#yes the one sided fight happens in the gala

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 66

Danny and Damian are twins.

Danny does not excel at majority of training. He does excel at stealth. One day he overhears a discussion regarding how there could only be one heir.

He knows he can’t defeat Damian. He also just doesn’t want to. They are by no means close, but it’s still his twin. So right there and then he plots.

Danny fakes his own death. Lighting a fire “accidentally” to “dispose” of his corpse. No risk of the pits bringing him back.

This leads to him in amity park. The Fentons were strange enough to take him in. A son story about how his family wants him dead. Jazz had always wanted a little brother.

Over time Danny realizes just how toxic the league was. Jazz helped a lot. He feels guilty about leaving Damian behind. And for having Damian “kill” him. Sneaking into the league is out of the question so he stews in guilt. Then the accident happens. 5 years later.

So he does go back. Damian isn’t there.

He ends up at a gala with Vlad or sam.

He sees Damian. Danny shoots his shot. Just popping up by him. Apologizing for using him to fake his own death and asking if he managed to realize how bad the league was.

All while dodging Damian’s attacks.

[dcxdpdabbles]

The Royal Consort. Part 3

"Mr. Fenton! Will you be attending the Wayne Charity Gala with your husband?" A reporter demands, thrusting her mic into Danny's face.

"I-" He tries to say, but another reporter jumps in.

"Is it true Bruce Wayne is attempting to have his kids seduce your husband?"

"What?"

"Mr. Fenton, is it true that you could stop a war simply by batting your eyelashes?!"

"Hey, now that's uncalled for."

"What is the political climate in the wake of the disbanded Anti-Ecto Acts?"

Danny couldn't even tell where the questions were coming from. He tried to push through the crowd of new crews, but every step of the way, more and more people crowded him.

He should've stayed in the hotel room Mr. Wayne had rented for his family, but Danny had thought he could sneak out and explore Gotham.

After Dani had burst into the meeting room, in all her ghostly glory, the Justice League had allowed them a short recess so his parents could meet their "granddaughter."

He is still determining exactly what she told them, as he is too busy to dodge more of Batman's questions. He just hoped she could keep the ruse up in the face of his parents' smothering apologies.

His dad wrapped her up I'm his arms, sobbing the whole time while his mother was snapping pictures of Dani, crying about how much she had grown.

Thank the stars Jazz had pulled her "niece" to the side for a short conversation. When they came back, Dani had taken the princess role so well that she answered most of the Ghost Zone questions like the ambassador she was pretending to be.

Her age? Yeah, that was off cause the time zone difference in the Ghost Zone. She was only four years in human years but looked sixteen due to her half-blood and where she grew up.

The chances of war? No, her dad had appeased the war council after the United Nations called the USA on their bullshit.

Demands Phantom had? Respect the dead. Honor the rights of his people. Leave the natural portals alone, and if his subjects were causing issues call one of his to take care of it.

Did she not need an anchor? She's half-human, so she could pop between worlds at will, but only because the Ghost King allowed it.

Where had she been before Phantom took the throne? Danny was not in a stage of life to raise a child- he had only been fifteen!- so Phantom raised her in his lair. Yes, she came to visit Danny.

Did she practically say she was a child of separated parents? Yes. Did she regret it? Only when rumors about Phantom wanting to replace Danny sprung, and she had people trying to get her to introduce them to his "father."

How strong was she? Step into the ring, Wonder Woman; let's test it. (They did spar, and surprisingly, she gave Wonder Woman a run for her money, but in the end, the more experienced fighter won. The Amazonian offered to train her)

By the end of it, Danny and Dani left with stacks of possible legislation about peace among their people. They both promised to get it to Phantom.

Just as they left, Batman informed them that Bruce Wayne had invited them to the Gala. He also offered them asylum in Gotham by housing them in his family manor until the media died.

Danny had almost accepted, but Jazz had stepped in with sharp eyes and a cold smile. "Please tell Mr. Wayne we are honored by the offer, but we would prefer our own space."

Batman grunted. "Would a penthouse be predered?"

"Yes, thank you."

He loved Jazz.

His mom had whispered in Danny's ear as they were teleporting- the Justice League had teleporting technology!?- back to Earth. "Do you think the rumors about Bruce Wayne being Batman's lover are true?"

Danny had yet to pay much mind to Wes Weston's theories, but honestly, the way Batman was able just to promise things on Mr. Wayne's behalf.....well, if the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady could happen, why not a billionaire and a crime-fighting

Danny, Jazz, and Dani had been hiding in the pen house for about three days. His parents had returned home to secure their lab after the fifth time curious meddlesome reporters had tripped their house security.

Danny will admit he went stir-crazy, so using his powers, he turned invisible and went out when his sisters had been watching a show. He had made it for about five hours when someone saw him buying a coffee and tweeted his location.

His sightseeing had been cut short by the crowds of people that swarmed him.

"Mr. Fenton, what do you say about parents criticizing how early you married?"

Danny was pushed up against the wall by the crowd, wishing he could just turn ghost and drop this whole thing. He felt a burning sensation in the back of his eyes, and for one horrifying moment, he thought they were going to record him bursting into tears when a man broke through the crowd.

"That is far enough!" The man placed himself in front of Danny, shielding the eighteen-year-old. His British accent made the sharpness of his words even more scorching. "You all know that a press conference will be in a few days and that surrounding a royal could be an act of war! Get back!"

Danny had a moment of relief until someone snatched his arm. He flinches away, going for a punch, but it gets caught by the person tugging him through the crowd.

Danny could only blink at the smiling face of Dick Grayson until the man helped him into a car. The British man quickly came back, jumping into the driver's seat and speeding off as the crowd of reporters tried to get one last photo.

Danny's breaths were coming in short, fast puffs. He wasn't very sure what was going on. He couldn't think. There were so many flashes. So many voices. So many people-!.

A hand pushed his head between his knees, rubbing his back. "It's okay. You're okay. "

Danny gasped, tears finally falling as he tried to explain why he had done something stupid. "I-i just wanted to see- the landmarks- I didn't mean- I- I."

"Shhh. I know. It's okay. You're okay."

After a while, Danny was able to sit up. His saviors had asked him to name five things he saw, four things he could hear, three things he could listen to, and one thing he could taste to calm down, but it worked. Only then did he realize there were more people in the fancy car with them.

A boy his age sat on his right, having been the one to push his head down. It took only a second to recognize him: Tim Drake, teenage CEO and one of the most attractive men he had ever seen.

A blond teenage girl who also seemed their age sat in the passenger seat, though she twisted around to give him a warm smile. She was also very gorgeous.

Not to mention Dick Grayson, who had a warm hand on his back. Adonis must have returned as the first adopted son of Bruce Wayne because, goddam, that man was fine.

Even the British man was handsome for someone his grandfather's age.

Had he died (again) and gone to heaven?

"Here," Drake placed a cold water bottle in his palm, offering the gobsmacked Danny a small smile. "Drink. It'll help."

"Ugh...I.. thank you for rescuing me," He managed to gasp out.

"Don't mention it. We all know the hell of the paparazzi. Glad you alright. " the girl said. "I'm Stephanie Brown, but you can call me Steph. The guy to your right is Tim Drake, the one on your left is Dick Grayson, and this fine man driving us is Alfred Pennyworth."

"I'm Danny Fenton." He says, taking a swing. The cold water went down his throat and grounded him.

"We know. You've made quite the wave with your marriage." Grayson said though not unkindly. "We'll have to take you to our manor to switch cars; otherwise, they'll just wait for us at the hotel."

Danny thought it over before whispering, "Can I message my sister? She must be worried-"

A portal rips open in front of him. The other humans all let out cries of alarm but not as loudly as Danny when Phantom's head pokes out of it.

He has a moment to wonder how in the world that was possible until the ghost waves at him using one of Clockwork's necklaces. Oh, it's him from the future. Okay. That's happening.

"Darling! I felt you in distress! What happened?! Shall I punish everyone in Gotham? " Phantom questions in a tone Danny had never been aware he could make. It's smooth. It's all-knowing. It's seductive.

What the fuck is going on?

"There is no need for any form of punishment. Not to worry, your highness." Drake quickly jumps in. "We would never allow anything to happen to your husband. I will personally keep Mr. Fenton away from any danger. "

Danny watched in slight horror as his future ghost self gave the other man a long look before smirking. "I appreciate the offer, and you are certainly my type with that black hair and blue eyes, but I am fine with only one husband. Danny will decide to add you to the marriage if he would like to have more partners."

Drake blinks wide started eyes. "I- I beg your pardon?"

"I have a protection and ice core. Proclaiming to keep my romantic partner safe is the same as asking for my hand in marriage due to the customs of protective spirits. Were you not aware?"

"I wasn't!" Danny interrupts loudly. " I was very unaware that meant marriage proposals!"

Phantom gives him a cheeky smile, and suddenly Danny understands why all his Rouges had wanted to beat his face so often. He can be rather annoying.

"No one will be above you, darling. You are the embodiment of beauty, and I would never desire another. However, the royal family is allowed concubines. You may take human ones if you wish to. I wouldn't want to ruin any of your fun."

"Who told you to say this!?" Danny demands, forgetting himself for a moment. Or the watchful eyes of the Waynes swinging between them with prompt attention.

"Why just the royal advisor!" Phantom laughs, his white hair bouncing as he tilts his head.

Jazz. She was responsible for this. How could he have thought she was sane?

"I don't want a concubine!" Danny yells, face burning. He's never been more mortified in his life, including walking down. For breakfast in Superman boxers, only to find Superman at the bottom of the stairs.

What a terrible day that was to run out of clean pants.

Phantom smiles. "I love you too, darling. I shall see you soon. I do not wish to strain your body anymore."

He thrusts his head back into the glowing green portal, and with a soft pop, he's gone. The car is utterly silent until Grayson whispers.

"Does this mean Tim just got married through fae laws?"

Danny whips his head at him. "No! It does not!"

Drake lets out a small breath of relief. "Oh, thank God. Not that you aren't hot, Mr. Fenton, but I'm not ready for marriage."

Danny wonders if he can reach the door handle to throw himself out of a speeding car. He knows somewhere in the future. He is laughing his ass off at current him.

"Dude, none taken. Could you clarify how I ended up here? I just wanted to jump across Gotham roofs, and suddenly, I can marriage trap people."

Danny wishes he could kick his own ass- not counting Dan- as Steph breaks into uncontrolled laughter.

"Oh, Danny, you're going to fit in well!" She says between wheezing.

Grayson raises his hand, face glued to his phone. "Bruce just sent in the family group chat that none of us are allowed near Phantom."

"Why?" Danny asks.

Grayson shrugs. "We're all his type, and Bruce's heart can't handle that."

"Fair enough"

(Part 1) (Part 2)

[pucksandpower]

Ties That Bind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the gala—”

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

***

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

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

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

You take a deep, shaky breath, bracing yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart skips a beat. “Who?”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

Taking a deep breath, you continue:

Dear Max,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sincerely,

Y/N

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle, “Two sisters. Lucky you.”

He grins, “Twice the protective instincts.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, the checkered flag waves for Max.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not just the media,” you admit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles pales, “That’s ... serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile weakly, “One hurdle crossed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know the answer.

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

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

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

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

“He did it!” Your mother exclaims.

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

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

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

These are for you. For our champion.

With shaky fingers, you type back:

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

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

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

***

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

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

He chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Promise.”

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

Max nods resolutely. “Anything for her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The clinking of glasses has never sounded sweeter.

***

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

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

The crowd waits with bated breath.

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

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

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

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

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

The world stops.

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cartierre]

DIVINE FEMININE | cl16

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU charles leclerc x fem!reader

side note: i purposefully left out any tweets because this focuses more on the aesthetics side note pt.2: thank you @cl16version for the photo inspirations!

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viviennewestwood yourusername wears a custom wedding gown created just for her beautiful wedding to Formula One driver charles_leclerc in the South of France last weekend.

"When I was younger I always liked to imagine what my future wedding dress would look like. As soon as I met Vivienne at a fashion show, I knew she had to be part of it. I feel very honoured to have worked with her and other amazing designers on my look. It felt like a dream come true." ~ Y/N Leclerc

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user1 imagine having THE vivienne westwood custom design your wedding dress ⤷ user2 thank god charles has money because otherwise that dream would've stayed a dream

yourusername still baffled by all the amazing looks you created for me to wear throughout the night! what an honour! comment liked by viviennewestwood

user3 the way they wrote 'Y/N Leclerc' has me in tears (in an emotional way) ⤷ user4 i still can't get over the fact they truly married. i'm so happy for them

user5 Y/N LOOKS SO STUNNING ⤷ user6 the most beautiful bride

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daniel3.jpg unpaid, personal photographer

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user7 i want a whole documentary about what happened at this wedding ⤷ user8 it looks so much fun i'm so envious of all the guests that attended ⤷ user9 i know everyone who had to cancel is fighting the air right now

yourusername the picture of charles is my new favourite ⤷ daniel3.jpg same, same

user10 i love how with every slide the drunkeness scale rapidly increases ⤷ user11 as it should

charles_leclerc yes, we definitely enjoyed ourselves ⤷ daniel3.jpg the champagne was endless

user12 it's so funny that daniel is the first one to post about the wedding. he is really their number one fan ⤷ user13 i mean he was the one to introduce y/n to charles ⤷ user14 it's like he's watching his two babies getting married

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yourusername to love & to cherish

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user15 i love how she just has multiple wedding dresses ⤷ user16 she's that kind of indecisive

charles_leclerc mon seul et unique amour (my one and only love) ⤷ yourusername i love it when you speak french

danielricciardo i want nieces and nephews in an instant ⤷ yourusername who said you'd be their uncle ⤷ danielricciardo that's not even a question

carlossainz55 felicidades ⤷ yourusername thank you

user17 i just know nicola peltz is crying in her sleep right now ⤷ user18 nicola really thought she ate until y/n stepped up

lilymhe i still have tears in my eyes from how beautiful it was ⤷ yourusername wouldn't have been as beautiful as it was without such an organised maid of honour ⤷ lilymhe i was so scared something would go wrong

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charles_leclerc mon tout (my everything)

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user19 you know they're rich because not only did y/n have multiple custom made wedding gowns, but charles also had multiple suits ⤷ user20 did you expect anything less from them?

yourusername i love you so incredibly much ⤷ charles_leclerc i'm the luckiest man alive

user21 this is my royal wedding ⤷ user22 my met gala

scuderiaferrari congratulazioni! così felice per te! (congratulations! so happy for you!) comment liked by charles_leclerc

arthur_leclerc i still can't believe my big brother is finally married ⤷ charles_leclerc did you not believe in my charm? ⤷ arthur_leclerc honestly, no ⤷ yourusername it was actually my charm that got you wrapped around my fingers

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lando.jpg "the wedding of the decade"

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user23 why did it never occur to me that there'd be LITERAL CELEBRETIES attending their wedding ⤷ user24 yeah like you're telling me timmy, billie, zoe, bella and kendall were there? a fever dream, if you'd ask me ⤷ user25 this just makes me question who else was there

user26 this is just so fucking random hahahaha

yourusername i love how these are all pictures i have never seen before! next time i'll hire you and daniel professionally ⤷ charles_leclerc what do you mean "next time" ⤷ user27 Y/N HAHAHAHAHA

user28 the more pictures i'm seeing of this wedding, the more the desire comes for me to get married as well ⤷ user29 literally never wanted to get married until now

[randomperson3736]

hello! could i request platonic batfam x sister reader who has seizures? maybe the first time it happens and how they would help her deal with it (i understand if you aren’t comfortable 👍)

A/N: Hiiiii! Thank u for her request and I am so sorry it took so long for me to do 🙏 and I'm more than comfortable doing this request 😙

~How the batfam would react to batsis having a seizure~

●I feel like the first time you ever had a seizure would be at one of Bruce's galas.

●Like one minute you would be talking and laughing with your brothers and the next you were having a seizure.

●I'm not gonna lie, i feel like Damian would first recognize the signs of a seizure and he would immediately spring into action

●He would quickly assess the surroundings to ensure there are no objects that could harm you during the seizure.

●He would also carefully observe your condition, making sure nothing changes during it like- nose bleeds or vomiting.

●During this time, he would remain calm and reassuring, offering words of comfort to you experiencing the seizure. He would avoid restraining or trying to stop the seizure, as it's crucial to let the seizure run its course. Instead, he would focus on ensuring your safety and providing support.

●Unlike Damian, dick would freak out if he saw you having a seizure.

●Yes he would jump straight into action but dick would still fear that something bad will happen to you during that time.

●He'll move away dangerous objects so you don't hurt yourself during the seizure.

●Dick would be the type of person who would hold your hand during it and repeat, "You're okay" or "you're gonna be okay".

●Once an ambulance does arrive, he would not leave your side. He'll definitely start fighting a paramedic if they said he couldn't ride with you to the hospital.

●I feel like Tim would be calm on the outside but freaking out on the inside.

●Like yes, he's a nerd and I believe he would have some knowledge about seizures and the best ways to help you through it.

●He may or may not pass out during it but hey, he'll be there in the hospital when you wake up. (May not be slapped awake by damian or Jason)

●Jason would kinda be a mix of dick and damian.

●He would move sharp objects away from you and try and help stop the seizure the best he can.

●Jason most likely would be yelling at people to move the fuck away from you and God help anyone who makes fun of you for having seizures. This mfs would be died- damian would help hide the bodies-

●Bruce would remain calm and call for an ambulance straight away.

●He would make damn sure that you had the best doctors helping you.

●Bruce would also make sure that if the media posted about you having seizures... let's just say there will be some long written apologies in the news for while.

●He's VERY overprotective of his babygirl. (I mean all the batboys are)

●And if you do have seizures regularly, they would do all the research they can ro help you through them.

●They'll still love you no matter what.

●But if someone did say anything mean about you having them.... let's just say some people about to be murdered.

[ghostofskywalker]

I saw your winter ficlet thing!!

Could I perhaps request Obi-Wan Kenobi x fem!reader, with the prompt "I need you to kiss me. Right now. Please."?

Happy holidays, and I can't wait to see whatever you write!!

happy holidays to you too! i hope you enjoy this :)

words: 875

summary: a fancy gala + a fake date mission = unbearable romantic tension between you and obi-wan.

This Torturous Tension

obi-wan kenobi masterlist || request a winter ficlet!

The band hadn’t once stopped playing, but to you all their music had faded away throughout the time you spent in this room. All your focus was kept on making the right steps, because you would never be able to forgive yourself if you stepped on the feet of your best friend while dancing.

Obi-Wan wouldn’t really care if you missed a step, and deep down you knew that, but you would still not want to be anything less than perfect. It certainly didn’t help that he was dressed in the fanciest robes you’ve ever seen, and the dress you wore was much heavier than your usual lightweight Jedi robes, which sometimes limited your range of motion.

So many things had already happened on this night, and you honestly weren’t sure how you had managed to survive them. You had been told just mere hours ago that you were going on this assignment with Obi-Wan, and that you would posing as lovers in order to get intel about a potential Separatist faction forming in the very heart of Coruscant. It certainly didn’t help that the outfits provided for both of you were some of the finest and fanciest things you’ve ever seen, and that Obi-Wan Kenobi had the unique ability of making you forget all your thoughts when you looked at him.

And the worst part of it all was the fact that he seemed wholly unaware of the effect he was having on you.

“We haven’t gotten a chance to talk in a while,” he said softly, right before twirling you across the ballroom floor. You were now dancing towards the corner of the space, quiet and secluded. “This is nice.”

“It is,” you agreed softly, fighting back the urge to glance at the hand that was resting so delicately on your hip. Okay, you were lying. As nice as the idea was (and as amazing as he looked in those robes), this entire evening had been nothing but torture, and it was showing no signs of stopping.

“I hate that we haven’t gotten a chance to talk more,” Obi-Wan said.

“I know,” you said. He had that look on his face, the one that you could never say no to. You wanted to kiss him more than you’ve ever wanted anything else.

“Maybe the war will be over soon,” he said, a melancholy smile on his face.

You smiled at his hope, knowing that you shared the sentiment. “And we can go back to causing trouble like we used to do as padawans.”

“Oh I think that’s going to be Anakin’s job from now on,” he responded. “He has informed me that I’m too boring and that I might as well have settled down.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Didn’t you just blow up a droid factory a couple rotations ago?”

“Yes, well-”

“Without a lightsaber or any kind of backup?”

Obi-Wan looked sheepish, another absolutely adorable expression you never wanted to forget. “I suppose in comparison to my former padawan, I must seem like one of the elders.”

You laughed at the idea as memories of adventures and chaos came back to you, all of which had featured Obi-Wan at your side. That was simply another wound you had to bear right now, because you’ve loved him for as long as you could remember, but the reality of the Jedi Code had been ever-looming above you. And as time went on, you wanted more and more to ignore it, even if it was for a few fleeting moments.

In between moments of comfortable silence, you could feel the tension growing. It had been on a steady incline since you set foot in this gala, but this was unbearable. His face was closer to yours than it had ever been, and you could feel your heart skip beats every time he smiled.

Maybe it was the energy in the air, maybe it was the Correlian wine you had drank two glasses of, or maybe it was fact that you finally had the opportunity to do one of the things you’ve always wanted to do, but in that very moment, you decided to take a risk. "I need you to kiss me.”

He looked at you with surprise in his eyes, but you didn’t want to worry about the potential ramifications until tomorrow morning. “Right now,” you breathed. “Please?”

Now you’ve dreamt of moments like these before (quite possibly more often than you’d like to admit), but there was truly no way to describe the feeling in your body when he actually obliged your request.

And when he pulled away, you couldn’t help the way a breathless sigh escaped your lips. “I was wondering if I was going to regret asking,” you whispered, searching his face for some kind of reassurance.

“And?” he asked, one eyebrow moving upwards. “Do you?

The response came tumbling out of your mouth almost instantly. “I don’t think I’ve ever regretted anything I’ve done, as long as it was with you.”

As you leaned in to kiss him again, you could feel his other hand find your waist and hold you closer. And when your lips met for the second time, it was somehow even more perfect than the first. 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[binkszamsstuff]

Girl of my dreams

Arranged marriage au/ Mob au

Angst, cheating,smut, fluff, breeding kink, pregnancy, others but I'm tired and lazy also not edited/ proof read💀😬 18+,

Many times she thought of leaving, many ways to never look back. But the walls forbid it and so did her husband. Being married to a Mafia man was hard but there were harder things in life then to watch him cheat. An arranged marriage was what her parents thought would bloom into love only for heartbreak.

They never really loved, but they did fight constantly. He said she took away his freedom to fuck, she said he took away her freedom to love. Both were right, both were wrong. Until one night changed the two -almost as if sight had smacked them on their heads.

She walked into his office a red haired woman sat on his lap, she was dressed in fine clothes obviously a payment from him for her late night work. He had his reading glasses perched on his nose reading something on his computer, his left hand rubbing the woman's hip.

They didn't move an inch when y/n walked in, they didn't care who saw them together everyone knew they didn't want to be married, so what's the harm knowing he was in love with another woman.

"I'm leaving tonight, I have a gala. I'm taking Steve and the Mercedes goodbye" his wife said then walked out dismissively.

James had one job and that was to provide y/n with protection and to keep her married to him. James' father and hers only made this marriage for beneficial things, like money.

So y/n was required to take a bodyguard everywhere she went. James had just looked up from his computer to get the last glimpse of his wife in her tight fitting classy dress. Her hair blown out with volume and bounce, the dress she wore shaped her bottom perfectly. His eyes followed her out, his lips slightly parting,

"yes alright" was all he said.

The woman who sat on his lap was growing impatient. "Thank God she's gone! When will you finally get rid of her?" The woman asked.

"Never. You know this" he spoke illy towards her.

The woman scoffed. "But you love me, so why can't this be done? It's been three years and I'm tired of being the side piece. The villain, well people pity her. I'm the one who doesn't get the life she wants! I'm the one living, having to watch you be married to someone else."

"Natasha stop! I don't love her, I don't kiss her, or fuck her. I barely speak to the woman and when I do all we do is argue so please don't pull that on me." James was now rubbing his fingers on his forehead trying to relax the headache.

When the night was over, y/n and Steve came home giggling at the mischief they caused. James sat on the couch, his dark eyebrows drawn in a grim frown on his face.

"What are you two laughing about?" James spoke.

"n-nothing just something funny that happened at the gala" Steve brushed off.

"Was it y/n, that funny?" James spoke once again, his tone sounding hard, aggressive.

"yes it was"

"goodnight y/n, it was lovely spending time with you" Steve said kissing her check.

She blushed saying a shy "thank you Stevie"

Steve left leaving her and her husband alone.

"I'm going to bed, sweet dreams James" she spoke softly to him. She might not be his love but once at the beginning of their marriage she did love him. She tried to make it work but one day she had walked in the house after shopping for their one year anniversary only to be met with James and Natasha naked in front of the fire place having a romantic time.

Tears streamed down her face and all James did when he saw her was smirk. He hated her then, truly couldn't stand to be near her, that was two years ago now he almost wishes she was around more often. Now she was cold distant towards him, she only seemed to be the giddy, sweet, caring, and lovable girl she once was with Steve. She used to be that way with him.

That night James stayed up, sitting in his California king bed. Alone. The cold air seeped into the room from the open windows. He sat leaned up against the headboard, his journal in hand. Before James was forced into the mob by his father he dreamed of writing. As a young man, he would write stories of love, he was a hopeless romantic. He dreamt; of becoming a writer, finding the love of his life. But at the age of 21 his dreams were shot down.

Ever since he married his y/n, James' writings were surrounded by her. The love stories, no longer about the red haired woman -natasha. Every fantasy about what his life could have been was still filled with his wife.

Tonight he seemed to only be able to write her name. Endlessly.

Y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, Y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n -the woman who holds the embers of my heart. My wife.

The following week james watched y/n and Steve dance around the kitchen with old songs. How he purposely left his study door open so he could hear her; sing, talk to herself, laugh. It always brought a smile on his face. Things were changing in him.

James was not the only one to notice, Natasha did too. Whenever she came over James would hardly touch her, speak to her. Always bored 'wow's' 'oh's' and 'okay'.

To say she was mad was an under statement.

Natasha walked into the house with her keys in hand. Y/n was in her comfy home clothes doodling in her notebook, she sat perched in the kitchen window seat. Natasha rolled her eyes walking furiously towards James' study.

Natasha said with anger "What the hell is wrong with you?"

James did nothing, not even looking up from his computer.

"Natasha, please I'm working." He huffed out a sigh. Natasha was really making him lose his creative wind.

"No! You have barely talked to me! Touched me! What the hell is going on?" She demanded.

James stood up in a swift motion. His blue eyes now are hard and cold. Unforgiving.

"That's it! I can not do this nat! I loved you for a very long time natasha...but now I don't." Natasha gasped taking a step back.

"Nat I'm so sorry but we aren't good for each other anymore. You want to marry, I don't. You don't want children, I do. We fight more than we do anything else. I don't want to remember you like this so I'm asking you to leave. Please give me your key to my wife's and i's home." James now had a solemn expression on his face.

"This is about her uh? You told me you would never love her! It was supposed to be me!"

"Natasha I hope you find someone who will love forever, and I...was wrong..I think I've loved her since the first time I saw her." Natasha through her key at him and ran out of the house.

James was so stupid, If he could have realized that he did love y/n since he first saw her walking down the aisle. and to not let the betrayal for his father blind him so much he could hurt the woman he's loved since first sight. She was the woman he dreamed of all his life. Is it too late for him to wake up and fix his mess?

Y/n sat at the breakfast table alone watching out the window, her peaceful morning was dull until the chair in front of her scaped against the floor. Then groaning as James sat in it. A confused look came a upon her face he never sat with her at breakfast, she didn't even see him in the mornings.

"What are you doing?" She asked him quietly almost as if she was whispering to keep a secret.

"I'm having breakfast at my table, can I not do that?" He sassed back at her.

"y-yes you can, but I'm here." This time she spoke a little louder.

"so? Your my wife"

Y/n almost laughed outwards at him. "So? You hate me!" She chuckled while shaking her head.

"I don't hate you, y/n" she almost froze she had never really heard him say her name, he almost always referred her as 'she', 'her' and occasionally 'bitch'. The two are in silence, but not awkward, comfort. The pair really didn't know what to do with themselves, do they make small talk? No their married no married couple uses small talk, well they weren't in love, do they talk business? No y/n didn't work in the Mafia, do they argue? No nether wanted to end the softness. No they sat in slience. Until James remembered why he came to sit with her.

"your birthday is coming up, in what a week?" James said flatly.

"You know my birthday?" She said again in disbelief for the second time that morning.

James rolled his eyes "yes, of Crouse I do, what do you want?"

"Um ahh, you don't have to get me anything you haven't any of the other years it's alright" she said, she didn't mean to make him feel guilty but the way she said it's so nonchalantly, so casual. She was used to being nothing in his life.

"I want to give you something" he said still acting like this wasn't the most kindest he's ever been to her through out the three years of marriage.

"we'll make-up, or shoes," she said shyly.

"Your turning 21, what no booze?" He said amused.

"No I don't drink, even when I turn of age." He didn't know the reason why, and that bothered her.

"A-alright then shoes and make-up" he got up putting his plate away, James awkwardly straighted his suit jacket.

"goodbye y/n"

"goodbye James"

The next couple of days y/n and James would eat breakfast together, just sitting in comfortable silence.

The two would peak glances at each other.

The week past was a fun blur, between hanging out with friends, family, planning the party, y/n didn't have time to notice that Natasha was coming over less and less. She used to come over everyday, key and everything acting as if y/n's home was hers.

But now for the last month y/n was seeing none of her.

Y/n walked down the stairs her dress flowing down, fit for her like a glove. Everyone gasped, 'ohhed', and ahhhed' at her. James in particular was breathless, he hadn't ever felt this way towards her or any other woman.

Y/n said her hellos to her guests, family, friends, she made her way to the bar asking for a soda when a calloused hand splayed itself on her lower back.

"Y/n will you come with me?" James spoke lowly in her ear. She turned around shocked at how he was holding her so close.

"Why?' she asked flustered.

"because I need to speak to my wife" he said with a smug smirk.

He lead her to one of the bathroom on the main floor of their house. Once inside he closed the door behind him locking it.

"Why are we in here?" She asked curiously.

James said nothing only stepping towards her in one stride, his left hand snaking it's way around her waist the other holding the back of her neck/lower head. Her body pressed against his.

"I want you, i-im sorry I didn't treat you right when I got the first chance." James whispered to her, his lips hovering over hers. She wanted to beg him to kiss her, to take her, make their marriage more then an inconvenient. To finally reciprocate her love, for him to choose her.

"I want you to, but I'm not that easy. James Barnes we've been married for almost four years, I was 18 when we married and I wanted you so bad, I loved you more then anything but you chose her! You need to make it up, you've wasted a lot of time"

"I will, I promise but I can't keep watching you like you mean nothing. One kiss and I won't ask again until your ready please babydoll"

She smashed her lips Into his, she didn't do it for him begging (well a little bit) she did it for herself one taste then he had to prove himself. The kiss was soft, pleasing, longing, underlying love no longer hidden beneath the anger.

"I'll make it to you, doll and I will never hurt you again"

one year later....

"Oh good girl baby. Yeah you like when I fill you up?" James said as he pounded into her cunt. The two wrapped up in their soft bed sheets, y/n's legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands holding onto his upper arm.

"Yes daddy, I do! Please I want your cum!' she begged through the tears of pleasure.

"I'm gonna put a baby in you, fuck your gonna be the hotest mommy baby" his thrusts getting more sloppy as he neares him climax.

"I'm gonna cum James! Please I want your babies!" Y/n pleaded, James started to place kisses on her neck and shoulder.

"Oh yeah, cum all over daddies cock babydoll. Fuck I love you!' he growled into her shoulder as his white warm cum shot into her wet tight pussy.

'i love you too Jamie" y/n said dozing off, now James held her in his arms. He stared at her, how soft and delicate she looked. He loves her, her little giggles, the way she cuddles into him, how she cries and tries to beg him to let her adopt animal when the arms of the angel commercial comes on and now that she's pregnant she always ends up In tears.

James Buchanan Barnes loves y/n Barnes and nothing will change that. And their soon to be born daughter.

[penny00dreadful]

Spies AU - Part 11

Part 1 Part 12 AO3

11th November 2015

Robin was a fucking life line. When Steve had called her after everything that happened, she’d talked him down from the proverbial ledge, stopped him from going out to try and track Eddie’s whereabouts, kidnap him and hide him away in his safe room.

She’d asked him how he even planned on finding him? The man was a master at what he did, and if he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be.

So Steve was stuck pouting in the training room, sparring with anyone who’d be willing to go up against him or hanging around at Robin’s desk, annoying the shit out of her while she tried to organise and figure out their next move with Creel while also surreptitiously keeping her eyes and ears out for any sign of Eddie.

Of which there had been none.

It wasn’t that unusual. The man was a ghost and that was by design but even then there had always been whispers, rumours or an unusual body. 

But ever since Eddie had left his apartment there had been nothing.

Steve let out another loud sigh, half draped over a spare office chair that he’d been idly spinning in and half draped over Robin’s desk.

Robin who’s hair was getting more and more frazzled the more and more irritated she got with his dramatic and completely necessary sighs. 

He couldn’t help it, he was pining.

Hard.

She’d already had to put up with being told over and over again about their kiss, the lead up, the night before, all of it. 

In excruciating detail. 

Multiple times.

Steve inhaled again but Robin slapped a hand over his mouth before he could wistfully sigh one more time.

“I’d have more sympathy if you were actually moping, but you’re just here to be dramatic.”

“I am actually moping.” He said, pouting and muffled from behind her hand.

“No. A few weeks ago you were actually moping. Now you’ve mostly moved onto acceptance of your feelings but are bored and restless and bothering me at work.”

“I always bother you at work. Give me something to do, Robin!” His volume was getting louder along with the glares from the other analysts. “I’m going out of my mind, I haven’t had a lead on Creel in months, I’ve just been keeping his targets safe and trying to figure out Kas-”

Robin pressed her hand harder against his mouth, shutting him up with a look. 

She was right. 

He couldn’t be shouting about Kas here, where anyone on their side could hear and make the situation so much worse and anyone not on their side could get Eddie killed.

Hopper was still investigating the source of the leak, but it was slow going, combing through everyone department by department, scouring their backgrounds for anything that seemed slightly off.

But there had been nothing so far.

Once he’d closed his mouth and stayed quiet for a few seconds, Robin removed her hand with a frustrated huff.

“You’re lucky you have me, you know that Harrington? Because as it turns out I do have something for you to follow up with.”

Steve perked up almost immediately. “You’re the best, Robbie.” He grabbed her face and pulled her in, placing a wet kiss against her cheek while she tried to fight him off.

“Yes, I know, now get off me! You’re gonna cover me in boy cooties! Boy cooties are like lesbian repellent and I need to attract the lesbians.”

“Excuse you.” Steve said, poking her in the sides. “That’s bi erasure.”

“Wish I could erase you.” She muttered back.

He grinned at her. “What do you have for me?”

“A gala. Creel is holding some charity fundraising gala at his house that is almost definitely a way to launder his money or build up more connections or something equally as nefarious and sketchy.”

“At his house? Do people really do that? I thought that kind of thing only happened in The Sound Of Music.”

“He’s one of the richest men in the world, Steve.” Robin responded with a roll of her eyes. “He’s got a pretty big house.”

“Even my parents didn’t have enough space for a whole gala.” He muttered to himself.

“Your parents have nothing on Creel, babe.” She tapped away at her keyboard before pointing to an excel sheet that Steve couldn’t comprehend even if he tried. “I can get you in as a waiter?”

“A waiter? Oh no,” he shook his head, clasping his hands in front of his face, “Robin, Robbie, Bobby-Birdie-Bobert Buckley, please no.”

“Why not? It’s the best way to get information. You’ll be able to go behind the scenes and overhear conversations-”

“I know, I know but…” Steve gave her his best puppy dog eyes, “I never get to wear my tux and it’s so well fitted, I mean, you’ve seen my ass in that thing-”

She waved her hand in his face, not looking at him, scrolling through her excel sheet. “Yes, yes, yes, your ass looks edible and spankable in it, so you’ve said.”

“But Robbie,” he made his lip quiver when she glanced over at him, “I’m heartbroken. I’m pining. Don’t I deserve to feel good about myself?”

She growled in frustration. “Oh my god, fine! It’s going to take some manoeuvring but I think I can manage it.”

“Yes!” He whooped, earning hisses to have some manners from the other analysts around him. “I love you, Robbie. I owe you one.”

“Yes you fucking do. I’ll come to collect soon.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He spun around in his chair a few times before bringing himself to a sudden stop. “Do you think he’ll be there?”

Robin glanced over at him again and shrugged. “Maybe. He is a part of Creel’s inner circle after all.”

“Yeah but… not really? I don’t think? He’s… I don’t know how many of them actually know who he is. Or how many think he’s just a myth. There’s rumours Creel had hired an actor to play the part just to scare them into submission. Or that Creel makes up all the deaths. Or that multiple people do the killings attributed to him.”

“Maybe he will be. Maybe you can get on your knees- in an unsexy way, Steven, get that look off your face -and ask for his forgiveness. Maybe he won’t be and I’ll have to put up with more pining until you inevitably try to kill each other again. I honestly don’t know.”

Steve huffed. “Why don’t you know? Being omniscient is the least you could do for me.”

“I’m fucking working on it.”

18th November 2015

Steve couldn’t believe Robin had been able to swing this. 

Hoity-toity events were difficult to get into at the best of times, never mind being a spy on a mission to take down the host.

But she’d done it. 

Somehow.

The gala was fucking opulent. 

Overly opulent, not even his parents would have been caught with such a gaudy interior. 

Gold veined marble floors, multiple alcoves with life size Grecian style statues inset (though Steve had a suspicion some of them might have been original) and a high domed vaulted ceiling with small circular skylights and intricately painted designs.

It was such an overdone display of wealth, Steve wouldn’t have been surprised if Birkin bags were handed out like party favours.

Still there were worse ways to spend an evening. Sipping on champagne that probably cost $1,000 per glass and schmoozing with the rich and vapid members of the 1% now that he’d gotten all the information he needed.

He had watched everyone carefully, trying to work out who were those closest to Creel, who he bought from or sold to, who was on the higher levels. He kept an eye on the staff, observing who they tensed up around, when their smiles got a little more strained depending on who called them over, the looks they’d share with each other in passing. 

He’d drifted around the space, slinking from group to group, using his charm and his hair to his advantage, striking up conversations with dazzling smiles and big wide eyed apologies when he ‘accidentally’ bumped into someone, inserting himself into their group without them even noticing.

Steve had been trained for this, well before he ever joined The Agency, being stuffed into itchy suits since the age of seven and forced to learn how to effectively talk in that mind numbing, self aggrandising way that all of these people seemed to excel in.

The only thing that was keeping him relatively sane was the knowledge that Robin was sitting in his head. All it would take was the flip of a switch on his hearing aid communicator to be able to bitch with her once this was over.

It all bored the shit out of him, this rich people play, but he was good at it, making his way through the various groups, young and old alike, all the while keeping his eye out for Creel, the security guards and hopefully, Eddie.

There hadn’t been a single sign of him amongst all the glittering dresses and satin pants stripes and he was starting to worry he wouldn’t see him before the night was out, even though he’d had no guarantees he’d be here anyway.

Steve knew he looked damn good in his dark green tux. The jacket was resting just right across his shoulders, the pants hugged his thighs and ass a little tighter than they should have but that was by design because, sue him, he liked to look amazing and there was no need to hide an ass like his.

He’d made sure his hair was artfully loose and messy, falling into his eyes in a slightly distressed way. Giving just the suggestion of bedhead that made him stand out amongst the slicked back hair and stiff updo’s.

And he smelled fantastic. 

He had surrounded himself with bergamot and sandalwood, fresh and powdery and somewhat spicy.

And okay, maybe he had put in a little more effort with the hopes that Eddie’s eyes would be on him but he refused to blame himself for that.

He wanted to see him again.

Needed to see him again. 

He needed to present his case, convince Eddie he’d never meant his friends or his family harm, earn his trust back and then maybe they could continue to kiss about it.

Creel hadn’t shown his face yet and according to Tommy and Carol, a couple about his age who Steve supposed he liked speaking to best, that wasn’t an unusual occurrence.

“Mr. Creel almost never attends his own parties.” Carol said, waving her champagne glass around. “Too hard at work. But, more champagne for us, right?”

“Right.” Steve nodded, darting his eyes around the ballroom again. There were couples dancing, swirling together to the music being played by the sinfonietta tucked away in a corner while Steve and his two current companions were a part of the crowd off to the side. There were guards positioned at every entrance and exit, appearing relaxed and pleasant but with eyes constantly scanning the room.

Steve had done his best to stay out of sight of them. No doubt they’d been required to memorise the guest list so they could greet everyone by name and though Robin had found him a gap, she wasn’t able to get him that far in.

He’d be discovered pretty quickly if anyone looked too hard.

Though, while he was positive he hadn’t been spotted, he had felt eyes on him for most of the night. A constant feeling at the back of his neck, sticking his hair in end and nearly making him shudder. But every time he would glance around, hoping to find out which guard was watching him, but no one was ever looking at him.

Except for now.

Now there was a guard weaving his way through the crowd, the way he held one arm slightly stiff to his side telling Steve he was armed. His eyes were locked on him, never once moving, even as he turned his face and gave pleasant smiles to whoever he was passing by, he was dead set on his target.

If Steve was confronted now, on the edge of the dance floor, it would cause a hell of a scene and he couldn’t afford that. If he was lucky he’d be able to disappear into the crowd and work his way around, going through the door the guard had just vacated before he got caught.

“Just you watch. In ten years time we’ll be using bitcoin to pay for everything.” Tommy droned on. “You'll be tipping your waitresses and buying your groceries with it. And I'll be sitting right at the top. All of this?" He gestured to the opulence around them before pulling Carol into his side. "Will be the lower end of the scale for us."

“I’m sorry to have to cut you off.” Steve was not sorry in the slightest, but still. Polite society and all that. “But I really must make a quick run to the bathroom, you’ll excuse me.”

When in doubt, make them uncomfortable. Always worked.

“Oh my, yes. Please don’t let us stop you.” Carol waved him off, a little frantically, her face glowing pink.

Steve didn’t wait for any other response, ducking down as far as he could without drawing attention to himself and weaving himself back into the crowd.

Moving as fast as he could, Steve wound his way around the other guests, keeping his head low and making for the now unguarded door, but as his exit came into sight, a body appeared in front of him.

“Sir, we’re going to need you to come with us.” The guard spoke low enough for Steve to hear but not loud enough to catch the attention of the others around him.

Through the crowd Steve could see other guards approaching, the same tense posture telling him they were also armed and determined.

Fuck.

Steve put on his most charming smile, adding a little confusion on top in the hopes he could talk his way out of this.

“Is there a problem?”

The guard matched his smile. “Not at all, sir.” He held his hand out, directing Steve towards that exit he had been heading for.

Before Steve could answer he felt an arm slide around his waist, coming to settle possessively right over his hip. His whole body tensed up at the touch, ready to fight his way out if he had to.

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s voice washed over him, his lips brushing over his ear and sending a shiver down his spine, immediately loosening the tension in his shoulders and drawing him into his side like a magnet. He could probably sense the internal sigh of relief that Steve let out.

There was something intoxicating about having him so close. 

Close enough to smell.

He smelled so fucking good, it was unfair. 

Woody and spicy and masculine and fucking addicting. Something like leather and oakmoss and pepper was invading Steve’s senses and he had to stop himself from licking it off Eddie’s fucking neck.

Underneath it all, Steve knew he should be worried. Eddie might still have it out for him, maybe just playing with him a little bit before he killed him, like he had all those months ago when they’d first met.

But even though all that was a possibility, a strong possibility, Steve couldn’t find it within himself to care.

Eddie was here.

He was here and he was intoxicating.

“Everything alright?” Eddie asked the guards and Steve snapped out of it, realising he’d been staring at the side of Eddie’s face the whole time, healed and beautiful and bright.

The guard glanced between them, eyes lingering on Eddie a little longer than they did on Steve before nodding curtly at the both of them. “Just a simple misunderstanding, sir.”

Before Steve could respond with anything coherent, he was whisked away by Eddie’s arm across his back and his hand still held tight to his hip.

“Wh-”

Steve was whirled around, forced to bring his hands up to Eddie’s shoulders to steady himself.

“Care to dance, sweetheart?”

Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, Steve wanted to dance but…

There was something wrong. 

Something was off.

Eddie was strung tight like a bow. His shoulders were ridgid under Steve’s hands and though his face was smiling and easy, there were small stress indicators lighting him up. Small creases by his eyes, a slight worry in his brow, a tension in his lips and his neck.

Something was wrong.

Steve nodded. 

“Yeah. I’d love to.”

Eddie’s smile grew blinding though it didn’t fully reach his eyes. Steve was pulled forward with a hand at the small of his back until he was pressed against Eddie’s body, chest to chest and swept backwards onto the dance floor.

He couldn’t take his eyes off him, going wherever he led. He didn’t know who was around him, he didn’t know where in the ballroom he was anymore, where the exits were, where the people he needed to watch out for were, all he could see was Eddie. 

He could barely hear the music over his own rushing heartbeat and thrumming blood.

He was so fucked.

How had Eddie managed to get under his skin so easily? Steve knew, he knew he was playing a dangerous game right now, putting all his trust in this master assassin to not take him the fuck out like he'd threatened to the last time they saw each other.

He was just lost in those fucking eyes.

Those eyes that were glittering under the chandelier light, reflecting the candles on various hors d'oeuvres tables while they spun.

And Eddie was staring right back, equally as intense.

They didn't speak.

Barely even breathed, too wrapped up in each other to pay much attention to anyone else.

Or at least Steve was, which was why he couldn’t help the small shocked inhale of breath as he found himself backed into a wall.

He didn’t remember leaving the dance floor, didn’t remember when they had stopped dancing and he was just being walked backwards. 

They were in one of those small alcoves, hidden behind a Grecian statue, cloaked in shadow and in their own little pocket, away from everyone else.

Steve’s breath only shuddered more as Eddie removed his hands from his waist, dragging them up his body, over his shoulders, up his neck before eventually coming to rest gently, so very gently at each side of Steve’s face.

Their bodies weren’t exactly pressed up hard against each other, but Steve could still feel the way Eddie rested over him, the warmth of his chest and the various subtle bumps of a harness underneath his suit jacket telling Steve he must have various weapons or tools concealed within.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked, low and quiet. Almost like a secret. His mouth had turned down at the corners, his eyebrows were tilted upwards and his eyes looked so beautiful. Eddie was…

Eddie was worried.

“I-” Steve wasn’t sure what he should say, what he could say. How much did Eddie know? How much did he trust him? Did he still trust him at all? Was this the last time he’d ever get to see him again?

Funny.

He’d never thought that before. 

In all his time with Eddie disappearing and reappearing in his life, he’d never be worried he wouldn’t see him again.

But that had been worrying him for the last few weeks, hadn’t it?

Would he ever see him again?

And now here he was, holding him with so much raw care. It terrified Steve more than a knife to the gut ever could.

“I’m- I’m working.”

“Sweetheart, it’s so dangerous that you’re here right now.” Eddie brushed his thumbs along Steve’s cheeks. “Don't you understand? Creel knows.”

Steve brought his own hands down, grasping tight to Eddie’s waist, steadying himself against that wave of information. “What?” He croaked.

“He knows there’s an agent keeping tabs on him. He knows The Agency is trying to take him down. And he knew that an agent would be here tonight. Why do you think he hasn’t shown?” Eddie gripped him a little tighter, looking like he was torn between whisking Steve away in his pocket for safekeeping and shaking some sense into him. “This whole room is littered with people keeping an eye out for someone like you. Someone alone. Someone with their eyes and ears open to everything. Someone nobody recognises.” He sighed, keeping his voice low. “You must have known it was too convenient you were able to get an invite. They were kept open for this very reason. You must have known it was dangerous. Why did you take the risk?”

“I- I hoped you’d be here.”

Eddie closed his eyes, almost as if the words pained him and he tipped forward, leaning his forehead against Steve’s.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d always come find you?” He asked, softly. “That hasn’t changed.”

“I didn’t know if you still wanted to.” His fingers flexed against Eddie’s hips involuntarily. “I didn’t know if you… believed me.”

“I believe you, sweetheart. I do. I did. The minute you-” Eddie heaved out a shaky breath, pressing himself in closer, like he was trying to surround Steve completely, bundle him up into his rib cage and keep him safe there forever. “I believe you. But we can’t talk about that now, we don’t have time. I have to get you out of here.”

“Baby.” Steve raised a hand, using it to brush one of Eddie’s curls away from his face, leaving it there when Eddie tilted into it. “Are you putting yourself in danger by helping me?”

He could feel more than see Eddie’s lips press thin. 

With what seemed like a monumental effort, Eddie pulled away, trailing one hand back down Steve’s arm and giving his hand a tight squeeze.

“Come on. We have to get you out of here.”

Part 1 Part 12 AO3

Divider by firefly-graphics

@geekymagicalpotato @estrellami-1

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation

[fratboykate]

Hi again,

I’ve loved the angst of Kate and Yelena dealing with Tom’s temper tantrums. I am curious of Kate and Yelena’s early relationship though. Like if Kate didn’t know she was a lil fruity when was her first gay panic moment after her and Yelena first started being more than friendly? Was Kate like “shit…am I gay for this little Russian grinch” or was she just chill with it and like “okay… so apparently I like women now.” I guess I’m asking was she in an experimental phase that turned into not a phase or was it like she was low key always curious about dining at the Y. Like in my head cannon I can totally see Kate calling Suze or Greer and being like “help…I think I’m gay” after a long day of flirting with Yelena and a somewhat naughty dream starring Yelena shattering Kate’s back🤭

p.s. this is the same 2 barbie’s/ken scenario anon

---

Yelena’s such a grump! Honey you’ve got a big storm coming. I’m loving this early dynamic between them though! Would love to know who initiated/ finally made the moves on the other?

///

Here's 8.3k of what happens not too long after Yelena's birthday. I'd say within a few days. Mild sin included lol. This is this long and it's 90% dialogue. Imagine if I fully wrote this out like I did CFAU or even the AO3 KYAU chapters? It'd be like 20k 🤓

---

Yelena buzzes around the kitchen, gearing up to make herself a post-workout smoothie. Her skin is still damp and covered in a thin layer of semi-dry sweat, strands of her hair spill out of her messy braid, and she wears nothing but a sports bra and matching Jiu-Jitsu spats. 

Yelena pours almond milk into the blender when she’s interrupted by thumping on her door. For an instant, she considers ignoring it. That would mean pretending she’s not home, but that seems short-sighted when she’s seconds away from running a blender within earshot of the door. 

Yelena grunts and stomps to the entrance, knowing only one of two people could be on the other side. She swings the door open to predictably find an upbeat Kate resting her shoulder against the doorjamb with a silly grin on her face.

“Hi.”

“What do you want?”

“Sometimes a ‘hello’ goes a long way, you know that?” Yelena stares at her impassively, not giving Kate an inch, but Kate is not playing her game today. She’s going to force Yelena into small talk because she now knows for a fact that Yelena is perfectly capable of being pleasant. Kate takes in Yelena’s appearance - the disheveled look, the sweat, the fitted clothes - and decides to pursue that angle. “You were working out?”

“Just got back from the academy?” Kate looks stumped. “Jiu-Jitsu.”

“No clue what that is.”

“Martial arts thing. Doesn’t matter. What do you want, Kate?”

“Ohhh...she has hobbies! Is it like a fighting thing?”

“Yes. What. Do. You. Want? I’m closing this door in fifteen seconds if you don’t tell me.”

“You’re impossible...I have a big work thing. Fundraising gala for our national trade org. Fancy schmancy dinner. Open bar. Don’t worry about the expensive tickets. I already made my mom pay for those. It’s her charitable deduction for the month. Thing is…I have two of those tickets…”

“No.”

Kate presses forward.

“…I HAVE TWO TICKETS and my friend who was supposed to go with me just came down with strep. All my other friends have plans tonight. I already have a sitter and it would look REALLY bad to have an open seat at our table.”

“I don’t do…social things…people.”

“It’s for charity.”

“You said you already paid for the tickets. Charity was already made. Who cares if the seat is open?”

“Half of charity work is optics. Photographers are there. Photos go out to donors and press. They want to see overflowing events so that more people want to go to their next events. Vicious cycle.”

“No.”

“It’s free food and drinks…and I’d like to think not terrible company.”

“You’ve lived in New York your entire life. I’m sure you have other people you can call. Good night, Kate.”

Yelena shuts the door in Kate’s face.

—

Not five minutes later, another knock interrupts Yelena’s highly anticipated smoothie time. Yelena opens the door halfway through an eye roll seeing as she's fully expecting Kate again, but, to her surprise, it's the little one.

“Mommy’s on the phone with Suzu and she says she asked you to come to a party with her and you said no. Why did you tell my mommy no?”

“Ereka, that’s none of your business. Go home.”

“Why did you say no?”

“Who’s Suzu anyway?”

“My mommy’s big sister. Like I'll be when I get a little sister.”

“Why is she telling her sister that she asked me to come to this party?”

“She was asking my Suzu too, but she can’t come to the party. Why can’t you come?”

“Because I’m busy.”

“With what?”

“Things.”

“What things?”

“You said your mom was on the phone. Does she know you’re out here?”

“No.”

“Go back. Go. I’ll watch you and make sure you close the door.”

“Not until you say yes to go with my mommy.”

“I’m busy!”

“I think you’re lying and mommy says lying is bad.”

“Ereka. Go. Home.”

“I go home if you say yes.”

“Why is a five-year-old trying to blackmail me?”

"What does blackmail mean?"

"What you're trying to do right now."

They scowl at each other in silence for a beat, sizing the other up.

“Can we make a deal?”

“I’m not making deals with preschoolers.”

“You have to go with my mommy.”

“Why are you so intent on me going to this party?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Depends.”

“I can’t tell you if you won’t keep it.”

“I won’t keep it if it’s illegal or dangerous to keep it.”

Ereka huffs.

“Miss Mary falls asleep on the couch almost right as my mommy leaves. If I move the breakfast chair in front of the fridge really quiet, I can climb it and get to the cookies mommy hides up there. I’ve been wanting cookies all day. If you don’t go with my mommy, then she’s going to stay home and I won’t get cookies, so I need you to go with her.”

Yelena makes a concerted effort to remain stoic, but after about ten seconds, she cracks and smiles.

“You want me to say yes to going to a party only so you can Oceans Eleven yourself some cookies while your babysitter sleeps? I will get you cookies myself if I don’t have to go to this thing.”

“My mommy won’t let you. You have to go…I’ll save you some. As payment.”

“EREKA!” Kate scrambles out the door, panicked, the phone still glued to her ear, to find the two blondes chatting at Yelena’s door. “How the hell did you get out?! Get back here right now! What is wrong with you?!”

Before Ereka can incriminate herself, Yelena perplexingly steps in to defend her.

“She didn’t. Get out, I mean.”

“What?…Suze, I’ll call you back.”

“I knocked. To…” Yelena glances down at the kid, already regretting the words about to leave her mouth. “…let you know I changed my mind. I’ll come tonight.”

“Yessssssssss.” Ereka quietly rejoices.

“She told me you were busy on the phone and would pass on the message, then offered to escort me back to my place.”

Kate squints her eyes, struggling to believe this whole scenario, but choosing to let it be.

“Right…We have to leave by six fifteen. Gala starts at seven. Ri, come on. I need to get ready.” Ereka runs off and past her mother into their apartment. Kate lingers. “Thank you.”

Yelena offers a single, firm nod before disappearing back into hers.

—

Fifteen minutes later, Ereka entertains herself in front of the bathroom mirror, messing about with Kate’s makeup while the older woman hums a tune in the shower. There’s a knock on Kate’s door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door, mommy.”

“Don’t open it! Ask who it is.” Ereka jumps off the counter and out of the bathroom. After a beat of silence, Ereka runs back into the bathroom. “It’s Yelena.”

“Are you sure?”

“She says it’s her and it sounded like her.”

Kate wavers for a moment while thinking.

“You can open the door. Ask her what she needs.”

Without hesitation, Ereka bolts toward the front of the apartment. After another long pause, Ereka returns to the bathroom.

“She says she needs to talk to you.”

“About what?”

Ereka runs off again and is back shortly.

“She says she has nothing to wear to a ’schwancy wancy’ thing.”

Kate chuckles. 

“Tell her I’ll be right out.”

“Okay!”

Ereka rushes out the door once more. 

—

Moments later, Kate steps out to the living room, dripping wet and wearing no more than a minuscule towel wrapped around her torso that barely covers the important bits. She finds Yelena and Ereka engrossed in one of the little girl’s didactic games. The scenario makes Kate involuntarily smile. 

“I hear you have a fashion emergency?”

Yelena looks up, ready to make a snarky quip, but her words get caught in her throat and her hands become clammy when she takes in the sight of Kate in the towel.

“Uhm…sorry…I…uh…forgot I already had most of my stuff shipped out. My formal clothes are in some container crossing the ocean right now. I don’t have anything to wear.”

Kate gives Yelena a thorough once-over. Her eyes study Yelena with such assiduous detail that it eventually makes Yelena squirm.

“I should have options for you.”

“Kate…you’re so much taller than me.”

“Lucky for you, I like short things.” The women internally wince when they realize those words come across much flirtier than they initially intended to. “They’ll look right on you.”

Kate glosses right past it and Yelena is thankful for it. 

“I…uhm…don’t typically…” Yelena searches for the right words. “I don’t think our styles overlap very much.”

“Oh, come on. You can pull off a dress. It’s one night.”

“I can wear them. I know how to. I simply prefer not to.”

“I think it’s not a matter of preferences tonight, is it?” Kate saunters into her bedroom. “Let’s see what we can find.”

Shortly afterward, when Yelena hasn't walked in behind her, Kate steps back into the living room.

"Are you like a vampire? Do I have to outright invite you into rooms before you walk inside?"

"I figured you needed to put clothes on..."

"If you prefer I put clothes on now, I can. I think it'd be more efficient if we find you something to wear and then you can go shower."

"Sure. If you're fine, I'm good. I'm good."

"You can come in." Kate makes a point of saying.

"For the record, if there wasn't a child in the immediate vicinity, I'd be flipping you off."

Kate chuckles.

"Good to know."

---

The pair make their way into Kate's sweeping walk-in closet. Ereka darts in after them.

"Oh..."

"Yeah, I have a bit of a problem." Kate turns to Ereka. "No. No no. Out. You're only going to get in the way and we're in a rush. Go read something. Out."

"A bit?"

Kate closes the closet door, leaving a pouting Ereka standing behind it.

"Stop. What's your cup size?" Yelena gapes at her. "Why are you looking at me like I'm some creep catcalling you from a corner? We're standing in my closet, trying to find you something to wear. This is 'need to know' info."

"B." Kate’s eyebrows shoot up, incredulous. Yelena rolls her eyes. "They can be! Depending on the bra. Shut up...You need me to go to this thing, remember?"

"I said nothing."

Kate scans the dozens upon dozens of pieces in her wardrobe.

"How tall?"

"Five foot five." Kate pivots to look at her with a cocked eyebrow. "What are you? A lie detector machine?"

"What are you? A man? I have eyes! Tell me for real!"

"Five foot three."

"We're getting somewhere. Shoe size?"

"Six."

"Okay. Can't help you there. I'm a ten. We'll figure it out."

"What were you thinking in terms of look?"

"What do you mean?"

"Make-up?"

"Zero?"

"What I heard was 'bit of a soft smokey eye in metal and a bold red lip'. Got it. Genius. I was thinking the exact same thing."

"Kate......"

"Shhh...I'm working here."

Kate begins pulling items from the racks and setting them down on the center island while Yelena watches on, increasingly horrified.

"No...No...Absolutely not...No...Never...Kate, no."

Kate lifts a gold sequin-covered gown with a plunging v-neckline and a risque thigh-high slit. She holds it up next to Yelena for a beat, then nods.

"This one."

"No! Look at the cleavage on that thing."

"It'll look great on you."

"I said no."

"I said yes...we need a tiebreaker." Kate declares as she heads for the closet door.

"No, we don't? That's not how this works?"

"Ri, I need you! Fast!"

Ereka speeds over and into the closet.

"What, mommy?"

Kate holds the dress up under Yelena’s neck to give Ereka the most accurate visual possible.

"What do you think?"

"OOOOOOOOOOOH, SO PRETTY AND SHINY! YOU LOOK LIKE A PRINCESS!"

"Is that a 'yes' to the dress from you?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Two to one. Democracy in action." Kate tells Yelena nonchalantly while hanging the dress on a hook next to the full-body mirror. "You need to go shower right now. Don't put anything on your face and come back. I'll do your make-up."

"NO! No dress, no make-up."

"OOOOH, MAKE-UP PARTY! YES YES! WE'RE GONNA HAVE A MAKE-UP PARTY!" Ereka scuttles between the two excitedly.

"You already agreed to come."

"Maybe I'll change my mind."

"You can't do that!" Ereka tells the older blonde firmly. "You made a promise and breaking promises is bad."

"What she said." Kate backs her daughter up. Yelena stares at the women and then stomps off in a huff. "Be back here in no more than forty-five! Hair done! It'll look better up with that dress!"

Kate hears her door slam.

"I don't think she likes the dress too much, mommy."

"I don't know...I don't know.”

“She's very grumpy too."

"VERY GRUMPY, baby.”

“But I like her, mommy. Grumpy and all."

"Yeah. We like her. Grumpy and all...Are you gonna help me pick a dress too?!"

"YESSSSSSS!"

Kate commences selecting pieces from the racks for herself this time and Ereka offers detailed feedback on each along the way.

---

An hour and a half later, Kate and Ereka sit on Kate's bed, facing the closet with anticipation. Kate is dressed in a figure-hugging black gown and her hair is down, styled to look like an effortlessly slicked-back center part. Shimmery eyes and a bright red lip round out the outfit. 

"Coming out at some point before next year would be great. We have to leave in ten minutes and I still have to call the car."

"Kate, I hate this." Yelena gripes from inside the closet.

"I'm sure you look fine." Yelena doesn’t answer and there’s no sound of movement inside the closet. "Any day now. We should..."

Yelena testily swings the door open and Kate's words get caught in her throat there and then.

"WOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!! SO PRETTY!" Ereka exclaims as she hops off the bed and runs around Yelena to look at her from all angles. "YOU LOOK LIKE A REAL-LIFE SUPER PRINCESS!"

"Kate, I look ridiculous."

Kate shakes her head.

"No."

"I do."

"You look beautiful." Kate half mutters, marveling at the sight in front of her.

Yelena would love to prevent the rush of blood she feels forcing its way up to her face, but unfortunately for her, she's yet to learn how to master her body’s involuntary reactions. Her only alternative is to deflect. 

"Don't we have to leave?"

Yelena does her best to redirect, forcing Kate to snap out of her mild trance.

"Yeah...yeah. I'll call the car."

"Are you and mommy going to dance tonight?"

"I don't dance."

"Mommy likes to dance."

"Good for her."

"Mommy, you should ask Yelena to dance."

"Car will be here in two." Kate squats down to chat with her daughter at eye level. "I think we gotta take it easy on her. Dancing might be one step too far today." Kate smiles and steals a glance at Yelena before kissing Ereka's forehead. "I want you in bed right when Miss Mary tells you to. Not a minute after. I want to get zero complaints when I get back, okay?"

"What if I'm not tired? Can I wait for you if I'm not?"

"You better start tiring yourself out now then, because you're going to bed and your butt better be in bed when I get home."

"So unfair."

"UGH! Worst mom ever. How dare she not let you stay up until all hours?” Kate smiles at her daughter, who rolls her eyes. “I have to go. Be good, please. I love you."

Kate forces an over-the-top smooch onto Ereka’s cheek. The little girl “yucks” and wipes her skin with her open palm.

"I love you too. Even when you lick me and try to control me."

Kate chuckles.

"Licking and controlling are the two most important tasks parents have, Ri." Kate looks at her phone then turns to Yelena. "One minute. We should start heading down."

Yelena nods.

"Hey," Ereka whispers and beckons Yelena down to her height with her index finger. She brings her tiny hand to cup Yelena's ear in an attempt to speak to her in secret. "I'll save you two cookies. An extra one because you look really, really pretty."

Yelena can't help but smile.

"No need."

"I will. I'll give them to you tomorrow."

"What are you two whispering about?"

"Mommies don't need to know everything friends talk about."

"Kid has a point. I’m invoking our attorney-client privilege." Yelena backs her up.

"You two are trouble. Car's here. Your plotting will have to wait for another time."

Ereka wraps her arms around Yelena's neck, giving her a warm hug. Yelena reciprocates.

"Have fun. Don't forget my mommy likes to dance."

"Good night, kid."

Kate rushes into the room and yanks Yelena by the hand.

"So slow!"

"I was coming!"

"Not fast enough. Night, Mary. We'll be home by one."

"Ten." Yelena refutes.

"One," Kate confirms as she yanks Yelena out the door.

Ereka chases them to the door.

"I love you the most!" Ereka screams at her mother as the elevator door closes.

"I love you the mostest!" Kate yells back.

(NOTE: For reference, Kate is wearing that black dress/overall look from the “Capital Letters” music video. And Yelena’s look is the 2020 Vanity Fair After Party look. Pics below.)

---

The gala is in full swing. Kate is deep in conversation with the person sitting next to her. On the other hand, Yelena has yet to speak to anyone except for uttering a handful of words to Kate and speaking her order to the bartender. She savors her drink and surveys the event space, making mental judgments of all the guests.

"Socializing is a vital part of the human experience, you know?"

Kate tells her in a hushed tone with a soft smile.

"I told you I didn't do parties."

"Well, you're at one, so...can't you just enjoy it?"

"No."

Kate laughs.

"You're a hard nut to crack."

"Have you considered that maybe I don't want cracking?"

"I think you certainly tell yourself that."

Yelena glares icily at her, pushes her chair back, then stands.

"I'm getting another drink."

---

Yelena sulks at the bar while waiting for the bartender to approach her.

"I'm not trying to annoy you."

Yelena looks over her shoulder to find Kate standing behind her.

"Could've fooled me."

"Is the only way to get you to be nice to call you out when you're being a dick then feed you mac and cheese? Because one: you're being a dick. And two: I will talk to a waiter and see if we can score you some if I need to...I had a good time the other night. I know you're capable of smiling and laughing. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"Kate, what do you want from me?"

"Right now? For you to relax."

"I am relaxed."

Yelena grits through her teeth and scowls, then turns back to the bar, desperately trying to get the bartender's attention. Kate chuckles.

"Oh yeah, chillest person in this room." Kate steps forward, stands next to Yelena at the counter, brings her index finger to the older woman’s chin and pulls it, turning Yelena's head and making their eyes meet. "Give me an hour to prove you could be having fun. Say 'yes' to everything I say for an hour."

"No."

"Failing the exercise already."

"I'm not doing that."

"Are you allergic to fun? What did you and your sister do together? I'm sure you guys had fun."

"Keep my sister out of this. I'm plenty fun."

"Life of the party...An hour." Kate extends her hand, waiting for Yelena to shake it. "Are you this much of a baby that you won't leave your comfort zone for an hour?" 

Yelena lours at Kate. She is certain Kate is purposefully trying to push her buttons now...yet, for some reason, she acquiesces.

"An hour. Within reason. Nothing illegal or too crazy."

"What if we have different definitions of illegal?" Kate fires back with a smirk.

"There's only one definition. Take it or leave it."

Kate extends her hand again for Yelena to shake. Yelena looks at the hand, then at Kate and after a beat, she takes firm hold of it and shakes it. When they do, Kate hits the lock screen on her phone to look at the time.

"You're mine to do as I please until 8:52 PM."

They tense up when they realize the potential for misconstruing the statement as innuendo...but before they can dwell, the bartender approaches.

"What can I get you, ladies?"

"Four shots of tequila, please." Kate rushes to say before Yelena can speak. As Yelena is about to start protesting, Kate lifts her finger and stops her in her tracks. "Ahhhh…can't say no. We just made a deal."

Yelena grunts.

"That's not illegal, but it's certainly irresponsible."

"Live a little."

Moments later, the bartender returns with the shots as well as limes and salt on a tea plate and places them across from the two women.

"Bottoms up, council." Kate urges Yelena as she downs her first shot. Yelena gawks at her. "Come on! You're on my clock here. Move it." Defiant, Yelena slams back the first shot and immediately takes the second. She grimaces. "That's more like it!" Kate kills her remaining shot, interlocks her arm with Yelena's and drags her away from the bar. "We'll be back for more in a second."

"Where are we going now?" Kate's face lights up with a devilish smile as she heads for the dance floor. "No. Nu-uh. Kate..."

"Those words are out of your vocabulary for the time being."

"Kate, I don't dance."

"You do tonight."

Kate forces her way past the crowd and drags Yelena to the center of the dance floor. Once there, Kate begins swaying to the music the DJ plays. Yelena stands stiffly. When Yelena doesn't move, Kate brings her hands to Yelena's hips, trying to coax them into rocking along to the beat. Their eyes meet. There are no reasons this should be as intimate when there are hundreds of people around, but it undeniably is. 

"Come on...I know you're not as much of a robot as you try to make it seem. Feel it."

The last two words slip out barely above a murmur. Kate's hands remain on Yelena's hips while she takes a step closer, making the distance between them damn near nonexistent. Something about Kate being this far into her space fogs up Yelena's mind and before she knows it, her hips follow Kate's lead.

"See? Not too bad." Kate encourages her.

The music transitions to an even more uptempo song and Kate ensures they match the beat to this as well. For a moment - more like three consecutive songs - it's only them in this room. Kate's hands on Yelena's hips, their eyes on each other, breaths on their skin, and bodies in sync. They could've stayed that way all night had they not been interrupted.

"Kate! I thought that was you!"

Kate and Yelena are snapped out of their trance by another woman on the dance floor. The intruder has a handful of friends with her and what was a private, lust-filled bubble for two becomes a wide circle of yappy, gyrating, drunk women. Kate senses Yelena tense up beside her and, without thought, she brings her hand to hold Yelena's. Their fingers intertwine while Kate has small talk with the woman who approaches her.

"The infamous Kate Bishop in the flesh. What are you up to?! Where have you been hiding?"

"It's been a crazy, busy year. I made VP and my accounts have pretty much tripled. I’m drowning half the time."

"Oh my god, congrats! I didn't hear about that."

"Yeah. Thank you! It wasn't too long ago. Happened at the top of the summer and..." Kate feels Yelena pull on her hand, trying to get away. Kate holds on tighter and runs her thumb over Yelena’s skin, soothing. "...I haven't exactly had time to celebrate. It was so nice to catch up, but we were on our way to the bar. Let's get drinks on the books. Have your assistant call mine."

"Of course, yeah! Have fun tonight."

Kate turns and pulls Yelena behind her towards the bar, hands still locked together.

"Sorry. I didn't..."

"It's fine." Yelena hurries to divert. "You probably know everyone here."

"I wouldn't say everyone...99%?" Kate looks over at the shorter woman and grins. "More tequila?"

"That's a terrible idea, Kate."

"Which is exactly why we should do it."

They land at the bar and Kate orders four more shots.

"Four is unreasonable."

"I think you can handle it." Kate hasn't let go of Yelena's hand and continues to run lazy circles over her skin with her thumb. Kate turns to face the crowd. "Who do you think is the hottest guy here? Who'd you get wasted and take home tonight for a crazy, sloppy one-night stand?"

Yelena chuckles.

"Are your observation and deduction skills that poor?"

"What do you mean? Ohhhh...you want me to guess who you think is hot?"

Yelena laughs harder.

"We'd be here all night."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think any of these men are hot, Kate."

"A picky girl! I like it. Okay. What's your type then? There HAS to be someone in here that comes at least close."

"My type is ‘not men’."

"What...oh...OH..." Kate takes a step back, studying Yelena. After a beat, she nods. "No, yeah. That makes sense. It's all clicking now."

Yelena hangs her head back, laughing.

"Glad we got that sorted."

"But like...never? Not even once?"

Yelena shakes her head.

"Have never seen a penis in real life."

"God, I'm actually a little jealous. They're...kinda just...there...flapping around...being an inconvenience."

"Yup. Every word is making me gayer."

Kate surveys Yelena's face and notices her eyes becoming glassy due to the alcohol.

"We need to get some food and water in you. Let's go back to the table. They're serving dinner soon anyway."

Kate pulls Yelena's hand and guides them back to their seats.

"That might be the only good idea you've had tonight."

---

Kate and Yelena talk and stuff themselves full of bread while waiting for their full-course dinner to be served. A waiter drops by to offer the table drinks immediately before dinner is catered and, never knowing when to say no, Kate orders them a round. Yelena is thankful it’s at least a pair of cocktails, not shots.

They continue conversing about nothing and everything throughout their meal. Kate brazenly ignores her coworkers the entire time.

Once dessert makes its way to the diners, the DJ shifts from the mellow playlist guests could have a conversation over back to danceable jams. Before long, Kate is squealing and declaring something "her song" and forcing Yelena back onto the dance floor.

On this occasion, with alcohol and hormones coursing even more freely through their veins, Yelena doesn't resist when Kate eventually presses her back to Yelena's front and starts grinding against her. Yelena's hands find a home on Kate's hips and they move together. As one. They do this for another song before Kate turns to face Yelena. Kate places her elbows on Yelena's shoulders and wraps her arms behind her neck. Yelena's hands move from Kate's hips to the small of her back, right on the curve of her derriere. They're pressing themselves against boundaries at full tilt.

Kate brings her lips to Yelena's ear and her lips graze against the skin of Yelena’s earlobe as she speaks.

"I have to pee like a fucking racehorse." Yelena bursts out laughing. "I'll be right back." Before she pulls away, Kate's lips travel a few inches below Yelena’s ear and press a soft kiss on the woman’s cheek. "Thank you for coming tonight."

Yelena offers a firm nod and Kate disappears into the crowd.

With Kate gone, the illusion breaks and the reality of tonight...of the last couple of hours (because this has gone well and beyond the "one hour" deal by now)...smashes into the forefront of Yelena’s mind like a stray cannonball. Whereas it felt as if it were only the two of them in a room before, now it's back to Yelena being alone in a sea of strangers she has no interest in becoming familiar with. The dance floor becomes speedily suffocating and, before she knows it, Yelena is rushing to the table to snatch the bag with her phone and keys in it and flees.

---

The line to the women’s bathroom stretches down a hallway and wraps around a corner. Kate’s leg bounces impatiently whilst she waits near the end of the queue. Kate brings her manicured thumb to her mouth and begins to chew on it. Now that they’re apart, the veil of the alcohol-induced, nirvana-like state she’s been immersed in has lifted and all Kate is left with is the feeling of an anvil weighing her stomach down. 

What the hell? That is the one query that continually loops in Kate’s mind. Kate racks her brain, striving to figure out when and how her truculent temporary neighbor got under her skin like this. Did it start tonight? Have these feelings been simmering and only boiled over in the last few hours? Kate has an endless stream of questions - questions that can mostly be summarized as “Fuck fuck fuck what the fuck?” - but none that she thinks she’ll have an answer to by the time she gets to a stall. Particularly not when her brain keeps wandering to those moments on the dance floor when her body was pressed against Yelena’s and the woman’s hands were all over her. Those mental images are distracting and certainly not conducive to critical thinking during a seemingly impromptu life crisis. 

For now, all Kate can do is stew in her feelings and hope the rest of the night will further assist in her quest to find explanations. That, and bite her nails to keep her mind off how urgently she needs to empty her bladder.

---

It takes Kate longer to return than she would've liked; therefore, she doesn’t consider it exceedingly strange when she can’t spot Yelena on the dance floor. The blonde must have returned to the table and is waiting for her there. Kate arrives at her company’s table, but Yelena isn't anywhere to be found there either. That’s when Kate notices Yelena's bag is also missing. Kate digs through her purse, collects her phone, and texts her.

Nothing.

---

Half an hour later.

Kate stares at her phone, glaring at the message that has ostensibly merited no response from Yelena. More than worried, Kate feels herself growing angry. She has a fairly solid inkling of what happened and by no means is she allowing their night to end on this wretched note. Kate snaps her handbag up and storms to the entrance while calling a car.

---

The longer the car took to make its way to her building, the more livid Kate felt herself growing. Thus, it is no surprise to her when she finds herself hammering her fists against Yelena's door. To Kate’s satisfaction, she doesn’t have to stand there for long before Yelena stares back at her. 

"People are sleeping, Kate."

It’s clear the older woman has been home for some time, seeing as her face is washed, her hair is braided, and she’s now clad in sweats and a t-shirt. 

Kate barges into the apartment, explosively hurling her bag on the couch the moment she’s inside. 

"Where the hell did you go?"

Yelena points around her, as if stating, ‘here?...where you found me?’.

"You make it a habit of vanishing and abandoning all your dates at parties?"

"That wasn't a date, Kate. That was a kidnapping."

Kate paces in furious silence.

"Maybe not at first."

"Maybe not at first what?"

"A date...maybe it wasn't a date at first."

"Don't," Yelena replies angrily.

"Don't what?"

"Don't do that...the whole ambiguous-and-maybe-even-curious-but-really-straight girl game. It's sad."

"You're such a fucking prick. We had a great night, you got scared, bailed, and now you're trying to shit all over me so I leave. You're not super enigmatic and frigid. What you are is a really predictable coward and THAT is what’s a little sad. A lot sad."

"Get out. Get the fuck out."

Yelena pushes past Kate on her way to open the door and kicks Kate out, but Kate grabs her arm, pulls Yelena towards her, and into a torrid kiss. Kate ends the kiss yet doesn’t pull away. She holds Yelena’s face, keeping her in place, and presses their foreheads together.

"I should have more self-respect than to do the whole 'crush on and chase the one who’s mean to me’ thing, but...here I am." Kate chuckles and presses another soft kiss to Yelena’s lips. "There's more to the grump. I know it. I've seen it."

"Kate, get out. I'm not going to be the person you experiment with. Been there, done that, didn't end well for me."

Kate takes a step back, aggravated.

"Yeah, you're right. I've never been with a woman. I'd have a lot to learn. Learning doesn't mean I'd be "experimenting", at least not in the negative way you're trying to imply."

Yelena takes advantage of the fact that Kate has put distance between them and marches to the door, swinging it open while pointing outside.

"Go home to your kid."

"Is it this hard to admit that someone might actually give a fuck? Ignore me for a second. She adores you. You know that, right? Talks about you all day long. Is constantly looking for excuses to come and see you. I have to stop her all the time, or she would've moved in here by now. People care about you. She cares. I care. You make it hard but not impossible."

"I'm leaving. In November. I'm leaving."

"That's November. This is now."

"Nope. No. I don't work that way. I like plans and order and control."

"Life is messier than that."

"Kate..."

Kate closes the distance between them, slides Yelena’s hand off the doorknob, and pushes the door closed.

"Ignore November. Ignore anything outside that door. Right now, what do you want?"

"What I want right now will lead to chaos in the morning."

"Are you clairvoyant?"

"I'm smart."

"But not psychic. What if what you want right now simply leads to morning sex instead of chaos?"

"Because that's not how life works...not mine anyway."

Kate presses her body against Yelena's. Yelena initially tries to recoil, but, much like she did on the dance floor, Kate holds the sides of Yelena's shirt, by her hips, and settles her.

"What do you want right now?" Yelena doesn't respond. Kate leans her face closer, making her lips hover above Yelena's. "What do you want?"

"To fuck you."

Kate nods, smirks, and a soft ‘hmmm’ escapes her mouth.

"I want you to do that too."

Kate ghosts her lips over Yelena's.

"You're drunk, Kate."

"I'm really not. Buzzed at best. But turned on?...Definitely. And I want you to do something about it." Yelena doesn’t move or speak. "You really gonna make me beg?"

Yelena’s eyes shoot up to meet Kate’s. Kate grins when she sees the desire burning in them. 

"Maybe," Yelena states with an undertone of cockiness Kate hasn’t seen all night. 

"Please," Kate adds with zero hesitation.

"What if you wake up and regret it tomorrow?"

"I thought we were ignoring anything except right now."

"Humor me."

"I don't think you'll give me any reason to...but even if you do...what's the worst that can happen? You leave in November, remember? If it goes TERRIBLY WRONG tonight, then worst-case scenario is we have to awkwardly cross each other for a few more months in the hallway and then, that's it. Never see each other ever again...No downsides."

Yelena’s forest eyes study the azure in Kate’s, attempting to spot any hint of vacillation in them.

"What about Ereka? You said she's always looking..."

"You're overthinking it...and trying to find excuses that don't exist. Right now. You. Take what you want. It's already yours."

After a brief delay, Yelena joins her lips with Kate's in a searing kiss. Within seconds they're stumbling back to the bedroom while clothes are flying off.

---

Kate’s arm swats around the mattress, searching for the body that should be there but come across nothing. Her eyes flutter open and Kate lets the dismaying fact that she woke up to an empty bed sink in. She buries her face in the pillow, trying to shield the blinding sun rays from her eyes, and sighs. Then it hits her...the sun is out. She isn't home and the sun is out. OH FUCK.

Kate gets dressed in a hurry and sprints over to her apartment.

"I'm sorry...I'm so..."

Instead of finding a disgruntled babysitter, what Kate comes across when she bursts in is Yelena and a cheerful Ereka making pancakes in the kitchen.

"What's going on?"

The sound of Kate’s voice makes Yelena look over her shoulder for a brief moment before turning her attention back to the pan.

"You slept in." Yelena casually responds.

"You left me. Alone." Kate admonishes her.

"I woke up after we...it was a little past one, so I ran over and relieved Mary. I figured you'd be up soon enough and crashed on the couch until you came. About an hour ago, I opened my eyes and her face was two inches from mine. I checked in. You were still asleep. Figured I'd let you sleep. She got hungry and I couldn't let her starve on my watch, so we're making food."

"We're making strawberry pancakes for you, mommy."

Kate softens up.

"I'm...I'm gonna brush my teeth and wash my face."

"Okay." Yelena turns to look at what Ereka is doing. "No! NO! Too many. That's waaay too many."

Yelena starts fishing out strawberries from the batter, now cooking on the hot pan.

"Yelena, can you come here, please?" Kate calls from her room.

"In the middle of something."

"I need you for a second."

Yelena turns off the burner and looks at Ereka seriously.

"DO NOT TOUCH IT. It's hot. You'll hurt yourself. You can't touch anything until I get back."

Yelena insists while heading towards Kate’s bedroom.

"I’m big! I can make pancakes on my own!"

"NO TOUCHING! I’ll be right back."

Ereka pouts and crosses her arms over her chest.

"FINE!"

---

Yelena enters Kate's room and finds the brunette waiting for her by the door. The moment Yelena steps in, Kate holds her face and kisses her.

"One: you should've woken me up." Kate kisses her again. "Two: Thank you for staying with her. It was...amazing. That has never happened before. I swear. I've never not come home when I say I will. I think your bed was so comfortable and it smelled like you and..."

Yelena kisses her to quiet her.

"You're a great mother, Kate Bishop. You deserved a late morning. It's fine. All I did was cross the hallway, freeze on your couch for a night, and make pancake batter this morning."

Kate laughs and pecks Yelena’s lips.

"There's blankets in the hallway closet."

"I didn't know that. How would I know that?"

"I could've told you if you would've woken me up." Kate kisses her again. "Thank you."

Yelena closes her eyes and inhales sharply.

"What are we doing?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm about to go try some of these pancakes."

"You know what I mean, Kate...I'm leaving."

"You're here now."

"Doesn't change what happens come November."

"We can worry about November later. Right now, I'm hungry and want pancakes. Do you have plans today?" Yelena shakes her head. "She's supposed to be with me this weekend, but one of her dad’s cousins is getting married. He’s picking her up at eleven and she's staying the night. I need to get her ready, pack her bag, and get her out the door. Then we have the place to ourselves until tomorrow at ten. I do believe I promised you some morning sex, so as long as he's on time and you have me naked in bed before noon, it'll technically count."

Yelena shakes her head while a smile creeps up on her.

"You're something else."

Kate kisses her.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Remains to be seen."

Yelena kisses her this time.

"CAN WE FINISH BREAKFAST, PLEASE?! I'M GOING TO DIE OF HUNGRY!"

A little voice pleads from the kitchen. Kate and Yelena are forced to separate and snicker.

"Yup! Coming! Helping your mom with a thing, but I'll be right there."

"You'll definitely be helping a lot more once she's gone for the day."

Kate smirks at Yelena before stealing one last kiss and heading to the door, dragging the older woman behind her.

"Alright, where are these pancakes I was promised?"

“HERE! We’re making them, mommy.”

---

Kate’s legs are draped over Yelena’s thighs, their interlocked fingers casually fiddling while they speak in hushed voices. Yelena leans in, intent on stealing a sneaky kiss when there’s a knock on the door. 

“Ri, your dad’s here!” Kate rudely screams millimeters away from Yelena’s mouth. Yelena flinches at the volume. 

“DADDY!” Ereka shrieks from her bedroom, followed by the rustling of last-minute stuffing of things into a backpack.

When she realizes what she did, Kate offers a bashful smile and plants a series of soft, rapid kisses on Yelena’s lips. 

“Sorry.” Kate mouths before stealing another kiss.

“Should I go to your room or something?” Yelena asks as Kate untangles herself from her. 

“No. No. I’ll make sure he’s in and out. It’s fine.”

There’s another, more impatient knock on the door. 

“I’m coming!”

Kate speeds up the pace and swings the door open to find Tom holding a bouquet of deep purple tulips on the other side. 

“Was walking by that little florist on 84th and 2nd and saw these. They reminded me of you, KitKat.”

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

Kate expresses genuinely before smelling the flowers. Tom smiles, proud of himself, and places a lingering kiss on Kate’s cheek before stepping inside. 

“I was thinking…maybe you can come to the wedding. With us…me and…” Tom’s train of thought gets derailed when he notices the stranger lackadaisically lounging on the couch in what seems like sleepwear. “Hey.”

“That’s Yelena.”

“DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!” 

Ereka rushes Tom, who swings her into the air and smothers her face with kisses.

“Hi, lovebug! You look gorgeous today. Mommy did a good job with those braids on your hair!”

“Mommy didn’t do them! Yelena did!”

With the little girl now attached to his hip, Tom takes a step toward the couch; his hand extended in a polite greeting mode.

“I guess you’re the neighbor.”

Yelena stands and shakes his hand.

“I’m the neighbor.”

“She doesn’t shut up about you.”

“She’s a great kid.”

“She is. Perfect kid. We made a perfect kid. I keep telling KitKat we should make more.” Tom laughs. “Isn’t that right, baby? I always tell you how we should give her that little sister she wants.” Kate forces an awkward smile. Tom turns to face Kate and holds her hand in his. “So, about you coming today. How do you feel about that? I talked to my aunt because of the RSVP and headcount thing. They said it’s perfectly fine. They’d love to have you there. They haven’t seen you in a bit.”

Tom runs his thumb over Kate’s cheek. Kate takes a step back, putting distance between them.

“I’m busy today. I think it’ll be great for you guys to have one-on-one time.”

“We have one-on-one time all the time, KitKat. You know what she hasn’t had in a while? Family time. The three of us. Together. Wouldn’t you want that, princess? The family at a family event.”

“YESSSS! You should come, mommy.”

“Tom…”

“I’m gonna go. You guys can figure that out.”

Yelena mumbles stiffly as she starts to head for the door. 

“See you, neighbor lady.”

Kate steps in Yelena’s way, using her body to block her path, and almost imperceptibly shakes her head while painting a massive fake smile on her face and addressing Tom. 

“Her dress and shoes are in the bag. She can probably keep the braids for the wedding if you don’t rile her up too much. They’ll look cute in pictures. If they get messed up, let them loose and brush her hair out. It should be fine. If you’re not sure if the braids still look good or not, don’t let her run around looking crazy. Ask your mom or your sister. They’ll tell you. I put a headband in there in case she needs to have it down.”

Tom zoned out after the first few words. As his ex talks, his eyes dart back and forth between Kate and Yelena. Their shoulders are pressed together and their hands are nearly overlapping.

“Hmmmmm…okay. So that’s a ‘no’ on coming with your husband and your daughter to the family wedding? Even though she clearly wants you to come.”

“It’s a no. I’m busy.” Tom scoffs. Kate takes a step forward and plants a kiss on the little girl’s forehead. “You and daddy have the most fun, okay? You’re staying with him and grandma tonight, but I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”

“Why are you not coming, mommy?” Ereka pouts.

“Yeah, KitKat. Why are you not coming?” Tom asks, accusatory and eyeing Yelena surreptitiously.

Kate glares at Tom. 

“Because that was never the plan.”

“Our daughter wants you to come.”

“That wasn’t a thing she wanted until you brought it up. She’ll live. Alright. Isn’t the wedding in Connecticut? That’s a drive. You guys should get going because I don’t want you rushing on the interstate. Please let your mom or someone else drive tonight if you drink at the wedding.”

“Right.”

“I mean it, Thomas. I don’t want her in the car with you if you're drinking. I’ll pick her up if I need to. Just call me if it gets to that. I’ll come.”

“You could come with us now.”

Kate kisses the girl again, then bends over to grab the backpack she had discarded as she ran out and places it in Tom’s hand. 

“Everything she needs is in here.”

“Except for her mom being there with her and daddy.”

“BYE! Have fun!” Kate smiles and nudges him in the direction of the door. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, mommy!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Kate closes the door on Tom, leaving him staring at Yelena from the door. 

“That was…interesting.” Yelena ponders for as long as it takes Kate to close the distance between them. “Did he call himself your husband...?”

“He does that sometimes.”

“But he’s…”

“Not. Definitely not. We got divorced when Ri was two. He’s still getting used to it.”

“That was…three years ago?”

“And we were together for almost seven. It’s taking him a bit.”

“That sounds messy.”

“I’m not with him. I have no interest in being with him.”

“Does he know that? Because he brought you flowers, wanted you to be his date to a wedding, and calls himself ‘your husband’.”

“Can we not talk about him? Please?” Kate steps even closer and intertwines their fingers. “Still very much into the idea of morning sex WITH YOU and noon is creeping up. We should get on that…” 

Kate’s lips fly to Yelena’s neck and start peppering kisses on the exposed skin.

“You have convincing ways, Kate Bishop.”

“I like to think so.” Kate kisses her way up to Yelena’s mouth. “Are you gonna keep spiraling about my ex, or are you gonna fuck me? One sounds A LOT more fun than the other.” Yelena studies her face. A mischievous grin appears on Kate’s face. “You like it when I beg you for it, don’t you?”

“You look good begging.” Yelena smirks confidently.

“Please,” Kate whispers against Yelena’s lips. “Please…I’m dying to be under you again…Please.”

Yelena smashes their lips together and taps the back of Kate’s thighs. Kate takes the hint and wraps her legs around Yelena’s waist and arms around her neck. Yelena brings her hands to Kate’s ass to hold her up while she starts guiding them toward the bedroom. As they’re getting to the door, Kate leans back.

“Stop. Hold on. Hold on.” Yelena quietly panics and puts Kate down. “Wait here.”

“What?”

Kate hastily pecks Yelena’s lips before vanishing into her room.

“Wait there.”

“Kate, we don’t have to if you don’t want to. If you changed your mind…”

“Shut up and wait before you freak out, will you?”

Moments later, Kate reappears on the threshold, clad in the skimpiest lingerie. She wears a black triangle bra with leavers lace and a matching lace thong. The outfit (or lack thereof) is capped with an untied purple silk robe lazily draped down the sides of her body. Yelena purses her lips and dramatically exhales. 

“You like?” Yelena nods and hums. “Then will you please come and fuck me before I ruin this underwear any more than I currently am? They’re La Perla. They’re expensive.” 

Kate offers a rascally smile before disappearing into the room anew. 

Yelena lingers at the threshold for a moment and softly bangs her forehead against the wall. There's no way this isn't going to be a disaster come November.

She was right.

[teenandbeyond]

I'm craving some Frieza x female!reader hurt/comfort (as feasibly possible with Frieza's personality 😂) recently and if it's okay I'd love to see your take on it. Specifically a scenario in which Frieza is either sick or hurt after a fight and the femreader tries to help him despite his protests. He'd be such a piss baby about it but it just seems like a fun scenario

Frieza x Fem. Reader Headcanons

Hc styleeeee

Want more from me? Masterlist 2

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

❄Bandages❄

Warning(s): Fluff?

You make it your personal duty to take care of Frieza after he gets injured, too bad he has so much pride he could drown in it.

✨✨✨✨✨

When he met your eyes, you gasped as he collapsed in the doorway. Rushing over to him.

"Lord Frieza! What happened?!"

"Just a little spar, I'll be fine--Don't you dare help me!"

You ignored the plea as your eyes trailed over his cuts and bruises, before pausing on the big gash on his side.

"Stand up and give me your arm, you lost a lot of blood."

"No."

A glare was all it took for him to relent.

You took him to your room, your clinic.

Yes, Frieza was crushing on the healer.

Oh, that hadn't been mentioned yet?

Oops.

You sat him down on the examination bed, the instant you heard the impact of him sitting, you rushed to collect anything you needed.

"This isn't necessary. I'll be fine, nothing a little elastic bandage can't fix."

You slowly turned around, horrified, "No, wonder you have so many scars! You can't just slap bandages around and call it a day!"

After hearing that, you get back to him as soon as you can.

You grab an arm first, dipping a cotton swab into some alcohol and dabbing at a cut.

"Ow. That stings. Can't you just put on bandaids and get this over with?"

"Stop being so whiny."

"But it stings."

"Apparently The Mighty Frieza can't handle an alcohol swab. What a baby," you muttered.

"I am not!"

You're the only other person who can get away with saying such things...only because your face is so cute when you're irritated.

You finish with his arms and move to his side, cleaning it as well as you could with his flinching.

You pouted, "Yeah, I'll absolutely have to sew this closed."

You prepared and cleaned the needle before getting to work.

"Ow, ow, ow--"

"I wasn't even moving on that last one," you gave him an unimpressed stare.

"Needles hurt," he whined in defense.

"Yeah? You've had worse injuries, I think you'll be fine."

Once you finally got past that, you moved to the smaller cuts on his face.

You were too close.

He could feel your breath.

See all the little blemishes on your face he otherwise wouldn't have noticed.

And he did his best to not let his eyes flicker down, he promises he did.

The thing was, you didn't know about this little crush.

You didn't know that out of the main things that went through his mind the most, you always overtook them whenever you pleased.

You didn't think much of his protectiveness over you.

He literally killed a guy because he made you uncomfortable staring at you too long.

Or his favor toward you.

You weren't dense.

You just figured since you were his personal healer, he wanted to make you comfortable with him by using his charm. Making sure his authority was known and anyone that worked directly under him deserved respect.

Like when he invited you to some space gala as his plus one, buying you a pretty dress that you never wanted to know the price of.

Or when someone bumped into you and made you fall, scraping your arm. He promptly tossed them out of the ship.

Okay, maybe you were a little dense.

"Alright, all done, get out of here," you teased.

Maybe he just had to be straightforward instead of coming to you whenever he got hurt.

Just as you went to pull away, he grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer.

You were centimeters away from a kiss.

Seriously, if either of you moved, your lips would brush together.

"L-Lord Fri--"

"Frieza is fine, I'd prefer that from you, darling."

Where most would have trembled at the intensity of his stare, you merely gave him one equally as intense.

He loved that about you, you could match him, despite the large gaps of power.

"...Frieza."

Yes, he quite liked that.

"I do wonder...How good a kisser you are."

"I--I wouldn't know, I've never..."

He smirked, "Well, we could always find out."

[iuaraes]

      The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human. Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections. The moon does not fight. It attacks no one. It does not worry. It does not try to crush others. It keeps to its course, but by its very nature, it gently influences. What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore? The moon is faithful to its nature and its power is never diminished.

      ( @fighterbound )'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 ━ ❛ "may i have this dance?" as soon as the questions leaves his lips, sasuke swears his he feels his mother's gaze laser in on him and this beautiful woman. there's been a good amount of whispers and glances shot her way, for good reason. then again hyuugas are known for their elegant and ethereal looks.

      he extends his hand toward hinata, giving her a respectful nod. if she says no, that could be the excuse he needs to get out of his formal gala...event. whatever the fuck it is. honestly it could be a big middle finger to his father, because he knows exactly who she is. hinata hyuuga, clan heiress to one of the major thorns of his father's side.

      "you can tell me no," he adds with a shrug, " no hard feelings." ❜

      Events such as those happened too often for Hinata’s liking, as the heiress she was unfortunately unable to decline - always forced to see it through in the company of her father and her cousin, her sister being too young was often left behind. A tiny selfish part of Hinata wished Hanabi had been allowed to go with them, that way people would flock to her sister instead of to her. Hanabi was like the sun, a girl with a personality that fit her name, thriving under the attention. Hinata however preferred the solitude, a wallflower through and through. 

      She had yet to do what her father had demanded of her and could feel his cold gaze on the back of her neck. He wanted her to approach the Uchiha, to mingle with the family as he was — both Hyuuga and Uchiha patriarchs chatting as if they were close friends. Hinata knew her father despised the Uchiha more than anything, perhaps more than he despised her. 

      It was a voice that pulled her out of her miserable thoughts, a familiar voice but one she didn’t expect to hear directed at her that night. A small gasp left her carefully painted lips, moonlight eyes widening slightly as she gazed upon the hand held out to her. ❛  S-Sasuke-san,  ❜ the heiress spoke his name softly, a hint of awe in her evergentle voice. 

      She could feel all the attendants looking at them, could feel her father’s gaze on her back like he held a knife to her throat. Sasuke had given her an option to decline, but that was an option Hinata did not have. Not even if she wanted to. ❛  I— yes, you may.  ❜ She could feel herself blushing, the attention, before oppressive, now unbearable. Slowly she laid her hand upon his, eyes gentle as she looked up at him. 

      Hinata allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor, a slow song playing in the background. How odd it was to be perceived by Uchiha Sasuke of all people, he had never paid attention to her before. She wondered what had prompted this. ❛  I didn’t know you liked to dance, Sasuke-san,  ❜ she commented, hesitantly placing her free hand on his shoulder. 

      ❛  I've never seen you dance at such events before,  ❜ Hinata said, curiosity and shyness on her sweet voice as she followed his movements. She had wanted to apologise as she was bound to trip over her own feet, but couldn't. Her father would chastise her if he learned of her apologising to an Uchiha.

[audreycritter]

pls tell us more about ur headcanons for battinson acquiring a robin 👀🥺

oh YES. here we go:

-i think bruce starts to engage in Society and this means galas, parties, and dates, while he's cleaning up the renewal fund

-he takes a date to the circus, and immediately forgets her when the graysons fall. all he can see is Dick Grayson, eyes wide, watching from the shadows. she has to get another ride home

-he doesn't just vanish with Dick. i think he leaps the barricade and gets Dick to stop staring.

-He sticks like glue to Dick's side. he doesn't just take him home-- he's there for hours, through the police tape, the statements. the circus is cleared out, and he stays there. Dick barely notices him until Bruce cuts in to stop a police officer from questioning him again.

-Dick wants to see the bodies and Bruce fights for him to get to see them one more time. He understands.

-The police are confused about what to do with Dick-- the circus aren't bio family, they can't seem to find anyone, and the fallback plan is social services until they can track down relatives for Dick.

-Dick vanishes

-Bruce and Pop Haley find him with the elephants. Bruce says he'll take him home, because this version of Bruce was traumatized by Riddler's orphanage trauma, and he can't watch that happen to someone else-- even if the orphanage isn't even there anymore.

-Haley urges Dick to go with him, because he knows about the corruption and is afraid for Dick.

-Bruce basically just tells the police he's taking Dick home. He bullshits a lie about Dick being a distant relative and nobody wants to challenge him.

-Dick is shellshocked for a day or two and then spends the next week attempting to run away, not to the circus, but to find the men he overheard threatening his parents

-He gets as far as inner Gotham once and Batman finds him on a very high roof. Bruce's panic is not insignificant.

-Dick immediately tries to bargain with Batman into helping him find and kill the men. Batman refuses, and Dick has a savage, trauma and grief-fueled breakdown on him. Batman takes him back to the Manor and Alfred.

-Bruce returns via the cave. Dick takes about two seconds to identify the blooming bruise he left on Bruce's cheek. He's figured it out.

-Dick, when not running away, is a mess-- he's having crying fits, sullen and withdrawn periods, or manic hyper and climbing everything and talking constantly. Bruce is getting him to eat, listening when he talks, and holding him when he cries. Dick does not seem to understand personal space, and Bruce is letting him set the boundary lines. If Dick wants to climb on his back or hang from his neck, then Dick gets to do that.

-Dick has decided Batman will help capture the men and Tony Zucco. He needs a costume for this. Batman agrees to let him ride in the car, that's it. It's also going to be CAPTURE, not murder, Dick.

-Dick does not stay in the car.

-Dick does not murder anyone but he's pretty close.

-Dick announces the next morning that he can't wait to see who they capture next.

-Bruce has a child now. It's too late to back out.

-The child keeps falling asleep on his shoulder.

-Alfred has Opinions until he sees Dick on the trapeze equipment Bruce installs for him.

-There is no normal way for Dick Grayson to burn off his energy, and having a way to help people is beating back the withdrawn grief.

-Robin becomes a fixture beside Batman. Most of what he does is non-violent helping, but he can hold his own in a fight.

-Bruce eats a lot more ice cream.

-Bruce's playlist shuffle now has MCR and the The Fox What Does the Fox Say and Baby Shark.

-Baby Bruce Doot Doot Doo Doo

-Baby Dick Doot Doot Doot

-Brucester that isn't even how it goes you're doing it wrong

[frogmanfae]

Newsies as Things I Heard This Week Part 3

Race, who decided to fuck around and take an intro to med course: Boogers, man *solemn nodding*

Literally everyone else who was having a normal conversation 2 seconds ago: ...

Race: They have a purpose

Davey: What's on your dress?

Romeo: Are those corn dogs?

Jack: They're popsicles!

Katherine: No!! They're otters!! You're like the third person! They're two otters swimming next to each other and holding hands because otters holding hands is the cutest thing ever!

Romeo: Ohhh I see it now

Katherine: I would wear a dress with corn dogs on it though, that sounds pretty cool

I'm gonna drop out

Spot: What happened

Race: Change my name

Spot: What happened??

Race: Move to another state-

Spot: What happened???

Davey: He was talking to his english teacher while she was trying to grade and she asked him to shut up

Race: MY ENGLISH TEACHER

Spot: ooh... That's rough buddy

Jojo: Uh... I think it's red?

Buttons: Damn that's a big apple!

Jojo: I know it's like huge-

Buttons: What kind is it??

Buttons and Elmer: ...

Elmer: *bursts into laughter*

Buttons: *gasping for air* I mean... Are we talkin gala, pink lady, honey crisp...?

Albert: Do you ever want to just start some chaos for no reason?

Jojo: Oh! Uh... *laughing but the crying kind* I don't know...

Race: Absolutely-

Albert: Because right now I just wanna- I'm fighting an urge

Elmer: *out of nowhere, directed at no one, for no reason* itty bitty titty committee

Race: What? Literally what did you just say?

Davey, running on an hour of sleep, three monster energies, and the crippling anxiety that if he takes a break he will have failed his entire family: It's like thing that there where like... What is that?

Davey: Where all the words are the same? Oxymoron!

Race, who isn't an english scholar but is pretty sure that isn't right: ...no?

Davey: Wh- *realization* ... Alliteration. I meant allitera-

Race: DID YOU JUST MISTAKE ALLITERATION FOR OXYMORON-

Race: NO BECAUSE YOU'RE A FUCKING OXY-MORON

Davey: SHUT UP

Crutchie: Were you on the marching band bus with the penis game last year?

Davey: THIS IS ANTISEMITISM AND HOMOPHOBIA AND- UH- fuck what see am I? I'm something else, for sure, right?

Race:.... An immigrant?

Davey: YEAH THIS IS ALSO XENOPHOBIA

Race: DID YOU JUST FORGET THAT YOU-

Davey: I SAID SHUT UP

Buttons: What?

Crutchie: The penis game

Buttons: No? Can I- I'm gonna need some elaboration

Crutchie: Okay so you say "penis" and you start really quiet and then the next person-

Buttons: Okay I understand. I need no more instruction, I know what to do now. I'm so glad I've been given the honor to bring this to Bus 1

Denton, addressing the marching band kids on expectations before they leave for their first away game of the season: Did I cover everything? Is everything said?

Medda: Language!

Denton, very obviously tired: Oh yes! Language. Only use the good words, not the bad ones. Like... Yay and... Yippee.. Oh darn... Holy smokes... Things like that...

Romeo: The trombone section shirt is going to say "I'm about to blow" and it's gonna have a trombone with a bomb

Henry: Why the bomb?

Romeo: So people think we're talking about explosions but actually... Cum

Henry: I mean the trumpet shirts say "I'm horny" so-

Romeo: RIGHT?! THAT'S WEIRD! If they can have that we can have this.

Elmer: Please don't quote me on that

Buttons: I'm quoting you on that

Elmer: Nooo...!

Denton: *chainsaw imitation in the middle of teaching class*

Davey and Spot: *autistic discussion about angler fish* (I wasn't able to write all of this down because deadass this conversation about angler fish lasted 20 minutes in the middle of my creative writing class instead of doing our work)

Elmer: *tricks his cat into thinking he has a treat when he, in fact, does not* Look he's looking at me like "you whore I knew you were lying"

Denton, teaching biology: This is called phagocytosis (fag-oh-sigh-toe-sis)

Davey and Race: *bombastic side eye*

Crutchie: *trying not to laugh*

Denton: It occurs when a phagocyte (fag-oh-sight) essentially, like- *eats* another piece of biological material in the body-

Davey and Race: *BOMBASTIC SIDE EYE*

Crutchie: *TRYING NOT TO LAUGH*

Medda, to her english class: Oh don't read that that's hetero

Les: you just use your tippies *talking about fingertips*

Davey: ... *trying so hard not to laugh*

Davey: I'm gonna touch you with my tippies

Race: *trying and failing not to laugh*

/after Les leaves/

Race: PLEASE GO UP TO JACK AND SAY THAT

Albert: *gets his heart broken by a guy* I'm straight now!

Henry: No!

Albert: I'm taking the rainbow heart pin off of my bag right now!!!

Race: I support you, I'm shopping for a straight pride pin to replace it

Elmer: Relationships are give and take, lately you've only been giving and he's only been taking you should really end that

Albert: thank you! A true friend

Race: here, here's an ally pin-

Albert: no I'm straight up homophobic after this

Race: oh shit

Crutchie: Damn okay look at you getting deep, freshman??

*long line to get in through a door*

Buttons: *opens a second door*

Denton: Oh there we go, second option. Always use plan b!

Jack: *snorts*

Davey: *side eye*

Race: *deep voice* get off my property

Race: You should keep that one in mind

Davey: I'm having a hard time seeing what I could use Plan B for

Jack: It's so weird to hear you using your straight guy voice

Race: *southern deep voice* oh yeah-

Davey: WHY ARE YOU SOUTHERN???

Race: *still in the voice* I was born in South Carolina

Jack: THAT DOESN'T COUNT

Race: *still in the voice* In another life I coulda been a cowboy

Buttons, about Oscar: Nah girl that is more than a bad day that's a bad YEAR-

Spot, sarcastically: It's governMENt not governWOMANt so sit down

Denton, teaching a band class: It's like your tongue is ever so slightly flicking the note-

Sarah, jokingly: :0

Davey, also a drummer: *trying (and failing) not to laugh* shut up

Spot, a drummer and therefore not a part of the tongue flicking thing: *starts laughing*

Specs: It's like we're a travelling truffle of elephants-

Romeo: Is that-

Specs: Yes that's the right term

Denton, about a halftime peice: No no it can't be that

The entire band: ah- pff- uh-

Denton: i's not funny anymore now it's just sad

Race: Alright I'm going to the bathroom so no funny conversations while I'm gone

*2 minutes later the book falls*

Race: Everyone point and laugh at her because her book is slowly falling off her desk

Davey: It's not that funny

Davey: *snorts*

Elmer: You have a cartoon character frown

Race:

Davey: shut up

Davey: What

Elmer: Like your frown is cartoony

Davey: I dropped ap chem

Jack: What?

Davey: I'm taking ceramics now

Jack: You-

Davey: I dropped chemistry for ceramics

Jack: You're so real for that

Albert: AH- You did not just L my jeans that are black!

Elmer: Okay but why would you have edibles if you could just have gummies

Jack, who has never actually done drugs of any kind in his life: I mean like drugs tho

Elmer: Okay but would you rather have a bowl of fruit gummies or like 3 edibles

Jack: But-

Elmer: Infinite fruit gummies or-

Buttons: We should give birds space suits and just send them up there

Davey: Huh?

Race: I'd get arrested if I was a politician

Buttons: See if they would fly without air

Davey: I feel like you aren't thinking any of this through

Romeo: Aren't the best politicians attested at some point? (/sarcastic)

[80siconic]

CHAPTER III - THE GREAT WAR

previous chapter...

content warning(s): smoking

chapter three

you drew up some good faith treaties. i drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone. you said i have to trust more freely but diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire.

the great war by taylor swift

January, 2022

                THE rest of the night at the gala was uneventful. Her mother was angry enough just seeing Anika and The Marquis dancing. It was unacceptable in her eyes, so they went home. And that’s exactly what her mother had told her. It was all ridiculous, really. Surprisingly, her father was able to calm her down. Which never happened. Even on a good day. But Anika knew he didn’t do it for her. He did it for himself. For whatever selfish reasons.

Anika woke up quite early in the morning to meet The Harbinger at the café the Marquis told her about. Thankfully her parents weren’t home which meant she was able to leave without any repercussions. Part of her was worried but then she remembered that she was safe there. No one liked her parents, so she was safe. They wouldn’t be let into the café anyway. That much was true. Anika decided to walk instead of driving. It was a nice day, and she didn’t live to far from The Continental. Of course, there was snow on the ground, but it was sunny. She even got to see the Eiffel Tower in the distance. She smiled underneath her scarf.

Pulling out a cigarette, Anika lit it with her lighter. The nerves were too much, and she needed to calm herself down. Anika trusted the Harbinger. Wholeheartedly. But it was still nerve wracking. The Continental was right across the street from her, the café was attached to it on the side. As Anika approached the door, she let in a breath. She needed to calm herself down. The café was just like any other café but instead of euros, the currency was the usual gold Continental coins. After a few moments of silent panic, Anika walked inside. It was dark, barely lit up. Customers were hunkered down in dark corners.

Looking around, it didn’t take too long for Anika to spot the Harbinger. He was the tallest one in there, so she knew it was him. Plus, he was wearing his hat. As she approached the man, there was a cup of espresso in front of her seat. Anika smiled to herself. It was a nice gesture. After clearing her throat, Anika smiled at the Harbinger as she sat down. “Hello.”

The Harbinger looked at her. He didn’t smile but he gave her a nod. “Good morning. How are you, Anika?”

Anika smiled. “Fine. Nervous but fine.”

He nodded. “And the gala?”

Anika then frowned. “Awful, I can tell you that much. But I went and did what I had to do.” She stopped speaking, looking at him and she leaned forward. “Any news?”

The Harbinger nodded, taking a sip from his cup before speaking. “He wants to meet you tomorrow in the afternoon. Noon, to be specific. Chidi will pick you up and he will take you. The Marquis usually has afternoon tea so that is why you’re going then.”

Anika nodded at him. That was nice. Even it was only for business. Anika took a sip of her espresso, and the rest was silent. It wasn’t uncomfortable but instead, it was comfortable. Anika looked outside and it had starting snowing with the sun still out. This made her happy. Anika looked back at the Harbinger. A question was brewing in her head and part of her didn’t want to say anything, but her mouth beat her to it. “How did you get the scar?”

The Harbinger looked at her from his longing gaze outside. He answered right away. “I was an assassin for the High Table before I became a Harbinger. It was some time ago. I got into a nasty fight. They gave me this.” He pointed at his scar. He then lifted his hand, showing her his missing finger. “I lost my ring finger to show I was loyal to the High Table. It doesn’t happen to everyone except for the special few.”

Anika nodded. “Is it like a marriage to the High Table?” Her gaze was curious. Like that of a child’s.

The Harbinger nodded at her. “In a way, yes.”

It was silent after that. Taking the last sip of his drink, the Harbinger placed two gold coins on the table and stood up. Looking down at Anika, he cleared his throat. “Would you like to walk with me?”

Anika smiled softly at him. “Oui.”

After walking out of the café, Anika reached into her pocket to pull out another cigarette as they walked. The Harbinger couldn’t do anything else but study her action. “Those will kill you; you know?”

Anika shrugged, blowing out a cloud of smoke above their heads. It floated away from them before disappearing into the Paris sky. “Maybe that’s the point.”

The Harbinger stayed quiet for a moment. “If it means anything, I don’t want you to die. If you think you are alone, you’re not. There are people here who care about you.”

Anika scoffed. “Yeah?” She flicked some ash on the ground before lifting the cigarette to her mouth again. “Like you?”

“Me. The Marquis.” The Harbinger stood tall, putting his hands in his pockets. “You’re a brave young lady, Anika. You’ll pull through all of this.”

Anika abruptly stopped walking. She looked up at the man in front of her, her voice quiet. “Merci.”

The Harbinger nodded and they walked the rest of the way in complete and utter silence.

_____________

ANIKA waited the next day for Chidi to pick her up. Thankfully, her parents weren’t home that day. She felt like a child. Having her parents watch every one of her moves. It was ridiculous. Anika didn’t wear anything fancy that day. Just a comfortable winter sweater with black pants. Chidi pulled up in front of her house seconds later after questioning where he was. Anika walked out the front door and down the stairs, quickly. Anika approached the car and opened the door to the passenger seat.

As she shut the door closed and got situated, she turned her head to smile at Chidi. “Good afternoon, Chidi.”

Chidi nodded at her. “Good afternoon, little lady.”

Anika smiled at him, looking outside as Chidi started driving away. “Are your parent’s home?”

Anika turned her head to look at him. “Non. If they were, I doubt I’d be here.”

It was silent after that, but the drive was nice. It was long and Anika fell asleep before Chidi gently shook her, telling her that they’d arrive soon. As they pulled into the driveway, Anika audibly gasped. The building was magnificent and large. Bigger than Anika’s house, that much was true. Chidi just chuckled at her reaction. He almost reacted the same way the first time. As the car was parked, Chidi exited the car. Anika didn’t even notice her car door open until Chidi said her name. The woman shook herself out of her trance and let Chidi help her out of the car.

Anika looked up at the home in complete awe. It was beautiful. That was the only word used to describe it. Chidi let Anika into the house. The inside was even more beautiful than the outside. There were paintings on almost every wall in the home. Paintings you’d probably see in The Louvre. Anika wondered if that’s where they were from. The Marquis truly lived lavishly. After a few twists and turns, Chidi let her inside a room. It was a huge one. And at the end of the room is where he sat. From there, she probably looked like an ant.

The Marquis wore a complete blood red suit. Red, her favourite colour. Then she wondered if he did it for her of if he liked the colour too. Anika could see the desk, but she couldn’t see what was on top of it. He looked up from his laptop, nodding at Chidi behind her. “Merci.” His voice echoed through the room. As Chidi closed the door behind him, it echoed around the room too.

Anika looked around the room, still in awe. “This room really has an echo!”

The Marquis greeted her from the other side of the room. “Oui, it does. Now, please, come. Have some tea.”

Anika slowly started walking towards the desk, her heels clicked along the marble flooring. As she got there, she almost felt out of breath. Taking a seat, she got comfortable. “This room is really beautiful. The art is beautiful.”

The Marquis smiled at her. “I collect it. Some I buy from sellers. Some I buy from auctions.” He pointed around the room, looking around it as he did so. “I have many more like these around the building.”

Anika nodded at him with a smile. The silence was then comfortable for awhile before Anika spoke up. She wanted to quickly get to business no matter how nice this was. “There isn’t much I can report on. You saw me at the gala a few days ago and since then, nothing new has come up.” She said what was next with a sneer. “Unfortunately.”

The Marquis shook his head, his face turned serious with a hint of remorse. “I wanted to meet you here today because there is something I have to tell you, Anika.”

Anika looked at him with confusion. Her eyebrows scrunched up as she shook her head. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. The Marquis had thought it over. He had thought what he wanted to tell her over, and he decided to do so. Part of him knew that she wouldn’t care but he wanted to tell her what he knew so far. The Marquis stood up from his seat and he walked around his desk. He sat in front of her with his hands placed on the desktop. “I don’t mean to upset you. That isn’t my intention, but you must know this. It’s important.”

Anika had suddenly got worried. Had he changed his mind about the agreement? She sighed. “Just tell me. S'il te plait.” (Please). Anika leaned forward with a frown. Her face showing worry.

The Marquis stood up from his seat on the desk and he walked towards his laptop. After a few minutes of pulling up the pictures that Chidi had taken, he slowly turned the laptop around and showed her. He pointed at the screen. “This.” The Marquis watched her. He watched as her face went from confusion to shock and lastly, to anger.

Anika looked at the photos, her blood boiling. They had been pictures of her father kissing another woman. A woman that was not her mother. There were parts of her that were happy because she could use this against him but part of her was also furious. This was just like her father, and she didn’t expect anything else. “I can’t believe this.” Anika shook her head, the tears threatening to fall. “I don’t know what else I was expecting, truly.”

The tea in front of her was forgotten. Anika scoffed angrily. After, she reached into her coat pocket grabbing a cigarette and a lighter. As she did so, Anika looked up at the Marquis who stared at her. She finally spoke up after placing the cigarette in her mouth. “You don’t mind, do you?” After she finished lighting the cigarette, she placed the lighter back in her pocket, inhaling and blowing smoke into the air.

The Marquis was impressed. No, he didn’t mind her smoking. He was impressed at her attitude. The situation with her father upset her and she also couldn’t have cared less. “Non. I don’t mind.”

Anika shook her head, taking another inhale of the cigarette. She looked at the Marquis as he slid an ashtray towards her. “Merci.” She flicked the ashes of the cigarette into the ashtray. “I know for a fact my father was acting off, but I never thought anything of it. But now? I wouldn’t put it past him, la baiseur.” (the fucker). She put the cigarette to her lips again. She did the same thing. Inhaling and then blowing. She shook her head. “Where did Chidi take this photo?”

The Marquis watched her smoke. Just the way she did it, he found it captivating. “A hotel in Paris. It was where they usually frequented.”

Anika scoffed. “Usually?” How long has this been going on for?” She flicked more ash into the tray.

The Marquis thought to himself. “From what I have found so far, maybe a few weeks? A month at most, Anika.” He lowered his head as he looked at her more intently. The Marquis sat back down in his chair, turning the laptop back to him. “This is the most recent one. At the gala.”

Anika looked at him with confusion as he turned the laptop back around. She leaned forward more, taking in the photo more closely. Her eyes widened a fraction. “That woman. She works for my mother, I think. She is my age.” Anika was appalled. She got up from her seat, the chair sliding on the marble floor with a screech. She started pacing, still smoking away the stress. “I can’t believe this. I—Why would he do this to us?” Anika looked at the Marquis with fury. The question was rhetorical, so she didn’t expect him to answer. “Connard!” (Motherfucker!)

Getting up from his seat, the Marquis took a few steps closer towards her. His voice turned quiet. Comforting, in a way. “What would you like me to do?”

Anika didn’t hear him as she kept pacing back and forth, biting her nail in nervousness. He stepped closer to her. This time his voice sounded more rough, more commanding because in all honesty, he didn’t like seeing her this way. “What would you like me to do, Anika?”

Anika automatically stopped her pacing, turning to face him. She walked over to the ashtray and crushed the cigarette, the smoke drifting away. Anika stepped in front of him, tears running down her face as her voice was full of anger. Her voice shook. “I want to use this against him. I want to use this to our advantage. I need you to watch them as much as you can. I don’t care. I also want you to find out what this woman’s name is so I can—” Anika cut herself off.

The Marquis looked at her with question in his eyes. The last few tears dried on her cheeks, but her eyes were still glassy. He spoke quietly. “So, you can, what?” She didn’t answer him for a few minutes. The Marquis sighed quietly, flicking a loose piece of hair away from her face. “So, you can, what? I need you to tell me. Because I know you won’t and there is something you need to let go. So, tell me.”

Anika looked up at him, craning her neck up. She took in a breath. “So, I can thank her. So, I can thank her for giving me this opportunity to use this against my father. Just to further show that he’s a liar and a cheat.”

The Marquis smirked down at her. He could do that. “I will find out all I can. I can contact you when I find out more. Now.” The Marquis clapped his hands together as she backed up to sit back down in the chair. Him doing the same. “I’ve looked more into your mother’s company, and I’ve found something interesting.” He paused. “Her company works for the High Table.”

Anika just nodded. “I knew they did, but I wasn’t sure. But then again, she is the Vice-President. Do you know how she got to be like that?”

The Marquis had a feeling he knew. “The High Table trusts her.”

Anika nodded. “The High Table trusts her, so they gave her the position. What the company does, I really don’t know but I will find out. I just cannot believe that the High Table has been fooled by my mother. How could they be so stupid—” Anika looked at the Marquis, her eyes wide. “I—I don’t mean you. You’re the only one who has a sensible mind and hasn’t been hypnotized by her fuckery.”

The Marquis just waved her off. “I am not offended.”

Anika nodded, going back to the task at hand. “My mother has a conference meeting on Monday. She’s dragging me with her. I’ll find something out there.” She was about to speak again but her phone rang. She had no doubt it was her mother. Anika reached into her coat pocket to pull out her phone. It was, in fact, Valerie Dupont. “Fuck.”

The Marquis reached out his hand, but she shook her head. The phone still rang as she spoke. “At the gala, she told me not to trust you. This will make her furious.” The phone kept ringing and he still had his hand out, his eyebrow raised. With a sigh, she handed it to him. “Okay.”

The Marquis pressed the green button on the screen, he put the phone to his ear. “Bonjour.”

Valerie Dupont was shocked once again. “Marquis. I was not expecting this. Is my daughter with you?”

He leaned back in the seat, crossing his leg over the other. “Oui. She is. I’m sorry to take her away again.”

Anika stood up and got closer to the man so she could hear her mother. “I would like to know how you keep getting her phone.”

The Marquis cleared his throat. “I would like you to know that she is with me and not to worry about her. This might be a reoccurring thing, Madame. I want to apologize.” Anika’s eyes widened. “I just don’t want you to worry about your daughter.”

The woman paused. “Well, thank you. If you could send her back at a decent time, it would be greatly appreciated. Goodbye.”

The Marquis went silent as the woman hung up. He gave the phone back to Anika. “I’m sure that will tie her over.”

Anika took the phone back slowly. “How do you do that? My mother hates you.”

He held up a finger. “The thing with your mother—” The Marquis sat up, leaning on the desk, and looking at her. “Is to act superior to her. She’ll get frustrated and give up. Trust me.” He hummed. “It doesn’t take much, Anika. Your mother gives up easily when someone is more superior. Remember that. And so far, you have the upper hand.”

Anika nodded. He was right. That’s exactly how her mother was. Anika got up from her seat. “So far, we both have the upper hand.” With a hum, Anika turned to walk out but not before pausing. “After my mother’s board meeting, I’ll contact Harbinger. Oh, and…” Anika turned to face him, a smile making it’s way onto her face. “Thank you.”

The Marquis bowed his head. “My pleasure. Until next time.”

“Until next time.” Anika smiled, walking out. Her heels echoing on the marble tile through the large spectacle of a room.

The Marquis watched her leave, but he had something else to say. “Anika.”

Anika paused and turned around. She frowned in confusion. “Yes?”

The Marquis smirked and she could see it. “Next time you wish to smoke in my office, I will join you. And I want you to know, Chidi will be outside your home to watch if anything goes wrong. If your mother touches you in anyway, I want you to leave and go with him.” The Marquis stood up, walking halfway towards her with a hand in his pocket. “He will take you straight to me.” He pointed at himself.

Anika understood why he had an ashtray now and she smiled shyly at his generosity. This made her feel relived. Like a weight was finally lifted off her shoulders. It felt like she had a guardian angel in a way. “Merci. Goodbye, Marquis.” She gave him a nod and finally went to leave. She went back home with a smile on her face that day. She even had Chidi wondering why she looked so happy. Anika knew that now; nothing would touch her. Absolutely nothing. Because of him.

[angelasscribbles]

Savage Love Chapter 15: Catching Feelings

Series: Savage Love

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Rating: R         

Warnings: Mature themes

Word Count: 3,377

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley

I spent the next half hour chatting with the other suitors. I zeroed in on Hana, Madeleine, Olivia and Penelope because they were either suspects themselves, or related to suspects. I ended up talking to Kiara a lot too, because she was always wherever Penelope was. It was an odd friendship to be honest. Kiara might be pretentious, vain and a little too fond of Drake for my taste, but she was smart and politically savvy. Penelope seemed sweet enough, but she definitely wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box.

“We still have a luncheon, a cocktail party and the derby gala.” Hana sighed.

“What’s the point of the derby gala again?” Penelope had made it no secret that she’d rather be home with her poodles.

“The gala is another chance to impress the prince and advance your position with him, of course.” Madeleine replied.

“Oh, give it a rest, Maddie.” Oliva yawned, “He’s just not that into you.”

Madeleine arched an eyebrow and sniffed disdainfully, “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

“We will.” Olivia smirked.

“The rest of you don’t worry though,” Olivia nudged me subtly in the side as she continued, “Prince Liam will be there too. Who knows? Maybe one of you harpies have a chance with him.”

“Do you think Captain Walker will be there too?” Kiara perked right the fuck up at that idea.

“Probably. He always is, but why? Who cares?” Madeleine asked haughtily.

“Oh, he’s very handsome, right Ki?” Penelope giggled.

Madeleine rolled her eyes. Kiara blushed.

Hana caught my eye, hers sparkling with amusement as she said, “Oh, yes, he’s very handsome!”

“Do you think he’s seeing anyone?” Kiara asked.

“Why do you care?” Madeleine asked, “You’re here for Leo. Not that I mind if you’d rather run off with his scruffy stepbrother, or whatever he is.”

“He’s a member of the royal family by adoption or something, right?” Penelope asked.

“What he isn’t, is a prince.” Madeleine stated firmly, as if that settled something.

“I overheard him telling Liam that he’s seeing someone.” I said with fake sympathy. Why the hell did I do that?

Kiara’s face fell, “Oh. Tres décevant.”

Hana was positively vibrating with mirth. I glanced at Olivia who was giving me an appraising look. Oops. She definitely knew I was lying, but she wasn’t calling me out on it. Yet. I was sure that conversation was coming.

My phone dinged and I looked down with a smirk. It had been exactly one hour. Liam text me first. He was nothing if not punctual.

Drake wasn’t far behind him though.

I was harsher with Drake because he did start it. Not that I could completely blame him. I did mark Liam up pretty good. I knew Drake wasn’t exactly going to be happy when he saw it. But still. If it hadn’t happened while I was actively building a relationship with a suspect, I might have found their bantering funny. They hadn’t crossed a line into actual fighting or bad feelings. But it did happen during the middle of an investigation and that was a problem. I would have to have a talk with each of them. I might have to pull back from both of them. I couldn’t jeopardize the investigation no matter how much I felt pulled to either one of them.

The luncheon with the queen was next. It was at a formal restaurant near the track. I stepped outside onto a patio for a little privacy so I could check in with Jared. I wasn’t the only one looking for privacy to make a call though.

“Mother, I’m telling you that he doesn’t like me like that…… No, yes, Prince Leo is exceedingly nice and charming but……no, he doesn’t……….Yes there are other men here, but I don’t………yes, mother……….I understand………but I’m not ready……You never listen to me! You don’t care what I want! You and father both just-OH!” She broke off when she saw me.

I made a face and shook my head to show her I was sorry for interrupting.

“I have to go, Mother, the luncheon is starting.” Hana ended the call though I could hear the sound of her mother’s voice still talking.

“I’m sooooo sorry!” I told her.

“It’s ok. If someone had to overhear that, I’m glad it was you.” She gave me a rueful smile.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

She sighed as she sat down at one of the tables, “Just the same old shit. Find a man from a good family, settle down, get married, continue the family legacy, blah blah fucking blah.”

I dropped into the chair next to her, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry you have to deal with that.” I said, taking her hand.

“Yeah, well. I’m used to it.”

“Have you considered just telling her you’re a lesbian?”

“What? No! No, no, no, no, no! That would not go over well at all!”

“But you deserve to be happy.”        

“I’m pretty sure my happiness is the last thing on their priority list.” She sounded so defeated.

“So, you and your mom aren’t close?” I was half digging for information and half actually curious. Hana was a good person, I liked her. I hoped, for her sake, that her mother wasn’t involved with the Via Imperii.

“Not really. My parents are all about expectations and responsibilities.” She heaved a frustrated sigh.

“You said this was your first time at court, your first time in Cordonia.”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom didn’t bring you here as a child? You said she was from here. Did she never bring you to visit family? I don’t mean to pry; you don’t have to answer that.”

“My mother was an only child, like me. Her parents followed her to Shanghai. She hasn’t visited Cordonia in thirty years. Why?”

“I just wonder what the big push for you to be at court is, if she doesn’t really feel a tie to here. Like it’s not her home anymore, if that makes sense.”

“It makes sense to me. But to my mother, it’s not about caring about Cordonia, it’s just about me finding a suitable match and even living abroad, my grandparents are still Cordonian nobility.”

I gave her hand a squeeze, “Well, I’m sorry and I’m always here to listen if you need a friend.”

“Thanks, Riley.”

“You’re welcome. We should get inside; they’re probably wondering where we are.”

“Right. Did you come out here to make a call though? I could leave and give you some privacy.”

“That would be great, if you don’t mind.”

After Hana left, I checked in with Jared. I also told him that Hana’s mother hadn’t been in Cordonia in thirty years and asked him to dive further into what she’s been doing in those years.

I learned nothing of any value at the luncheon. The next event of the day was the cocktail party in grand dining hall of the palace, followed immediately by the Derby Gala in the grand ballroom . The Cordonian Derby was a weeklong event. The gala was traditionally held the evening of opening day. There would be related social events and parties all week. It was ridiculous is what it was, but it gave me plenty of opportunities to socialize and get closer to my suspects.

I changed into my formal attire for the night then sent a quick text to Drake to verify our plans for later.

Olivia found me about fifteen seconds after I entered the dining hall. “Soooooo….” She drawled.

I arched an eyebrow at her, “What?”

“You told Kiara that Drake is seeing someone.”

“I did say that.” I hedged as I looked around for a waiter. I needed a drink already.

She tilted her head as she studied me, “But he’s not….unless I’m missing something, and I don’t miss much.”

“Huh. Guess I misunderstood.”

“Right. You’re up to something.”

“Like what?”

Her eyes narrowed, “I don’t know. But I’ll figure it out.”

I suppressed a sigh. Great, just what I needed. Olivia fucking Nevrakis up my ass.

“I’m not up to anything, Liv. Drake is my friend and I know he doesn’t like Kiara. I did him a favor, backing her off.”

She lifted an eyebrow at my use of her nickname but didn’t comment on it, “Uh huh.”

I knew if she mentioned the incident to Drake, he’d be far too happy about it and I’d never hear the end of it.

I avoided Drake for the entirety of the cocktail party. Partly because of the Liv/Kiara thing but mostly because being seen with him would mess up my story that I disdained the lower classes. Which was ridiculous since he’d been raised with Leo and Liam. He was largely accepted as a member of the royal family and certainly treated as such by both Leo and Liam, as well as the king and queen. A fact that I’m sure only reinforced the Via Imperii belief that the Rys monarchy needed more control and oversight.

Did people like Neville and Madeleine really imagine there was something special about their DNA that people who weren’t born into money lacked? Of all the groups I’d infiltrated, they were one of the oddest. But in the end, it just came down to amassing more power and money for themselves, so they were no different than the drug cartels or the human trafficking rings. Self-centered, self-serving with no humanity.

I avoided Liam too, focusing on charming and dazzling people like Neville, Rashad and Tariq. I also made a point to talk to the few suitors I hadn’t met yet. Anyone could be a suspect. I would eventually narrow in on Via Imperii members, but until I knew who they were, everyone was a suspect. Even those who weren’t could have information on those who were.

At the gala I was seated next to Cedric Vescovi. His endless chatter about his family’s rightful legacy having been stripped by a conspiracy against his ancestor by an illegitimate pretender to the crown, a commoner who swayed the king’s opinion, put him firmly on my radar. A simple “Oh, please, do tell me more.” Kept him talking incessantly. I made a note to myself that if he was Via Imperii, he would be a treasure trove of information.

When dinner was cleared and the music started, Liam appeared at my side, “I believe you promised me a dance?”

I gave him a dazzling smile, “I did. If you’ll excuse me.” I said to Cedric before letting Liam sweep me into his arms and onto the dance floor.

Everyone was expected to mingle at these events. What you couldn’t do was be seen dancing too much with just one person. But no one would blame me for flirting with Liam, even though I was there as a suitor for Leo. Most ladies from noble houses were raised to do exactly that, cast a wide net. Every young woman there for the social season dreamed of being queen and Leo was the most direct route to that, but he could only choose one. Liam was a good alternative. If anyone suspected anything between the two us, they’d assume I was just hedging my bets.

The social season, from time immemorable, has been about young ladies from noble houses finding suitable husbands. And about wealthy men finding suitable wives. But the power dynamics have always been skewed. The women are pranced around like merchandise for the men to peruse. It’s gross. I myself had eschewed my own debutante season. I had never participated in any of it, which turned out to be a good thing. Had my picture been splashed all over the social pages, even just locally in Monterisso, I would never have been able to have an undercover career.

I would have been a celebrity in Monterisso, a member of the royal family, but in Cordonia I was just another suitor. It was why this case had to be wrapped up before the end of the social season. Because I’d have no reason to stay unless I got engaged to the prince, which I couldn’t do because then I would be news. So even a fake engagement was out of the question.

“Riley, I’d like to apologize again-“

He looked at me with such regret that any lingering anger or annoyance on my part evaporated, “Liam, it’s fine. You really did very little other than react. But as a prince, I know you’ve been trained not to let purposeful provocation get under your skin.”

“You’re right. I’m just not used to having to employ that with my best friend.”

“I know. And that’s my fault. I really shouldn’t be-“

“No! Please don’t finish that sentence, Riley! Drake and I are both grown men who knew what the situation was when we got into it. We’ll do better.”

“You can’t make promises for him.”

“No, but I can promise that I’ll do better. I won’t let him provoke me again, even if he tries. I promise. Please don’t let this come between us.”

I looked up into his pleading eyes and I knew I couldn’t cut him off, that I didn’t even want to. Shit. When had that happened?

Drake

Watching her dance and flirt with other men all night kind of got under my skin and I was pretty sure she was doing it on purpose.

Not that I didn’t deserve it. I knew I’d been as ass earlier with Liam, but damn. I couldn’t help it. Seeing those marks on his neck pushed a button in me that I hadn’t known I had. I mean, I knew they were sleeping together. Or that they’d slept together twice anyway. And I knew when she told me she had plans with him that it was probably going to happen a third time. But seeing the proof of it hit different.

I wasn’t really mad at Liam, though. How could I be? What was he doing differently than I was? I didn’t back off after I found out she was his mystery girl from New York. I mean, I did, but only for about five minutes.

She’d been very clear from the beginning that she wasn’t going to get involved, get serious with anyone. And that hadn’t bothered me, not back then anyway. I hadn’t wanted a relationship any more than she had. Too much work, too much investment and input for very little payback. Sex was easy to come by, for me anyway. Marco had been right in his assessment of my nonexistent dating life: I never took a woman anywhere, I just left with them.

I had never planned on doing the long-term relationship thing, much less marriage, kids, none of that. Mom wanted grandkids, she had Savannah for that. My line of work is dangerous. I just didn’t see the point in having a family to leave behind if I ended up dead. My job could very well require that someday. I didn’t want to shatter a child’s heart with grief. I knew what that was like.

But fuck if this girl didn’t have me reconsidering everything I thought I knew about myself. She had me wondering what a life with her might look like. She had me doing shit I hadn’t done since fucking high school. Planning dates. Spending my free time trying to think up things to do with her, things to say to her, things to impress her. She made me feel things I wasn’t used to feeling.

Not that it mattered. She didn’t want any of that. When it came to relationships, she was basically me but in a woman’s body. An amazing, beautiful, gorgeous body. It wasn’t just her physical attractiveness that drew me to her though. It was also her intelligence and sense of humor, and don’t get me started on the things she does in bed. Jesus.

So no, I was not mad at Liam for pursuing her, not really. I was mad at myself for letting it bother me. I’d never really experienced jealousy before. Not like this. I wanted to walk across the room and rip Neville’s hands off her, and Rashad’s and Cedric’s. Shit. I was in deep, and I knew it. I was out of my element. Picking up women was easy. Getting their attention was easy. Getting them into bed was easy. I wasn’t sure how to go about keeping that attention. I’d never wanted to before.

I wanted her to like me, not just like sleeping with me. But how was I supposed to find out how she felt without scaring her off? Pass her a note in fucking gym class?    

Watching her ignore me all night was made all the worse because I didn’t know if she was still mad at me, wasn’t sure if she was going to tell me to fuck off. She’d agreed to go out with me after the gala, but that might not mean anything. She might be waiting until then to tell me she was done with me. I didn’t want her to be done with me. I didn’t want her to stop paying attention to me, I didn’t want her to leave at the end of all of this and just forget about me. I wanted something….more. And I had no idea what to do about any of it.

Liam

I knew she wasn’t as jaded as she wanted everyone to think she was. She had a heart, and it was soft and vulnerable and that’s why she protected it. I could see it so clearly. I saw it that first night in New York.

Yes, she was full of life and fire, she glowed with it. She was magnetic, drawing men to her effortlessly, most of them knocking into her in vain, unable to penetrate her shields. But she was more than that. Everyone could see the physical beauty and that spark of life that was so intoxicating, but not everyone realized how much more was simmering below the surface.

I did. And I wanted it, all of it. Not just her fire, not just her passion, I wanted her depths, her pain, her tenderness. I wanted every piece of her.

She was meant to be here, meant to be with me, I’d known it the day I’d walked into the conference room and found her there with Drake.

Speaking of Drake. I’d never seen him like he was with her. Had he ever even slept with same woman more than two or three times? No, he was completely gone on her and I couldn’t blame him, so was I. If it were any other woman, I would have backed off. I mean, how often does a man who has avoided romance his whole life actually go and fall in love?

But she wasn’t any other woman, and I couldn’t back off. I knew with everything in me that this woman was my destiny. She wasn’t there yet and that was ok. I could be patient, I could wait. I would show her that she could trust me, that her heart was safe with me. I had no idea why she felt the need to shield herself, but I knew that I would never hurt her, never give her any reason to doubt my love and devotion. It was going to take time, though. Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all.

The problem was that time wasn’t on my side. The social season had an end, her investigation had a deadline and then she’d disappear into an alternate identity again. I was willing to wait forever, but I didn’t have forever.

What I did have was faith. There were almost nine million people living in New York City and roughly sixty-six million more visited every year. What were the odds, really, of the two of us running into each other that night? What were the odds that she would then, five months later, be assigned to this case? It was fate, it had to be. Time might not have been on my side, but fate was, I just had to figure out how to help it along.

[a-chlolix-blog]

Queen’s Bride AU

AU idea by @scuderiagorobets

- It happened after Queen Wasp, when Chloé decides that she goes to New York with Karen Audrey (excluding the part where Marinette just bashing Chloé, in this AU they are on good terms). So, this AU basically swaps Malediktator.

- In college, when Chloé announces her departure, everyone cheers. Except for Adrien (because he is Chloé's friend), Marinette (because she is in good terms with Chloé)... and Alix.

- At this day, Alix goes to college in the nice yellow and black dress (it was surreal for everyone because even in galas where her dad is present, she didn't wore a dress), with bouquet of flowers and was about to ask Chloé to go to date but Bourgeois' announcement breaks Kubdel's heart.

- To make things worse, Kim and Sabrina are going to tease Alix about her dress and how Chloé decides to leave when she saw Alix in it.

- With all of this, Alix takes the akuma and became Queen's Bride.

Hawkmoth: I need the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses...

Queen's Bride: I can give you all of these jewelries but in one condition... I will have the Bee Miraculous, only for my Queen Bee...

- Bride's costume is Alix's dress, but it's ripped in many places, colours are inverted (not swapped, inverted. Like, using Inversion filter on your photos), her makeup is ruined and her face is covered with bride's veil.

- Her powers is basically Queen Bee's flying ability and Venom, but when person is hit by Bride's Venom, they sits on the knee and tells that they love the person they love. If the loved one says "yes", they both become Bride's minions, if says "no", they both are going to be erased (just like after Timebreaker’s touch).

- It all came to the fight (both physical and mental) between Queen's Bride and Queen Bee.

Queen's Bride: *venoms Queen Bee*

Queen Bee: *sits on the knee* Alixandra Kubdel, I love you! Will you be my forever partner?

Queen's Bride: Chloé Elizabeth Bourgeois, yes! I love you to-

Queen Bee: *venoms Queen's Bride*

- After it all comes to normal and Chloé announces that she stays in Paris, Alix sees the list:

"My dear Ally-Kins,

I'm so sorry that I indirectly broke your heart yesterday. I didn't know that you're going to ask me but you need to know: I love you too. I always have a crush on you, ever since you came back to Paris and into my life last September. And I decided to stay in Paris solely because of you. So, feel free to ask me any time you want, I will always say "yes!"

P.S.: Your dress was gorgeous!

Sincerely,

Your Queen Bee,

Chloé E. B."

~Side-plot~

- Marinette recently starts texting a girl named "Zoe L."

- Chloé recognize the name but she thinks that this is just a coincidence, plus she is happy that Marinette is happy and not jealous about Adrien dating Kagami.

- "Zoe" writes Marinette that their first date will be soon because she will be in Paris.

- And "Zoe" arrives to Paris. It is the "Heart Hunter" episode.

- Yes, this "Zoe L." is Zoé Lee Bourgeois, Chloé's twin sister.

- Chloé is happy that Zoé is back and when the latter says something about a date, Chloé finally understands: Marinette and Zoé are going on a date, just like her and Alix.

- Heart Hunter happened.

- But, instead of ruining Adrien/Kagami date and give Kagami a Dragon Miraculous, Ladybug gives Zoé the Bee Miraculous.

- Chloé discovers this, but she isn't angry about it.

- After defeating the akuma, Marinette and Zoé kiss.

- And it was at this moment, when Miracle Queen and Queen's Bride strike…

~Flashback~

- After initial attack, Queen's Bribe become a nightmare ghost in Chloé's mind.

- Every time Chloé was about to snap, she "sees" Queen's Bride, which terrifies her.

- That's why Chloé is trying not to cause any more akumas.

- She even saves herself from getting one ("Miraculer").

- But after Miraculer, she denounces herself from being Queen Bee because she failed to save her secret identity.

- A mere days later, she’s with Alix, Ladybug and Chat Noir founds Future!Alix aka Future!Bunnix (it will strike later).

~End of Flashback~

- After Heart Hunter, she wasn't wanted to be akumatized, but she was forced by Hawkmoth. It wasn't her choice.

- After becoming Miracle Queen, she reveals the secret identities for everyone except four people: Ladybug, Chat Noir (obviously), Vesperia (she didn't wanted to involve her twin sister into her mess) and Bunnix... She have other plans for Alix.

Miracle Queen: I want you to akumatize Alix Kubdel into Queen's Bride! Now!

Hawkmoth: As you wish...

- So, Alix became Queen's Bribe again, but now she is with her (Miracle) Queen...

- But Hawkmoth is more irritated than surprised when Miracle Queen would rather receive multiple comforting kisses on the face from her Bride than get the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses.

Queen’s Bride: You've done nothing wrong, Sweetie! *continues to kiss her face*

Miracle Queen: Thank you, My lovely Bride~

Hawkmoth: DO AS I SAY!

Miracle Queen: You're not the one with mind controlling bees and a VERY protective Bride.

Hawkmoth: ...

Let me know if you guys wanna read more from this AU!