not like they came out, met us white folk and just started slaughtering us. No, we stole their land and their property first. We started out as the savages.”

“I don’t much like your tone, young lady,” your father says. “We’ve done nothing wrong and we cannot control the actions of those who came before us. Besides, our families have never been farther west than Rhodes. Thank God for that, too. Why, people like us would get robbed on every turn of the trail out west.”

“How do you know, pa? You ain’t never been out there. They’re just as capable of goodness out in the west as we are here in the east.”

“Enough, Y/N,” he says. “I’m weary of this conversation. I suggest you focus your attention on other places of study. Now try and enjoy this party. And for God’s sake, drop your strange accent. It’s unbefitting.”

You glare right back at him, but decide not to argue. More and more you’ve been teasing the idea of asking Arthur if you can run away with him. You’ve never had so much fun in your life than when you’re with him. No one’s there to tell you to walk better, dress better. You can be who you are with him. Stranger yet is the knowledge that he likes who you are.

You used to be rougher when you were a kid. You’d get into fights with some of the poorer kids, rough-housing and chasing them. You came home many days with rips in your skirts or scraped elbows and your mother detested it. One day, all the kids you played with disappeared and months later, you found out it was because your parents threatened their parents to keep them away from you and your home. Then your mother enrolled you in an all girls’ school so you could learn to be a proper lady and the ideas of how to be one were driven hard into you.

The stage rolls up on the mayor’s mansion and you follow your parents to the courtyard in the back, facing the river. You’ve only been here a couple of times and have never liked any of the parties held here. This is where the worst of the worst come to show how proud of themselves they are. Only the most elite ladies get in with their rich husbands. Your mother automatically finds her gaggle of friends and heads over to them. Your father finds a group of men that surround the mayor. You grab a glass of champagne and head over to a table covered in fruits and various desserts.

A man takes a stand next to you. “Ah, quite decadent aren’t they?” he says in a polished accent. You look at the man with his slicked back hair and thin, twirled mustache. He wears an expensive suit. He gives you a low bow and introduces himself as Frederick Von Guard.

“Your mother speaks highly of you, if you don’t mind my saying, miss,” he continues, plucking a grape and eating it. You don’t like him at all. He seems like every other man at this horrible party: full of himself and suffering from a major God complex. You once saw men who wear suits as sophisticated and desirable, but as you’ve gotten older, you find men who wear them to be hiding some great insecurity. You talk as little as possible to him without being outright rude and before long he’s flirting with you.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Von Guard,” you say, putting your glass down. “I hate to depart your company, but I have other business to attend to.”

“Can’t imagine what that could possibly be,” he says, twirling his mustache. “After all, your mother said you were already engaged.”

“Engaged? Well, as in business, sure.”

“No, she said engaged. As in betrothed.”

“You must have misheard, mister,” you say, dropping your accent into the southern drawl. “You clearly misheard her.”

“Oh no,” he says, grabbing your elbow hard. “I did not. She approached me a week or so back, stating how you’re far too old to not be married and I am a well-endowed bachelor.”

You suddenly realize what he’s saying. “I’m not engaged to you, mister. I ain’t even met you before!”

“Like that’s something important, my dear. I have enough money to let you live comfortably for the rest of your life. You could be very happy, if you let me make that happen.”

“Get off me!” you say, shaking off his hand. You run through the crowd of minglers, trying to keep the tears at bay. You stop at another table covered in champagne bottles and more glasses. You try recollecting yourself, feeling terrified of the news you just heard. Did your mother really arrange your own engagement?

“Pardon, ma’am, may I offer you some champagne?” a familiar voice comes behind you. When you turn and see Arthur, you don’t think before throwing yourself into his arms.

“Arthur!” you say, trying not to let your tears spill. He stumbles back and pulls you away gently, clearly not wanting to attract attention. He’s become the closest thing you have to a friend and it’s a wonderful relief to see him during this dark hour. Then you realize he shouldn’t be here. He’s wearing a fine suit and would fit in just fine if it wasn’t for his loose hair and stubble on his chin.

“What are you doing here? No offense, but this ain’t your kind of place.”

“I’m workin’,” he explains. “Just needed to find something out about the guest of honor.”

“Mr. Bronte? Arthur, don’t trust him. My father has had dealings with him and he’s a real bastard.”

“Trust me, I’m aware of that, Y/N. Now what are you doing here?”

You sigh and look around to make sure no one you know is around. You turn and explain your predicament. “Arthur, please help me. I know you’ve already done so much, but I can’t do this!” Your eyes are threatening to spill again. “Please, Arthur.”

He nods and pats your shoulder. “Okay. Sneak out of here, if you can. I’ll meet you at your house in fifteen minutes, get ya somewhere safe.”

You sigh in relief and resist the urge to throw your arms around him again. He heads off to talk with the mayor. A few moments pass and across the river, fireworks launch into the air. Everyone’s distracted by the show, allowing you the chance to leave. You sneak out of the courtyard, feeling grateful for Arthur’s willingness to help.

Once you’re clear of the mansion, you don’t even bother trying to get a stage or the trolley. You just run home quickly since it isn’t too far away. You dash inside and surprise the butler.

“Miss, aren’t you supposed to be at the party with your father? I remember he mentioned he had a surprise for you.”

“Oh no doubt. But I’m… I’m not feeling well. I told my father and he knows I’ve come home. He also said you can be done for the night.”

“Very well, miss. I hope you feel better soon.” He heads off to the servant’s quarters and you dash up to your room. As quickly as possible, you pack a bag with some of the things you’re sure to need and then run out to the stables. There, you rip your dress off and change into your jeans and button down shirt. Then, as quickly as you can, you start grooming Jake.

“You ready?” a soft voice says, startling you.

“Arthur! Thank God. Almost. Oh Arthur. This is terrible. I mean, I’ve been thinking of running away for a couple of weeks now, but it’s so sudden! I haven’t had a chance to mentally prepare myself.”

He smiles and walks over to you, still wearing his suit. “I know, darlin’. But listen, I need to tell you a few things about myself before you decide to throw yourself into this lifestyle.” He pauses and scratches his chin. “I ain’t a gunslinger, miss, or a cowboy or wrangler. I don’t know what you think I was, but I ain’t none of those things. I’m an outlaw.”

He stops, letting you process this information. Of course you’ve read about outlaws. However, you couldn’t deny there wasn’t something that drew you to them.

“So, you’re uh, you’re a wanted man?”

“Yes, Y/N. I have been most of my life. And I ain’t alone. I’m with a gang o’ outlaws. I already spoke to our leader. Name’s Dutch. He’s okay wit’chu spending some time with us, but I warn ya, Y/N. It ain’t a pretty life.”

“It beats what I’m leaving behind, Mr. Morgan.”

He smiles at you and pats your shoulder. “Good. Now let’s get your horse saddled up.” He carries over the heavy saddle and throws it over Jake’s back. Then, when he’s ready, you mount up and follow Arthur out of the city, prepared to begin your new life with him.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #awkward asks #arthur morgan x female reader

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

Aladdin Queen fic John Deacon x reader Chap. 12; Happy Ending

*Author’s note*

And here it is guys, the last part of my first Disney AU fic. I want to thank everyone who gave this fic a chance and I hope to eventually come up with another Disney AU fic. But until then I’ve got another upcoming movie AU for Queen that I know you all are going to love.

SO until the next update stay safe, stay healthy and stay hydrated (esp. for us dealing with the summer heat right now)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@dancingcoolcat

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@kairosfreddie

___________________________________________________________

With the defeat of Paul and him being sealed in the lamp, everything that he had done to my homeland turned back to normal. The palace was rebuilt and back to brand new, Brian and Roger turned back into normal humans once again, John’s royal clothes were restored, the three Kings soon appeared free from their cage, and Simba and Nala returned to their original size.

As Paul continued his pitiless threats, Freddie and I just grinned at each other and he said as he took Paul’s lamp from my hands.

“Allow me darling. Ten thousand years in the Cave of Wonders outta chill you out.” He then tossed the lamp in the air like a ball before swinging a bat that he made appear in his hands to hit Paul’s lamp far beyond the sand dunes right to the Cave of Wonders.

I turned to see the Princes unite with their fathers hugging and kissing each other. Their pets nuzzling their heads against their master’s legs thankful to have them back once more. Nervously I walked towards them and when John turned towards me I said.

“I—I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“No my dear, there is no need to apologizes. How can we ever thank you?” John’s father asked.

“No, no, no there’s no reason to thank me. I just hope you can one day forgive me for my lies and deceit. Especially you John Deacon.” He looked at me solemnly. “You deserve—so much better than me.”

“We all make mistakes.” Brian’s father said softly with a warm smile. I nodded and took off my engagement ring and walked back towards John. I gave him his mother’s ring back and closed his palm before walking back towards Freddie.

“(Y/n)!” John called out my name. I turned to him and gave him a light smile and assured him with my eyes.

“You’re going to be remembered as the Greatest king your country will ever know.” I nodded before turning my back on him and grabbed the lamp. I watched as Abu dragged the remaining parts of Carpet who had been ripped during our battle and Freddie hissed in pain as he said.

“Ohh that’s uhh—bit of a mess there Abu. Let me take care of that for you dear.” Using his magic he repaired Carpet like brand new. He came back to life which made Abu happy to have his best friend back.

He leapt towards Carpet and the two of them hugged each other. Freddie grinned and said.

“Aww now that’s lovely.” He then turned towards me and tutted. “Ah-ah-ah no long faces there darling. Okay I got an idea, alright? This is your last wish. Royalty was the right idea, okay? We just gotta re-route it a little how about this?” He then transformed into an Amazonian warrior and he said, “(Y/n) Warrior Princess. Defender of the weak and hunter of thieves and villains.” He then readied one of the arrows into the bow and he pulled back as he cried out, “For King John Deacon!” He then released the arrow and phased back to his normal self, “Good right?”

I shook my head at him.

“No? Okay, alright. I hear you. But this is what you need,” he then held out a scroll and unraveled it before going through the very long scroll, “See governing laws of England. See here we—ah-ha here we are. ‘Must marry a Princess of an allied country’. Now you say the right words and this law—kinda goes away. You and Deacy darling over there. Together forever.”

“Wait so—you can get rid of the law?” I asked him.

“Pfft, darling please. Like it’s that hard.” I chuckled a sigh and said as I held the lamp in my hands.

“Okay.”

“Alright darling let’s do this. For the whole kit and kaboodle.”

“Freddie;” he shook his hands out and readied himself ready to work his magic for the final time.

“Bring it to me darling, I’m ready.”

“I wish……”

“Don’t hold back now. One final wish.”

“I wish—to set you free.”

“One princess pedigree coming—wait what?” He began to glow and his wrists began to shine as his cuffs came off of him and landed on the ground before disintegrating. He was slowly lowered back down to the ground as he now was in his human disguise, but this time it was eternal.

Freddie was now human.

He was in full disbelief as he looked up at me down to his wrists, not believing what it was that had just happened.

“Umm…..quick, quick wish for something outrageous darling.”

“Like what?”

“I-I don’t know, wish for the Nile. Say I wish for the Nile?”

“Uhh I wish for the Nile?”

“Fuck no!” he exclaimed. I chuckled and he chuckled back. Tears filled his eyes as he raced right up and immediately hugged me as tight as he could and spun me around. I held onto him, the two of us burying our faces into each other’s necks. “Thank you darling (y/n). Thank you.” I heard him whimper as tears fell onto my neck.

“No, thank you Freddie. For everything.” He set me down and he cupped my face in between his hands and he said again.

“And no matter what anybody says, you’ll always be my Princess.” I smiled and closed my eyes as I felt him kiss my forehead.

“So—what will you do with your freedom?” I asked him.

“Well…..” he turned back towards the six rulers along with Jim. “There—is this animal keeper that I would love—to spend the rest of my life with. If…..he’ll have me?” Freddie said as he and Jim walked towards each other.

Jim turned towards the Princes and the three of them nodded telling him to get on with it. Jim turned back around and he said.

“When do we start? Also I’d love to have some cats.”

“Yes darling, bunches of them.”

“Ten in total. We’ll save any cat off the street and heal them and give them a warm home while you entertain them with songs and music.”

“And we can run a shop together.”

“Yes a large one filled with treasures the world has to offer.”

“I was kinda thinking a more smaller one.”

“That works too.” Freddie smiled widely and he and Jim embraced each other before giving each other a passionate kiss.

*John’s POV*

I’m proud that Jim finally found himself someone to spend the rest of his life with. He deserves to have someone, even if they were formally a genie, but Freddie seemed good for him. I felt a hand take mine and I turned to see my father.

“Come, sit with me my son.” He guided me away from Roger and Brian who were now speaking with their father’s individually. “I am sorry.”

“Father what is—”

“Please let me finish.” He said. He looked at me with solemn eyes but I could see they held some pride in them, those strong eyes that I’ve always admired and hoped to gain one day just like him. “My beloved son. Harold, Michael and I were so afraid of losing you boys, like we lost your mothers. That we were blind at only seeing the three small boys you three once were. Not the three strong men you’ve become. You alone have shown me what true courage, loyalty, and strength you have. You are the future of England.”

He then removed the ring of Kings from his finger and held it out to me.

“You—are ready to be the next king of all England.” I looked at him in shock.

“All?”

“Yes. You know as well as I that Roger and Brian had no real desire for the throne. So their fathers and I have decided that only one king should rule all of England. And you have proven to be that one king we all need. Your friends and brothers shall be what they longed to be, and still remain as they help you rule at your side. Brian shall be your astronomer and advisor. While Roger shall help you lead your explorations and Navy.”

I—I couldn’t believe it. I was to be crowned King of not just my kingdom, but all the kingdoms of England. My father and uncles were planning to unity all three of our kingdoms into one sole English kingdom, and now I am it’s king.

With tears in my eyes I took the ring and stood up over my father and choked out gratefully.

“Thank you father. I will make you proud.”

“You already have. And as king, you may change the laws as you see fit.” He took my hands in his and kissed my fingers before looking back up at me proudly, “She is just like your mother was to me.” My lip quivered and I hugged my father as tight as I could as a few tears fell out.

“Wh—where is she?” I heard Freddie say. We all looked up and I took notice that (y/n) was indeed gone.

Clever girl must’ve slipped out throughout all this emotional scenes.

“Go after her John.” My father said. I nodded and looked down to Nala and said.

“Come on girl.” She obeyed and trailed behind me as the two of us left the palace to find (y/n).

*My POV*

Through all that emotion and finally doing what I was set out to do, I decided it was best to just slip back into my normal life, if I could. Abu walked along my side as we left the palace and the people were once again out along the village ready to start their day.

I felt around my pocket before finally taking out the second ring I had taken from John the night of our first meeting. I grinned and placed it over my thumb when a voice called out.

“Stop right there thief! The King of England commands you.” The crowd stopped and I could hear faint whispers. I turned around and there stood John with Nala behind him. I raised my brow at him as I said.

“King? Does that mean I’m in trouble?” I took off his ring and held it up to show him. He walked up toward me and said throwing my own words back in my face.

“Only because you got caught.” I felt his index finger go under my chin to lift my head up and that’s when I felt his lips immediately kiss mine.

I closed my eyes and slowly wrapped my arms around his neck and brushed through his short chocolate hair. I felt his arm wrap around my waist as his other hand gently cupped the side of my face deepening our kiss. We separated for a brief second before smiling at each other and kissing each other again.

By nightfall our final kiss of the day was our first kiss as husband and wife. My entire kingdom witnessed this glorious event and all applauded for the King of England finally found his bride; me.

After we separated I couldn’t wipe the smile off of my face as our friends and family came over to congratulate us.

John hugged his father and I hugged Freddie who also gave me a kiss on each cheek. I was also hugged by my new brother in laws and dearest friends Roger and Brian. But the greatest pleasure of all was when I had the three former kings hug and kiss me welcoming me to their family.

We all stood in a line before my people as I now represented them in our alliance with England. Fireworks boomed across the night sky signaling celebration. Carpet came up to John and I and we got on top of him and he flew us up high into the sky over the fireworks as my people all stared and continued to applaud for us.

I turned to my new husband and he smiled down at me and tucked a strand of hair back behind my ear before the two of us kissed once more as Carpet took us far beyond the sky off to a whole new world.

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