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eddies-house · 9 months

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Four - Boiling Point

W/C: 7.4K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting, slight SA (groping), drinking (if I missed anything please let me know)

A messy night and several unfortunate events.

A/N: This one got a little long but it was so fun to write, chaos is really fun to coordinate but my poor babies are taking the brunt of it all woops

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Working nights had flipped your entire sleeping schedule upside down. Two weeks had passed since that first evening where you worked an entire shit show and you still weren’t accustomed to resting in the afternoon in preparation for the night shift. It didn’t seem like such a big deal seeing as the bar thrived around three nights a week and remained quiet to steady the rest of the time but with a staff of only four, the workload piles up. Tossing and turning on the couch, you groan, longing for a peaceful sleep that would energize you. The bed wasn’t doing you any justice which is why the couch sounded that much more appealing but as it turns out they both had the same effect.

Keeping you awake.

Now, there wasn’t anything remotely wrong with either one however, you just couldn’t seem to get comfortable enough to find that blissful sleep you were yearning for.

You were restless.

What didn’t help was the incessant shredding of an electric guitar next door. The high pitch clawed at your ears and echoed throughout the canyon your house was settled in. You could either suck it up and muffle the sound as best as you could with a pillow, or you could confront your noisy neighbor and politely let him know you were trying to sleep in order to fuel yourself to run his bar. Confrontation was not your specialty and you would avoid it by any means necessary. But it couldn’t hurt to just ask him to stop. The worst he could do is laugh in your face and slam the door.

And that would be enough to turn your blood hot, not in rage, but in shame and embarrassment. Maybe it was best to tuck your sweaty and fidgety body back into the couch for long enough that the imprints of the rough fabric would show up as indentations on your skin. Hopefully the shrieking of the guitar would eventually fade away and become background noise in your dreams.

It never did stop.

–

“Jett, could you please toss me that rag? Major spill at table four.”

It was 6:00 PM, Friday night. Just about every table and every stool was occupied, a competitive game of pool provoking many men to yell at the top of their lungs, causing your ear drums even more grief than the endless guitar solos you had to endure earlier. On top of it all, drunk people on a Friday night were not easy to clean up after, several spills inevitably happening on your watch, with more than enough evidence to back your claim up.

“I’ll get it, you go on your break.” Jett advises.

The Bourbon was nearly at capacity, a majority of the town’s regulars seated along the bar and even more of its residents engaging in their pre-weekend activities. The people of Knife’s Edge were rambunctious or at least, that’s the only side of them you’d seen so far. Most likely because they were all getting hammered. Maybe you should get out more? Then you could see their personalities sober and not glazed over with the confidence of alcohol.

“You sure?” You ask sincerely.

Jett didn’t even have a second to glance up at you from the beers he was collecting, a whole round of them for a table of five men roaring with laughter.

“Yeah, if you don’t take it now it’s only going to get busier and you never will.” He yells over the booming music.

“Okay.”

You’re reluctant to leave him alone but you trust his judgment, seeing as he has no issue making that call. And customers seemed to love him, joking back and forth until he practically dragged himself back behind the bar. They hadn’t seemed to take that kind of liking toward you quite yet and the only compliments you received were gross comments from older men that slurred their words, you respectfully dismissing yourself to tend to other customers just to escape.

Quickly, you make your way toward the back through the narrow hallway that leads out to the alley. The bar had become stuffy, too many humans populating the small space, prompting a much needed break for a breath of fresh air. Almost reaching the door, a haven that would relieve your sweat coated skin with a crisp breeze, you collide into something firm, a deep grunt coming from the source.

“Watch it, Bambi.” Eddie barks, glaring down at you. He holds an unopened bottle of tequila, knuckles white as he tightens his grasp.

“I-I’m sorry.” You stutter, taken back by his stern voice. It was for the most part, always stern but this time it was especially disapproving.

“Where are you going?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“My break. Jett just–”

“Your break? Now? I need all hands on deck right now, take your break in like thirty when it calms down.”

A vein in his neck looks as if it’s about to pop, stress evident in his entire demeanor. Even his lips are bitten and red from what seemed to be constant tugging from his teeth. Maybe he needed a toothpick to chew on instead? Maybe that’s why he chewed on them in the first place?

“Well I–Jett just sent me on break.” You reason.

“Jett?”

“Yeah.”

He breathes in deep, head tilting toward the ceiling as he exhales through his mouth, clearly trying to maintain his calmness. Although it always seemed like he was going to blow up and cause a scene when he got like this, he never did.

“Jesus Christ, kid’s gonna give me an aneurysm.”

Walking down the hall toward the commotion of the bar, he shakes his head, curls bouncing and that famous frizz framing his head like a halo. You keep your movements halted, feet glued to the floor in confusion as to whether you’re meant to follow him or actually go on your break.

“So do I–do you want me to take my break or–”

“Just go.” He calls back, this time a calmer tone detected in his voice.

If you were meant to do the opposite in some sort of reverse psychology moment, you didn’t. The cool air called to you and you were going to use all ten minutes to bathe in it, and reset your nervous system. Eddie could sweat in your place for the time being.

Things had been easier since that first shift; the cook, Randy, had returned and said that he left in the heat of the moment, explaining the following day that he lost his cool and was so certain he was going to quit. Then he came back to his senses and realized how unrealistic that was and that he was in no position to be searching for a new job right now. He was on the verge of begging for his job back but what you’d heard from the back office was Eddie telling him not to ‘pull that shit again’ and to ‘get back to work’. No further discussions or arguments on the topic ensued since that day.

The chilly Autumn air brushed against your cheeks upon stepping out the door, not too much of a bite to it yet but enough to warrant a slight shiver. The sun had already set just over an hour ago, darkness already enclosing the surrounding world. It felt empty and devoid of life, but not in an apocalyptic way, but rather in a serene kind of way. It was quiet except for the whisper of leaves of the birch trees in the wind.

This place still felt so far from home and your loneliness was still as prominent as ever. You worked, went home, slept, woke up at around 10:00 AM, fixed breakfast, attempted to go back to sleep, failed and sometimes visited Donnie at the supermarket, and repeated. The routine was sad and you might as well have been a grouchy old woman that no one spoke to or went near, not a twenty something year old who should be making the most out of her life. The locals weren’t unfriendly, you just couldn’t seem to fit in. Jett was the closest thing you had to a ‘friend’, although he was your coworker and some may see it as mandatory that he remains friendly with you. Outside of work you had little to no interaction with others, usually opting to stay in and clean or watch reruns of some shows you had pre-recorded on a collection of VHS tapes. It’s not to say you didn’t enjoy your nights in, you just wished you had the option to call someone up to hang out or make plans every now and then.

Ten minutes flew by like it was seconds, the door leading inside swinging open unexpectedly and smacking against the concrete wall, Eddie’s head poking out in search of you.

“Excuse me, do you work here?” He asks sarcastically.

You control the urge to roll your eyes, having a better sense of his antics in the past two weeks and knowing that no real consequences would apply to you under these circumstances. You still maintain the need to react to his dramatics and remind him that you were helping him out just as much as he was helping you. But you push it down and straighten your posture.

“Yes.” You reply, eyes staring up at him with a hint of resistance.

“Could’ve had me fooled.” He snaps, ducking back inside.

Following him, you finally give into the urge to roll your eyes behind his back.

“I timed my break just right.” You notify him, glancing at your watch. “I was about to come back.”

“You’re a minute late.”

Instead of allowing you a chance to argue with him, he jumps right back into action and starts clearing off a vacant table. The rush hadn’t stopped all night, table after table being cleared only to immediately seat a new party.

After he strides off with a pile of glasses and a few plates, you get to work on wiping everything clean. It was a newfound system, a plan that hadn’t been agreed on by either of you but was understood regardless. With how understaffed the bar was, it worked like a charm.

Jett’s main role was behind the bar but every now and then he would catch onto whenever you and Eddie were running behind and he would swoop in to take care of a table or two. Recently, you learned that the other bartender, Pete, had quit and skipped town about a week before your arrival, making it that much harder to keep up with the demand of the customers who regularly chose The Bourbon to decompress at. So now it was only you, Eddie, Jett, and Randy running the whole place. It turned out not to be too bad of a gig, weeknights were slow enough and Sundays the bar was closed, leaving Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays as the busiest nights of the week. The tips were decent enough as well.

Especially from those creepy old men which was an unfortunate situation you could do without but hey, it helped pay the bills. If you ignored their advances and didn’t completely reject them, they’d leave behind a nice tip. It felt icky, pocketing the money but the more you thought about it, the more compelled you felt to take their money. If they were going to waste your time, you might as well be compensated for it.

One man in particular had been lurking at one of the corner tables, purposely opting out of the bar seating to instead have a higher chance of you waiting on him. He must have been in his sixties and had an unnerving stare that just made you want to hide back in the kitchen. You failed to inform Eddie, simply because he didn’t need further reason to see you as dainty or incapable of holding your own.

So you gulped down your fear and put the blinders on as best you could.

Just take his order and get it over with. Then you can move on with your night and hopefully he’ll be out of here soon.

And right off the bat, his disgusting mouth started running. Something about ‘can a pretty little thing like you get me a drink?’. Then a few more unsolicited nicknames with a smirk and some remark about how good your body looked. Something you didn’t care to hold onto in your mind, you only felt the need to take a shower.

As you rounded the corner of the bar and got to work making the pervert’s drink, you found yourself lost in thought. Thoughts about if he found out where you lived, you may be done for. It was a small town after all and it wouldn’t be difficult.

“Hey, you good?” Jett asks, shaker in hand, concern obvious in his knit eyebrows.

“What?” You’re pulled out of your mind, shaking your head as if to lure yourself back to reality. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You assure him.

He nods but his expression shows that he’s not very convinced. You finish off the drink you’d been absentmindedly making, a scotch on the rocks while offering Jett one more reassuring smile before making your way out from behind the bar.

Like you were throwing yourself back into the lion’s den, you approach the man’s table, hoping to quickly drop off his drink and be on your way. If only life were ever so kind to you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” A disgusting grin paints his face and just before you can mumble an ‘mhm’ and rush off, an unwelcome hand gropes your ass, sliding down, down, down. You can’t see his face but you know he displays the most revolting smirk following his actions.

With a yelp followed by a gasp, you freeze. Paralyzed, you aren’t sure how to move forward, how do you recover from being reduced to a piece of meat? Flesh to be gawked at and held onto without permission. An object to be handled.

“I-I’m sorry but—“ You begin to stumble over your words but never get the chance to say much more when the sound of a chair screeching against the wood floors, arguably worse than nails on a chalkboard, is heard behind you.

Upon turning around, you’re met with the sight of your boss shoving the repulsive man toward the door by the collar of his mustard stained shirt. Eddie's strength shows despite his lean figure, appearing to have no trouble in maneuvering the man where he wants him against the door.

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie bites, nostrils flaring as his cheeks seem to heat with a hue of red.

“Listen—“

The man’s hands are thrown up in surrender but it’s apparent that wasn’t the true intent behind his actions. An excuse was on the tip of his tongue before Eddie cut him off, not an ounce of patience left.

“What. The. Fuck. Was that?” He repeats, grip tightening on the shirt collar, face inching closer to the man as a means of intimidation.

“Just a little flirting, she was into it.”

You can’t help but grimace at the pathetic attempt to cover up what had actually happened. And it seemed that Eddie didn’t take too well to that answer either, further pushing the man into the door if even possible. The scene had drawn the attention of almost the whole bar, a sea of eyeballs glued to the altercation about to happen, your very being flushed from embarrassment from the mere idea of being the source of all of it. Had you walked away quicker, it would’ve gone unnoticed and you could’ve gone on with your night, leaving everyone else undisturbed.

“Yeah?” Eddie cocks his head to the side, his chest heaving. “Didn’t seem like she was into it to me.”

“She was—“

“I wasn’t fuckin’ asking. She wasn’t into it.”

If looks could kill, the guy would be erased from existence with no trace of life left behind on Eddie’s account. His big brown eyes showcased pure rage, a distinct difference from the annoyance and the fiery glare he’d cast on you every so often, especially when you would forget to pile up the dishes his way. No, this was far more devastating and should you one day be the recipient of his aggressive stare, you’d be reduced to tears on the spot.

“Now you’re gonna get the hell out of my bar. I never wanna see you again—“

“Listen man, I’m not—“

“I’m fucking talking.” Eddie growls. “You get the hell out of here and never come back, you hear me? And you better fucking hope I don’t catch you pulling some shit like that again, I will kick your goddamn teeth in.” He promises.

Confrontations like this were not something you were familiar with, always running off before things got too far. You suppose that’s why people feel it was okay to use you as a doormat. It always feels easier to drop it and walk away, ‘be the bigger person’ or whatever they say. Even if it actually meant making you feel like the smallest person on earth.

All the back and forth and frequent swears with intention of aggravation had labored your breathing, your chest struggling to allow movement, feeling like a straw was delivering air to your lungs. Just when you’d attempt to swallow a big enough breath of air, it would all go to waste and only provide just enough oxygen to get by. A cold sweat threatened to spill from your hairline, your palms clammy to match. The murmurs and whispers of witnesses had your eyes darting from person to person, suddenly all too aware of the life you were living.

Too human.

You don’t remember another word exchanged between the two men and you certainly don’t remember how you managed to claw your way to the bathroom amidst the turmoil. But here you were, staring into the dingy mirror with no purpose other than to escape. And it wasn’t working. Suddenly the lights were too bright and the room was too small, but it was secluded and that's what mattered. Having some kind of an episode in front of the entire bar would be far worse, having an episode alone where prying eyes cannot dissect your every movement and reason for being is the better option. It wasn’t often that your mind went to this extent when being faced with a challenging situation but when it did, you didn’t find it easy to come out of.

You heard your name floating somewhere in the bleach scented air but couldn’t quite bring yourself back enough to recognize who required your attention. There was a head peeking in at the door after some frequent knocking and though you kept insisting you were okay and just to give you a few minutes, the individual seemed to have reason not to believe you.

“Hey, Ed!” He called behind him. It was Jett. A sweet and scared out of his mind Jett from what you could decipher through squinted eyes and blurred vision. He was obviously being faced with unfamiliar territory, I mean who is ever prepared to talk someone down from an anxiety attack in the middle of a shift? Panic was evident in his voice just as much as it was evident in your whole body.

“Eddie, I need some help!” He yells again. “Hey, you okay? What happened? Do you need–”

“Move over.” You hear Eddie mumble before the door swings open, the hinges squeaking painfully. “You’re asking too many questions.”

With a swift shut of the door, Jett hurries back to attend to the several customers awaiting service.

“Listen to me, Bambi. You gotta breathe.” His voice is smooth, a huge contrast to what you’d just heard moments ago.

When your legs begin to feel wobbly, as if you were a calf taking its first steps, you slowly lower yourself to the ground, a sturdy hand wrapping around your upper arm to support you.

“In.” Eddie inhales, though you can only hear him since your eyes are shut so tightly, your eyelids might rip. “Out.” He exhales. “C’mon, breathe in–”

“Is she oka—”

“Jett, fuck off for a minute. Please.” Eddie begs, clearly fed up before returning to his newfound gentle tone. “Can you look at me?” He diverts his attention back to you, Jett taking the hint and shutting the door, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Eyes squeezed shut, you shake your head. Your body shakes involuntarily, the anxiety becoming even worse when you try to contain it, like it wants to jump out and strangle you.

“Okay, okay.” He attempts to soothe. “You wanna get some air?” He asks just above a whisper.

“I-I dunno. ‘M sorry.” You manage to choke out, sniffling.

“Okay, no big deal.” He sighs, running a hand down his face, not out of irritation but more so exhaustion. “Let’s get you outside, it’s too hot in here.”

Before you can protest, he’s wrapping an arm around your shoulders and supporting the majority of your weight against him, walking you out of the bathroom and out the door into the alley. The chilly air bites at your skin and thankfully, reality slowly starts to return again.

“Try breathing again, in and out.” Eddie encourages.

You nod, jaw locked tightly both from the cold and from the paralyzing anxiety coursing through your veins. Your teeth feel as if they could crack at any second, the pressure from you biting down too immense but you can’t bring yourself to unhinge your jaw.

“In.” Eddie coaches, exaggerating a large breath, his chest rising with the motion. “Out.” He exhales through his mouth, his breath visible in the air.

He continues the breathing exercise a few more times, you following carefully as things become clear again. And from all that had just happened, all you could gather was that you were a huge baby who couldn’t handle a rogue customer. You weren’t capable of holding things down when it got rough.

Pathetic.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know–I don’t know what happened–” You try to make sense of it all, failing miserably.

“What happened was some pervert copped a feel and we don’t play around with that shit here.”

Anger is obvious within his expression, even more so when he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights one hastily.

“Did you…”

The question is on the tip of your tongue however, you won’t let yourself say it at the risk of sounding even more like an injured bird.

“What?” He asks, kicking around a few pebbles, the cigarette hanging from his lip before he brings his fingers up to grab it and inhale. His brows are knit together, still beyond bothered by the dispute that just occurred.

“Nevermind.” You mumble.

His gaze meets yours, lashes casting perfect shadows just over his cheek bones in the warm lighting of the street lamp and once again, among all the darkness that pools in those chocolatey irises, there is a twinkle. Barely noticeable but still there.

“What?” He urges again, voice monotone.

“Did you…did he…?”

“Did I fuck him up?” He asks, brows raised.

You nod bashfully, a hint of fear flashing in your eyes.

“No.” Eddie scoffs. “I should’ve though.” He flicks the ash from his cigarette toward the ground. “Motherfucker.” He mumbles.

“Why didn’t you then?”

It was too forward and you had no business asking. Really, it just tumbled out, off of your tongue, barely a thought behind it before it was too late. Now you were just asking for a reaction, not a good one at that.

“It was either that or let Bambi suffocate in the bathroom. Gotta pick your battles.” He gestures toward you, shrugging.

It wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, you were bracing for a bigger explosion. Waiting for him to tell you to get back to work and to stop asking questions. But he didn’t. He just continued to kick little pebbles around on the pavement, his boot scuffing along the surface as he smoked. He looked relaxed for once.

“Oh.” You reply, staring down at your own shoes. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Is apologizing like…your hobby?” He questions, shoving his other hand into his pocket.

“Well–uh no, no–”

“I love that you’re out here having bonding time but I’m a one man show in there and I need some supporting acts.” Jett interrupts, the door creating a gust of wind and then flooding you with temporary warmth from the air inside. “I at least need Eddie.” He pleads.

Nodding frantically, you begin to make your way back inside, Jett already speeding off to resume his duties.

“Hey, you okay to go back in there?” Eddie asks, dropping his cigarette and stomping it out. “You can take another minute–”

“I’m fine.” You insist. He didn’t need further evidence that you were frail and incapable. Whether it was intentional or not, he had bruised your sliver of self-confidence.

–

The rush was finally over, the last of it being a party of ten which left a table full of dishes to be delivered to the kitchen for washing. Each plate was stacked in your palms, piled high as you worked one hand out from underneath to add on a few cups, cutting down on the amount of trips you would need to make. You’d blocked out the vile events that occurred earlier in the night, at least until you had time to cry about it to yourself which when working at The Bourbon, there was never time for that. So it would have to wait until the drive home. Maybe you’d even save it for the shower where you could truly release all of your emotions in peace, no judging eyes or risk of a car accident.

Successfully stacking a few cups among the tower of plates, you spin on your heel, making your way toward the kitchen as the others cleaned up, Jett wiping down the bar and kicking out the lingering drunks, and Eddie cleaning up the mess that the pool table had become. It was 1:00 AM and if everyone did their part, you’d be out of here by at least 1:30. Tensions had been high all night, one inconvenience after another occurring, only adding onto everyone’s stress and only giving more incentive to clean quicker and go home. A broken glass here, a messed up order there.

The kitchen door is just in reach and when you push into it with your shoulder, all of your calculations fail, the pile of plates collapsing as they hit the door frame rather than dodging it like you intended. Each plate crashes against the floor, shattering into pieces, a few of the cups also breaking on impact. It was the icing on the cake of a bad night, the final straw and your reason to burst into tears and yet you don’t.

Not yet.

Not here.

A total of four eyeballs watch in shock, two more joining in as Randy, the cook peeks out from the kitchen door. Though the tears didn’t burst from your eyes quite yet, they did sting, they stung horribly. You could feel them brimming at your waterline, just a centimeter away from trickling down your cheek and exposing you as the biggest crybaby in the world. If it wasn’t already apparent.

Do not cry.

And if it wasn’t already bad enough, Eddie seemed to completely reverse his gentle attitude you’d become suddenly accustomed to earlier.

“What the hell.” He glares, slowly approaching as he sets a few glasses back down on the pool table. “Do you watch where you’re going? Do you have eyes?” He asks.

You don’t dare answer, frozen in place as your nerves tingle in panic once again. You don’t feel real. You feel as if your spirit has risen from your body and is watching over the conversation playing out.

“Now I’m out what–ten or so plates? Do you know what it costs–”

“Eddie.” Jett tries to take control of the situation, taking notice of your watering eyes. And unfortunately so does Eddie.

“What–oh, you’re gonna cry? What did I tell you? I told you this job wasn’t for someone like you.” Eddie snaps.

He was bitter, unpleasantly bitter like a shitty cup of coffee.

“Eddie, stop it.” Jett tries to defend you, though you wish you could defend yourself so you didn’t seem so pathetic.

“I told you I can’t babysit you–”

“I know.” You manage to quietly sob, bending down to start collecting the broken pieces. There’s an awkward moment of silence, the air thick with tension and anticipation of more insults. All you can do is wait.

“Just leave it, just–leave it.” Eddie sighs, running a hand through his bangs. “Just go home.”

The demand isn’t necessarily an insult like you’d imagined but it still feels backhanded. Like he was telling you ‘I told you so’ and rubbing it in your face. As if he gave you a chance with the means of preparing for this moment, the moment you fucked up even slightly.

“I’m gonna get the broom.” Jett says, eyes wide as he scampers to the back.

Staring up at Eddie, large pieces of plate collected in your hand, all you can make out in his eyes is outrage. Downplayed outrage that hadn’t fully escaped yet and you didn’t want to hang around long enough to witness it. He was capable of much more than he was letting on.

“If you can’t handle–”

“You know Eddie, you’re just mean. You’re being mean.” You declare through a frown, internally screaming at yourself to keep it together, to not let a tear spill over. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of watching you cry.

“Did you know you never even asked for my name?” You swipe underneath your eyes, catching any tears that longed to trail down your cheeks, displaying your distress, instead wiping them on your apron.

His unkind stare lets up, eyes softening ever so slightly.

Too late.

“I’m not a person to you.” You drop the shards from your hands, standing up to head toward the back for your things.

“Wait–”

If he kept talking, you didn’t stick around to hear it. You scooped up your bag from the rusting lockers toward the back of the kitchen, tucked away in a corner before striding to the front, toward the bar. If he thought you were some kind of an entitled brat that needed babysitting then you were going to give him more than he bargained for. Granted, you weren’t thinking straight either, the stress of the night only adding up and creating an outburst you would otherwise bottle up.

Grabbing a shot glass from under the bar, you reach for one of the nicer tequilas, something smoother that wouldn’t burn as much. Tequila always put you in a good mood and never gave you a hangover. Filling the shot glass, you don’t even bother looking over at Eddie or Jett, who was now sweeping broken plates into a dustpan.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eddie hurries over, staring you down. All you offer him in response is a shrug before tossing the liquor back.

Refilling the glass, you sneak a glance over at him from across the counter, his jaw dropped in shock and his face red and flushed with anger. Steam was nearly shooting out of his ears. The second shot is thrown back and your muscles begin to relax, anxieties melting away even at the basis of creating more problems.

If that wasn’t enough for him, you finished it off with a third shot, hoping it wouldn’t be too much all at once. You were brave enough to look right into his eyes, daring him to say the wrong thing.

“What are you doing?” He asks again, calmer but still heated.

“I’m just acting how you think I should.” You answer, a fake smile painted across your lips.

“I’m not comping those.”

His focus burns into you, lips in a tight line as he watches. If looks could kill. For the second time that night. Except this time, you were on the receiving end and had you not been three shots in, it would’ve terrified you and had you apologizing profusely.

“Well, I’m not paying for them.” You say, pouring yourself one more for good measure, swallowing it like it was water.

As you go to make your big exit, you’re faced with a harsh reality. You’re definitely drunk, or at least very close to being drunk as the alcohol consumes your body, and you’re definitely not driving home like this. You did not think this through. But you kept walking anyway through the kitchen and out to the back just to lean against the concrete wall pathetically. You were starting to wish that you’d gulped down some water before leaving to aid in sobering up.

If the sight of you leaning against the wall behind a bar at 1:12 AM wasn’t sad enough, tack on the fact that you had finally let the waterworks flow, your drunk self especially susceptible to your muddled emotions.

“Bambi, what the fuck. You gonna drive?” Eddie emerges from the kitchen door leading outside, seemingly cooled down but you still don’t trust it.

“Don’t call ‘m Bambi.” You slur.

“What are you doing out here?” He ignores your protest.

“‘Jus gimme a few minutes.” You whine, eyes shut as if it would make him disappear.

“No, not a few minutes. You’re not driving.”

You never intended on driving but you were finding it difficult to fight him off in your discombobulated state, willing to say anything to get him to leave. Obviously he had the upper hand at this moment, clearly able to outsmart you.

“I know.” You wail, tears on full display for him.

“I’ll drive you, let me get my keys.”

“Nooo, wha ‘bout Jett?” You ask, wiping away your tears, mascara coating your fingertips.

“Jett doesn't live right next door to you, you’d just be making him go out of his way for no reason.”

Snot dripping from your nose, you glare up at him, earning an expectant stare from him. All you can do is roll your eyes, too drunk to care anymore. You still preferred having Jett go out of his way, at least he respected you as a person. But the argument was lost among gargled thoughts and a short term memory.

“Still mean.” You insult, finger poking at his chest harshly. It doesn’t do much.

It feels like hours that you two are staring at each other, likely due to the alcohol running through your system. He hesitates in running back inside, even if just for a few seconds to grab his keys, his eyes looking you over in concern. A muttered ‘be right back’ is heard and then he’s gone.

The stars catch your attention, drastically brighter than they would be back home, many more of them too. A few stand out, gleaming in the sky and making them that much more admirable. Your mind drifts off to thoughts of the Milky Way, swirling around the universe and ultimately making you feel infinitely smaller and more insignificant.

What was your place?

Eddie steps back out, keys twirling around his fingers, straight-faced, not an ounce of amusement in his handsome features. Glancing at him briefly, you then tilt your head back up toward the sky, dazed and almost in a trance. If you weren’t careful, you could’ve been staring at him like that. But you weren’t that drunk.

Or so you thought.

Thinking about it, you must have been the spitting image of insane; mascara smeared across your face, tears glimmering in the moonlight, and your bottom lip set in a perfect pout like a child waiting to get their way. Your bag was twisted around your body in the most uncomfortable way but you couldn’t find it in you to untwist it and realistically, you should be wearing your jacket but instead its clutched in your fist, the cold pricking at your skin and eliciting goosebumps up and down your arms. The chattering of your teeth interrupted the silence and played as the soundtrack of your hazy daydreaming.

It also let Eddie know that he needed to either force you to put your jacket on, or get you in the car. And he knew he wouldn’t win that first battle so ushering you to the passenger seat it was.

“C’mon.” Is all he says, huffing out a breath.

You vaguely recall being helped into the passenger’s side but you don’t remember walking a few yards to actually reach the car or if you were even able to do so on your own. From what you could tell in your state, his car was a beaten up thing, kinda old but it smelled like those little pine tree air fresheners.

Once the scenery outside started to move, all thoughts subsided, the only one left was solely to keep yourself from vomiting all over your boss’s car. You would stoop as low as to drink his most expensive tequila but vomiting all over his carpeted floor was another low you wouldn’t dream of wishing upon anybody.

Trees zoomed by and you were sure you were going cross eyed from trying to keep up with each and every one. Some metal song plays through the speakers but in your own little world, you hardly hear it, still subconsciously bobbing your head to the fading beat.

One minute you were sitting content in your dream land, the next Eddie was shoving something into your hands while urgently pulling over. Your mind hadn’t caught up to what was happening yet however, you could vaguely make out Eddie yelling at you to aim for the bag while you stared directly into said bag. When you glanced over at him, everything felt as if it were in slow motion and again, he was panicking while yelling at you to ‘puke in the bag!’.

The perfect cocktail of a situation for an individual so reserved and so inexperienced with this much attention. At least most of it would be a blur by morning.

–

“There you go, just grab my–shoulder! Ow!” Eddie complains, your fingers a bit too comfortable with digging into his skin through his cotton shirt as you attempt to hoist yourself up into a standing position from the passenger seat.

Home was only steps away and then you could collapse wherever you pleased. Forget about this stupid night. At least until you awakened as your regularly anxious self. You’d have a few hours of drunken bliss to forget about life but that’s all you were allowed. Then you would need to face your consequences, whatever they may be. Come the morning, you most likely wouldn’t have a job anymore, Eddie would probably come knocking at your door and let you know that you blew it. And he’d probably laugh in your face at the fact that you proved yourself to be too weak, too dainty, as he so adamantly proclaimed before.

“Oh no.” You mumble, feeling yourself wobbling, knees giving out underneath you.

“Whoa, whoa, okay! You’re fine, you’re fine.” Eddie stabilizes you, arms around your waist.

Your limbs might as well be Jello at this point, rendering you a useless human unable to even stumble to your destination. It dawns on you that you can’t remember if you even actually puked in the car or not. Was it coating his interior or had you shoved your head in the bag just in time to spew your guts? Or did you bravely swallow it down? Whatever the case, Eddie doesn’t seem to currently have any grievances or any trouble touching you so you must have been somewhat responsible about it.

Your weight depends on him, leaning into his chest as he practically carries you toward the house. Your eyes flutter repeatedly and—your question of whether you had already puked or not is quickly answered as the contents of your stomach spill out and onto his shirt before you’re able to aim for the ground. Humiliation was starting to look like your middle name.

As you dry heave and allow a long string of saliva to drip from your mouth while hunched over in the dirt, you hear Eddie muttering several curses. You think for sure he’s going to ditch you for creating such a stir up throughout the night until his boots come into view in front of you, his hand pulling the hair away from your face as you finish emptying your stomach.

“Okay.” He sighs. “Puke it out.” A hesitant hand smoothes over your back, the lightest touch.

The smell of putrid vomit invades his nose, nausea threatening to take over him as well if he didn’t hold his breath. Try as he may to ignore the chunks of god knows what on his shirt, it was still all that was on his mind. He didn’t even want to chance looking down if there was the slightest possibility that it had also gotten in his hair. Even being covered in your sick, he knows he should be fuming. But he’s not and it's all so puzzling.

You marched your ass behind his bar and consumed more tequila than you could handle which in turn forced him to drive you home and then you vomited all over him. If that’s not enough reason to be pissed beyond belief then he doesn’t know what is. Yet he remains calm and collected, running his hand between your shoulder blades as he soothes you throughout your dry heaving and gagging.

“It won’t–oh god–it won’t stop.” You sob, looking up at him, a mixture of snot, tears, and saliva coating the lower half of your face.

You look repulsive and yet he can’t tear his eyes away from you. The prettiest definition of repulsive he’d ever seen.

“Don’t hold it back, let it all out. You’re only gonna feel like shit if you hold any of it in.” He instructs, kneeling down to meet your eye level.

With a few sniffles and hiccups, you nod. Only now you’re hyper aware of being watched. It was a sobering experience, puking right in front of your house, not able to even make it to the nearest toilet while your boss spectates and–oh.

It hits you that the front of his shirt is caked in your puke, bile soaking the fabric while remnants of your late lunch displays itself on his perfect black shirt. You would never live this down and you would certainly never work another shift at The Bourbon again. Even if he did scream at you for no good reason, you took it a few levels too far.

“Y-your shirt, oh no–”

“Relax, okay, Bambi? I can handle a little puke, now where’s your key?” He asks.

It’s not that he could handle a little puke, he had to. Because what good would it do if the two of you were both throwing up in your front yard?

Attempting to answer him, the rest of your stomach interrupts and unexpectedly spews all over his combat boots. As if the night couldn’t get any worse.

“Shit.” He mutters under his breath.

“‘M sorry, ‘m so sorry.” You whimper, glassy eyes staring up at him with regret. “I din’t mean it, I swear, m’ just–”

“I know.” Eddie exhales. “You done puking, is there anything else left in there?”

Shaking your head in sorrow, a few more hiccups escape your lungs but there are no further signs that you’re going to be sick again. Even if you were, it didn’t matter anymore, Eddie was already well acquainted with your vomit, what harm would a little more do at this point?

As you start shuffling through your bag and patting at your pockets, panic settles in and you can only recall that the last place you’d seen your keys was at the bar, where you set them down to spitefully gulp down as much tequila as you could. Now it was biting you in the ass, hard.

“Left my keys at the bar.” You pout pitifully.

Eddie glares at you, rightfully so. The man was covered in foul smelling vomit, kneeling on the ground, taking care of you.

“Fucking christ.” He mumbles.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean@micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson au #stranger things au #stranger things fic #stranger things

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womanpl3aser · 1 month

Text

everybody knows that i am a good girl officer | | Po.f!abby x fem!reader

mndi!!, 18+, you'll find the rest while you're reading;) also usage of y/n 2 or 3 times.

wc: 1,4k

Enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It all started as a normal Tuesday, for you and all the people around the market that were in. Everybody seemed to be shopping, chit chatting, gossiping, laughing at something you couldnt quite catch buuuuut there you were, looking around for the last ingredient you needed for the dinner you'd be making later tonight.

You thought to urself "where the fuck could they put some fucking sauce." you sighed in defeat and went to a nearby woman who worked there and asked her "excuse me ma'am do you know where's that sauce that had a swan outside its can?" "it's at section 2, you should find it mixed with the poultry" she'd answer to you bitting on some donut walking off?? like excuse me miss you're there to help the customers. what a bitch you thought to urself, "thank you!'' you exclaimed with some sarcasm at the end. You were sure she didn't hear it, "okay now who the fuck puts some sauce mixed with these poultry shits" you said under your breathe cause god damn. Your shopping didn't even take 10 minutes and last time you checked your phone it was 11:36 and now it was 11:59.

Fuck you muttered to yourself. After searching for that fricking sauce you finally found it. You immediately grabbed it and threw it into your cart and rushed to pay. you were waiting in line until..

a woman barged in the market yelling while wearing no sandals or whatsoever shoes u guessed and looked.. off. Nobody commented on that neither her appearance just had some judgemental stares. You also brushed it off cause it was literally none of your business nonetheless just as you were about to pay with cash, a worker who curiously walked past her saw her holding a revolver?.. at least that's what you heard with all the panic breaking out in mere seconds.

EVERYBODY GET OUT OF THE STORE! ooh shit. the popo squad must've been called or they just tracked her you thought as you were rushing to get out of the store with your groceries(probably half of them). An officer yelled while charging at the woman aiming at her weapon. Another officer escorted the other officer who had managed to tackle the threat down and kick off the gun of the woman's hands. GET ON YOUR KNEES NOW. the woman said after punching her back for resisting her. STOP FUCKING RESISTING WOMAN after several kicks and hits and punches the woman finally stopped moving around and complied to be cooperative because it would get her nowhere, just charged with more felonies and she didn't want that did she?

You were watching with a mind full of "what just happened or when did all of this happen" while you had your bags in your hands ready to get into your vehicle to go home. But just as you were to step your foot into your car trying to leave the scene and forget about what just happened youd force yourself to forget about what had happened earlier to be fair, an officer calls you out.

HEY, MISS YES YOU COULD YOU PLEASE COME HERE? she yelled because you both had a pretty average distance "oh yes of course" you answered. Great now why would she want to talk to you thoughts started to gather around your mind was it something you possibly did in the market, maybe they found out about your attitude towards the worker in the store?(but to be fair they fucking deserved that) you were thinking of all that as you were walking towards the direction she was with your head down the pavement too scared to look up as if something horrible would happen to you.

Ma'am first of all are you okay? did you get harmed in the process of all this? was the first thing that came out of the officers mouth and you got kind of relieved, you were so glad it wasn't about something you did "y-yeah of course just a little bit shocked about what had just occurred some minutes ago" you painfully laughed with some tremor in your voice. You don't have to be scared, everything is well taken care of and is on our hands.. maybe I ask you some questions? you silently mumbled a "fuck me" that didn't go unnoticed by the officer but decided to brush it off and went on with a "sure!" still while looking down. "Ah.. alright then but you gotta look at me 'kay? now." the officer demanded you do so. You finally got the courage to look the woman in the eyes but instead of fear to overcome you, you were met with some blue ocean eyes, honey blonde strands that had fallen off her tight braid while she was trying to pin the woman on the ground and some tight ass dark green cargos that hugged her thights so so deliciously.. and not to talk about her turtle neck black shirt with her armor and a bunch of stuff thay kissed her biceps exactly how u had imagined..

"Ma'am? ma'am are you still with me? I'm talking to you. Eyes on mine." She spoke to you snapping you out of your imagination "Uh uh yeah I'm here I'm sorry" you apologized pathetically and she smirked.. oh boy. "Its fine angel" your cheeks turned crimson red who also didnt go unnoticed by her well trained eyes and just like that her cocky usual attitude had switched to something you couldn't actually figure out. "Since you were in the store I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me, got it sugar? if not there will be charges pressed against you" she'd say "umm yeah ask me anything, I promise I will not lie to you officer" "glad you're one of these people who listen to my commands, I like that." You'd nod your head not breaking eye contact with her because who were you infront of this tall ass hot as fuck woman? "Since you were in the store, what kind of gun did she hold?" She'd take her notes out and start putting down whatever came out of your mouth.

10 minutes had passed and you were almost done with your interrogation

" 'N lastly why is a pretty woman like you doing here?" She'd ask "j-just some shopping you'd mutter" "Speak up baby cause I cannot hear you" she'd say firmly yet flirty to you. And oh boy you did not answer because of how fucking flustered and wet you were getting and thats when she saw red. Yes, red. she was short tempered if you didn't already notice "fucking ANSWER ME"

she'd raise her voice slightly but not loud enough to draw attention from by passers "i-im sorry officer I'll be good, i didn't mean to offend you in every way i-I promise y-you'' "I-i y-you, shut up and get yourself together baby or should I teach you a lesson?" she'd smirk to herself and slightly giggle. Apparently.. you were a goner. like an actual goner your brain couldn't function properly anymore, it was all filled with wanting some friction from her. "I'll be a good girl officer" You'd nudge her with your hand as a sign of intimidation and just as you both pressed lips and almost got dragged into her police car's backseat to absolutely fucking ruin you a shot was fired. She stroke up from her current position and looked at the sight of her colleagues and that's when she'd realized a mate of hers got shot "OH FUCK, ILL BE BACK REAL SOON OKAY?" She'd reassured you and sprinted towards her hurt inmate just leaving you there with your thoughts coming back "damn I didn't even get her name.." You'd complain to yourself.

30 minutes had passed.

And she finally came back to where she had previously left you "Hey sweetheart, I'm sorry for leaving you here all alone but it was my duty to go check him out" she'd kiss your forehead like it was nothing taking some steps towards you. You'd flush again as a loser and assure her that it was okay and that she needn't have to be apologetic towards you "Oh and by the way my name is Abby but you can call me as abigail or abs as a short cut" "Mines Y/n" "such a pretty name for such pretty girl" she'd slightly push herself on you. You'd smile at her grabbing her waist "oou getting touchy already y/n huh?, you wanna resume whatever we were about to do before?" She'd say a step back from gropping your fucking ass devouring you alive, you were driving her fucking crazy "Yes please, I'd love that abigail" and oh well she went feral after the way she heard her name rolling off your tongue like honey.

Aaaaand lets say that you were limping and couldn't walk straight after her 7 inch strap that got buried into you for fucking hours.

HEY YALL IM SORRY THIS WAS RUSHED. I GOT INSPIRED BY A VIDEO OF A COP THAT HAD ABBYS BUILD. I STARTED WRITING THIS AT 5:30 AM AND I FINISHED AT 7:14 AM SO EXCUSE ME FOR ANY MINOR OR GRAMMAR MISTAKES. THANK YOU!! also it isn't proofread.

#abby x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby the last of us

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milkybonya · 1 year

Text

need to talk ☆ juyeon

! : very suggestive,,,, i.e. making out,,, heh, idk word count but its v long definitely +1k

#: roommate!au, gn reader, ft. bestie Haknyeon, dance major!Juyeon

[💌: this was in my drafts for a while and then i got the sudden urge to finish it,, heh,, also i started the taxi driver drama with my friends just to see hyunwook oops]

"you don't have secret little makeout sessions with roommates you hate, y/n," Haknyeon tells you as he munches on your study snacks.

"and that's the problem. what the hell are we, then?" you ask your friend, who keeps stealing your food.

you and Juyeon moved into the same student house as freshman. he was quiet but polite, saying a quick 'hello' each time he'd see you in the kitchen or on his way in/out of the house. you were the same, too flooded with deadlines and the high school to university adjustment to be able to get past small talk.

also, Juyeon was just intimidating. despite always smiling at you so warmly, his attractive features and toned muscles that you sometimes spied on when he wore t-shirts were too... perfect. he was like a movie star and you didn't dare to get close to him...

until one fateful day.

you had an online exam to take, and the professor required students to take it either somewhere on campus (a designated exam room) or in a closed-off bedroom so you could show, with your webcam, that you were alone and had no way to cheat. you had rushed home after class because you wanted to take the exam in your room so you could secretly cheat, but realized you had accidentally handed your room keys instead of your house keys to your best friend just earlier.

"hey Hak, take these house keys and pick up a houseplant i bought from the student centre later and drop it off at mine? please? i won't be home at the time they told me to pick it up," you explained, pouting.

Hak had taken the keys with a sigh, immediately agreeing.

you wished he'd argued with you so you wouldn't be stuck out of your own bedroom right now.

"hey, everything okay?" Juyeon asked as he joined you in the kitchen. he poured himself a glass of water.

watching him attractively gulp it down, you had a thought.

"could i borrow your room for something?" you asked, checking the time above the stove.

10 minutes until the exam.

you quickly explained to Juyeon that you were locked out of your room, and without a moment of hesitation, he tidied up his room for you and took out his own laptop so he could study in the kitchen while you used his room. thanks to that, you were able to start and finish your exam on time.

once you were done and closed your laptop in relief, you were finally able to feel all the emotions your stress had suppressed. shock and gratefulness for Juyeon's sudden agreement to your request were just two, but as you looked around his room, you were filled with curiosity. who was this roommate of yours who had so many dancing awards? there was even a guitar, and you wondered if it was just for show or if he actually played it.

beside it, there was a notebook open to a random page. you didn't look on purpose, of course, but it just happened to be in your line of vision as you packed up your things.

11:04am - saw them grabbing something from the fridge.

5:26pm - they came home as i was leaving to go on a walk. they told me it was cold and to take a jacket with me.

3:53am - i think they're struggling to sleep. i can hear them watching a show. i hope they're okay.

the more you read, the more you realized all these entries were about you. why was he writing down all the times he saw you?

knock. knock. knock.

"is everything okay? are you done the exam?" Juyeon whispered outside the door, in case you might still be writing.

you scrambled to get away from the notebook as you pushed open his bedroom door, also pushing Juyeon in the process.

"my bad! i didn't know you were behind the door," you apologized.

Juyeon waved away your worries and asked how the exam went.

"good, good! maybe your room just has good luck."

Juyeon shook his head and said, "if it did, i wouldn't be failing two of my classes."

"what classes? you're failing?" you asked in shock.

"yeah.. they're some annoying electives," he said with a sigh.

"maybe we could study for them together?" you suggested after a brief silence.

"are you taking those classes, too?"

"no, but we can still study together! do you have time later today?"

"yeah, where should we study?"

"let's stay here. it's freezing out today!" you said, already shivering at the thought of having to step outside again.

Juyeon laughed and nodded in agreement. his smile was gorgeous, almost blinding.

"oh! someone named.. Hak? dropped off a plant before you got here. he told me to give it to you," Juyeon explained before handing you the plant.

"oh, great! thank you so much."

you held the plant in your hands, turning it and admiring it.

"is Hak a friend of yours, or?" Juyeon asked, cautiously.

"a friend. a really annoying one who actually did me a favour for once by bringing this plant," you told the tall boy with a grin.

Juyeon nodded and let you take the plant to your room.

after spending the next few hours wondering what the hell that notebook in Juyeon's room had been about, your thoughts were interrupted by hin knocking at your door.

"are you ready to study together now?" he asked.

you opened the door and told him that the kitchen bar table is the best place to study.

"easy access to study snacks and not so easy access to the tv... minimal distractions!" you cheered.

you didn't catch the way he chuckled at you and whispered that you were quite the distraction.

nonetheless, the two of you set down your things and got cracking. every so often, you would ask each other a question, even though you were studying completely different things. it was still helpful to think things through with someone else!

after just over two hours, though, the two of you were getting tired and hungry. Juyeon stretched beside you, lazy running his fingers through his dark hair.

"how does pizza sound?" he asked, already pulling out his phone.

"scrumptious!" you said, making him laugh.

as you waited for the pizza, you realized it actually didn't take much to make Juyeon laugh like that. he was constantly flashing you his teeth each time you said something, and you didn't know if you were a comedian or if he was just being nice.

"you're so funny, y/n," he said at one point, grasping onto the back of your chair for support as he laughed. you could feel his slender fingers against your back.

you cocked your head to one side. "am i?" you asked.

he nodded.

ding dong.

"pizza!" you cheered, running to the door.

Juyeon followed behind you and watched as you paid the pizza delivery person with the cash that you and Juyeon had put together.

you struggled to sort out the change while holding the pizza box, so Juyeon came forward to take the box from you, pressing his chest against your back during the process.

your breath hitched in your throat.

was he being really touchy or were you just sensitive?

the two of you opted to eat on the couch, turning on something random as you munched away. Juyeon brought over some alcohol and you also had your beverage of choice, and soon the two of you were talking about some intimate topics.

"i saw a guitar and dancing awards in your room... assuming from your elective, you must be some kind of arts major?" you asked.

Juyeon nodded. "dance is my major, i minor in guitar. music.. performing.. i love it a lot."

"you're so cool for that," you said, chewing on your pizza.

"i think you're cool," Juyeon replied.

when you looked at him, he was looking straight at you, a sincere smile on his lips. you were taken aback. then, you were reminded of the notebook in his room. you wanted to ask, but that would mean he'd know you were snooping around his room.

"what are you thinking about?" he asked.

the way he was sat on the couch in that white t-shirt, clinging onto his skin for dear life, showed all the curves and shadows of his muscles. you gulped unconsciously.

"um... just... things," you said.

"do you like plants, by the way?" he asked.

you appreciated the way he noticed you were uncomfortable with his question, so he changed the topic.

"i do! i have a whole collection in my room, wanna see?" you asked.

"definitely! wait let's clean up first, though. if Eric comes home to this mess, he'll kill us."

you laughed at how true Juyeon's comment was, and rushed to tidy things up. the way Juyeon neatly put the leftover pizza into reusabel containers for you both, labelled them with your names, and put them in the fridge was adorable. it made your heart swell.

"okay, now let's see those plants of yours," Juyeon said.

you felt a bit shy showing him your room, so you carefully watched his reaction as he looked around. he was smiling and scanning the place, as if trying to memorize it.

when you pointed to the plants by your window, he immediately broke into another one of his pretty grins.

"the pots have faces on them!" he noticed.

"of course they do! and they have names," you said, sharing the names of your plants with Juyeon. you had painted faces on them to give them character.

"oh my gosh, do you have a diary for your plants?" you heard him say, picking up the mini notebook where you document how your plants are doing.

"wha--no! give it back!" you whined, reaching for it.

of course, the boy was too tall. he watched in anusement as you struggled to reach for his hands. he had been so sweet and considerate before, why was he suddenly teasing you?!

then, you got an idea. you climbed onto your bed and reached for your notebook from there... but his grip on it was so strong that you ended up pulling the notebook and him towards you. and that's how you ended up with Juyeon on top of you, on your bed.

you expected him to roll off immediately, face red and scratching the back of his neck while apologizing. but he stayed there. he stayed, hands on either side of you, chest almost touching yours and faces just inches apart. your hearts raced. he scanned your face. his eyes went to your lips, then back up. lips, then back up.

he cleared his throat. "can i kiss you?"

your eyes widened. why did he want to kiss you? and why did you say yes? but you did.. and suddenly you felt a glimpse of heaven. his lips were warm, soft, and tasted not even like pizza but like strawberries... it was the gloss on his lips. he was wearing strawberry gloss!

now you weren't a pro kisser or anything but somehow.. his movements matched yours so well. and you felt so many butterflies that you were glad you were laying down, or else you would've fallen over.

once he pulled away, you watched his eyelids flutter open.

"w-was that okay?" he asked.

"yeah," you said while nodding.

"did i make you uncomfortable?" he asked. why was he being the sweetest damn man--

"not really," you replied. he nodded, sitting up and also helping you up.

now his face was red and he was scratching the back of his neck. "i'm sorry i took your plant journal. i just thought it was really cute."

"it's okay... um, i have an important call to make," you lied. "would you mind giving me some space?"

"sure!" Juyeon agreed. "don't forget about your pizza in the fridge."

he gently closed the door behind him and you fell back onto your bed, knowing you wouldn't be able to sleep that night. that kiss would be on replay in your brain.

after that night, you weren't purposely avoiding Juyeon. you just... felt shy and flustered whenever you saw him. he'd try to talk to you and you'd run away.

then, he managed to trap you.

"y/n, we need to talk," he said, placing both around around you on the fridge doors just as you were about to open them.

you turned, being met with his chest. you looked up to find an intense look on his face.

"okay.. let's talk," you said.

"are you avoiding me?" he asked.

"no."

he squinted his eyes.

"maybe... it's not on purpose, i swear! it just happened automatically!"

he sighed. "gosh, are you scared of me? did i.. traumatize you? y/n, i'm so sorry, even though i asked for your permission that wasn't right. i just--"

oh my god. why were you kissing him again? you didn't know. somehow at some point you just.. grabbed his cheeks and leaned in. and he was kissing back. and oh my god there were those butterflies again. your knees starting feeling weak, so Juyeon had to wrap an arm around your waist.

when you pulled away, you immediately started apologizing, but Juyeon silenced you with another kiss. he eyes on you made you melt... and you ran away. again.

and the next day, that's how you ended up meeting with Haknyeon at a café to tell him that Juyeon, a roommate you hate, has been kissing you. having makeout sessions with you. why did you lie and say you hated Juyeon? maybe it was to cover up the fact that you were very much starting to like him. you were a little ashamed because all it took was a few kisses and one study session.

"this is either an enemies to lovers or friends with benefits. but you're not friends?" Haknyeon said, sipping his drink.

"okay.. actually i don't hate him. maybe i'm starting to like him," you finally confessed.

"oh my god, okay. so now we just need to figure out if he likes you too, or if this is just some... friends with benefits? thing," he said.

you also told Haknyeon about Juyeon's notebook, and he said that you should definitely find a way to ask about it.

"go into his room for something and then grab the notebook out of curiosity or something. see what happens!"

so now, you had a plan. no more running away.

when you got back home, Juyeon was in his room. his door was slightly opened and you could see his back as he sat at his desk. you sucked in a deep breath through your teeth and slowly made your way towards him, trying to think of what to say.

"Juyeon, can i come in?" you asked at the door.

you couldn't see the way his face immediately lit up as he heard your voice. he turned to you with a more serious look, gesturing for you to come in.

"what's up?" he asked.

you sat on his bed and saw the notebook at the end of his bed, sitting on a dresser. almost naturally, you reached it for, Juyeon's hand quickly meeting yours to stop you. he took the notebook for himself, clutching onto it tightly.

"i asked what's up, y/n."

"oh, um.. honestly, nothing. i just.. wanted to come in."

Juyeon's expression softened. he turned the notebook in his large hands.

"well... you're here."

"what's that, though?" you asked, pointing to the notebook.

"this?" he asked in return, holding it up.

"it's... inspiration for songs for one of my electives."

was he keeping tabs on you in there to write songs about you?

"can i see?" you asked.

Juyeon shook his head, his hair wooshing around.

you pouted and Juyeon sighed.

"you'll.. think it's weird because... it's filled with things about you," he confessed.

"huh?" you were taken aback by his honesty. and even more taken aback when he handed you the notebook.

his face was dusted red and he looked shy as he motioned for you to look through it.

"okay, y/n. i'll just be honest, because it wasn't right of me to.. come onto you without making my feelings clear. i may have had a slight crush on you for a while, now. and these feelings kept developing and after studying with you i realized i really like you. it's all moving so fast, i know, but.. that's how i feel. i wanted to write a song for you and use that to confess but.. i guess that'll have to wait," he explained with a smile.

what followed was silence, and you decided to break it by being just as honest as Juyeon, since he deserved it.

"Juyeon.. i think.. no, i'm pretty sure i'm starting to like you, too. and i'm sorry for being so bad at acknowledging these feelings, too."

Juyeon smiled down into his lap, glad that you weren't weirded out by the boy or anything. he carefully reached of for one of your hands. "can i take you out on a proper date sometime, then?"

you nodded. "let's call it a study date but do everything except for study!"

Juyeon laughed and you fluttered. yep, you were definitely falling for your roommate.

#the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #juyeon imagines #juyeon scenarios #juyeon fluff #juyeon x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop au #roommate!juyeon #juyeon x you #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz fluff #tbz juyeon imagines #tbz juyeon scenarios #the boyz juyeon

597 notes · View notes

luffyvace · 3 months

Note

helooo can i request saiki x reader bf texts please? thank you so much !! anything is fine honestly as long as its saiki content i miss him 😭😭😭😭

ooooou I haven’t got a request like this yet and it seems very fun!! No problem hun <3

IKR after you finish the anime it feels like such limited content is left for the saiki k fandom!! 😭😭

💓💗 Saiki and his boyfriend~ 💗💓

“Wanna go get some coffee jelly”

“This is oddly specific but can you tell the magician outside to leave please?”

”can you keep aiura and torisuka distracted so I can leave school?”

”thanks I’ll pay you back in (favorite thing)”

”let’s meet at the arcade”

”I’m annoyed my mom is forcing me to go outside but I know I’m gonna run into kaido”

”please come with me to make this more bearable”

”don’t forget to study for that test”

convos :3

”how do I make friends with that average guy from the other class without seeming weird”

”Kusuo idk just go up to him and talk to him 😭”

”yeah but if I don’t have something to talk about it’ll be awkward and my likeability meter will go down”

”can you figure out his interests for me so I can talk to him?”

”what? YOU do it 🤦”

”no i can’t the nuisances will find me”

convo 2 ;P

“Do you wanna come shopping with me?”

”your not gonna invite the nuisances too are you?”

”no kusuo 😭”

”oh okay well no”

“I'm NOT!”

“I know but nuisance number 4 just showed up”

”at your house?”

”no at the mall”

”ohh well fine 🤦”

convo 3

”can I borrow your bike nendo broke mine”

”HOW?”

”idk he sat on it”

”WHAT LOLL”

”I need it so I don’t have to go shopping with my dad”

”why is that so bad?? 😭”

”because he starts begging for things at the store”

”??”

“Isn’t he a grown man?”

”yeah I know that’s why I need to borrow your bike”

”sure babe..😭🤦”

convo 4

”my mom wants you to come over for dinner”

”oh alright!”

”no”

“??”

”say your sick”

”kuu why? 😭😭”

”can’t I come over??”

”no my parents are embarrassing”

”LOL”

”but I’ve come over plenty of times before tho”

”I know but, please just don’t come over”

”what’s happening??”

”fine. My dad wants to play a prank on someone because when he try to scare me it didn’t work. So I need you to come over and pretend to be scared so my mom doesn’t kill me”

”what?? So now I’m supposed to come over?”

”let’s just get it over with”

”you go through so much I swear 😭💗”

convo 5

”when you come over and my mom asks if you wanna meet my brother say no”

”whaaat but I kinda wanna meet him”

”say no”

”for both of our sakes”

”if you don’t go I won’t have to either”

”fine 😒”

convo 6

”goodnight kuu”

”goodnight m/n”

convo 7

“I hear nuisance number 4 isn’t showing up to school today”

”no she isn’t”

”rejoice. God is real.”

”KUSUO 😭😭”

convo 8

“your driving home today right? Can I hitch a ride? Nuisance number 1 is here”

”wait which nuisance is that again?”

”how can you forget? It’s the second most terrible one. Nuisance 1 is nendo”

”OHH YEAHH”

”hurry he’s coming”

”YEAH MEET ME AT THE CAR LOL”

convo 9

”come with me to nuisance number 2’s house so I don’t have to go alone”

”kaido right? he’s not so bad right? I can’t I have homework”

”no he’s just really weird and cringe and awkward”

“I’ll wait”

”okay 😭”

convo 10

“can I come over and we can watch that show you recommended me?”

”yeah sure any time kuu”

”you really don’t have to ask, I could get you a spare key if you want”

”yes an emergency escape route in case of nuisance surprises”

”WOW OK”

”and you ig”

convo 11

”that was sweet. what you did for them”

“Yeah I guess they’re not so bad for now”

”for now Kusuo?”

”you sound like my mom”

”actually, that’s not an insult I love your mom”

”I know”

”WYM 😭”

”you hug her more than I do”

”well that proves smth 🤨🤨”

”eh. I’ll get her a gift”

”good cuz she’s awesome 😙”

convo 12

“let’s finish playing that game you have”

”NO”

”WHY IT WAS SO FUNNY”

”you have never even played it he’s so annoying”

”LOLL YOU DIDNT HAVE TO TELL HIM TO DIE THO”

”you wouldn’t even think it’s funny if I hadn’t have told you”

”come on at least least me see the chapter you said you hated”

”you just wanna see me suffer”

”If I did I wouldn’t have distracted hairo for you earlier”

”FINE”

”LOL YIPPIE I’m coming over as soon as I’m done with my homework 🙂”

”😒”

convo 13

“How do I transfer to class 2”

”you just wanna be with satou don’t you”

”you don’t know how?”

”no kuu, I don’t 🤦”

convo 14

“I have to go visit my grandparents and my granddad is really awkward come with me”

“I’D LOVE TO MEET THEM”

”why do you love my family so much?”

”they’re strange”

”I love YOU 😒”

”are you calling me weird”

”in what way are you normal mister magic powers with weird friends and family who also has to stop a volcano from erupting yearly”

”those are just ordinary daily tasks”

”now your coming right?”

”I should leave you”

”you wish you were normal so bad”

”when are we going”

”on second thought you can stay here”

”STOP BEING SALTY IM COMING”

”NOW TELL ME WHEN”

convo 15

”let’s reschedule the coffee jelly date for Sunday”

”it’s too chaotic”

”it’s Friday”

”I know I’m dreading the weekend”

”my poor kuu 😭”

”stop”

”you sound like my mom again”

*read* 1:39pm

LOL I LOVE CONVO 10-15 😊😈 (it got more chaotic as it went on- 😭)

muahahahahhaha hope you enjoyed! these were quite fun :3

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itsmattchou · 10 months

Note

have you done a zb1 with idol!reader? like how they'd react to your performances, etc. i bet it would be cute 😋

we are young and wild !

pairing: zb1 maknae line x gn!idol!reader warnings: swearing, overuse of the word "bro", english isn't my first language!!! genre: fluff synopsis: zb1 when their s/o is an idol notes: i loved writing this! school starts on thursday im not oaky to anon: i love idol!reader bc in my opinion its PEAK delulu 🤭 thank you for your request! this turned into more general headcanons, but i still hope you like it!! AND YOU'RE RIGHT IT IS CUTE

GENERAL:

you're a member of the co-ed kpop group "zumblr" (yes they have a comeback). you placed 8th in the finale of delulu planet 999 and now you're member of said 2-year project group. :D

this takes place in a reality where dating isn't a fucking scandal in the industry 🤗

SHEN QUANRUI

dating rumors in 3… 2… 1…

bro doesn't even TRY to hide that you're his s/o ong

it's not like he doesn't value privacy (he very much does) it's just that he doesn't give a fuck??? he doesn't care AT ALL let him be in love with you in peace, it's his business

apart from all these couple items he buys for you two to show off on instagram, he always. just. stares at you. all the time.

ricky doesn't realize it, but there's always a teeny tiny little smile forming on his lips whenever he sees you performing during award shows, comeback stages, concerts etc

bro doesn't even notice when he's on screen when he's watching you perform, he's just in a complete trance 🤩

he desperately wants you to teach him your dances. could he learn them on his own? obviously, he's a talented dancer. but he always insists on you showing them to him

"ricky you can learn that dance yourself, c'mon!" "no lol i can't :D"

when you two appear on the same game show like weekly idol??? bro full on flirts with you

you two were supposed to have a staring contest and suddenly he starts talking about taking you shopping????

"do you wanna go shopping with me? i will pay, come with me." (his members are just like "WHAT THE HELLLLLL")

he tries to write love songs about you. he still has some trouble with writing lyrics in korean, because he obviously wants to perform them, but they're cute nonetheless 🥺

the song titles however always have something to do with you. most of them are kind of lowkey, like his song "darling" (he calls you darling)

or that song that is literally named after your representative emoji??? if your representative emoji is 🐑 for example, his song is called "sheep"

and then there's this one song he just straight up called "y/n"

bro doesn't care💥💥

loves to talk about you on vlive

"someone just asked me what my favorite zumblr song is!! it's 'old guyz on the street', y/n just slayed there!"

nobody asked that. he just wanted to talk about you and made a comment up.

a really popular ship in your fandoms

KIM GYUVIN

okay okay okay OKAY

you two are MCing together. people LOVE you two together because the vibes are immaculate, 11/10 i recommend

and it's not like it's obvious like you're in a relationship

you two may be dating in secret… but you're still acting like best friends

fans just love you two together, wether as best friends or as lovers. and it's obvious that you're close.

some fans that are against shipping always attack gyuyn shippers like "stop shipping them!! it's obvious they're just best friends!! 😡"

gyuvin and you are just laughing your asses off whenever you witness it

when you're performing songs on stage he's always singing and dancing along, having the time of his life. he's basically try harding to become the next meme😭

he really tries to attend every one of your concerts. gets really sad when he can't make it because of his schedule :(

on live? he's blasting your songs and turning into beyoncé whenever your parts come on

bro always advertises your albums and everything, also unboxes your newest album as soon as it comes out

always overdramatically falls to the ground as if somebody SHOT him because he didn't pull your photocard???? bro what's your problem with the chou pc you pulled🤬

he promotes your group more than he promotes his own LMAOOOO

^ always begs you for a signed version of the newest albums

"gyuvin why would you need me to sign the album? i'm literally your partner" "PFFFF i don't want you to sign, i want your members to sign it 🤣"

goes on dates with you in public without shame

he really loves the way most fans just believe you two are best friends, this means he can spend more time with you!!

takes SOOOO many selfies with you, bro even posts some pictures he took when on dates

you two constantly end up on reality shows and talk shows together💀💀

the IT DUO of 5th gen fr fr💪💪

PARK GUNWOOK

the cutest cutie on this planet is the only one who's actually and actively trying to fucking hide the relationship😭

he is a strong believer and lover of that certain thing called "privacy"

so if you ever mention anything about making your relationship public to him he's gonna be like "no NO NUH UH NO CHANCE DEFINITELY NOT"

he's only considering it once you're married in like. 10 years or so.

but he wants to marry you so🤭🤭🤭 a win is a win

he's so glad that both of you are still going to school & that u're in the same class

he can spend time with you without it being suspicious!!

classmates spending time together makes sense after all, especially when you're both idols!!

only problem is… bro cannot stop looking at you with those eyes

he doesn't even notice he does that 💀 but even if he wanted to he couldn't STOP

there's so much fondness in his eyes, it's a sight to cry over FOR REAL

gunwook looks at you like you're the most beautiful person in this universe, like you're the only star that matters to him in the nightsky ygm???

he also does that during your perfomances

no singing along, no dancing, his facial features do not move at all, blank face. it's just his eyes that tell the whole truth

fans be like "i want a man that looks at me the way gunwook looks at zumblr's y/n" and he's like "HUHHHHHH 😱"

other than the way he looks at u he's actually pretty good at keeping it a secret!!

acts as if you're only friends in school

he looooooves buying your albums, he's always pulling up with every single version of your newest album

he puts posters from you up in his childhood room. he'd also decorate his dorm room with pictures of you but he has to vlog in there so he can't 😔😔

cutely asks you for autographs from you :DD

"hi y/n can you please sign the photocard? 🥰" he's so adorable it makes you want to cry

he doesn't have a clear phone case SO that means he can always have your (now signed!!) photocard with him and nobody will ever see it <33

HAN YUJIN

i lied!! he also really tries to keep the relationship a secret!

but unlike gunwook he's really bad at it😭

he's so cute but so awkward at the same time

he doesn't make it obvious in a way that everybody immediately knows "oh, yujin and y/n are dating!"

he makes it obvious in the way he so desperately trying to avoid you that everybody immediately knows "there's something going on🤔"

he was on a show and was asked to dance to zumblrs newest song. he panicked and was like "who? oh uhm zumblr of course i know them hahaha! actually i don't know how to dance! uh hanbin hyung do you wanna try instead?"

somebody please save him😭

in case you didn't understand, he actually LIED on that show

he loves learning your dances

always practices them in private and later shows them to you, looking super proud

"look y/n, i actually know how to dance! i look better than you btw! >:)"

he likes teasing you a lot

whenever you post something on instagram, weverse or whatever, he's texting you about it within the first 5 minutes of you posting it

let's say you posted a selfie with a chocolate drink in the background??

he asks you if he should bring you some chocomilk to your next date

he likes to analyze and rate the pictures. is the lightning good, your posing? bro acts like he's your selca teacher

during performances he always stares into nowhere, making himself zone out because he knows he'd only stare at you if he watched your performance😭

instead he's thinking about what to eat for breakfast or the last kdrama he watched

he would really love to BUT he won't talk about you or your group on vlive

he so obviously avoids the topic of your group that it's kind of an inside joke in the fandom that he probably has some kind of beef with you💀

if you two were to be on the same show he honestly wouldn't know how to act fr

bro wouldn't say a word to you. or to anyone. he'd only stare at the ground. PLEASE SAVE HIM AGAIN

#zb1 #zerobaseone #zumblrfics #zb1 x reader #zb1 headcanons #zb1 scenarios #han yujin x reader #boys planet #zb1 imagines #zb1 reactions #zerobaseone reactions #zerobaseone scenarios #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone headcanons #park gunwook x reader #kim gyuvin x reader #shen ricky x reader #shen quanrui x reader #ricky x reader

333 notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 4 months

Text

Flashbang

Chapter 5 - Turn the Lights Off

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: OPLA Buggy x f!Reader

Synopsis: In lieu of therapy, Professor Buggy agrees to giving you pirate lessons.

Word Count: 9.6k

Notes: It's Sunday again, here is your clown. If last week was the stick, here is the carrot. Next week is the riding.

“Everybody likes to get taken for turns To see how bright the fire inside of us burns And everybody wants to get evil tonight But all good devil's masquerade under the light”

xxx

“Blink,” Pippa said. You blinked, staring up at the ceiling as she coated your eyelashes with mascara, holding stock still to avoid getting poked in the eye. There was only the one to spare. “Blink.” You blinked. She recoated the wand in product, wiggling it along your bottom eyelashes to paint them too.

Asking Pippa to help you get ready had unearthed a long-buried memory, one of sitting by Mom’s vanity and watching her apply makeup thinking that one day, you would be a beautiful grown-up woman who would do the same. The glamor of it all enticed your childish self, the allure of being beautiful sparking up some immature fantasy of romance. To the extent that you could remember, Mom had been a gorgeous woman.

What would Captain Buggy think of you if you looked more like her? If you hadn’t been so sickly, if you hadn’t gotten in an accident, if you had learned to make yourself look beautiful, if things had been different, would he like you more?

“Hey,” Pippa said, snapping in front of your face, forcing you back to attention. “Are you awake?”

“Yes, of course,” you said, forcing an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s creepy when you stare like that, like one of those porcelain dolls.” She pursed her lips, contemplating your face. You fought the urge to pull down your bandana. “I’ll add some blush. That might add a little life back into your face. Smile wide.”

You smiled as wide as you could, although it probably looked like more of a grimace. While Pippa blushed your cheeks with a big fluffy brush, you kept blinking as if to free your eyelid of the extra weight of mascara on your lashes. The inky product was heavy enough, how Captain Buggy could stand wearing false eyelashes, you had no idea.

“Do you really think Captain Buggy will like this?” you asked when she set aside the brush. You tugged at the long sleeves of the dress, nervously pulling at the skirt’s hem to bring it down a little lower. Unlike the loose, plain dress Crina had lent you, this one drew attention with its vivid striped pattern of red and white, notably fitted bodice, and ruffle trim. Wearing it made your skin crawl, made you want to shrivel up to hide from anyone who might notice you. But you weren’t allowed to feel that anymore. Determination meant squishing the part of yourself that was too weak to embrace a new version of yourself, the one that was stuck in the past.

“I think he’s a man,” Pippa said, making a little adjustment to your twintails, spraying your hair with something to keep the strays in place. “If you really wanted to impress him, you’d be better off wearing nothing at all.” She glanced at your face, her expression softening at your horrified expression. “You look good,” she reassured you. “He’ll like it.”

You nodded, exhaling in an attempt to ease the knot in your chest. “Thank you for helping me.”

“How could I turn a blind eye to such a tragedy?” Pippa asked. “You’re too cute for those awful sweaters.” She stepped back, taking it all in with her lips pursed before nodding with satisfaction. “Okay, you’re ready.”

You weren’t entirely sure you were ready, but it didn’t matter.

“Thank you, Pippa.”

“Remember that you’re doing this for you too,” she told you. “You look like one of us now.”

“Right, that’s… that’s true. I’ll see you later,” you told her, smoothing the skirt one more time before taking off for the galley.

Walking with the skirt swishing around your thighs was stranger than you would have thought. It felt flirty, in a way. Or inviting. Pippa had lent you a pair of lace trimmed bloomers that would protect your modesty while scaling the ladder or if you were caught by a stray gust of wind, but everything from your mid-thigh down was exposed.

Ignore it. Pretend you didn’t even feel the discomfort.

You picked up your and the captain’s breakfast, following the increasingly familiar routine. From the kitchen to the officer’s mess to Captain Buggy’s cabin door. Then you balanced the tray on your hip and unlocked the door, showing yourself in and setting the tray on the table.

“Captain?” you called, peeking around the doorway into his room. Buggy laid in bed with his eyes closed, but you could tell he was already awake by the way his face scrunched up in response to your voice. “Good morning, Captain Buggy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m awake,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. A moment later, he groaned dramatically, sitting up with his eyes still shut. “Get my-” The last word was lost in a yawn. You grabbed his robe, bringing it over while he pried his eyes open.

Sleepily, he looked at you, and then did a double take, blinking his red-rimmed eyes over and over like he couldn’t quite make out what he was looking at. You touched your hair, trying to pull it forward before you remembered it was pulled into tails. Instead, your hand dropped lamely, tugging at your bandana. He was going to insult you, or say you looked ridiculous. He was going to laugh. You could feel it, could sense it.

Instead, he just stared.

“Sir?” you prompted, holding out his robe.

“Did you do something different with your hair?” he asked, his voice husky and groggy.

The question took you by surprise, it was almost a letdown after such a prolonged buildup of nerves. “Um… Yes, sir.”

“Huh.” Still looking dazed, he shook his head and took the robe, swinging his feet onto the floor to stand up. You hurried ahead into the other room, setting up his breakfast while he lumbered in. You took your seat, trying to calm down. You needed to act normal.

Buggy didn’t seem especially interested, coming in with a massive yawn he didn’t bother to cover, scratching his chest absently before dropping into the chair. He blinked again a few times, and then looked at you. His eyes were rimmed with the same shade of red as his nose, glazed over. You smiled nervously, but couldn’t maintain eye contact, looking back down at the table. You wanted to start talking immediately, the words had been stewing in your head all night, but now that he was there, you couldn’t find them.

He looked like he cared more about breakfast anyway. Of all the meals, it was the one he took the most seriously, probably because he was so slow to wake up most days. Your stomach was a snarling nest of knots, but if you didn’t eat, Buggy would be annoyed. After so long without regular meals, and certainly not the hearty—if unsavory—foods favored by pirates, eating everything at every meal was a tough adjustment, sometimes it laid in your stomach like a brick. But you did it, gritting your teeth and choking down every last bite. When you swore to do anything he asked, you meant it.

Reasonably, only minutes could have passed, but it felt like much, much longer before he finished his breakfast. Buggy leaned back and belched, rolling his head around to stretch his neck. He yawned again for good measure, and then looked at you.

Now or never, right?

“Captain Buggy?” you asked, willing yourself to not be so self-conscious. “I thought about what you said yesterday.”

“What?”

“About me,” you prompted. “Don’t you remember?”

“Oh, right,” he said. “Of course I remember.”

You couldn’t tell if he meant that or not, but you were too wound up to say anything other than the words you had carefully prepared. “I want to fit in with the rest of the crew. Like you said, I want to—to be different. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want to be a pirate, I really do.”

He blinked. “Is that why you’re dressed like Santa’s favorite little elf?”

“Oh, I… Um. Kind of,” you said, fidgeting uncomfortably. “If you don’t like it I can-”

“Woah, woah, I never said I don’t like it,” he said, cutting you off. “Come over here, let me get a closer look.”

You stood up, adjusting your skirt, and rounded the table so he could see the whole outfit. It was a different sort of discomfort than you felt around everybody else. Anticipatory, anxious, excited. When other people looked at you, you didn’t want to be seen. You didn’t want them to think about how pathetic you were for trying, or how unattractive you were, or judge you for things that weren’t true. When Captain Buggy looked at you, you wanted him to see your bare legs and the tighter bodice, you wanted him to think you had value, to think of you as somebody worth looking at. And you didn’t. You wanted to hide from his pretty eyes out of fear that he would think you were trying too hard, and that you were as unappealing as you knew you were.

“I like the hair,” he said. “Doesn’t really help with the whole creep thing, but it's cute that you wanna look like me.”

You reached up to tug on one of the twintails. You hadn’t even considered the similarities to how Captain Buggy wore his hair when he had his hat on. “Creep thing?”

“Come on,” Buggy said wryly. “You’re like two feet tall. Unless you’ve got the goods on display, I look like one of those weirdos runnin’ around with a kid sidekick.”

You self-consciously stood up a little taller, frowning. It wasn’t like Buggy was that tall, and it wasn’t your fault. That’s what Crina said.

Stunted development.

“Speaking of,” Buggy said, ignorant of your unpleasant thoughts. He reached out to pinch the fabric of your skirt, using it to pull you a step closer, “aren’t you worried about wearing a skirt like this? I’m relieved you’re loosening up, but there are some things you might wanna leave just between us.”

“I’m wearing shorts underneath,” you told him, flushing at the reminder that he had seen you in your underwear before. You still had no idea what had happened to Crina’s dress.

Buggy’s playful smile dropped as he lifted your skirt to look at the shorts. You wanted to smack his hand away and step back, but you didn’t. The shorts were completely opaque, he couldn’t see anything. It was fine.

“Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of wearing a skirt?” Buggy asked, releasing your dress.

“I… I don’t think I know what you mean,” you admitted, smoothing the skirt back into place. “The purpose is just because it looks nice, right?”

Buggy shrugged as if to concede the point, nodding as he appraised you again. You resisted the urge to squirm beneath his gaze. “Fine,” he said, raising his hands in defeat. “You got me, I believe that you mean it. Assuming nothing better comes up, I’ll take some time out of my very busy day to teach you a few things.”

“Really?”

“Clearly I need to take a hands-on approach if you’re gonna learn anything. I can’t have you running off to somebody else for help.”

“Thank you, Captain Buggy,” you said, smiling.

He stood up, stepping in close and meeting your eye. “You better be on your best behavior, otherwise Professor Buggy’s gonna send you to detention.”

You felt your stomach drop nervously, the words affecting you in a way you weren’t sure you liked. “I will be, I promise,” you said softly, nodding.

He patted your cheek, turning to go into the bedroom.

“And, um… Captain Buggy?” you called. He paused, half turning towards you. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I really am.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I’m not mad at you or anything,” he said flippantly. “It’s not even the worst handjob I’ve ever gotten. At least you got it off.”

He said it like a joke, most likely an innuendo, so you laughed, a little giddy with excitement and nerves and that dark sinking feeling you weren’t sure what to call. Exhaling all of the breath in your lungs, you shook your head free of all of those thoughts. The day had only just begun and you knew how quickly the tides could turn, but you no longer felt terrified of what might happen. You could do this. You would be someone worth loving.

From what you gathered, the ship was in the area where they intended to stage an attack, and that meant all hands on deck. Despite Captain Buggy’s promise of teaching you, he sent you down below to spend the morning helping with preparing the ship. You were the smallest, so you were the one who had to squeeze into the narrow storage spaces. Difficult and tiring as the work was, Marty and Pippa had been right about the previous day helping you to ingratiate yourself with the crew. Not all of them, but a few. Enough.

When you emerged onto the upper deck, you weren’t sure you had ever been as appreciative of the scent of the open ocean air. It felt like the smell of gunpowder and rot and smoke had coated the inside of your nose. You made your way towards Captain Buggy’s office with your head down, trying to give your eye time to adjust to the blinding sunlight.

“Hey,” somebody called. You didn’t look up until you heard the whistle, and then you realized whose voice it was. Your head snapped up and you raised your hand to shade your eye, to see a slightly irked Buggy standing by the steps leading up to the quarter deck. It looked like he’d been speaking to some people, but they walked away as you approached. “You deaf or somethin’?”

“Sorry, Captain Buggy,” you said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“We’re gonna start your lessons,” Buggy said. “Unless you changed your mind.”

You blinked at him, your eye still slightly blind from the sun. He was without his hat, wearing his red and white striped kerchief. The one your dress matched. Was that on purpose? You doubted it, but you liked the idea.

“No! I’m ready whenever you are, Captain Buggy.”

“Come up here.” Buggy nodded for you to follow before turning around to take the steps up to where the wheel was mounted. You hurried to follow him, almost stumbling on the bottom step while he waited at the top. “Sometime today, maybe?” He called.

“Sorry, sir,” you said, trying very hard to not sound at all winded as you joined him.

“Captain Buggy,” the red-faced helmsman, Newt, acknowledged. “Something wrong?”

“No, no,” Buggy said dismissively. “Don’t mind us, I’m just teaching a few things to my little protégé.”

Newt nodded, his eyes flicking to you and back. “Of course, Captain Buggy. Just holler if you need anything from me.”

“Do you,” Buggy began, turning around to face you, “know what this is?” He gestured behind himself.

The question seemed duplicitously simple, although there was also a chance that he thought you were that stupid. “That’s the wheel,” you said, “or, um... the helm, right?”

“Very good,” Buggy said, patting you on the head as he passed by to lean against the railing. “Remember, wherever the helm goes, the rudder follows. Where the rudder goes, we go,” Buggy said. “You-” He pointed at you. “Do not touch the wheel. Ever.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s try something a little harder—what direction are we going right now?” Buggy asked. You looked around at the open ocean, confused. It all looked the same, blue water as far as you could see until it met the seam of a different shade of equally endless blue sky.

“I-I um…”

“Here’s a hint,” Buggy said, taking something shiny out of his pocket with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

“Oh, a compass!” you said.

“That’s right,” Buggy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He flicked it open, using his body to shield it from the glare. “Do you know what it does?”

“It tells you directions.”

“Wow, look at that. Two for two,” he said dryly. “Do you know how to read it?”

“Um… Kind of.”

“Come here,” Buggy said, motioning you closer.

You hesitated, realizing what he meant—how close you would have to stand to be able to read the compass. That was fine. It was silly to be uncomfortable. You crowded in close enough for him to reach his arm around you so you could both look at the compass face. No sleeves, just his bare arm. That shouldn’t have mattered at all, but it kind of did.

“You know the cardinal directions, sweetheart?” Buggy asked. He brushed your hair off of your neck to keep it from blowing in his face. The gesture was small, but it pulled a little shiver down your spine despite the hot beat of the sun.

“Of course—of course I do,” you said, clearing your throat. “North, east, south, and west.”

“You see the red hand there? That’s always gonna point north. Got it?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, so what direction are we going?”

You stared very hard at the compass, willing your brain to compute what you were seeing to find the right answer. It should have been easy, but with Buggy standing so close and the tension of nerves making you second guess yourself, you couldn’t figure it out. The more you looked, the less the letters and notches stayed in place, your vision blurring as it always did when you tried to focus on things like words and numbers.

“Time’s up,” Buggy declared, flicking the compass shut. “There’s another way to figure it out, you know. One that’s much easier. Perfect for someone like you.”

“How?”

“Hey, Newt,” Buggy called. “What direction are we going? Use simple terms, for her sake.”

“Simple terms? Well,” Newt cleared his throat, “I s’pose you’d say, in simple terms, we’re heading northeast.”

“There ya go, babydoll,” Buggy said. “Easy as that.”

You weren’t sure how useful it would be, especially considering you would never be in a navigating position, but you weren’t about to question why Buggy wanted to teach you these things, nodding instead. “Yes, sir.”

“Here’s an easy one,” Buggy said. “Where’s starboard?”

“I-I don’t know. Is it… the… upper deck?” you guessed. “Because you can see the stars?”

“Wrong, it’s—” Buggy stopped, looking at you like you were stupid. “Wait, are you serious?”

You frowned. Realizing that you weren’t joking, he burst out laughing.

“I told you I don’t know!”

“Calm down, you don’t gotta whine about it,” Buggy said, patting your head. “How about port? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not in the casks down below.”

This, at least, you were pretty sure you knew. “It’s, um, the right side? Or left?”

Buggy rolled his eyes and grabbed the top of your head, physically turning you towards the bow. “Starboard,” he said, gesturing to the right side. “Port.” He gestured to the left. “Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough ship stuff. If I wanted to sharpen my knife, what would you call that?”

You hesitated, confused by the sudden shift in subject matter. At least you knew this one. “Honing.”

“Edging,” he corrected. “As in, refining the edge. It’s really an all-purpose term, you can use it when you want to perfect anything. Like you, for example,” Buggy explained with a growing smile. “You’re not that different from a dull blade I wanna shape up, so you could say that I want to edge you to my personal satisfaction.”

Newt burst out laughing, and Buggy’s amusement dropped, his head snapping towards the man. “Something funny?” he called.

“No, Captain Buggy,” Newt said, his laughter dying out immediately.

Buggy rolled his eyes. “You see what he’s doing right now?” he asked you. “The helmsman has to hold onto the wheel. It’s what pirates call rimming. Newt’s good at it ‘cause he’s got so much experience. Isn’t that right?”

“Er, yes, Captain Buggy,” Newt said.

Buggy looked back to you with another big grin. “Got all that? Great, let’s go back down.” He didn’t wait for your response before going back down the steps, leaving you to trail behind, confused about the contents of the ‘lesson’ and realizing more than ever how completely in over your head you were.

A couple more hours down below left you exhausted as you returned to the upper deck to ask Captain Buggy where he intended to eat supper. It wasn’t as busy as it had been for most of the day. Ahead, you recognized Marty and a couple other crewmates, people you weren’t as familiar with.

As you passed them, the banged-up, disembodied arm of a mannequin flopped onto the deck in front of you.

“Ahhh, my hand!” one of the men cried. “Pick it up, pick it up!”

You frowned, flushing with embarrassment at the reminder of yesterday.

Marty patted your shoulder, his smile much nicer than the others. “They’re just teasing you, girlie. Don’t take it too seriously.”

You nodded. It was just teasing. You could handle teasing, Captain Buggy did nothing except tease you. So you steeled yourself, stooping down to pick up the fake arm.

“Mine was a better handjob than yours,” you said, using Buggy’s joke from that morning. “At least I actually got it off.” You held up the arm, which was intact from elbow joint to fingertip. More of a forearmjob, if such a thing existed. “It’s all about the wrist.”

Marty, at the very least, found that funny, setting you at ease the tiniest bit.

“Got a lot of experience with it, have you?” one of the women asked. You were pretty sure her name was Pogo.

Was that another innuendo? Or was she talking literally? “Probably not as much as you,” you told her, smiling to try and make light of it either way.

Marty let out a barking guffaw, although the reaction of the group seemed mixed otherwise. Flushing, shaking from the rush of adrenaline you got from speaking up like that, you handed Marty the mannequin arm.

“I have to hurry, sorry.”

You heard more jeers as you walked away, going as fast as you could. What you said was wrong, you should have held your tongue. Even if it was teasing, telling a joke you didn’t understand just to try and save face was childish.

Don’t think about it. Just pretend it didn’t happen.

Once you were in the map room, you could see that Buggy’s office door was open. He was sitting sideways in his chair with his boots propped up, reading a book. You knocked, leaning in the doorway.

“Captain Buggy?” you asked.

“What do you want?” he snapped, irritated.

“I, um, I came to ask if you would be dining in your office. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

Buggy looked up at you over the top of the book, his scowl softening before he sighed, throwing it down and massaging his temples. You looked at the book curiously. For some reason, the red leather binding seemed familiar to you.

“You’re not much of a reader, huh? ‘Cause of the-” He gestured to his eye.

“No, sir. I’m sorry.”

Buggy sighed dramatically. “Maybe I’ll get Mohji to look this over. He’s so concerned with that lion. It better dance like a goddamn ballerina, otherwise it’s gonna be dinner.”

“What are you reading, captain?” you asked.

“It’s a trade route log from that shithole town we ransacked the other night.”

You went still, realizing why the book looked so familiar.

“Do you know where it was found?” you asked.

“Big, fancy house—same place as the maps. Apparently the idiot who lived there forgot to lock his safe.”

Dad always, always kept his safe locked. Not only that, but he had it set so that the contents would be destroyed if anyone were to attempt to force it open. He had no idea you knew how to circumvent his security, you couldn’t even begin to imagine his fury if he did. But you did know how to get into his safe, and you had opened it on the day you ran away to steal Buggy’s poster, some money, and get a last look at the pictures he kept hidden. Had you reset the security measures and locked the safe when you left? You couldn’t remember, but the answer was probably no.

But you couldn’t tell Buggy about any of that. It was almost dizzying to realize how deep into the lie you were, almost completely by accident. You didn’t tell Buggy who your father was because you didn’t want him to know you were related to a retired Marine. If you said it now, he would wonder why you hadn’t mentioned it when you saw the maps, and you would look even more suspicious.

Uncomfortable indecision consumed you as you stood there, stringing together stilted explanations you weren’t even sure Buggy would listen to once you admitted to lying.

“Oh, right,” Buggy said, noticing your expression. “You probably knew the guy, huh? I bet you had no idea he was using your nice little town with its fancy little harbor to move drugs.”

“No,” you said sharply. Then, realizing how harsh that sounded, you shook your head, trying to backpedal. “I mean, that’s not… There’s no way he would do that. He’s a retired Marine.”

Buggy rolled his eyes. “Of course he was. Only a Marine would have the balls to traffic drugs but forget to lock his safe.” He snapped his fingers, pointing at you. “Now there’s a lesson for ya, kiddo. Marines are dumb as shit. Stink like shit too, ‘cause of all the ass kissing they do.”

“No, there has to be a mistake,” you argued. “I know him, and he would… He would never, ever be involved in anything like that.”

Buggy gave you a flat look. “How well do you know him?”

You balked, shaking your head. “He’s Randall’s dad,” you said, the first reasonable lie you could think of. “I don’t know him well, I-I just… I just find it hard to believe. But…” You exhaled until your shoulders collapsed inwards, trying to steady yourself and not give anything away. “That’s naive, isn’t it.”

“Good thing stupid looks cute on you,” Buggy said, standing up. He circled his desk, grabbing your shoulder in a friendly sort of way. “Eventually, you’ll learn that everyone lies. Evvvvv-ryone. That’s why you gotta stick with me, I’ll set you straight.” He winked before turning towards the door, stretching his arms above his head. “C’mon. We’re gonna eat in the officer’s mess.”

You paused before following, looking over your shoulder at the book he’d carelessly thrown onto the desktop. Was there anything in there that would tie you to dad? Probably not, most likely not. Then again, you couldn’t really believe that dad was involved with trafficking drugs either.

“Move your ass, kid,” Buggy complained. “I’m starving.”

“I’m not really much of a fisher myself,” Buggy said as he shrugged off his coat for you to hang up, “but I knew this juggler who was amazing at it. He could catch any type of fish. A real master baiter. So he and I were—”

Master baiter? You pursed your lips. Even you knew that one. “Captain Buggy,” you said, cutting him off. “Is this a joke?”

“What?” he asked, clearly annoyed by the interruption as he pulled off his gloves. “No. Why would you think that?”

If he was messing with you, his expression didn’t give it up. “Just ‘cause…” You shrugged helplessly. “Nevermind, I’m sorry.”

“Oooo-kay,” he said, drawing out the word sarcastically. “Like I said, this guy was something else, but there was one thing he never managed to catch. There’s this rare species of clam that’s pretty hard to get. Because of where they live, they get covered with seaweed, kinda like a beard. You know, bearded clams. You have to give ‘em a good in-and-out with your spear if you wanna catch one.”

He collapsed into his chair, leaning back to let you take off his hat and headscarf. His hair was such a pretty color. Buggy got annoyed if you were too rough with his hair which seemed a little unfair considering how unruly it was, but that definitely wasn’t something you intended to push.

“This guy was desperate to run one through himself, but his technique was shit,” Buggy continued. “So I was out there with him and he just kept failing over and over before he finally gives up, coming out of the water all miserable holding something shiny. He thought they were pearls, but they were actually a set of his own blue balls.”

You snorted in amusement. “Now I know you’re making this up, Captain Buggy,” you said, combing his hair back and using some of the powdery dry shampoo to soak up the grease.

“Nope, it’s all true,” Buggy said. He raised his right hand. “On God.”

“Blue balls?” you repeated. “I’m not that stupid.”

“Well, yeah. He was a juggler. Why, what do you think I meant?”

“Like…” you hesitated, suddenly doubting that you were right. Maybe you were just going to embarrass yourself. “Isn’t that something that men…”

“That men… What?” Buggy asked, turning his head to look up at you. His eyes glinted mischievously. He was messing with you, he had to be.

“I don’t know, but it’s… It’s something uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

Buggy burst out laughing, shaking his head as it fell into his palm. “You know, it makes sense that this would go over your head, you’re so short that everything else does.”

You frowned. “Will you explain it to me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You frowned and sighed, kneeling to get his boots. Buggy had the grace to point his toes, at least, which made it easier for you.

“I keep trying to figure what might happen to a girl that she ends up like you, but I’m drawing a blank,” Buggy said, his tone becoming thoughtful. “I get the daddy issues, and I even get the sort of wacky one-eyed ingénue thing you’ve got going. I’ve seen it all. For some reason, I always bag the crazy chicks. If anything, you’re a step up in that department.”

“Have you had a lot of girlfriends, Captain Buggy?” you asked, your mind latching onto that comment over everything else. The idea of Buggy with other women made you feel oddly cold.

“Girlfriends?” he repeated, like it was a dirty word. “What am I, twelve? I don’t have time for that shit.”

“But you said that…” you looked up at him, frowning in confusion. “Nevermind.”

“How many boyfriends have you had?” Buggy asked. “Other than that shidiot from the other day.”

The mention of Randall made your heart rate pick up, but you fought the reaction. Don’t think about it. It was fine. Instead, you focused on wrestling off his other boot. “None.”

Buggy snorted in amusement. “I figured.”

Setting aside his boots, you washed your hands and got the makeup remover. He’d made a mess of it all last night when he did it himself. You made a note to tidy up and returned to Buggy, keeping your head down.

“Now that you’ve got this new look, you should embrace your little deformity,” he told you as you began removing his makeup, starting on his forehead like usual. Instead of waiting for your answer, he pulled your bandana up and off, a huge grin splitting his face at the sight of your uncovered eye. Your breath caught, your body freezing in place. “Might as well go all the way,” he said, tracing the scar’s jagged edge. It split the top of your cheek, a lightning bolt of white and red scar tissue.

“Captain Buggy,” you muttered softly, staring very intently at his shoulder. Losing the bandana felt like going without underwear, and having him touch the scar was almost as bad as if he shoved a hand up your shirt. “Please give it back. Please?”

“Do you need it to do your job?” Buggy asked.

You rolled your lip between your teeth, realizing where he was going with this. “No,” you finally allowed.

“Then why did you stop?”

Your eyebrows furrowed to express your displeasure, but he just smiled. At least he had to close his eyes as you returned to removing his makeup, loading the rag up with greasepaint. Luckily, Buggy didn’t say anything else until you were finished. When you set the rag and oil aside, his eyes opened. The rings of pale green and blue that made up his irises made it difficult to determine their exact color sometimes, although it was always clear that his eyes were pretty and round and bright. They could have a strikingly youthful quality as well, especially without any makeup.

“How did you get it anyway?” Buggy asked. “Did daddy beat you a little too hard?”

“No,” you said immediately, a little abruptly. Then you stopped yourself, realizing how the sharpness of your tone might sound. “Sorry, no. Nothing like that… It was an accident.”

“If you were even half as dedicated to me as you’ve been claiming you are, then why do you keep lying?”

“I’m not lying,” you said. Not lying about this, at least. “It’s hard to… I don’t want to cry. It’s so embarrassing.”

“C’mon, what’s on the line?” Buggy asked. “Your dignity?”

Much as it hurt, he was right. What dignity did you have to sacrifice? It wasn’t a big deal anyway. Your own little pitiful tragedy. Everybody had pain. Everybody suffered bad things. You needed to be an adult about it.

“There was… it was an explosion. I wasn’t close enough to… But I got hit by debris and…” You drew a line from over your left eyebrow and down, ending with the jagged canyon of scar tissue dug into your cheek. “My Mom was,” you had to force the words out, it was as if your body physically did not want to speak them, like metal grinding against metal, “she was in it.”

Buggy pulled in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Oof. Daddy and mommy issues, that’s… Actually, that explains a lot.”

You sniffed, carefully wiping under your eye so as to not smear the mascara. Your hands shook so hard it felt violent, your body reacting even worse than your mind. Stupid. You were being stupid and embarrassing.

“It still hurts, doesn’t it?” Buggy asked.

“No, it… It was a long time ago, it’s fine,” you said gruffly. “My head hurts sometimes, but it’s fine.”

“No, I don’t mean physically,” he said dismissively. “I’m talking about pain. Real pain. That’s why you wear this thing, right?” He asked, holding up the worn scrap of fabric. “Because it hurts.”

You shrugged helplessly, not knowing how to answer, not wanting to answer. “I… I guess so.”

“That’s a good thing,” Buggy said.

“I don’t think…” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. You didn’t want to disagree with Captain Buggy, but you couldn’t agree either. Pain made you weak, you were more than aware of that. “I don’t know.”

Buggy leaned forward and grabbed your head, cradling it. “Pain is the foundation of all great art,” he told you, forcing you to look into his eyes. “We both know that you have absolutely zero potential, but your suffering, babydoll… Your suffering can be shaped into something brilliant.”

You swallowed hard, holding your breath in the electric limbo of the inches between you and him, burning between the clasp of his hands on either side of your head.

“How?”

“We’ll work on it,” Buggy said, releasing you. You nearly fell over when he stood up, dazed from the way he had been holding you. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day, I can feel it.”

“Yes, sir,” you said softly, clearing your throat. “Goodnight, Captain Buggy.”

Marty was polishing his weapons when you returned to your bunk, shooting you a toothy smile. Pippa was already asleep, a mask over her eyes and arms folded like a corpse. She told you sleeping like that helped with wrinkles.

“Hey there, girlie,” Marty said. After the troublesome conversation you had with Buggy, you felt more than a little appreciative for his uncomplicated friendship.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?” You asked.

“I got the night shift.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged good naturedly. “It’s the job, I can’t complain much. ‘Sides, I was hoping to catch you before you turned in.” He appraised the little knife he’d been shining before flipping it closed and holding it out to you. “For you.”

“For me?” you repeated, uncertain of how to react. “Why?”

“Every pirate needs one. It’s a part of the code.”

“Marty, I…” You swallowed hard, surprised by how touching the offer was. “Thank you, but I can’t take your knife.”

“Nah, I don’t want it. I thought it looked nice when I found it, but it’s too girly for me. Go on, ‘else it’s goin’ into the ocean.”

With careful fingers, you accepted the knife, weighing it in your hand. It wasn’t big or heavy and, with the blade folded, there was nothing intimidating about it. Marty had oiled and shined it, but it was still a simple thing of metal and wood, the blade swinging out from the grip on a hinge. You had no idea what he thought was ‘girly’ about it, it seemed perfectly average to you. Plain, yes, although right then it was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen.

“Thank you,” you told him, curling your fingers around it protectively.

“I’ve got a feeling you’ll need it ‘fore long. Some men don’t know how to act around a pretty gal.” He stood up and stretched, yawning widely. “Alright, girlie. Sleep well.”

“Thank you, Marty.”

You stood there even after he had gone, holding the knife in a clenched fist and trying to sort through your unsettled feelings.

It was the music that woke you up. A lone melody, perfectly in tune even a capella. Virtuosity swirled in her blood, as tangible as her flesh. Beauty was not why you caged a songbird, although the lovely color could confuse somebody who didn’t know how to truly value a canary.

Weightless as the dark through which you traversed, you felt yourself drifting towards her voice, lured as surely as if it were a siren’s call.

Light from the window nearly blinded you, all you could make out was her silhouette. Achingly familiar. You’d have known her anyway, from nothing more than a single breath you would know your own mother. From the shadow’s edge dripped tears, falling even as she continued to sing, looking out into a landscape too bright for you to comprehend. Brighter and brighter. Soon it would be too blinding for you to see anything at all, too loud for you to hear her. If she turned her head, even if just by a few inches, you would see her face again. You could go to her, and her song would be happy once more. But your voice was gone, and your feet would take you no further, and she continued to sing her mournful song. That’s what she had always been. Beautiful and distant and impossible.

All at once, you know where you were. When you were. Hot, agonizingly bright light consumed everything, and the first sounds of the world breaking would be loud before they yielded to silence, and the air was bad, that’s why the canary stopped singing.

“How are you?” Crina asked. She claimed this would be your last ‘check-up’ and you were eager to get it over with, to convince her of your own vitality. “Are the headaches any better?”

“Much, much better,” you told her. It was a lie, but a small one. A harmless one. The truth was that the headaches were never gone for long and the base of your skull still thumped from the memory of whatever Ivo had hit you with and you had to sneak in frequent breaks so you didn’t pass out when you stood up, but those were things she couldn’t fix.

“Have you been eating like I told you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Any dizzy spells? Fainting?”

“No.”

For a moment, you thought for sure Crina would call you out on that lie. Of course you had dizzy spells, and moments where you had to rest just to catch your breath. That was normal for you, and you could handle it. To your relief, she didn’t press the matter, allowing it to pass.

“You look tired, are you not getting enough sleep?”

“I had bad dreams last night,” you admitted. “I don’t usually, but…” You frowned, looking at the floor. It was because you had been thinking of her, of what happened. Dad told you that it was bad to think or talk about it, that it would only aggravate the internal wound. “It’s okay,” you said, forcing a smile. “Nothing serious.”

“I have something for you,” Crina told you, picking up a wrapped package and handing it over.

“What is it?”

“Pads to put in your underwear.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”

Crina’s eyes narrowed. “For your monthly. I don’t know when you have yours, but I’m worried you’ll be too embarrassed to ask for any help and bleed everywhere. With everybody packed in like this, you have to take care of these things quickly and as cleanly as possible.”

A hot flush immediately burned your cheeks, and you shoved the package back towards her. “I don’t need them,” you said, looking very hard at the floor. “I don’t get… get that anymore.”

Although you were avoiding her eye, you could tell Crina was frowning. “What do you mean?”

You cleared your throat, willing yourself to be normal, to calm down. “The blood and everything,” you explained. “I don’t get that.”

“When was your last cycle?”

“Why does that matter?”

“It’s a matter of your health.”

You let out a shaky breath, wrapping your arms around yourself. “It’s been a long time. My dad said that it’s… it’s not natural, that it’s unhealthy to bleed like that. Especially since I was so sick, my body can’t handle the stress.”

“So he stopped it?”

Crina’s tone, dangerously questioning, made your stomach drop. You closed your mouth hard, your teeth clacking together. Already you were shaking your head, although you didn’t know why. “It’s not like that,” you said.

“I did not want to ask you this,” Crina said carefully, “and I wish I didn’t have to, but did your father ever hurt you?”

“No, it’s not like that,” you said again.

“One of the methods of stopping that process is surgical. Did he ever operate on you?”

“No,” you said even louder, shaking your head fast. “No, no. No. It was… food, medicine. He never… I don’t want to talk about this anymore, it doesn’t even matter, it’s…” You shook your head, rejecting it all.

Crina backed off, leaving you to shake and choke back the horrible bite of nausea in your throat. With clammy fingers, you undid the twintails Pippa had shown you how to style to let your hair hang in a limp curtain, pulling it forward to hide your face.

“I like your new clothes,” Crina said, her tone much lighter. “I assume this was Pippa’s idea?”

You nodded, letting out a choked, “yes.”

“Do you like it?”

“I… I think I do,” you said, wiping your eye. It was too late to pretend that you hadn’t been upset, but you could still save some face.

“You think you do?”

Sniffling, you tried to center yourself, to find an answer she might accept. That morning, after the dream and all of the sludge that it plunged out of your subconscious, you wanted to return to the ‘lumpy sweaters’ that Pippa hated. They kept you hidden. They were comfortable. Fortunately, Pippa did not let you make that choice, making you up like you were a dress up doll.

When you took Buggy his breakfast, he didn’t say anything weird. He told you that you looked cute. Not cute-ish, just cute. Even thinking about it put a tingly sort of heat in your belly.

But then other people looked at you, they saw the hem of the black, puffy shorts and makeup and fitted shirt and it made your skin crawl with a million tiny little ants, your spine curling and shoulders collapsing in an attempt to invert back into yourself. When they saw you like this, did they think about bleeding and babies and sex? What could they see other than your ruined face and pathetic body?

“My favorite part of deciding what to wear,” Crina said, forcing your attention back to her, “is that clothes disguise you. The louder the outfit, the less people notice the person who’s wearing it. When they look at me, they see what I want them to see. It’s a sort of… sleight of hand. When they look at you wearing this, that’s what they see. Even your bandana looks like an intentional style.”

You sniffled. “You think so?”

“That’s what Captain Buggy does with his makeup and the clothes. People were always going to see him in only one way, but now it’s on his terms.”

“I guess that’s true,” you allowed. You hadn’t thought of it that way at all, which seemed silly now that she’d pointed it out.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Crina nodded and turned away. You caught her by the sleeve, looking up at her directly. “Crina?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Would you prefer that I were mean?”

“No, that’s not what I…” Your hand dropped and you shook your head with a pang of embarrassment. “Nevermind.”

“Alright then,” Crina said. “Do you need help putting your hair back up?”

You ran your fingers through it, although the prompt was obvious. Keep it up. Be confident. Embrace the look. You sighed, nodding. You would be bold.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you said. “I would appreciate it.”

“Zan?” you asked hopefully, tapping on the shoulder of who you hoped was the right man. A scout that had just returned from getting a good look at the ship Captain Buggy intended to capture. A man who was stupid enough to keep Captain Buggy waiting. He looked at you in surprise before recognition hit.

“Oh, it’s you. You look different,” he said, scanning you up and down. You felt bad to admit that you didn’t remember him at all, so you just smiled, trying to force yourself not to squirm beneath his not-so-subtle gaze.

“Captain Buggy wants to see you,” you said. That was an understatement. The fact that Zan didn’t immediately give his report, instead going to the galley to find something to eat, left the captain more than a little unhappy. “That’s why… Um. I’ll go with you.”

He took a big bite of what looked like a softened biscuit and grinned, saying something that sounded like ‘lead the way’ through his mouthful of food. You nodded, turning to cut your way towards the ladder to the upper deck. The berth was thick with activity and noise and motion and new scents and colors. Everybody had something very important to do. They were calling it a dress rehearsal, and with that came no small amount of makeup and costumes. The Buggy Pirates weren’t going to raid a merchant vessel like any other pirate crew, they were going to put on a show. Any survivors would well remember the performance.

The upper deck swarmed with further chaos. Everything needed to be checked and double checked. Rather than the horrible nerves you felt at the prospect of violence, the air crackled with carnival-like excitement. Artistic egos and violent impulses had been building up to a breaking point with each day aboard, but now they had the promise of release.

“Are you gonna join in the fun tonight?” Zan asked you. He’d gotten very close so you could hear him over the noise, standing in your blindspot in a way that made you jump.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said, smiling apologetically.

“Hm. All dressed up with nowhere to run, that’s a shame.”

“Is it fun to be a scout?” you asked, trying to change the subject.

Zan shrugged. “I wouldn’t say it’s fun, but it’s important. The captain sends men like me because I’m the best. I’ve got an eye for spotting the most profitable ships. I’ve got an eye for beautiful things too.”

“Which eye is which? Ships on the right and beautiful things on the left?” you asked, hoping to turn the conversation away from anything uncomfortable. “Or the other way around?”

Zan laughed. “Let’s check, hm? Look at me and-” He covered his left eye, looking at you. Then he covered his right eye. “Hm. I guess both of them are good for spotting beautiful things.”

You laughed nervously, tugging your bandana down.

“You know, while we were out there we happened upon a huge sea beast,” Zan said as you took the steps up onto the quarterdeck, undeterred by your reaction.

“What kind of sea beast?”

“It was hard to tell with all of its thrashing, but it was a frightful thing. So big that I could only see its outline in the depths.”

“Really?” you asked without any shred of belief, opening the door into the map room.

“I damn near lost my arm.”

“How’d you get away then?” you asked, walking around the table to knock on Captain Buggy’s office door.

“Well, that’s a tale unto itself,” Zan said. “But rest assured, the foul beast is ‘armless.”

“Come in,” Buggy said, his voice muffled. You hesitated before opening the door, registering Zan’s terrible joke. Armless. Harmless. You couldn’t help but let out a little burst of laughter, letting Zan enter as you tried to control your amusement.

“What’s so funny?” Captain Buggy snapped, scowling. The mood of the room, of Buggy’s thunderous expression and Cabaji’s respectful impassivity finally hit you like a wall of ice. You cleared your throat.

“Nothing, Captain Buggy,” you said, bowing your head. “Just a… a joke.”

“Oh really?” Buggy asked. He smiled, but it didn’t at all reach his eyes. “Let’s hear it then.”

“It’s nothing, Captain Buggy,” Zan said. “I have the report.”

“Do you? Here I was thinking maybe you’d taken up a career in comedy instead. It’s funny that you think you can keep me waiting while you stuff your face and try to flirt with my half-wit errand girl. Speaking of-” Buggy looked at you, nodding to the door. “Out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Standing in the sun for too long left your head aching and sunburned your scalp, but you didn’t dare leave your post, resolved to wait patiently and professionally. It was hard to not take Buggy’s moods personally, but he probably didn’t mean it. You understood why he was unhappy, tonight was a big night and Zan was behaving unprofessionally. What worried you more was his use of the word ‘flirt’. The word was a crime unto itself, bearing down on you with suffocating amounts of guilt. That’s why you didn’t dress like this. It was an open invitation, a signal you sent out that practically begged for that sort of attention.

You had no idea how much time passed before Zan left Captain Buggy’s office. He left with his face resolutely turned forward, walking fast without any acknowledgement of your attempted apology. Cabaji followed shortly behind him. He said nothing, only acknowledging you to nod you back into Buggy’s office.

That did not bode well.

Steeling yourself with your hands balled into fists at your sides, you braved going in. The door into his office was open for you. Buggy was writing something furiously, muttering under his breath. After standing in the sun, the relative cool of his office made you shiver. You waited for a couple of drawn out seconds, consumed by the painful thud of your heart, the scribbling scratch of whatever he was writing, and the chaotic chorus of the crew out on the deck.

“Should I get your lunch, Captain Buggy?” you finally asked. His head popped up so fast his hat wobbled, although his expression wasn’t especially animated. He appraised you for a long moment before dropping his pen, leaning back.

“Come over here for a minute first,” he said, gesturing you to him with curled fingers. With your hands clasped nervously in front of your stomach, you approached his desk. “No, come over here,” Buggy ordered, turning his chair and pointing at the floor in front of him. You circled the desk, standing in front of him.

Buggy grabbed you by the hips, pulling you forward until you stood between his legs. You stumbled, grabbing his shoulders to keep from falling into him completely.

“I know everything that happens on my ship,” Buggy told you. “I mean that. Everything.”

That wasn’t what you expected. You nodded in understanding, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“I’m starting to think you’re not the sweet, innocent girl I thought you were,” Buggy said, idly swaying you back and forth. Your entire body stilled, physically halted by those words and the liquid lead they injected into your heart.

“Captain?”

“Look at you! All grown up. Makeup and everything.” Buggy pushed you back to hold you at arm's length, his eyes slowly scanning down your body. “I might have to cover you up a little if my crew can’t behave with you hanging around tempting them like this.”

“I’m not trying to…” you said, the words sinking cold and sick into your stomach. “No, I’m not… That’s not my-my intention.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buggy said, rolling his eyes. “You’d never go around looking like this to tempt anybody. What would you even do if you got a man’s attention?” He sighed, nodding sympathetically. “The real question is what a man would do to you… I think it’s time you and I had the talk.”

He was clearly messing with you, but it worked, you recoiled, your skin crawling. “Captain Buggy, I don’t… It’s not a big deal, right? I would never ever do anything, I mean that.” you said, trying very hard to keep a cool head despite the way your face burned.

“I get it. It’s embarrassing to talk about this sort of thing. Normally this would be a father’s job, but I guess he kinda dropped the ball on that one, huh? The point is that you gotta be careful. You know what I’m talking about, right? The birds and the bees… No?” You didn’t respond, far too aware of the awkwardness of your body, the flush blazing all the way up into your ears. “That’s not ringing a bell?” He sighed, shaking his head. “Well, I didn’t want to be vulgar, but I would never forgive myself if I let you go out there looking like this and you got knocked up or something. I mean, whew, better hope you brought a hanger or something. Just remember—no glove, no love.”

Knowing better than to push his hands away, you settled for covering your face in an attempt to hide the embarrassment of disgust and shame. Buggy laughed at your reaction, reaching up to tug on one of your twintails playfully.

“Oh, come on,” he complained. “Don’t be like that.”

“Please don’t joke about that,” you said, dropping your hands a little. “I… Please?”

“I wasn’t joking. I mean, shit, can you even carry a baby?” he teased, releasing your hips to tickle your sides. “Where would it go? Scratch that, where would the dick even go?”

“Please stop!” you exclaimed indignantly, grabbing his hands to still them. Buggy used that to pull you back into place.

“The real laugh is that I’d let anyone get that close,” he told you. “Oh, hey, there’s some vocabulary for ya. What do you call somebody who tries to take the captain’s property?”

You cleared your throat. “Um… A thief?”

“Dead.”

You stopped squirming around, a nervous laugh bubbling up from your gut before the flat look in his eyes really registered.

“What was it that you said?” Buggy asked, giving you a familiar look. A smile lurked around his mouth, but his eyes shined with a keen mania as they studied your face for the slightest trace of defiance. “When you begged to join my crew, I mean. That you’ll happily serve me for…”

“I’ll happily serve you for the rest of my life,” you finished for him, knowing better than to do anything other than wholeheartedly agree. “I-I mean it, Captain Buggy. If I—If I did something wrong, please tell me and I’ll stop or… or… Anything you want.”

“I want…” he said slowly. Then the bubble popped, and he pushed you away a few steps. “I want you to go get us some lunch. I’m starving and as adorable as those thighs of yours are, you could use a little more meat.”

“Yes, sir,” you said.

“Oh, and babydoll,” Buggy called. You turned to him, head tilted cautiously. “Mosey on down to the brig at some point to find a comfortable spot, you’re gonna have to stay down there for our dress rehearsal tonight. Things are gonna get a little bloody up here.”

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #my writing #flashbang

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ladykailitha · 7 months

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Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 12

And here we are at the end. Thank you so much for being on this journey with me.

Here we have Steve's POV of the last scene from last week, he talks to Hopper and Steve's uncle further proves he'd be a better parent than Clint Harrington.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11

****

Steve watched Eddie march to the truck and let out a shuddering breath. He thought that they had really connected here. But now as they were going back to Hawkins it appeared that Eddie was just going to leave that here in Ashland.

He got to his car and looked at the sad little cooler and just lost it. He started cursing and hitting the steer wheel.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he hissed. “You never did hear a name, did you, Harrington? Apparently he was in love with someone else all this time and was only being nice because you were having a mental break down.”

He could feel the tears stream down his face. Bitter and angry. “You should have been supporting him not the other way round. That’s probably why he’s soooo pissed at you. Because he was grieving and you made it all about you. Like you always do. Fuck!”

Just then the passenger side door was wrenched open and Eddie slid in.

The tears dried up instantly in his surprise. “Eds?”

And then Eddie proceeded to just knock all his intrusive thoughts out of the fucking ballpark. Just sent them running like a scared dog with its tail between its legs.

Then kissed him about it.

They still needed to have a proper conversation but that could wait until they were back in Hawkins.

Steve could live with that.

When they got home they had that talk. Eddie learned about all the different girls who had propositioned him and was pissed on his behalf.

“That’s fucking bullshit,” he said. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

Steve shrugged. “You had enough on your plate. Plus, I sicced Uncle Danny after them.”

Eddie blinked. “Oh. I think I would have paid good money to see that.”

“I didn’t have to send anyone after Beth though,” Steve said with a grin, “Lauren did that all on her own.”

“I’m so glad you two got along,” Eddie murmured. “But in the future, you tell me these things. I want to protect you, the way you protect everyone else, okay?”

Steve agreed.

Wayne walked into the new house provided by the government, wiping his hands on an old rag.

“Everything is in the garage for us to sort and place later,” he told Eddie.

“You two going to be wanting help getting everything in?” Steve asked.

Wayne shook his head. “Lauren and her Uncle Hal are coming out next week to help out.”

Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully. “Yeah? I didn’t hear about that.”

Wayne had the presence of mind to blush. “It must have slipped my mind.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve and Eddie said together.

Wayne cleared his throat. “So I’m going to be seeing you a lot more now that you and Ed are together?”

Steve grinned, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and putting his head on his shoulder. “I’ll be here so often, you’ll think I live here.”

Wayne hummed. “We’ll come back to that in a few months.”

Eddie blushed. “Nice to know you aren’t planning the wedding already, old man.”

Wayne blinked innocently. “Oh I am, but I’m thinking fall of next year or the year after.”

Eddie coughed and sputtered as Steve laughed.

He turned to Steve. “Why aren’t you defending me against this?” He waved at Wayne’s smug expression.

“Because I’m already coming up with arguments for a late spring early summer wedding instead.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “That’s some confidence you got there, darlin’. What makes you think I’ll say yes.”

Steve kissed him, slow and searing.

Eddie blushed. “Yup. Okay. Uh-huh. Point made.”

Wayne just smiled fondly.

Steve was really starting to regret setting the party on his Uncles Percy and David.

Robin, El, and Will had kidnapped Percy, while Dustin, Mike, and Nancy had absconded with David somewhere.

Eddie, Lauren, and Jonathan were talking to Hal and Lucas, Max, and Erica were talking to Wayne.

Hopper came up to Steve and put his arm around his shoulders.

Steve relaxed into the embrace.

“You did good, kid,” Hopper said. “I’m proud of you.”

Steve nodded and then rubbed the end of his nose, trying to fight back the tears.

“I had a long talk with Joyce about some of her choices that she made while I was gone,” he continued. “I’m glad I’m out of that hell hole, but she should have made sure everyone was safe first.”

“She had a lot on her plate,” Steve murmured.

Hopped cuffed the back of his head. “Don’t you go forgiving her without her apologizing first. I had to go back to California because apparently some fucked up general decided to shoot up the Byers house in Lenora.”

Steve looked over at Hopper in shock. “They did what now?”

Hopper nodded. “It was a complete shit show. But you have to know, I wouldn’t have just left you behind if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

“I know, I just...”

“Just wish you didn’t have to handle it?” he asked. Steve nodded. “I getcha. I wish you didn’t have to either. But I trust you to take care of everyone here, because I know they’re in safe hands with you.”

Steve choked back a sob. “Thanks, Hop.”

“Still can’t believe you’re dating that Munson kid,” he teased.

Steve pushed Hop way playfully. “Oh fuck off. He’s a good man.”

Hop looked over at him talking to Jonathan and Hal. “If he gets you to take care yourself or at least does it for you, he gets a pass from me.”

Steve blushed. “He takes care of me. It’s incredible how easy he makes it look.”

“I know your family was shit growing up,” Hop said. “But look at it now.”

Steve looked out at the fifteen-sixteen people out there lounging around the swimming pool with fondness.

“I always wanted a big family,” he said softly. “Who would have thought that all it would take is some extra-dimensional monsters to make it happen.”

Hopper chuckled. “I feel you kid. Before I started all this, I had lost my daughter to cancer and my wife to divorce. Now, not only do I have another daughter to take care of, I have a woman I love and her two boys that are like her sons to me.”

Steve made a grimace. “Does that mean Jonathan is my step-brother, because ew.”

“I heard that Harrington!” Jonathan called out.

Steve and Hopper laughed.

Eddie came bounding up to Steve. “I’m not sure I want the Chief as a father-in-law, babe.”

Steve smiled. “Oh that is going to make for some very awkward family dinners.

Percy came up behind Eddie.

“Hello, I’m Steve’s uncle, Percy,” he said extending his hand to Hopper to shake.

“Yeah,” Hopper said. “I’ve been hearing all about you. I’m sorry Clint Harrington kept you away from Steve for all this time.”

Percy nodded. “Jasper being an idiot didn’t help, unfortunately. But I’m in Steve’s life for good. There’s nothing that his parents could do that would change that.”

Steve gave Percy a hug in gratitude.

“Welcome to Hawkins then,” Hopper said with a smile. “It’s bit of a mess at the moment, but it’s home.”

“Well,” Percy said with a smile, “the welcome so far has been amazing I’m happy Steven has a support system now.” He turned to Steve. “May I pull you away for a moment. There’s something I would like to talk to you about.”

Steve looked at Hopper and Eddie who both shrugged. “Sure, lead the way.”

Percy went inside the kitchen and sat down at the counter. “When you told me that you didn’t get into the colleges and universities you applied for, I called around.”

Steve frowned. “Why? My grades slipped after Christmas my senior year. I ended at 2.76 GPA. I figured that wasn’t good enough to get in.”

“Yes,” Percy said. “If they only looked at your senior year. But they don’t. They look at a cumulative GPA from all your years at high school. You had a cumulative GPA of 3.16. Which is more than enough to get into any college you wanted. Especially with you still winning medals in swimming.”

His frown deepened. “But Dad said that I didn’t get into any of those schools.”

“Yes, which I thought was odd,” Percy further explained. “Which is why I called. Steven, you got accepted into two thirds of the schools you applied for.”

Steve leaned back. “What? That’s not possible.”

“I’m guessing Clint only showed you the one third you didn’t get into and told you the rest was the same.”

“Why?” he breathed. “Why would he do that?”

“Because the schools you got into weren’t the ones he wanted you to go to is my next guess.”

“I can go to college?” Steve asked, his lip quivering. “I don’t have to be stuck here my whole life?”

Percy shook his head. “You are a smart young man, and David and I are very committed to helping you get to where you want to go in life. Your parents mail have failed you, but I promise we won’t.”

Steve let out a shaky breath. “Thank you so much.”

Percy got up and hugged him. “Now go back out to your boy, he’ll be worried about you.”

Steve nodded and walked back out.

Percy followed close behind and wrapped his arm around David’s waist.

“You think they’re going to be okay?” David asked as they watch Steve and Eddie cling to each other.

“Oh yes,” Percy said. “It may have taken a tragedy to get them here, but they are smart boys with a great support system. There is nothing those boys can’t do now.”

“I’m happy to have met them,” David said.

“Me too.”

****

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76 @flaming-reauxster @r0binscript @awkotaco24 @ilikeititspretty @5ammi90

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #minor character death #dealing with grief

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absolutebl · 2 months

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This Week in BL - Taiwan has one show, but that's all they need

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

April 2024 Wk 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Two Worlds (Thurs IQIYI) ep 4 of 10 - I don’t say this often but I LOVE this love triangle. The longing gazes = chef's kiss. I like that we are finally getting flashbacks to Tai’s side of the love affaire. This show remains highly engaging. So pleased for MaxNat.

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 5 of 8 - More lesbians! Yay! Meanwhile, when our leads make up they make out! (Yes I’m proud of myself.) I think this might be BLs first rooftop sex scene. We’ve reached new heights, BLabies. (Yes I’m proud of that too.) Anygay, basically a soap opera at this point, I'm not thrilled but I don’t mind.

"Do you apologize for being straight?"

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - It was lovely. Very well done celebrity leaving the closet ep. Nice ensemble work too. Next week is doom! As expected.

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 1 of 12 - New main couple for GMMTV in an idol romance about a boy who dances good and a food stand vendor. It’s fine but overly very pulp feeling for something from GMMTV. I'm a little concerned.

1000 Years Old (Thurs iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - meh.

To Be Continued (Sat C3 Thailand grey) ep 7 of 8 - Never turned up on my usual sites. So will have to wait until next week.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 7 of 11 - Qian was, indeed, the one who couldn’t let go. This show is fucking fantastic. It's the best thing I'm watching right now by a mile.

Jazz for Two (Korea Gaga/grey) eps 3-8fin - The bully and the blue-haired drummer side pairing were great. I hated the father. Hated him so much. Our main tsundere seme was a bit too tsundere for me. I was v annoyed by the time he finally softened. I'm amused by all the ways they finagled boys kissin-but-not-kissing in the first half of this show. 2024's "pan around the back of the head" has now become a "dipping of the brolly." We did, however, eventually get an okay kiss.

Honestly?

This was basically what I wanted from Given and didn’t get. So I’m pleased. The music still wasn't great, but you can skip those bits. A solid enemies to lovers BL, where the sins of brothers' past haunts the present. Great optics, decent chemistry, and a tidy script even if tsundere characterization went a bit extreme in some cases. 8/10 RECOMMENDED trigger for suicide

Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 5 of 6 - We got the past betrayal in detail and it was decently bad. Bitterness understood. Too soon to live together! The BL U-Haul strikes again. I do like their weird curry passive aggressive argument. This is an interesting show. Do I LOVE it? No. But I think I like it.

On a not-really-related note: adoption, including adult adoption, is actually pretty common in Japan (comparatively). It's often tied to business scionism.

My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 8fin - It all turned out to be a tragic GL in the end. Not BL = not my problem. No rating. I will forget its existence right about… now.

Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 1-2 of 12 - Okay, weirdly kinky with the head scratching. Not much has happened and I’m not wild about what has.

It's done, ready to binge, but I suck

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps

It's airing but...

We Are (Weds GMMTV iQIYI) ep 1 of 16 - University ensemble BL featuring PondPhuwin, WinnySatang, AouBoom, MarcPawinPoon - basically the good kind of messy gay friendship group (so more My Engineer and less Only Friends). Looks a bit like the Kiss series but everyone is queer. I'm IN but I need my other computer and I'm traveling as usual. So I'll get caught up next week and probably won't regularly be able to watch this one.

Graduation Countdown (Taiwan YouTube) - It's too much for me to keep up with 2 minute verticals, I don't have that kind of TikTok endurance training.

A Secretly Love (Thai Sat WeTV grey) 10 eps - Completed. Worth watching?

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) 6 eps - It’s so boring DNFed at 2.

Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Weds iQIYI) 6 - The problem with situational comedy BL is it must be situational, comedic and a BL. This show gets 1 of 3 claims correct. 33% is not a passing grade. Dropped at 3.

In the news

Takumi-kun Series 6: Nagai Nagai Monogatari is getting the undeserved honor of Furritsubs. Follow them for details. Tip 'em if you like 'em. (Will I watch it? Oh, probably. Damn it.)

Then Next Prince turned out to be a trailer only. Word on the webs is we will be lucky if we get it this year. It’s BL Princess Diaries. Jimmy has a new pairing (that boy from Night Dream) which is... interesting. All in all, this show does not look good. Pretty but not good.

Next Week Looks Like This:

4/11 Gray Shelter AKA Gray Currents (Korea ????) 4 eps - SooHyuk is only just surviving and reunites with YoonDae, an old friend. They end up living together. One of the leads is played by Choco of Choco Milk Shake.

4/12 Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - Kindly Ryota goes off to uni only to find his new roommate is his childhood bestie, Kazuhito. Kazuhito doesn’t have a girlfriend and Ryota tries to help him figure out why, they fall in love along the way. Same director as Old Fashion Cupcake.

Still to Come in April

4/18 At 25:00, in Alaska AKA 25 Ji, Akasaka de (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - Yuki lands his first starring role in a BL drama alongside superstar Asami (previously his senior at uni). Said superstar suggests they form a sham relationship until filming concludes. As they actually begin to fall in love, the spotlight begins to burn. I think I've seen this before (joke) and also the trailer doesn't inspire confidence.

4/26 My Stand-In (Thai iQIYI) 12 eps - adaptation of Chinese novel "Professional Body Double" by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of that show was the clashing directing styles). This one looks well complicated, lemme try: Joe is a stuntman for famous actor Tong. Joe falls in love with Ming but Ming sees Joe as nothing more than a Tong-replacement. After learning this horrible truth, Joe dies. Joe then wakes up in the body of another man also named Joe. He manages to rebuild the same life as before—with the same people eventually re-meeting Ming. Ming wants Joe back but Joe doesn't understand why. But Ming seems to know what's going on and wants to give him some kind of explanation.

I'm exhausted just trying to describe the plot.

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous partner) and Best, news here.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

NOTE: It looks like one of my personal favorites of last year Unintentional Love Story is getting a spin off!

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

See City of Stars & Unknown.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are too much work.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

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raineandsky · 6 months

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The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

The superhero waits with a patient smile whilst the security guy locks a pair of handcuffs to the hero’s wrists and to the table. And then they’re both gone, and the hero is alone in the interrogation room. As alone as they can be with the unsubtle mirror lining the wall next to them, at least.

Breaking out has proven a lot harder than the first time. The superhero’s clearly taken notes from their last escape. So here they are, four days later, once again in this interrogation room, waiting, vulnerable, scared of what it means to be here.

Security appears again after a long minute, the door creaking on its hinges in a way that almost sounds like a very familiar, “God, get your fucking claws out of my shit.”

The hero turns as far as the cuffs will let them, which isn’t far at all, but they don’t need to anyway. The villain gets dumped in the interrogator’s chair opposite them three seconds later, a string of sharp insults jabbing at the man from security whilst he locks their own cuffs to the table and pretends he can’t hear them.

The security guard steps back and the villain finally seems to notice the hero for the first time. Their eyes widen, almost imperceivable, their lips parting in surprise.

“Figured you’d like to see who got you in here,” he says, and with a self-satisfied chuckle he lets himself out the door. Just the two of them.

The villain stares at the hero. The hero averts their gaze, ashamed.

“You gave all my shit to [Superhero]?”

Disbelief. The hero wishes they could somehow look away even more. They can feel the villain’s eyes digging into them, begging questions, demanding answers. “I’m sorry,” the hero says past the lump in their throat. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve—”

“You made me a target for the agency.”

The hero’s next breath is a shudder. “I was– I was scared, I wasn’t thinking—”

“[Hero].”

“I’m so sorry, I never should have—”

“[Hero].”

The hero shuts their mouth. They risk a glance up; the villain is staring– no, watching them, with a softness they didn’t expect to find. Their brow knits into that telltale concern.

“It’s okay, [Hero]. I’m not mad about that.”

The hero tries to hold down a belated snivel of shame and fails. “You’re– you’re not?”

“I told you not to snoop. I’m mad that I couldn’t get a law-obsessed hero to follow one rule.” Their lips tip into a ghost of a smile. “But no. You gave the agency a reason to not kill me. You made me valuable.” A short laugh escapes their throat, a bark of a thing, coarse and alive. “You saved my life, [Hero].”

The hero makes some uncontained noise of bewilderment. “No, [Villain], they want information, they want you alive to—”

“They have all the information they want from me,” the villain says with a smirk. “It’s on your boss’s desk right now. My entire career was detailed in that office.”

“But then why would they—”

“Codes.” The villain’s smirk somehow gets more mischievous. “Half my paperwork is unreadable without me to decipher it, but I don’t feel like letting up on my secrets just yet. They haven’t found anything that can convince me to tell them.” Another laugh, bright, unbothered by their predicament. “Like I say, I’m important now. Indisposable.”

The hero can only gape at them for a second. The villain truly looks out of place, their hands forced to the table, a triumphant smirk on their face like they’re not in the agency’s clutches. To them, to not die for the supervillain’s own terror, is victory.

The villain’s smirk turns into something sweeter, their eyes crinkling slightly with how genuinely they smile for a moment. “And you’re back where you wanna be,” they say softly. “Congrats.”

The hero’s gaze turns downward again. “I’m sorry for—”

“Stop apologising, [Hero]. I said it’s fine.” They reach across the table, as far as the cuffs will let them, to carefully take the hero’s hands in their own. “This couldn’t have worked out better for either of us.”

The hero flinches away from their touch like they’ve been shocked. They don’t have the heart to tell them that’s not true. “[Superhero]’s watching,” they say instead.

“I don’t care,” the villain retorts immediately, but they don’t move to retake their hands. “Look, [Hero], I stepped out of my house with a lot of feelings I didn’t get to say out loud. Walking through those streets, waiting to die, I– I regretted it sorely.”

It’s the villain now who turns their gaze away, their expression carefully neutral. “You did a lot to help me. I tried to help you in return—kind of.” A grin pulls at their lips, and the hero knows that they’re thinking of that goddamn maid outfit. “I found myself… I don’t know, starting to actually like you. I– I think I—”

The door behind the hero cracks against the opposite wall. “Alright,” the superhero says shortly, and the villain’s expression sours immediately. “Fun’s over. Let’s show our prisoners what prison actually means, hm?”

The villain’s eyes turn to the hero, confused, before seeming to finally notice the cuffs on their own wrists.

“Prisoners? What—”

Their question doesn’t come out. The security guard unlocks the villain from the table first. “What the hell does that—”

The security guard shoves the villain to their feet. They whip around to spit at the man behind them but nothing comes out. They just turn back to the hero, then the superhero, then the hero again, their expression dipping into more and more horror as the realisation of what’s happening comes to them. The man has to push them to the door.

“[Hero]—” they try, but they get shoved outside and the door slams behind them.

The superhero sets their eyes on the hero, seemingly very pleased with the outcome of their little reunion.

“Come, [Hero],” he says brightly. He unlocks their own cuffs with a click. “Let’s get these codes out of our friend, shall we?”

(Next part)

Taglist:

@runarelle @thiefofthecrowns @morning-star-whump @epiclamer

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #the villains housekeeper #broooooo ive finished this thang. the entire series is now queued up for posting #ive never been so pumped in my life i hope yall like it #see yall on jan 5th for the epilogueeeeeeeee

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wardenparker · 1 year

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Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 6

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: M for Mature. But as always this blog is 18+! Word Count: 9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* This is just one big ol’ chapter full of various kinds of angst. Wholesome points for Bobby Rogers being a very good kid. Summary: As the gap widens between you and Jack, Diana’s loyalty shifts toward your budding friendship. Notes: Tensions are rising as spring gets closer and Diana is stirring the pot 😂 I just adore her. This chapter is a great little glimpse into the Rogers family and how they weave their way around the relationship between you and Jack.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Jack can’t explain it, but he’s listless after the conversation with you. Wandering slightly as he leaves your porch and shoving his hands in his pockets as his boots slap along the gravel pathway towards the small pond on the property. Wondering why he feels like he’s done something wrong. The way that you had looked at him with your heart in your eyes and then watching it seemingly break rubbed him the wrong way. Tex had slept with you. He doesn’t understand why it sticks in his craw but it does. He wants you, physically, but he won’t touch you because of the damn ink on his skin, the invisible threads that seem to tie you together. But he shouldn’t care that Tex had spent the night in your bed. However, he can’t get the image out of his head and he doesn’t like it. Not at all. Sighing to himself, he shakes his head. Scoffing quietly at his ridiculousness. “Damn fool.” He huffs, looking out over the water.

The small pond reflects nothing but serene moonlight back at him, the young folks out walking through the green of the neighborhood or sitting in the gazebo too far from its surface to interrupt his ruminations. A few blocks away, Tex is drinking off his frustration while he packs, loud music enough to have his bookshelves vibrating but not a hint of it leaking out into the street. On the street, everything is peaceful and perfect. It’s the picture of serenity and always is - Statesman arguments happen behind closed doors because your neighbors might not have high enough clearance to be able to overhear whatever a fight is about.

Jack sighs, pulling a hand out of his pocket to drag it down the front of his face. This had been a place he loved coming, reminding him of the pond back home. The one that Abigail had loved to sit next to and watch the sun set. Now he just feels like there’s a weight on his chest, on his heart.

“Okay, Uncle Jack?” The cheery voice of Bobby Rogers is unexpected, but Champ’s son - Agent Rum - is all smiles when he waves at his father’s best friend. The junior agent’s evening walk is easily interrupted, and he strides over to the bench that Jack has sunken down on.

“Hey kid.” Despite the fact the boy is an agent and old enough to drink, he’s always called Bobby ‘kid’. A running joke because it had made the youngster laugh when he had met him. Old enough that he didn’t think about his son every time he looked at him. “I’m okay. How are you?” He asks, raising a brow in concern. He’d read the after action report from Prague.

“Just had dinner with Ginger and Gabi and the kids.” Bobby sits himself down next to Jack and leans back, surveying the older man with the same appraising expression as his mother uses, except Bobby shrugs amiably. “Itchin’ to get back out there but there’s no assignment for me right now. You know how it is.”

“Yeah.” Jack huffs under his breath, very aware of being on desk duty. He tries to avoid turning towards the boy, aware that he’s as perceptive as his mother.

“Maybe there will be something for both of us?” He suggests optimistically, having wanted to run a mission with Jack ever since his promotion to active agent status.

Jack can grin at that, a smug little smirk that is fully aware of his own strengths as an agent. “That would be fun.” He acknowledges with a nod. “Maybe Champ’ll send us out together.”

“Maybe if you said something?” It’s no secret that Bobby looks up to Jack. He always has, ever since he was small, and even now there’s a remnant of something childlike in his excited expression. “I know you usually work missions with Tequila if you do doubles but I know we could be a hell of a team.”

“Yeah.” Jack nods, although he knows he will be shot down. “I’ll say somethin’ for sure, kid.” He turns towards him now. “It’ll be good to run a mission together.”

“You comin’ over for dinner this week?” With Jack’s agreement to the idea, Bobby is beaming. “I swear I don’t mind still living so close as long as Mom keeps making meatloaf every Wednesday night like clockwork.”

Jack chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Have I ever missed a meatloaf Wednesday unless I was out of town?” He asks, leaning over and shoving at the boy’s shoulder with his own. He can’t help but wonder how you make meatloaf.

“Never.” The young man acknowledges with a snort. “Can’t exactly find meatloaf in Prague. Gotta admit that I missed it.”

“Nothin’s ever better than homemade by momma.” Jack acknowledges honestly.

“It’s true.” The smile that plays on Bobby’s lips is wistful. “God I hope I get a soulmate that can cook,” he laughs. “If she’s as hopeless as I am we’ll be eatin’ at my parents’ table or in the Statesman cafeteria our whole lives.”

The blood in Jack’s veins freezes from the kid’s innocent statement. “H-here’s hopin’.” He manages and quickly glances back at the water.

Bobby might be young, but he’s a trained Statesman agent the same as Jack and he knows his uncle is acting jumpy. Instead of needing an answer like his father might do, though, he nods and decides to give Jack some peace. “I’m gonna walk on,” he decides, Stretching his long limbs before pushing up to standing again. “Got a good book calling my name. I’ll see ya ‘round, Uncle Jack.”

“See ya, kid.” Jack nods and watches the boy as he ambles away like he hasn’t a care in the world. It makes Jack sigh heavily and he closes his eyes, thinking about Abigail. “Darlin’” he murmurs softly. “I’m doin’ what I think right, so why does it hurt?” He asks his long dead wife, wishing she could answer him.

******

It feels like you cried all night after Jack left, and for the better part of your private time for the next few days. At work you’re numb, going through the recipes that you chose with tender loving care, feeling like more machine than person. The aching in your heart just hasn’t abated, and every day you step out your front door halfway between Tex and Jack’s houses, you almost wonder who you miss more. Except that, as guilty as you feel about it, you know the answer. Today feels like a day that you just can’t get anything right, as every batch of cornbread you make seems to lack flavor, or texture, or not rise enough. You swear you might scream if another pan comes out looking deflated and overly dry - but that might also be the fact that it’s nearly two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten yet. Matter of fact, when was the last time you ate?

Diana pushes into the main dining room, frowning slightly as she does. Something is off and after pulling the truth out of Champ over breakfast, she decided that visiting you was what she needed to do. “Darling? Are you in the kitchen?” She calls out.

Oh god… The sound of Diana’s voice is usually welcome, but you’re just not up to having company. It’s not exactly a question you can dodge, though, is it? She’ll find you here whether you like it or not. “I’m back here!” You call finally, figuring she’s already heard your music playing. The speakers are always attached to whatever is playing on your phone, which you now turn the volume way down on.

“Am I interrupting you?” Concern laces her features as she pushes one of the double doors open and peers into your kitchen. It’s surprisingly empty, although with what’s been going on, she can’t blame you. “If you aren’t up for company, you let me know.”

"No, it's okay." After having barely spoken to anyone for a few days, you clear your throat and try to smile. "Come on in. I could use a break from all this cornbread." The pans sitting all around you are practically mocking you and you would be very glad to ignore them for a while.

You look devastated. Diana sighs to herself and reaches out to pull you into a brief but fierce hug. Wishing that she could wipe away the hurt and sadness. Damn Jack.

"What was that for?" You ask when she leans back to look at you. Just because you haven't said a word to her doesn't mean that she doesn't know what happened, although you would hope that Jack had enough discretion to not just go blabbing it to everyone. Who knows?

“Mother’s instinct.” She hums. “You look like you need a hug. So I gave you one.” She won’t tell you that Champ told her the situation, but she’ll listen if you need to talk.

"I was about to make myself some lunch." Wiping your hands on your apron gives you a moment to compose yourself so you don't just break down on the spot. You did need that hug. "Is it too late in the day for you to join me?"

“I’ve been running around with a tour group of two hundred.” Her eyes widen dramatically and she huffs. “Some corporate retreat and ‘team building’ thing so I’ve not had a chance to hear myself think.”

"So that's a yes?" Since cooking for people is the one thing that seems to relieve stress, it actually makes your shoulders drop a little and sloughs some tension away. "I have more cornbread than we can shake a stick at to go with it."

“Ohhh are you making cornbread fritters?” Diana asks ask she looks at the fallen pans of cornbread.

"I can if you like." It would certainly use up some of this failed baking. "How about I make us a big chop salad and we can have a basket of cornbread fritters to go along with it?"

“Do you want some help or do you want me to be your sounding board while you cook?” Diana asks, tilting her head at you, curious to see what you will decide.

“Why don’t you join me?” It’s not just anyone that you would invite into your kitchen, but you’ve become fairly attached to the older woman in just the few weeks you’ve been here. She is usually an endless source of positivity and support - two things you could really use right now even if you hate the reason why.

“Absolutely, chef.” She tosses you a grin and immediately marches over to your industrial sized sinks to wash her hands. “Put me to work.”

Everything you’ll need to road test the upscale Cobb salad for your menu is already in the fridge, so you set Diana up with a cutting board, knife, and a bowl to deposit everything into and set to work turning one skillet’s worth of cornbread into fritter mix - with some cheddar cheese added for good measure. There are a few slices of bourbon maple glazed bacon that you’ve been experimenting with that you’ll chop up as well - the perfect topping for the salad after it’s been dressed. “So a corporate tour?” You ask, trying to remind yourself to be social as the two of you start working side by side. “That sounds…sort of excruciating, honestly. Two hundred is a huge group.”

“They were more interested in tasting than the actual tour.” Diana tells you as she starts to chop the ingredients. Looking down at the cutting board and smirking to herself at how sharp your knife is. A good, proper blade.

“If I worked for a corporation doing mandatory retreats, I would be too.” It’s the closest you’ve been to laughing in days, the little huff you give as you shake your head.

“There’s some truth to that.” Diana laughs as she acknowledges it. “Although I guess it’s a good thing that the restaurant isn’t open yet or all of them would have been in here.”

“That’s fine. Customers I can handle.” Working the cornbread mixture with your hands is actually kind of cathartic. Imagining it’s the knots in your heart instead of food. “They’re particular, but in a way I can handle. I wouldn’t even know how to keep them all engaged on a tour.”

“Practice.” Diana muses, sneaking a glance over at you. “Much like wrangling cowboy soulmates.”

You sigh, a little too deeply, and turn to look at her with anxiety written all over your face. “How long have you known?”

“The tattoo?” She doesn’t suppose that you are talking about the situation you find yourself in now, but she just wants to clarify. “From the beginning.” She admits quietly. “Champ doesn’t keep much but classified information from me. And this…well, Jack is family.”

“So…” If your hands weren’t covered in edible sludge, you would be leaning on the counter while you try to collect yourself. As it is, all you can do is stare at Diana. “When was anybody going to tell me?”

“If I had my way, I would have slapped Jack upside his damned fool head.” Diana huffs, holding your gaze steadily. “But…Champ said that it was Jack’s place to figure out that he’s been given a second chance.”

That twists the knife in your heart, and you look down at your hands to avoid tearing up if you keep looking at the woman beside you. Diana is so full of empathy that it seems to just deep out of her. “Jack doesn’t want a second chance.” You murmur, head bowed like somehow it’s your fault.

“Damn jackass doesn’t know what he wants.” Diana hisses, her chopping becoming slightly less perfect through her anger. “And he likes you, so you terrify him.”

“He doesn’t like me as much as you think he does.” If he did, he wouldn’t have shattered any hope you had of something happening between the two of you somewhere down the line. “He made it abundantly clear last night that he doesn’t want another soulmate.”

“Stubborn fucking mule.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disappointment. She knows that Jack likes you more than he’s willing to admit, but the damn fool can’t get past his grief.

“He seems to know his mind well enough.” If you mix this damn batter anymore it is just going to be goo, so you stop - pulling your hands away and wiping them reasonably clean so you can wash up and start portioning out the mix. “Second time I’ve lost a chance at having a soul mate in just a couple of weeks and I didn’t get a say in it either time.”

“So he told you….” Diana is shocked at that, the knife turning to the side and she looks at you in shock.

“Not in a great amount of detail.” You shrug, feeling her eyes on you as you scrub your hands clean. “But yeah. He told me. A-about Statesman being…spies. About…” Sighing makes your whole body shake. “About how he…killed my soulmate. And then inherited me.”

Diana’s face screws up in anger, promising herself she’s gonna kick Jack’s ass from here to New York and back. “Jack has killed men before and never inherited their soulmates.” She spits. “So he’s full of shit. The universe doesn’t just randomly assign soulmates, especially not second ones.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” The worst part right now is how defeated you feel. How hopeless and helpless everything feels knowing that Jack’s mind was made up before he even met you. “He doesn’t want anything to do with it, but apparently the fact of him was enough to scare off the guy who did like me.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Diana doesn’t know the details, just the highlights that had been given to her and she knows it might be better for you to talk and get it off your chest. “If you want.”

Not being able to talk to anyone these last few days has been the hardest part of everything, in some ways. With no one to help lighten the burden it seems to have tripled its weight on your chest. The normal phone calls to your sister whenever something bad or complicated happened hadn’t occurred this time - because how could you explain even half of what happened while avoiding the tidbits that apparently required security clearance? It was a minefield you didn’t know how to navigate. But Diana? Diana already understands this world. She lives in it and thrives. “It goes back to when I first got here,” you explain, as if that were longer ago than a mere three weeks. “That first night…Jack came to tell me that I had gotten the job here, and we ended up going out together.” Working while you talk is the best way to keep your mind from overwhelming you, and by the time lunch is finished being prepared you’ve told Diana everything. Every last detail is laid out for her to examine, leaving you feeling both exhausted and somehow unburdened as you sit down together at the long prep counter to eat.

Diana is madder than a bucket full of hornets. Fuming as you had described the back and forth treatment from Jack, dangling you like a marionette until he’s realized he’s too close and tossing you aside. Instead of raging, she reaches over and pulls you in for another hug. “This isn’t your fault.”

“What’s worse is that I can’t even bring myself to be mad anymore.” Upset, obviously, and hurt. But anger has come and gone like a flash in a pan. “I get that he’s hurt, and that this is as much a shock to him as it is to me. But I just…” You squeeze her back, needing the hug much more than you want to admit. “I haven’t gotten a say in any of it. Even Tex wouldn’t say a damn word to me once he realized. Like in his mind Jack already owned me, or something. But all Jack wants is to be friends.” At least, that’s what he had said. And all you could do is take it at face value.

"Tex is...loyal." Diana sighs. "He's always been secretly disappointed that soulmate marks haven't shown up on his body so he could find his soulmate." She explains. "Of course, he isn't going to poach Jack's mate. Even if he wanted to, his sense of propriety wouldn't let him because he feels like Jack will want you."

“Which means that, once again, I don’t get a say in my own relationships.” It’s becoming a recurring theme and you aren’t exactly thrilled with that. “I’m sorry,” you shake your head and pick up your fork, reminding yourself that eating is necessary even when you’re annoyed. “I don’t mean to complain about people who act with what they believe are the best of intentions. But I’d give my right foot for anybody to have asked me what I wanted.” Tilting your head, though, you look around you and half-chuckle. “Except Champ. He’s given me anything I want here, and I’m grateful for that.”

“I don’t blame you.” Diana shakes her head. “Men always try to do what they think best without asking.” You are so sweet and you deserve the world. “Take back your control where you can.” She urges you.

“How am I supposed to do that?” It’s an honest question, considering you barely know what you want beyond to be loved. The fact that Jack's face is what always comes to mind now is just a complication. “Tex is in another country and Jack has made up his mind already.”

“That, I can’t decide for you.” Diana has a few ideas on what she would do if Champ had rejected her, but she wasn’t you. “But I can tell you what I would do if I were you.”

Something about the way she says it sparks your curiosity, and you tilt your head at her as you pluck up one of the fritters from the basket between you. “What would you do?” Anything is better than moping - which is all you’ve done for days.

“I would start dating.” Diana snorts and sends you a small grin. “As many dates as you want, whoever you want.” She shrugs. “If he wants to be ‘friends’, he doesn’t get a say in how you move on with your life.” She takes a sip of her sweet tea. “Operate like you don’t even acknowledge Jack Daniels wears your marks.”

“Seriously?” You’re not sure why the suggestion is so shocking to you, but you feel like your jaw drops all the way down to the counter when she looks at you with fire in her eyes. She’s angry for you, and it’s simultaneously daring and empowering. Like she has just done the emotional equivalent of offering the Revenge Dress to Princess Di. “That’s…I guess that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“Yes it does.” She nods. “You don’t have to do it, but I would. Just to show him that he’s not going to dictate your life, just because he’s hung up on a past that is no longer reality.”

“Are you…suggesting that it might make him jealous?” You can’t imagine how, all things considered, but it would be kind of satisfying.

“If it does, it serves the fool right.” She hums, a slightly evil grin on her face. “Even if it doesn’t, it will be you taking control of your life again. You decide how you spend your time.”

“I…” Slumping slightly in your seat, you nudge your fork through your salad - it’s delicious, but you’re thinking things through. “I don’t know if I’m ready to possibly get rejected again so soon,” you admit. “I’m…I don’t think I could take it. Not this soon.”

“Let me set you up.” Her eyes light up and she grins. “Astrid’s brother is coming into town.” She gasps. “Oh that’s perfect.”

“Oh, I…” It’s guilt, this twisting feeling in your gut, and all of a sudden you sit up and shake your head. “The idea of it makes me feel guilty,” you tell Diana honestly. “Which is totally illogical, and I need to get over this fucking crush I have on Jack or it’s just going to fester and that won’t help. So…” Exhaling deeply, you nod as decisively as possible. “Tell me about Astrid’s brother.”

Diana grins and sends you a wink. “If I was twenty years younger…” she starts with a laugh, proceeding to tell you all about the handsome man that will be perfect for a good time and getting your mind off Jack.

It’s not such a bad idea, when you think about it. The trajectory of your life has taken such an obtuse turn that thinking about something like life after being rejected by your second soulmate is just a chat you have over lunch with your boss’s wife. Although, with this conversation today, Diana has become much more than just your boss’s wife. She’s your closest friend at Statesman. “Okay.” You nod, sitting up straight after she tells you all about the man she has in mind. “As long as Astrid is okay with it, I’m in.”

“Good!” Diana smirks as she picks up another fritter out of the basket. “I bet you these would be amazing as a side dish to meatloaf.” She muses before giggling slightly.

“I would make that for my staff in a heartbeat. I just need to find a good meatloaf recipe.” You ruminate on the idea for a second before smiling. “Actually, I’ve been trying to figure out one more thing for the main menu. Meatloaf and cornbread fritters might be just the thing.”

“I have a recipe.” The smile that creeps over Diana’s face is nothing short of fortuitous. “Every Wednesday it’s served at my dinner table.” She admits. “You are welcome to come, but….Jack will be there.”

For a split second you almost jump on the invitation, but even the mention of his name makes you hesitate. Especially when you realize that today is Wednesday. “Maybe next week.” Seeing him again so soon - mere hours after you’ve talked everything out - just doesn’t feel like something you can handle.

“I can understand that.” Diana nods sagely, reaching out and touching the back of your hand. “Why don’t I bring you some tomorrow and let you try it, see if you like the recipe.”

“That would be really nice of you.” You turn your hand over to squeeze hers quickly. “Thank you for this, Diana. For all of this today.”

“What are friends for?” She knows that she’s older, and she’s the boss’s wife, but she thinks of you as a friend. “Plus I’ll make sure I give you the portion that would have gone home with Jack.” She cackles and winks at you.

The two of you share a good laugh over the idea of Jack pouting over missing his leftovers, and you bite back the feeling of regret at not being able to sit at that table with him like any normal pair of soulmates. “I really…” It sticks in you, clinging to your heart unbidden. “I want him to be happy,” you tell her honestly. “If that’s not with me, then the universe screwed up.”

“Jack’s never going to be happy until he lets his wife’s ghost rest.” Diana explains exasperatedly. “The man can claim he’s happy, but he’s not. You can tell, at least those that have known him for a long time can.”

“Well…whatever it ends up meaning for him. He just…” Sitting back in your seat, you reach for what’s left of your tea and sigh softly. “Everybody deserves to be happy.”

“And that includes you.” Diana reminds you, giving you a firm look.

“I hope so.” After the last few weeks, though, you have your doubts.

******

“I shouldn’t let you in the damn house.” Diana scowls at Jack as he stands in the doorway of her house. If she had a rolling pin in her hand, she’d be hitting him with it.

In the hours since she left your kitchen, Diana has been fuming. Thank god Champ hasn’t been home until just a few minutes ago or he would have gotten quite the earful about how purely Jack had treated you.

Jack's easy smile is instantly replaced with a frown. "What did I do?" He demands, looking around. "I wasn't supposed to bring nothin'."

“What you did has nothing to do with dinner.” She tells him flatly. This isn’t a conversation for the whole neighborhood to hear, though, so she lets him inside despite wanting to wallop him. “Would you like to guess how I spent the afternoon, Jack?”

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jack scoffs, shaking his head. "Your husband has me trainin' the young bucks on the whip and lasso." It still is a sore subject but at least he isn't stuck behind the desk for the entire day.

"I heard a little story today." Shutting the door behind him, Diana frowns and puts her hands on her hips. "From your soulmate."

"How many fuckin' times do I have to explain this." Jack's frown deepens and he rolls his eyes. "She ain't my soulmate. Second soulmates is a fucking lie you tell someone to make yourself feel better about the poor bastard losing his while yours is still happily breathin'." He scoffs. "It ain't real and I didn't fuckin' ask for her marks. I don't want 'em."

"A fact which you made abundantly clear to her." The steam pouring from Diana's ears is proverbial, thankfully, otherwise she would look like a cartoon character. "Without ever paying her the courtesy of kindness due to somebody who had their original soulmate torn from them. Instead you flirted with her, basically took her out on a date, kissed her; all the while telling her she basically means nothing to you. And then you had the goddamn audacity to make it seem like she did something wrong for finding herself likin' you at the end of the day." As it all comes tumbling out, Diana can feel herself just getting madder and madder, her blood nearly boiling all too quickly. "Second soulmates may be rare, Jack, but you're living goddamn proof that it's real. Whether you like it or not."

Shame fills Jack, but he'll be damned if he admits it. "She wouldn't have known if Tequila could keep his fuckin' mouth shut." He hisses. "She shouldn't have known, she'd have been happy livin' her life here and whatever attraction between us would have fizzled out and she could've moved on with her life." Guilt and something else twists in his gut, making it churn at the thought of that very thing happening. Shaking his head like he could shake off the feeling, he props his hands on his hips and stares at his oldest friend's wife. "Anything else you wanna lecture me on?"

"Yes, and it's ironic that you asked." The fact that he's trying to pass the buck off on poor Tequila is a whole other topic but she's too fired up in your defense right now. "Since you never once asked her how she felt about the whole damn thing."

"What does it matter?" Jack's volume creeps up in exasperation and he throws his hands up. "It's not gonna change things. It's not like I can change the fact that I'm gonna love my Abigail until the day I'm in the ground beside her. So what fuckin' good is it to ask how she feels about things that don't matter?"

"Because she's human, Jack!" Having to explain that to a grown ass man might be the most exasperating part, since Diana had always counted him as a concerned and caring friend. Apparently his blind spots when it comes to his own emotional state are even bigger than she had thought. "You don't have to love her but you do have to acknowledge that she's a grown woman with feelings and opinions all her own. And that those matter. How can you look her in the face and tell her you want to be her friend without ever once asking how she feels?"

“I can’t love her, Diana.” Jack’s frown turns into something desperate, almost beseeching as he implores her to believe him. “I can’t. I killed her soulmate.”

"Agents have killed lots of men, Jack Daniels." It's his job, and no one here is debating the morality of it. It's just a fact. "But she is the only soulmate that has ever transferred to a Statesman agent in the history of the organization." Diana shakes her head, her expression turning distinctly disappointed. "I'm not asking you what you think you're capable of. I'm saying she is alone, and she's sad, and she feels less than human because you didn't do the courtesy of just asking. You just assumed. And if nothing else, that isn't what friends do."

Jack stares at her for a long moment and sighs, his shoulders slumping and he closes his eyes. “I- I don’t know what to do.” He admits quietly. “I don’t know how to do this.”

"Nobody expects you to." Like a patient older sister with her petulant little brother, Diana shakes her head before reaching out to rub his shoulder softly. "But this knee-jerk anger about having her mark isn't helping anybody at all. Least of all you and her. Or poor Tequila."

"Why do I get to wear hers and not Abigail’s?" Jack demands, choking the question out. "They disappeared, gone, like she never existed."

'I don't know, Jack." When he starts to crumble, Diana moves in, offering him a place to lean against her if he wants it. "But she didn't put them on you herself. She doesn't deserve to be treated like an undesirable for something completely beyond her control."

Jack squeezes his eyes shut and takes the comfort that is being offered. "I- I'll try to - to be her friend." He swallows, hating the way his heart leaps and starts to pound at the mere thought of being around you. "Like- like it was when she showed up."

"Platonic soulmates do exist." In her heart she doesn't think that's how the two of you are meant to be, but it's not up to her to decide. No one but you and Jack can determine how you feel about each other. For now she puts one arm around Jack and gently rubs it up and down his back in a slow, soothing rhythm. "And...for the record? Tequila didn't out you. He only told her that he had seen her mark on somebody else. She figured it out herself."

"Who else would that dumb hick know that would show him a fucking tattoo?" He huffs, still sore about his damn jaw. "I really did think that he had seen her mark on the arm."

"Statesman has hundreds of employees," she reminds him gently. "It could have been anyone. And...apparently she covered it for the wedding. With makeup. Her cousin isn't a big fan of tattoos so she wanted to be courteous."

“Shit.” Jack closes his eyes, the guilt compounding when he remembers the hurt in Tex’s voice.

"It's been a rough few days." She can acknowledge that. That it's been hard for everyone, him included. Unfortunately, there isn't much more she can do but say her piece and be a good friend - both to you and to Jack. "Let's go have some dinner."

“I’m allowed to stay?” Jack asks, slightly surprised that she’s not booting him out on his ass.

“I’m upset, not heartless.” Diana tells him, though if he hadn’t showed remorse or had dug his heels in, she might have sent him on his way. “But next week she’ll be here right alongside you, so I’ll ask you to find a way to be civil by then.”

“I got no problem being civil.” Jack promises, even though he would prefer to limit his time with you until he feels like he is on steady ground. But what could a dinner hurt?

“Good.” Even if she doesn’t quite believe him, she’s already picked her fight for today.

Jack follows Diana into the house, wondering why the older woman felt so strongly about you - a newcomer. He shakes his head and shuffles towards the living room as he greets Champ.

“I won’t ask.” Champ already has a beer out for Jack, having heard the ruckus from upstairs. His wife had given him an overview of her conversation with you but mostly kept your confidence, as she always does with a friend. “The youngins do alright today, Jack?”

Jack can only be grateful that someone doesn't want to crawl up his ass and into his business. He takes the beer and nods. "Comin' along, though some of them ain't exactly cowboys."

"I'm sure we can fix that," the older man chuckles as they follow Diana into the dining room. Bobby had been getting the table set while his mother took the screws to Jack, apparently. "Most don't hang around here too long without getting the spirit."

"True." Jack can agree with that, knowing his own training had weeded out plenty of unsuitable candidates. "But you've got a family legacy here." He tells the older man as he winks at Bobby. "Like the boy here."

"He's doing fine work." Champ commends, puffed up proudly as they all take their seats at the table. "Finer than I was at his age, that's for damn sure."

Jack snorts. "Of course he is." He jokes, winking at the kid. "But that's not sayin' much."

"Alright, you three." Diana looks around the table as she starts to serve - a habit she's kept for years just to keep the men in her life from making a mess at the table. "No shop talk at dinner, you know the rules."

"Yes ma'am." Jack grins as both he and Bobby answer Diana at the same time and Champ just grins at his wife and winks at her playfully.

The meal starts with a little benign chit chat, but soon turns around to Statesman again - though the men are all careful to avoid mentioning case work to adhere to Diana's 'no shop talk at family dinner' rule. "Did I see a groundbreaking on the new apartment building this morning?" Bobby asks when he reaches for seconds. There used to be three small parks in the housing neighborhood. Soon there will only be two. "I didn't know we were expanding that much more. Is the new restaurant gonna be that big?"

Champ leans back and nods. "Figure it will be." He admits, smirking slightly at how well the projected sales are forecasting with just the traffic from the people who work at Statesman enjoying your food right now. "We got ourselves a real winner." He glances over at Jack who is looking down at his plate.

“And it’s just the start.” Diana’s pride is more for you than for the business. “When we start hosting more events than just corporate getaways and bachelor parties, things are really going to get busy around here.”

Jack shouldn't feel pride, he had nothing to do with the restaurant. It was your baby, your hard work and vision that was making it a reality. Still, he nods as he forks up another bite of meatloaf and agrees. "She will be full every day."

Across from him, Diana bites back a smirk at the pride in his voice. “Once she starts doing weddings, she’ll be lucky to have a day off.”

"She doesn't need to be overworked." Jack immediately frowns. "She needs to trust the people around her."

"She'll need a team." For the first time in a little while, Diana is in total agreement with Jack. "It's going to be time to start hiring staff soon, won't it? Including a good second-in-command."

Jack nods, keeping his eyes on his plate. “Yeah she will need that.”

"You sure you don't want the job, Mom?" Bobby grins at his mother, knowing little about the woman who will be running the new restaurant on premises except that his mother is incredibly fond of her. "You always said you wanted to be a party planner."

“Oh no,” Diana quickly shakes her head. “There’s no way that I could keep up with her.” She laughs. “She’s too energetic.”

"What about the opening night party, Di?" Champ suggests, glancing sideways to get an eyeful of Jack staring into his plate. "You're still our gal for events until we hire a full on planner. Why don't you talk to her about what she'd like for opening night?"

“Oh she should have a party, shouldn’t she?” Diana muses. “Something to celebrate the opening. We need to get her family here for it.” She turns to Jack. “You take care of that.”

"Jack's a little overqualified to be a travel agent, ain't he?" Bobby snorts, obviously not having understood the argument between his mentor and his mother, if he overheard it at all.

Jack swallows and pushes around the green beans. “Nah, kid, I’ll be happy to arrange for the family to come down.” He raises a brow. “Gonna need the jet of course. She’s got a big group.” It highlights how alone Jack is now, his own family reduced down to just him. No siblings, parents gone, wife and child gone. Alone.

"Whatever you need." Champ waves his hand like it's the easiest thing in the world, then smiles at his wife. "You, too. Whatever y'all need. Carte blanche to throw a hell of a hoedown."

“Well, that’s a mistake.” Jack snorts, shaking his head even though he’s grinning. “Your wife will invite half the state and plan on feedin’ em too.”

"I'll be damn sure to book the whole place full with reservations." And Diana won't pretend otherwise, either. She has a few strings she can pull, some friends she can call, and some favors she can call in. People enough to make the night the talk of Louisville, that's for sure.

Champ chuckles and reaches over to take his wife’s hand. “I know you will, honey. You always do a good job for us.” He praises, kissing the back of her hand and Jack looks back down at his meal, unable to rationalize the jealousy swimming through him at the causally intimate gesture.

"I'll hash everything out with her this week," Diana hums, as casually as if they were all chatting about the weather. She's interested to know just how rankled Jack will get if she takes things one step further in this conversation about you. "Before the weekend. I don't want her worrying about anything when Lewis gets into town."

“Lewis is coming?” Bobby grins, well acquainted with Astrid’s brother. “That means we need to make sure that our tab is in good standing at the bar. For damages.” He chuckles and leans back. There was always a scuffle at the bar when Ginger’s little brother came to town.

"Y'all can get into plenty of trouble on a boys' night." She laughs, shaking her head at her son even while she watches Jack out of the corner of her eye. "He's taking our favorite chef out while he's here."

Jack’s head snaps up and he almost immediately starts to protest and then he presses his lips together. Knowing that he doesn’t have any reason to argue against it. Instead he ducks his head down and stares at the meatloaf that suddenly tastes like ash in his mouth.

"Oh?" Champ nearly chokes at Jack's reaction but manages to keep his poker face. "Yes." Diana has sat back in her chair, raising her glass of wine to her lips in victory. The jealousy on Jack's face is as obvious as the shade of red he has turned. "Something about a concert he has tickets to? He was very excited."

Jack’s jaw nearly breaks; he's mashing it together so harshly, grinding his back teeth. Eyes burning a hole in his plate as he stares at it.

"Sounds like fun." The sound of chomping from Jack sitting beside him is unexpected, but Bobby doesn't call attention to it because he's not sure what the hell he just heard. "What's he up for? Just the concert?" Diana shakes her head, absorbing every single reaction she can get out of Jack. "Astrid and Gabi's oldest is turning seven next week. They're not doing a big party or anything, but you know Lewis wouldn't miss the kids' birthdays."

It hurts to sit here. Listening to Diana happily chatter about Lewis. Even if he does like Ginger’s brother, he’s suddenly a hell of a lot less happier he’s coming. Wanting to bolt from the table and the conversation but he reaches for his glass to gulp down the rest of his sweet tea, mouth dry.

“Now that we got a pastry chef on premises, birthdays for the kids are going to be a lot sweeter.” Champ nudges his empty plate back on the table after taking his last bite and pats his belly in satisfaction. He’d have to have lost his marbles to be oblivious to what his wife is doing as she harps on the topic, but he also can’t say that Jack hasn’t been damn fool enough to have it coming.

Jack nearly chokes, coughing to cover up the way that the tea manages to slide down the wrong pipe. Slapping himself on the chest and taking deep breaths when he finally finished sputtering the liquid up from his lungs.

“Alright, Jack?” Diana asks, expression washed with nothing but mild concern. She knows he’s fine, but he’s been awfully quiet while he stews - right until this.

"Fine." Jack clears his throat and shakes his head quickly. "Fine. Just swallowed wrong." He gives a bland smile and takes another sip of his drink.

“Good.” Her smile tightens just barely. “I’d hate to think anything here,” she waves her hand at the remnants of the meal in front of them. “Was hard to swallow.”

Jack's jaw rocks but he nods, understanding what is being said. "Not a damn thing." He drawls. "Everything was just as good as it's always been."

“Good.” If that’s all that Jack wants - what’s always been - he’s going to be hurtin’ watching you live your life. And if that’s the bed he’s made for himself, Diana thinks as she gives him a smile, it will be a very lonely one to lie in.

"Good." Jack nods, fully aware there is nothing good about it at all.

******

The clock on the wall reads six o’clock by the time you’re winding down for the day, exhausted from interviews and looking forward to grabbing dinner with Diana after this next one was over with. The intensive process of hiring an entire restaurant’s worth of staff hasn’t been fun, and this is the end of day three. The only thing you’re happy about is that you really do have most of your team together by now. One more line cook and maybe two more waiters and you’ll have a full house. You look down at the application in front of you - the bottom of the stack - and hope you can retain any of the information it contains while you’re talking to this guy. Tripp Tanner. You chuckle Unconsciously at the alliteration. Well…at least you’ll remember his name.

Jack decides to stop by your kitchen. Trying to make a more conscious effort to make you feel wanted, it’s been hard, but he also won’t admit that he likes checking on you. Making sure that you are enjoying your new creation. “Sugar?” He calls out. “You in the back?”

“Jack?” In the weeks since everything exploded between the two of you, you’ve been trying to be nice. To be friendly. Even though it twists your aching heart that he doesn’t see you as anything more, you’re trying to move on. Something that’s hard to do when he pops in to surprise you like this. “I’m in the kitchen!”

“Are you busy?” The last thing he wants to do is impose, but he wants to ask about the planning for the party. Talking to your brother about scheduling everyone in your family to come down is a pain. Too many people to juggle.

He strolls through the door like a cowboy rolling up to his favorite saloon and you can’t help but smile. “I have a couple of minutes before my last interview. What’s up?”

“What time are you planning on kickin’ off the festivities on your big day?” He asks, looking around the kitchen and nodding at the controlled chaos that it seems to emit.

“It’s still almost two months away.” There’s a lot of work to do before then, but you’re excited. Champ has given you everything you’ve asked for and then some. “But the party is…it’s going to be a lot of fun.” Diana’s idea to turn the one-night soft opening you had planned into a party is shaping up to be wonderful. “The whole thing will start at six that night.”

“But the opening is when?” Jack nods, filing away that information. “So I can make sure that the website is updated.”

“Six weeks from Saturday.” Which is so far away and so close all at once. “April 14.”

“Okay, so they are different days?” Jack shakes his head in confusion. “Take me through everything please?”

“The soft opening is like our trial run.” You pop up from your seat to refresh your tea and come back from the fridge with a glass for him as well. “People come by invitation and they have reservations. We’re going to offer our whole menu and have some live music that Diana is arranging. There will be thank you gifts for everyone who comes and they’re all going to get little nips of Statesman with the date on the bottle as well. Champ’s idea, of course.” With how wonderful everyone’s been, you’ve really just been basking in the support. Professionally, at least, things are wonderful. “What this does is give us a night to work out any kinks in the system and make sure all the food is perfect for the grand opening, which is the next day. That’s when we open to the public.”

“Okay, soft opening is Saturday, Grand opening is Sunday.” Jack nods, knowing he will invite the family for the entire weekend. Give you a chance to spend time with them outside of the hustle of your restaurant opening. He leans against a counter, unaware that there is a tool with a sharp edge to snag on his button down shirt. It’s too hot to wear his sports coat and he had run by after leaving the office.

“It will be a very big weekend.” You already know you won’t sleep Friday night, too excited and worried and proud and scared to rest at all. “For tonight, though? Just one more interview.”

“Who you hirin’?” Jack asks before he takes a sip of his tea. Trying to ignore the way your eyes light up and seem to sparkle talking about the opening. Too damn pretty for his peace of mind.

“My sous chef is coming from Savannah. She was the first person I hired.” The enthusiastic woman is about your age and has been doing French influenced Southern fair in Georgia hotels for her whole career. She was excitable but focused in your video interview and you hadn’t hesitated to pull the trigger. “And my front of house manager is actually my roommate from college. She was a hospitality major when I was in culinary and we always said one day if we had our own place we’d hire each other.” The stack of applications and resumes had been intimidatingly thick when they started to arrive, but with Diana’s help you’re getting through it all. “This last interview is for a line cook. I’ve had twice as many applicants as I have positions so I’ll decide this week and call everyone before the end of the day on Friday.”

Jack knows next to nothing about hiring cooks but he nods. Diana’s voice in his head about being polite. “That’s good, sugar. I’m sure you’ll find the right fit for everyone soon.” He agrees. “That sandwich you had everyone tastin’ was mighty good. I never did hear what it was called?”

“That was my version of a croque monsieur.” Having agents and office workers and everybody from the Statesman offices come down to taste test recipes has been an absolute blessing, and so far you’ve made good use of all the constructive criticisms that have come your way. Although you may have weighed opinions like Jack’s more heavily than others…

“It was damn good.” He admits, taking another sip of the sweet tea that you have down to an art form despite growing up in the North. “Hopefully that will make it to your menu at some point.”

“It was a pretty rousing success, so I think it will.” It’s such an easy moment between the two of you. Sitting there together and chatting away, you could almost be mistaken for a couple with the smiles on your faces. But you’ll never tell him just how often you harbor thoughts like that. He would despise it.

Jack hums, knowing that most days will be spent having lunch here, or at least ordering it into the office. “Good,” he leans forward and the material catches, the sounds of ripping fabric filling the air. “Shit.”

“Oh shit!” You jump up, reaching around him to snatch the corkscrew up that somehow got wedged under a stack of cast iron pans and became a weapon against men’s fashion. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did it scratch you or just your shirt?”

Jack frowns, twisting his head and pulling on his arm. “Looks like it just tore my shirt.” Of course it would tear so that the tattoo he wears is exposed and he hisses. “No- it scratched me.”

“Shit,” you murmur again, turning him a little so you can see the damage. “Th-that shouldn’t have happened. I’ll replace the shirt for you. I—I’m sorry, Jack.” What a stupid thing to have ruined a perfectly nice moment, too. “It just looks like a scratch, though. Not like it will…” Even the thought of it has you cringing. “Not like it will scar.” God knows the last thing he wants is another reminder of you.

“Don’t worry about it.” The black looping scrawl on his skin is visible and it makes Jack’s mouth run dry. Your own is already visible today since you have your sleeves rolled up and Jack pulls back to hastily stand straight. “I’ll change my shirt and toss this one.” He tells you quickly. No need to buy another or triage.” He’s panicking and he knows he is, but he sends you a sickly smile.

“You’d better go.” There is no mistaking the way he jumps. The jittery way he jerks is so diametrically opposed to his normally smooth and confident movements. It’s obvious, once you see how his shirt has ripped. He doesn’t want your tattoo showing. Being nice to you is one thing, but having anyone know what you are to him is another. You cross your arms and lean against the counter, suddenly sullen rather than apologetic. “Get a new shirt on before anybody sees.”

“I– that’s not–” Jack protests and shakes his head, falling silent when your stony expression doesn’t change. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He murmurs silently. “Thanks for the tea, sugar.”

The best way to keep yourself from running after him like some godforsaken schoolgirl is to stay stone faced, and you turn back to the counter that you had been using as a desk to take a few very deep breaths before whoever the hell Tripp Tanner is gets here.

Jack curses himself as he rushes through the door, not even paying attention to the man who had come in without him hearing. Watching him through narrowed eyes.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au

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