#i guess this means that the next chapter will come out in 10 years or so

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶What happens when Eddie tries to hide the less-than-fun side of being a single parent from you, and you discover Miss Mouse can't always save the day?✶

NSFW — angst with a happy ending, reader wears eddie's hoodie, comfort, kissing, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 11/20 [wc: 14.2k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 11: In the Beginning...

——Then——

In the beginning…

It was January 31st, 1988, and Wayne had come in to check on him again. And maybe he had a reason to when Eddie continued to stare at the pockmarked ceiling, dressed in the same clothes as three days prior, laying on the same bedsheets last washed by well-meaning, pre-aged, liver-spotted, wrinkled hands gnarled from factory work after being tanned on a big rig’s steering wheel for decades.

No music played from the stereo record player; The Doors still sat with the album art turned, stopped mid-spin. The paperback on the nightstand remained unfinished, its dog-eared page trapped as a placeholder from New Year’s Eve. Dust and cigarette ash clung to the room as if saving it in a time capsule of the morning he was arrested, and any movement would disturb the illusion.

“Eddie?” Wayne called out to him with his Free name; one that shouldn’t hold a stigma, because Eddie was a free man, wasn’t he? He was innocent. Even if they hadn’t caught the other guy yet. “You okay if I go?”

Tracing the bumpy lines of the most recent tattoo on his stomach, he answered, “Yeah, I’m fine,” and his uncle breathed as he usually did when he was wringing his mouth with indecision.

Wayne twisted the doorknob, uncertain. “If you’re sure.. And, uh, I’ll stop by the hardware store and pick up somethin’ for the spray paint on the trailer if the cookin’ oil trick doesn’t work, don’t you worry about it.”

Whatever rude thing someone wrote this time, Eddie hadn’t gone outside in days to know.

After a long silence, Wayne cleared his throat and gave a gruff, “I’ll see ya after work,” and left, as foretold by his rackety truck fading further into the night, and the deadness of winter taking over. A staleness of midnight inactivity in the crisp air invading the guitars and amps and magazines Eddie never touched anymore; the ceramic of his bedside lamp, the model car next to his lighter, the binders stacked on his desk with a pencil he hadn’t sharpened since it broke six weeks ago. He didn't get much relief from his routine of ignoring, shutting down, isolating, and desperately trying to get tears to form when he had none left to give, so he wept agape and dry, spiraling downward.

The phone rang.

He wasn’t going to answer—he hadn’t since December unless under obligation—but in case it was Wayne, he did.

“Hello?” The other end of the line was equally hesitant to answer his unrecognizable voice, gone hoarse from disuse. “Hello?” he repeated.

“Eddie?” A beat. “I guess I’ll get this over with. Look, uh, do you remember selling to a girl at Brad’s party a couple months back? Not the Halloween one,” they said, definitely a young woman’s voice, but with each word spoken she lost her fluttery nervous edge and replaced it with a direct tone, leaving no time for him to dawdle.

He hurled his mind into searching his memories before the ones made in the weeks prior, only grazing past the details which haunted him, and registering the question he was asked. “Uh, yeah, yeah I think so. Ah, Sarah? Something generic like that. Sold to her a couple times before. Why?”

Her severe silence loaded the chamber. His forthcoming nature pulled the trigger, never learning when to shut his mouth and keep information to himself. There was no telling who he was speaking to, or what happened to the girl he sold to, or why he was the subject of interest. His stomach clenched in knots at the whiff of gunpowder. He was too relaxed at the prospect of a normal conversation. He said too much. It was happening again. The police sirens would wail any minute now. Whatever happened to Sarah—or whoever—was bad, and he incriminated himself. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

But it was her next words that fired the shot. Rang in his ears. And he knew then, as the cold sweat took over his body and bile stung his throat quicker than his heart leapt black spots to his vision, life as he knew it was over.

“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”

————

In the beginning…

It was March 7th, 1988, and Eddie walked out.

It was better than listening to Wayne blame himself for not doing enough, or being involved enough, or whateverthefuck he was saying about failing Eddie, because soon those judgments would turn into nags about how Eddie’s irresponsibility got himself into this mess, and those arguments would become shouting matches about his lack of preparedness for raising a baby, and Eddie would end the fight with his fist through the hallway closet door, where his piece of shit father’s jacket swung on the hanger and fell to the floor.

Following the Munson name.

————

In the beginning…

It was April 29th, 1988, and Eddie left his motel room to drive forty-five minutes outside of Hawkins to sit across from a woman in a dimly lit restaurant with her hand laid atop her round belly, and his cold chicken alfredo. The cheese in his oval shaped dish had coagulated, but he wasn’t hungry anyway.

The entire time his mouth ran sentences, he kept his gaze focused on a crumb dirtying the white tablecloth as the candle flickered shadows through their untouched water glasses. Yet, his tone remained animated and optimistic, though a bit hollow. “—So, uh, with the money from workin’ at the gas station, and what I have saved from that graveyard shift I picked up at the laundromat, I can afford the crib no problem. Maybe you could, ah, come with me to pick it out! I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for, but whatever you want, you got it. And—And I’ll start stocking up on diapers, and stuff. Y’know, different sizes. Some clothes. Could even get a nice baby blanket, or somethin’. I guess cribs have those teeny mattresses, so we’ll need sheets for that, too. Um, one of those, y’know, things that hangs over it and spins, puts them to sleep.” His lips hinted at his first smile in weeks at his dumb explanation for a mobile. “And with your job, you have health insurance, don’t you? That’ll.. That’ll really help us out,” he emphasized by bugging his eyes, and nodding. “There’s a position open at an auto shop in town that I’m gonna apply for, but I don’t think insurance will kick in until I work there for a certain number of days. Sucks, but it’s decent money. Better than what I make now, anyway. Um..” Thinking, he sorted through his plan for the future in his head, making sure he didn’t forget anything important—

That’s when he made the mistake of looking up, and a different type of heartache wrung his chest.

Indifference powdered her shimmery beige eyelids, darkening to smoky apathy at the outer corners with a touch of heavy mascara weighing her eyes half-closed. She appeared bored—he wished she appeared bored—but in the eternity he glanced at her, she resembled a loaded chamber moments from cutting him off.

Continuing, he said, “I can also handle the small stuff like bottles, and bibs, and pacifiers. Depending on how much the crib is, I can probably swing the carseat too, just gotta sell my other guitar, and—”

“Eddie,” she stated. He winced.

There was no trace of his smile left on his lips; trembling and licking at the sore metallic-tasting spot he bit out of habit. The first sign of rejection welled behind his eyes. A sense of shame clogged his throat, but he tried, “Are people still bothering you about me?” he asked, so meek and defeated.

Her words were a merciless killing, “Does it matter?” He shrugged, running the side of his hand along the table’s edge, concentrating on the crumb. “And don’t bother buying anything.”

“Why not?” he faltered. “I’m not gonna be some deadbeat who doesn’t provide, okay? I’m good on my word.”

“You know why.”

The cruelty, the truth he denied, struck him.

“You don’t want to try?” His voice went watery, and the candles swam in his vision. “We’re having a baby together, and you don’t want to try and work something out between us?” There was a reason he avoided addressing where the crib would go, or what the arrangement was after coming home from the hospital. In the first few calls they had, she seemed interested when he rattled off the list of cheap apartments he found around Hawkins scribbled into his notebook, and when he lightened the bleak mood with a joke, she laughed, sort of.

Though, he was always the one to call her, and her answers were refined to short words such as yeah, or no. And she did pick up the phone less often, but she was busy with University or her career or there was a family thing that had come up or she was just headed out the door, so he stuck with planning their future by himself, aware of the ugly reality twisting his stomach with dread.

Maybe he was being naive, but he thought she’d come around by now. See how responsible he was being, and maybe.. maybe..

“I’m not interested,” she dismissed him in monotonously stern frankness.

“I thought you said you liked me,” he reminded her, on the verge of something pathetic, “at the party.”

The corner of her jaw twitched from an emotion she ground between her teeth.

That was the final straw.

She swung her gaze around the restaurant, releasing a hard sigh of frustration, and shaking her head. Dropping her hand to the bottom of her belly, she leaned forward, and eviscerated any hope he had for them being together. “I’m not interested,” she hissed under the susurration of nearby tables, “in raising a baby with someone whose reputation is for giving girls discounts when they flirt with him.”

Eddie shrunk into himself, not expecting the hit below the belt.

“You’re just the loser dealer that all the guys send their girls to because they know you’re too lonely to turn them down. I wish I stuck with flirting, because let me tell you, having a couple of smarties to get me through last semester wasn’t fucking worth it.” She motioned at her stomach, he assumed. “I almost missed my finals because I couldn’t stop puking.”

Fat drops wobbled his vision. Anxious sweat from holding his breath prickled his hot face. His knuckles hurt from clacking them against one another, punching bone-on-bone in his lap to distract himself from letting the venom win. Biting impressions of his teeth into tongue from the weight of his one chance at normalcy slipping through his fingers.

The ache of deep-seated rejection stung worse, built worse, escalated worse with every heartbeat echoing in his head: not even someone who’s having your kid wants to be with you.

Chairs skid across the tiles behind him, and a family stood to leave. Eddie faced the stained glass window as they passed, pretending to admire the intricate details while warm tears spilled over the dam, and onto his cheeks in steady drops like rain. Drip, drop, drip, drop..

Embarrassment, failure, freak..

Even before he was wrongfully arrested, his reputation was trash.

Pathetic loser not good enough for his dad, his uncle. Can’t pass fucking high school, or get a girl to stick around for more than a few weeks; just long enough to feel the safety of attachment, learn their likes and dislikes, what their favorite flowers were, and then they’d leave too..

“Doesn’t matter,” she exhaled. One, two—she took two calming breaths through her nose while his was running, and he was trying to not sniffle through the grossness of crying.

Composed and diplomatic, she sat up, smoothed the buttons of her burgundy maternity blouse stretched across her swollen middle, and informed him “I’m giving her up for adoption.”

Eddie froze.

Her.

Tiny tines of salad forks ceased clinking on plates. Silly dull knives unworthy of much else sank into whipped butter, and stopped. Pretty laughter faded, leaving red lipstick kisses staining the rims of wine glasses.

Her.

He froze. A strange cliche to explain how his body reacted. How his heart pounded, and tears splashed onto his clenched fists. How his brain latched onto one word, one word only, and the blood drained from his cheeks to pool liquid rage in his empty belly. How his temper surged like a wave, and crashed, again and again on the shore of fate. How he was thinking sharper, seeing clearer, smelling the raw flame of the candle being snuffed out from his sudden movement.

The tableware rattled when he planted his elbow next to his forgotten dinner, and pointed a stern finger at her stomach. “That’s my daughter, and you will not—”

“C’mon, Ed—”

“No,” he cut her off. He didn’t give a damn if another tear rolled from his wide eyes when he said it, he put conviction behind his voice even when it cracked, “That’s my daughter, and you are not giving her up for adoption.”

“Be serious,” she spat back. “You don’t have the means to take care of a baby. I’m doing this as a favor for the both of us. Mostly for you.”

Eddie sucked his bottom lip inward and chewed the flesh. Shivers of indignation trembled his body, and his nostrils flared from the absolute power he invoked to rein his voice from the snap, bite, snarl his upper lip suggested. “I don’t care what you think is best,” he maintained through the viscous tar coating his refusal in the abhorrence she deserved. “That baby.. She’s mine.” He nodded until the motion was ingrained, and her expression changed. Pointing to himself, now. “She’s mine, and I want her.”

There wasn’t much thought put behind his decision. It was done. It was innate. It was automatic, and her soft warning—”You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,”—was as heeded as the candle’s flame.

He paid for the date. It cost five hours of his minimum wage. That was all his money. He was hungry when he got back to his shitty motel; opening the door to darkness, and a suitcase of dirty clothes he’d need to sort before going to work at the gas station at the edge of town where his boss cut his hours last week because it was making customers uncomfortable to see a criminal serve them at the till, and a new sound replaced the ding of the cash register: loser, loser, loser..

Already, he couldn’t afford diapers.

Already, he failed.

Already, he was worthless.

Already, he was alone.

Not even the woman he was having a baby with wanted to be with him.

——Now——

Eddie hung up the phone, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall for long moments, listening to the rain pattern shift above. The storm spilled its sorrows on the tin roof, uncaring if the structure could handle the stress of another trial when it was weak and susceptible. It poured, and poured. Ruthless. Vicious and brutal as nature could be, targeting the vulnerable and strong alike.

His back broadened with a breath, and finally, he dropped his hand from the yellowed plastic, staring at the dial pad as his arm went limp at his side. Absorbed by his thoughts as the old night rolled into another low growl of thunder, and whatever was on his mind reflected heavily in his vacant appearance.

“Ed?” You waited for him with a kind lift to your brows, but as soon as his glance landed, your chest tightened.

The emotion in Eddie’s eyes was heavily guarded, communicating little as to what caused the tenseness in his jaw when he averted his gaze to the floor, walking fast and purposefully away from you standing half-dressed in his kitchen, and stopping at the front door with his head down. Going through the motions of buttoning his pants, and buckling his belt, rigid and rough, snapping the leather against itself.

“Is Adrie okay?” you asked, voice coming out painfully shallow, like when you were using it to diffuse a customer service issue with the breeze of happiness and a plastered smile.

Leaned over, he shoved his feet into his boots, and began lacing. “She’s fine.”

Blunt, and closed off. Not like your Eddie from an hour ago. And you didn’t know how to navigate asking him what was wrong, and easing him into opening up to you, coaxing him back to that place of union and understanding.

Left feeling confused, you gleaned that this wasn’t the time to bother him about it, and mumbled, “Okay,” and assumed the rest. You dragged the whispery ends of the blanket across the floor, and picked your sweater off the carpet, having that particular sense of embarrassment as if you’d missed a cue, and should’ve read the room sooner, and been clothed and leaving without him asking.

You dressed in silence, doing up the buttons on the cardigan he so skillfully slipped you out of. Treading over linoleum to wash the evening off your hands and mouth. Making yourself small to fit next to him in the entryway, and putting on your shoes in a state of quiet obedience, missing the warmth of his hands and the comfort of his lovesick grin. Wilting under the coldness of his attitude, and wanting nothing more than to reach out, and soothe that bit of regret knotted between his eyebrows.

He regarded the exposed skin of your upper chest, and handed you his black hoodie from where it hung next to his canvas work jacket. “Here.”

Here wasn’t much of a break in the distance he resurrected between you, but you pulled the heavy scent of cigarettes and cologne over your head, and he almost found himself braving eye contact to tell you, “I’m dropping you off first.”

“What? No,” you blurted, “I’m going with you to pick her up. She’s just scared of thunderstorms, right? No big deal, you can drop me off after.” Which seemed like the right thing to say; that you were fine with Adrie crying, but when he set his gaze on you, a small image of yourself swam in his endless pupils, and your stomach clenched at the animal warning in his unbreakable stare.

Eddie shook his head an imperceptible amount, only enough to loosen the curtain of curls tucked beneath his jacket’s collar, and shift the lamp’s glare at the edge of his bitter coffee eyes. It was a threat to back off. Leave well enough alone. Stop encroaching on the parts of his life he hid, and keep the illusion intact.

“I wanna go,” you assured gently.

However, your support fell short when challenged against the aggressive shine swallowing you whole. He looked at you. Really looked at you with the same intensity as when his hands were on your hips and you rocked yourself in his lap, chests flush together with a lazy prayer of your name on his tongue; when nothing mattered more than honoring each other with lips and teeth, tasting sweat on necks and sucking bruises until moans were spilled from heads thrown back. But instead of unraveling you in shocks of pleasure, the ignorance of your child-free lifestyle softened the harsh lines of his face, and slowly, slowly, the shine dulled. The fight left him.

He saved his apology until his back was turned, and the squeaky doorknob gave under his heavy palm—turning it with too much force—and he cracked open the world beyond the two of you, dousing the lingering tenderness of your affection on his skin with frigid mist. “Sorry tonight ended this way.” The door banged open on the rusted iron handrail, caught on a gust.

The trailer park was bright with daylight. Flash, after flash.

Eddie’s silhouette eclipsed the doorway, outlined in lightning. He stood impossibly taller—like the animal threat still lurked within his structure, and caution stayed within your subconscious, altering how you perceived his lanky frame into something more imposing. His shoulders carried many burdens, bulked from five years of hard labor, possessing strengths you couldn’t imagine. He stepped to the side, insisting the door stay open with the spread of five fingers only, and his body no longer shielded you. You were exposed to the cold splash of rain on your shins. His palm was firm at your lower back, and you peered up at the hard set of his jaw feathering the muscle at the corner, sweeping the bone in a mature edge of stubble. Strands of his frizzy hair whipped in the wind. Droplets speckled his nose like freckles. His gaze, anchored on his car through the downpour, brewed with resentment.

His deep timber resonated in your chest beneath the safety of his hoodie, “Car door’s open, I’ll lock up behind you.”

And you were pushed.

Beaten down to a hunch, you took careful strides in your heeled shoes down the concrete steps and into the soft mud, covering your head as best you could from the cloud’s assault, and flinching at the closeness of the strikes darting around the boundary of treetops surrounding the trailer park. You tried the handle, and the car welcomed you into its dry insides. Guilt followed your tracks of caked on mud, leaves, and dead weeds on his nice red interior, but when you shivered to the bone, you didn’t care as much. Curled in on yourself, you spied Eddie’s vague shape through the waterfall blurring the windshield, and listened to his heavy boots trudge up to the door, and soon, the car sank with his weight too.

The engine roared to life. Heat wouldn’t come from the tiny AC units for some time, but the promise of such gave you hope. Eddie, beside you, drenched beyond measure, did not match your enthusiasm. Shadowed streams snaked across his pinched expression, swimming down his heavy brow, and splitting his raw lips. His bangs stuck to his forehead, and his cheeks trembled from his clacking teeth.

Soft music played from the radio station.

Riders on the Storm.

Two booms of thunder ended your small attempt at a smile from the timing.

Leftover adrenaline pulsed in your veins, fumbling your grip on the seatbelt. Wet earth and unease stroked your skin like skeletal hands, muddying your tights, and soaking his hoodie, weighing it down to your crushed sweater beneath. You wanted to speak; to poke, to prod, to press him to talk to you. The questions were there. On your tongue. At the ready; inviting him to tell you why his mood soured over a situation out of his control, other than the obvious weather.

But Eddie’s face was carved with irritation, baring his teeth as he attempted to buff circles into the icy fog on the windshield, only for it to cloud over in an instant. “C’mon..”

The wipers couldn’t keep up with the powerful current, and the tires struggled to find traction. “Fucking—damnit,” he said, interrupted by him slapping the steering wheel, cascading water off his work jacket, and onto every surface around him.

You twisted your hands in your lap at his mild slip in temper.

Now was not the time to bother him.

In a lurch, your shoulder bumped the door, and your head rocked side to side from the car backing over the swell of mud behind the tires. With another frustrated stomp on the gas, it evened out on paved road, and though the visibility was low, you were off towards the nicer side of Hawkins.

For once, he drove responsibly. Street signs could be read before he passed them. Fallen limbs in the road could be avoided, not ran over. His rings tinked off the glass when he rubbed at the thin fog, and the music was dialed to a somber ambiance behind the deep sighs through his nose. Dark stretches of treetops bent to the wind’s will. Short buildings sat so dim beyond the faint streetlights, they might as well have been deserted. Each red light was a necessary break for him to shove his fingers in the air vents to thaw them.

He never spoke. Never looked at you. He kept himself busy with tasks, and when those tasks were over and his hands were defrosted and the windshield was mostly clear, he regressed within himself. Unnervingly quiet. Turning onto streets with heavier regrets sagging his features the longer he crawled in front of white picket fence houses, and stopped.

The two story home was lit beautifully by the ornate sconces placed on either side of the doorway. Their lawn was manicured, and the sidewalk was free of weeds. No cars were at the mercy of the storm, they were parked inside the two-door garages. There was activity behind the embossed curtains hung in the living room of the residence. Presumably, the biggest shape was the father who called over the phone.

Someone who wore a business suit to the preschool’s Thanksgiving play lived here.

Eddie stalled. He remained seated forward, hands gripped at 10 and 2, squeezing the steering wheel as rain echoed in the belly of the car, battering the roof inches above your damp hair. There was a pause in his movements, his breathing. An awareness in his silence at the questions you didn’t ask. Tension in his pursed lips, rubbing them together as he surveyed the street.

He opened his mouth. Then, he thought better of it, and got out.

Your earnest call of his name was swallowed by the sea cleansing his body of your night together.

Leaping up the bullnose brick stairs, Eddie raised his hand, but before he could knock, the artisanal stained glass shimmered with movement. The immaculate door opened to a winced face. The man’s glasses were askew on his aged eyes, and his peppered hair hung over his eyebrows, no longer gelled back. He exchanged a few tight words with Eddie as Adrie was handed over, and Eddie, of course, shuffled into a meek posture, dipping his head, apologizing profusely. Almost bowing to this man dressed in matching pajamas and a robe. In horror, you watched the door close during one such apology. You could tell it happened in the middle of him speaking, because you had to sit through the agony of Eddie animatedly explaining something only for him to look up, straighten at the realization, and stand there for a few more seconds until the sconces dimmed off.

Worse, still, he cowered in the nook as cruel rain belted his back, doing his best to bundle Adrie in her tattered quilt and securing her on his hip, keeping all of her dry except her little legs wrapped around his middle. She buried her face in his neck, and he hesitated on the balls of his feet, judging the distance between the house and the car. His large palm covered the blanket over her head. All he had was his jacket.

Lightning revealed his weary frown.

At the clap of thunder, he sprinted.

Back in New York, at the going away party your friends threw in your and Robin’s honor, they warned you about moving to the Tornado Alley, and what to look for if one were to appear—green skies and all—but most importantly, they told you an incoming tornado sounded like a train. Being city dwellers, they wouldn’t actually know, but Robin confirmed it. And now you could too, because the piercing wail coming towards you could only belong to a natural disaster, not a four-year-old girl.

Murky water flooded to Eddie’s ankles from where it rushed against the sidewalk, sloshing in with his boot stomped to the floorboard for balance as he ducked inside amidst the fuss. He got Adrie into her carseat as quickly as possible. In the chaos, her overnight backpack fell somewhere in the dark, her quilt was chucked aside, and he cursed when the buckle bit into his thumb. She had a fistful of his hair, tangling it, making it harder to see what he was doing. He may have even threatened her full name to let go. It was hard to hear on account of the shrieking.

“Daddy!” The vowels were elongated, broken by hiccups. He shut the door, and in the small space with no escape, her big emotions rang louder. “Daddy!” Again, the y was screamed with the full power of her lungs, which would be impressive for their tiny size if it wasn’t for the pounding in your skull. She hollered louder when he sat heavily behind the wheel, “Daddy!” He didn’t shush her fourth tantrum spilt on his name; he accepted it, knowing it was futile.

It took all your strength to blink. Sat half-turned in your seat, frozen, gaze unfocused, marveling at your brain’s ability to function. You shifted your attention to Eddie’s face, a surprising few inches from yours.

The heat of his concentration scorched shame to your cheeks.

Avoidant no longer, your reaction to Adrie’s meltdown was the sole subject of his interest. Zeroed in on, dissected, and picked apart by just his eyes alone. Didn’t matter which eye you shied from, you were pinned in both, your discomfort blatant for him to witness. Your clamped mouth, your apologetic withdrawal, your fidgety fingers on your skirt; all of it. All of it was captured in his periphery because he didn’t dare break sight as he turned the key in the ignition, and started a raucous engine you couldn’t remember being turned off.

Humbled by the girl assaulting your senses, your questions were answered.

This was why he didn’t want you to come. This was why he slighted you with a pointed look from the recesses of his annoyance when you trivialized his daughter’s behavior as ‘No big deal.’ This was why he kept you separate from his parental sphere where everything wasn’t made of sunshine and rainbows. This—coming to terms with your inexperience staining each uncontrollable contortion of your unprepared expression—was why he never let anyone near his heart.

Adrie could no longer form his name through her open-mouthed cries, resorting to plain, wet screams which trilled past your eardrums, resulting in a throbbing headache.

At that, he grasped the gear shift, put his boot to the gas, and cut fat lines through the river overflowing the pampered neighborhood streets.

Eddie’s anger was a presence. His embarrassment, too. Just like at the auto shop when problems stacked and stacked into an unbearable weight on top of his sleepless nights and long mornings, he turned inward to delay his outburst. To feel everything so fully in his fists wringing the leather covered steering wheel until it creaked, and teeth gritted until they begged no more. Just that one second to release his frustration, and then it was suppressed from sight. But you felt it. His ire rested below your braced muscles, beneath your clammy palms and in your shallow breath. It invaded the tidy home you kept behind your ribs, taking up residence in your hammering heart.

The humiliation of having the date end when it did paid its dues in his bad mood. Disappointment radiated off his narrowed eyes, and slack frown. “Adrie,” he warned in a low tone.

She bawled louder, shriller than the crack of lightning.

The immense pressure to adapt was upon you. There was no sense in parsing what he expected you to do in this situation, it was clear he was soured by your ineptitude the moment you let it show on your face, but.. Only two short weeks ago, he relied on you to divert Adrie’s meltdown before DND night. And sure, she had already stopped crying by the time you got there, but you could come to his rescue again, couldn’t you?

You twisted around in your seat, proud of yourself for thinking of a solution, and showed him you could handle a modicum of parenthood. “Adrie, look!” you tamped down your children’s television host voice to a delightful, excited cheer, “I’m here. Miss Mouse is—!” Shocked with your hand reaching towards her, shooting pain traveled up your arm from her swift kick to your wrist. You recoiled, rubbing at your forearm without blame. It wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t even looking at you. Her fit was directed at the window she couldn’t peel her attention from, dropping tear after tear from her swollen eyes at the thunder shaking the car. “Adrie?” you tried softer, but she beat her hands on the carseat harder. Wailed until you were defeated to a wince. Yelled until you accepted a unique heartbreak you weren’t prepared for.

Miss Mouse couldn’t always save the day.

Acute twists of rejection wrung your chest. Eddie wasn’t the type to say I told you so, he wasn’t mean like that, but when you sat forward and your gazes moved past one another, never quite meeting, you knew what he was thinking.

Little else stung worse than his obvious cynicism at how this date was concluding.

Exacerbating the issue, Adrie escalated to screeching her distress. Every open sob of hers pulled your focus, invaded your brainspace, overpowered any thought before it began, and set your teeth on edge from the high-pitched squeals you swore vibrated in your bones. Her behavior seeped into your nerves, winding them up, scratching them with the very tip of a brittle nail, inciting a riot. The need to flee crawled under your skin. Breathing was uncomfortable. Your ankle hurt. There was to break in between the blinding pulses of your headache. The car was too hot, too cold, too swerving from the high winds buffeting it sideways. Your tights were too tight. His hoodie too stifling. Itchy yarn from your sweater chafed your damp neck. Alarms of panic battled inside. Louder, louder, louder—Adrie cried louder. Eddie’s lips tugged down at the corners, chin wrinkled, tensing his face from a sadder response. Your lashes fluttered from the chokehold his frown had on you. Fingernails bit your palms. You tried to bide your time, to resist snapping. Dug down deep for something, something you could do, something.. innate. Some answer within you to fix it all. To get her to stop. To get him to relax. Something, something, something—instinctual.

“Pull over!” you barked; Eddie had every right to whip his head around at your sudden demand, but in your panicked state you only cared about the road ahead. “Ju-Just—just—” You scanned the dark parking lot outside the hardware store, and stabbed your finger on the cold window, pointing past it. “The gas station! Under the roof-thing.”

When it wasn’t clear he heard you, you turned towards him at the same time he leaned forward to catch your eye. Justifiable skepticism burdened his brow, tightening the edges of his crow’s feet. His lips hung parted with a confirmation hesitating between them; however, it was silenced after you maintained your need, and the fight against the wind won.

Soppy pebbles scraped wet asphalt, muddied in the bump and grind from Eddie turning too sharply into the sloped driveway, banging into a pothole, and rattling the innards of his already rocky cargo. He careened towards the closed convenience store with its row of dim fluorescent lights inside. Pulling up alongside the gas pumps, he slammed the breaks. A second later, he slapped the windshield wipers OFF, violently shushing their grating squeak.

His patience strained thinner. Working through the sensory overload festering like infected wounds on blistered skin, he rumbled a shallow apology past his aching teeth. Quickly, it devolved into a barrage of doubt. “Look, I’m sorry she—Wait, where’re you—?” The instant fear of rejection shot past his octave. “Wait! Please don’t—”

Cruelly, he thought; heartlessly, he knew; the sun-faded black cotton draped about your shoulders was the last image his adrenaline latched onto, playing it over, and over, door slam and all. He wasn’t parked for more than a clock tick, and you hurled yourself out into the storm, leaving him behind. His first assumption was gentle. Kind whispers stroked the angst in his chest, telling him you needed a break from the noise, that was all. Then the hatred of abandonment gutted his center.

“Giving up already?” he asked aloud in a conclusion only meant to hurt himself when no one was there to answer.

As if sensing his hopelessness, Adrie sniffled into the worst of her hyperventilated cries. Broken disjointed things. Sinking him deeper, deeper into his seat, crossing his arms over his caved chest, shuddering at the hot sting wobbling his vision at his own inadequacy.

Never good enough for anyone to stay.

Tremors of repressed memories wakened the churn of nausea making him sick.

“Baby, baby, it’s okay,” soothed a voice behind him, trickling in with the splash of faraway drops. “It’s okay, sweet baby, I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Eddie jerked his chin up and stretched his neck to see into the rearview mirror. The wall of water teetering on his lash line made everything blur, so he tugged down the slick skin beneath his eyes to suck back the tears, and almost allowed them to spill at the scene behind him anyway.

In the reflection, you crawled across the backseat and unbuckled Adrie’s carseat, learning how to maneuver the straps from watching him. She reached for you, your hair, your clothes; small fists belying their strength. You didn’t care. You calmed her struggles with pretty words. “It’s okay, yeah, you can hold on to me, baby. Let’s get you wrapped up nice and warm. There we go.” Shhh. “Let me see your face, so I can clean you up.” Shhh.

“M–M-Mizz Mou—se,” Adrie got out between body-wracked sobs.

“Mhm, I’m here.” Shhh. “Miss Mouse is here.”

—Oh.

“Baby..” So modest was his whisper when so resolute was his yearn.

He leapt into motion, flushed with adrenaline.

The ripple effect of your actions caused tidal waves to swell and crash over him; body hitched in the place where his past convinced him he lost it all, only to collapse into a stuttered exhale of acceptance, understanding there was someone out there who cared about him to this degree; throat constricting with gratitude he could only express by stumbling out into the foggy cold, throwing open the door, and sliding into the backseat with you.

His fingers grazed the baby hairs at your nape on their way to the side of your head, using his wide palm which took up too much room to cradle you steady with a gentleness unknown to his tough skin. He trusted you to forgive him for how hard he knocked his forehead to your temple, and smashed his nose to the soft of your cheek. He need not worry. Beautifully, you adjusted to the bulky arm behind your neck, leaned into the crook of his body he hollowed out for you, and filled the familiar place at his side. You worked diligently to clear his daughter’s face while he passed a strong hand over her back and dropped it to shape his grip at the end of your thigh, curving his fingers in and slotting them to the underside, behind your knee.

“S’okay, Adrie,” you cooed, wiping at the sticky grossness clinging to her nose. “I’ve got you,” you continued the mantra, albeit with a lapse in motherly tenderness as a result of trying not to gag too hard.

Outside the car, the gas station’s tall canopy provided enough coverage to stop the rain from pounding the roof. Harsh winds howled past, encouraging the woeful sobs dropped onto your breasts, but the lightning stayed within the clouds, and the thunder faded in the distance. “Look at me,” you guided, sweeping the hoodie’s cuff over her puffy cheeks glowing splotchy red from the neon beer signs in the postered up convenience store windows. “We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.”

Eddie lips pulled thin against your skin, breath stuttering damp and thick on your neck like a smothered cry.

“Nothing bad can happen when we’re here, okay?” Repeating the union of you and him, you went on, “We’ve got you. You’re safe with us. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here. Right, sweet bean?” You tucked the quilt around her feet, and held her close. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you, ever.”

With her hands latched into the folds of fabric around your neck—cotton, yarn, and canvas—her big coughs were cushioned by your arms snuggling her to your front while Eddie’s chest was at her back, embracing her between your two bodies converging to protect her in a toasty nest. Warm air hummed from the vents, shooing off the stale chill clinging to the backseat, now disturbed by activity and plucky guitar strings playing over the radio.

Across the Universe.

Undertaking the complexities of the man rubbing his forehead into your hair with the same sort of neediness as his little girl wringing your clothes, you assumed the responsibility of consoling them both. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you mumbled the lyrics into the patchwork quilt covering Adrie’s curls. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you sang to Eddie, face tipped up and eyes falling closed, seeking out his nose to trace the tip of yours along the soft bumps in a devoted offering after the turbulent events causing you both inner strife.

His fingertips became an imposing force spread across the scope of your cheek, turning you toward him, capturing you in a deeper kiss than you were ready for. It was demanding, hard with desperation, misaligned and urgent. Born out of necessity in the moment. He kissed you in front of his daughter, where she could see if she picked her face up from your chest, and a dart of surprise lit your heart at the recklessness. You kept a level hand atop her head in case he’d come to regret the decision, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. He sighed into a second helping, and at the sound of the wet smack, she stirred.

Adrienne hooked her fingers into your collar and sniffled hard, soothing herself from further cries by hugging you tight, huddling into your comfort, oblivious to what was happening around her.

Easily, you fell into the third kiss. Became what he needed, mouths mashing together at the odd angle, your lower lip plush between his. Dizzying amounts of reverence manifested in his spontaneity. He packed a lifetime’s worth of bottled up feelings into the affection he was privileged to. Giving, and taking. But his impulses were still a puzzle. When he’d drank his fill, he squeezed your leg, broke apart from your lips in a silent slick slide, and drew a deserved breath.

“Sorry, no one’s ever just.. done that for me before.” He shrugged his hand off your thigh at the poor summary of the millions of things on his mind, and left it at that.

Spurred by the praise, you seized the opportunity for communication. “Remember how before we played DND that night, I told you to call me first next time you needed help?” you reminded him, and something vulnerable, maybe even pleadful, entered your tone. “I want to be someone you can rely on, Eddie.”

An unfortunate amount of complicated emotions passed in his eyes. There wasn’t much to garner from them, nor his soft grunt when he dropped his nose to the column of your neck, above Adrie’s head, and regressed into his quiet self. Reserved. Hard to decipher. He did speak up once to warn you she would fall asleep with how you were holding her—same as he did most nights on the couch while Late Night with David Letterman aired—and you embellished your promise to him with a kiss to the stringy curls frizzing at his scalp, “That’s okay.”

And it was okay, truly, when the storm raged heaves of rain against the car, spraying the windows with shocks of water. You dabbed Adrie’s cheeks. Wiped her nose. Rocked her in the same tempo as the backs of Eddie’s fingers stroking your cheekbone, flexed bicep behind your neck. Thunder occurred. Lightning happened. But with your quick thinking, lulling gestures, and genuine effort to speak past the fondness clogging your throat, you calmed her. Calmed her so well, in fact, her hands went limp and her body relaxed, fatigue claiming her victim to the numbered sheep hopping over fences in her dreams. After her tantrums, she was taxed out. Drained.

Stuck in the cramped middle between Eddie and the carseat, you rearranged your legs before they went tingly numb from her weight on your lap, and shifted the pressure off your heels. It was sweet having her fall asleep on you. Her slow breaths filled your arms as a reward for your efforts to hush her. The quilt smelled of their home, cozying itself in your lungs and sweeping you in a sense of longing for the humidity in his kitchen after making soup.

Though, as much as you thrived on the temporary role you played as parent—taking over for Eddie and dwelling on the fact Adrie slept propped on your chest like the many times she napped on his stained coveralls—you could do without the additional pain of him leaning on you too.

You groaned at the sharp twinge in your spine from slouching sideways, and conveniently, your movement roused his consciousness. He launched into a sleepy inhale. Robust, filling his lungs to the brim, too loud, too silly and sweet. He primed you for a solid press of the bridge of his nose to your jaw by thumbing you towards him, after which he pulled away, separating himself from you fully.

Eddie rolled his shoulders, stretching out from the uncomfortable position, and faced the window. He commented in a sincere tone, “You’re good with kids.”

“I know how to entertain kids,” you corrected him. “I don’t know how to do any of the hard shit you do.”

The streetlights painted strokes of dotted orange on his complexion cast in shadow. He played with the tips of his fingers, squishing each one in a line as he ruminated, staring elsewhere, perspiration blurring the outerworld, sealing yourselves in this crowded car together. “You do a good job,” he reassured, petering out in a hoarse whisper.

Ceaseless nerves gnawed at his absent-minded ring spinning. Not a big production like when he wrung his hands or bit his nails, but enough to show he was getting anxious. You’d expected his leg to be bouncing by now, but it was laying softly against yours. Something big was on his mind.

You bumped your knee into his. “Talk to me.”

Talk to me. Yes, you asked the world of him. You knew it, too. Encouraging his gaze to flick to Adrie bundled in your arms, and back to the window. His eyes weren’t wide with fear, just larger than normal at the subtle confrontation. It was time he opened up to you. There wasn’t a concrete ultimatum if he didn’t, but there was a mutual understanding that if this were to continue, he needed to trust you to be there for him. No more reluctance.

He extended his hand towards your knee, patting twice before claiming it in the great breadth of his palm, stroking his thumb over the thin pantyhose; bridging the gap from his earlier behavior, but not yet apologizing for the soreness he caused.

Sorting his thoughts, his throat bobbed twice on the swallow.

And of all the questions he could ask, of all things he could say, of all the topics he could choose, he picked, “Did you ever want kids?”

Heat swam to your cheeks, blood rushed to your ears. Buds of true belonging bloomed at the question, adorning stems of untended longing first planted during the Christmas party at work, ever growing. Your heart pumped faster at the inherent past and implied future of the subject. His curiosity was a mild prod, perhaps not meant to encourage these leaps in logic considering he announced it in the same buckled cadence of someone who was asking about the weather—and yet, the hold it had on you was impossible to deny. A blend of you, Adrie, and him, just like now, but in different contexts—different meanings other than sitting in the back of his car—something domestic, like being piled together on the couch watching Disney movies; that’s what was pushed to the forefront of your mind.

But, despite those instantaneous fantasies, this was a place for honesty, and the significance of your pause between his question and yours was an entity of its own, stiff like his posture.

“Are you ready for this conversation?” you checked. He fostered an anxious glance and nod. “Having kids is not something I ever saw for myself, no.”  The consequence of your answer marked his immediate dropped eye contact, but ever patient with him, you continued strongly, “With how I dated and moved around, I didn’t think it was for me, that sort of lifestyle. It’s just not something I put a lot of thought into except when my friends were having kids, and really, they kinda turned me off of the idea. Pregnancy sounds.. daunting. Or—you know—really fucking scary. They’d always talk about how awful it is, all the complications you could have, the risks, the near death experience in one case,” you broke off in a squirm. “And then you don’t even get the relief once the baby comes. Like, seriously, taking care of a newborn sounds straight up terrifying.”

Eddie cracked. His hiss of laughter was a welcomed reprieve, especially when it sank to his chest, gripping his shoulders in a hearty shake. “Y-Yeah,” he got out, face crinkled in all the ways you adored, “it is straight up terrifying.”

You giggled in the softest way, careful to not disturb Adrie’s shallow breaths, and careful to not swoon too head-over-heels over the image of him rocking a baby. “It seems easier when they’re older, though,” you said, broaching the real crux of the conversation with your chin dipped to the top of her head. “Like it’s not as bad when they can actually communicate why they’re crying, or tell you what’s bothering them.”

“Not necessarily easier, just different,” he clarified. “It’s less about making sure this little tiny thing that can choke on its own snot survives the night, and more about the emotionally draining problems like her telling you about her day at preschool, explaining a situation where a group of kids kept giving her tasks to do that sent her away, and she’s smiling so big when she’s telling you, thinking it was a game, but deep down you’re just waiting for the heartbreak years down the line when she realizes they gave her errands to run because they were excluding her, and the reason they were laughing every time she came back was because they took joy in being mean to her.”

Wilt tinted your faint, “Oh..”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He upped the pressure he used to pat and rub your knee. “S’part of life.”

Consumed by his side profile, you studied the scope of his impassive expression set on the premature lines edging his face. The urge to find the right thing to say amidst the convoluted churn of anger on his behalf, and sadness on Adrie’s, itched something fierce beneath your skin. Ultimately, no words of inspiration came.

Eddie took an anticipatory breath.

The radio garbled advertisements for the station’s sponsors.

“Still wouldn’t trade it for those first months when she was a newborn, though.” Pursing his mouth thin, he rolled his lips inward with a hardened brow, releasing and scrunching tension around his nose as he shook his head slowly, addressing the memories of those days with a shine of pain to his eyes, and a loud smack of his tongue. “The moment I found out Adrie’s mom was pregnant, I wanted to do the right thing—y’know?” He took his hand off your leg to demonstrate the narrow path he followed. “Kept my head down, stayed focused, didn’t bother anybody, got a real job, and kept my mouth shut. Lotta places didn’t wanna hire me, obviously, but I applied anywhere I could, and when I got the job, I’d go get another one on a different shift, and another one on a graveyard shift. Sold whatever I had—guitars, ‘nd shit—bought what I could with the money. I wanted to be a good man. Be a provider. Be worth something.” Scrubbing his shaky fingers over the stubble on his chin, he aimed to calm himself, but when bringing up the Hell he went through during those times, there was little to stop his pitch from wavering. “Still wasn’t good enough.”

A verdict aimed at him flippantly, yet the impact on his self-esteem was immeasurable.

Gathering himself, he licked the inside of his cheek, and explained, “In the beginning, when Adrie was born, I tried to make it on my own. Locked in this little motel room with a crying baby. Couldn’t go to work. Didn’t have anyone to call to watch her for me, y’know, didn’t.. didn’t have anyone to rely on after walking out on my uncle, and isolating myself from my friends. The people at the bullshit resource center said I wasn’t eligible for benefits because they were for single moms, not dads. And child support was taking too long to kick in. Not like it mattered when it couldn’t pay for a single canister of Similac. I didn’t have fucking anything. Or know anything.”

His shame was only beginning to unravel.

“There were these free classes at a clinic for expecting parents, but I..” He dropped his knuckles to his thigh and fed them along the coarse cotton, using the friction to burn away the guilt. “I-I didn’t go. I didn’t want to go alone. Be the only guy there, by myself. Have all these people w-who might know who I am fucking.. fucking staring at me.” With how he was looking down at his lap, rocking slightly with his movement, he stood no chance against the wall of tears damming at his lashes. “I didn’t want to go because of my sense of pride, and my baby suffered because of it.”

“Eddie, that’s not true—” you stepped in.

Three effective beats of his fist on his leg, and you were left to witness his face crumple from the utter contempt he had for himself.

“It is true,” his volume fluctuated in jumps. “She wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t fucking eat and keep it down.” Droplets splashed his jeans in unyielding splats. Drip, drop, drip, drop.. They slipped and spread in splotches of salty remorse he couldn’t wipe away quick enough. “Nothing worked. Couldn’t get her to latch onto a bottle, and, and—I didn’t know, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to microwave the formula, but she wouldn’t take it room temp, so if it was too hot she’d just scream at me until it wasn’t, and I–I just—I was having these breakdowns, I don’t know. I blacked out, and next thing I knew, I was at Harrington’s, and Nancy was taking care of her for me.” The emphasis alluded to much, though the fact their son was only a year older, and Nancy would still be producing milk said it all. 

Frantic breaths which wouldn’t catch were pulled past grimaced lips parted on the unrefined sob his confession emerged on. “I never wanted to be with Adrie’s mom, but proving what she said was right, th-that I was a fucking loser who didn’t know what he was doing, it-it-it.” In a desperate flourish, he pointed at his temple, It lives in here, and another tear clung to the tip of his nose, smeared by the back of his wrist.

Stunned useless by the suffocating urge to help him, you blanked. Sat still while your favorite mechanic reduced himself to the wrong opinion of others; the same person who showed his gentle nature by picking worms out of the garage after a heavy rain so they didn’t dry out. Remaining frozen while silent pain wracked your friend’s held breath, heaved and shuddered out as a cough into the same palm he used to catch your ankle when he challenged you to a race on the creepers, and he had to cheat to win before you beat him to the service door. Saying, “Baby, no,” to the man who snuck a smirk over his daughter’s head when he caught you doting over her as she sat on his hip, and the smell of Christmas potluck embedded itself into the memory of Eddie’s eyes hinting at a deeper glint than the tease on his grin.

“I am a fucking failure,” he seeped out his regret. “C-Couldn’t give her what she needed. I still can’t. Still can’t give her what she wants, ever. T-T-Tellin’ her I can’t get her something when she asks for it—and the disappointment. Just a piece of shit who disappoints her. Never good enough—” There was another high-pitched stutter, but it was muffled behind his trembling hands covering his face, and smothered by your intervention.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you shot out, hand and voice working together to untangle the trauma his knotted fingers attempted to hide. “Listen to me.” No please, but no lack of kindness, either. “You are not a disappointment. Not then, not now, not ever. Do you hear me? You’re not any of those things.” You tugged at the canvas jacket around his stiff arms tucked tight to his body, and rocked him away from his huddle against the door.

In the aftermath of your scramble to comfort him, Adrienne startled awake. Her soft hmm? became a grunty whine when the sensation of slipping backwards disoriented her. “Daddy?” One of her fists found your hoodie for balance, but her groggy curiosity dealt a heartbreaking blow.

She traced the wet trail on his cheek, encountered a tear in its path, and broke the droplet’s surface tension on her finger, wondering aloud, “Why’s Daddy crying?”

Thinking quickly, you used your muscles earned through unloading car parts from delivery trucks, and scooped her from your lap onto his, diverting the nuance of grown-up-problems by fumbling out, “Daddies cry sometimes, too. Have you told him you love him today? Can you tell him? It’ll make him feel better. Please, Miss Adrie?” Whether or not it was the perfect phrasing wasn’t important. What mattered was the unsuspecting gratitude laden at the base of his frown.

“I love you, Daddy,” Adrie said, latching her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“You’re a good man,” you added, and rolled onto your hip, fitting your body to his side. You nosed through his long, frazzly curls, and spoke earnestly, but softly into his ear, “You’re a good man, Eddie. Look at how well you take care of her. Look at how well fed, clothed, and happy she is. You make her so happy.. You make me happy, too. You’re the best dad I’ve ever met. No one else compares.”

He dragged a sniffle from his last sob into an unintelligible mumble.

“I’m here.” Shh. “I’m here.” You included Adrie in your hug as you brought your hand up to the other side of his flustered hot face, blending your fingers through the hair stuck to the sweat and stubble on his jaw. “We’re here for you. We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.” Sweet with conviction, “It’s okay, handsome, I’ve got you.”

Overwhelmed by the small I love you, Daddy, on one side, followed by You’re a good man, on the other, his inhale shivered, and he cuddled Adrie to him for a watery, “I love you, too.” Croaky and real, and mouth agape on an ugly cry he let you witness until his needy reach cupped the back of your head, and smushed you to his wet cheek, scratching the same sentiment into your nape, just like you were rubbing it into his scalp, exchanging the affection without words.

Us and Them funneled through the car, mellowing the heightened emotions with its dreamy saxophone opener.

“I’m so glad to have met you,” you prized in tender sweeps of whispers and thumbs. “I actually look forward to coming into work because of you, even when you hide my pen cup, and tickle me when I go to reach for it on top of the Coke machine. Which is unfair, by the way.”

“Yeah?” he asked for dear reassurance, and distraction.

Humming against the intimate corner of his jaw, you nudged the prickly scruff, and melted into his uncoordinated pets over your ear. “I see your sacrifices, and trust me, Eddie, you’re doing a great job at raising your daughter. Stuff like buying her toys, or cookies, or whatever doesn’t matter. The love you show her is better than any of that. She’s so lucky to have you.”

Another tear dropped to the tattered quilt. Another, another dropped. He squeezed his eyes shut and more fell. Hindered breaths let go in stuttered huffs shook his chest, swayed his damp hair. You circled your thumb over the rivers on his sensitive skin, and found a dry section of your sleeve to clean the price he paid for being a good father without the proper support he needed. Soothing him with fond shushes and feather touches. Forming a ball of comfort around him: cramped in the tiny car, a cast of solid fog on the windows for privacy, Adrie’s blanket draped about your jumbled legs, and her lanky arms wrapped around his neck where precious words were stoked from the embers of a fire which he built. “I wanna color with you to-mah-rrow,” she pronounced. “You can have the dinosaur book, because I want the kitty cats. Deal?” Deal, he nodded.

Your bottom lip introduced a blessing at his sideburn, “You deserve to see yourself how we see you.”

Recovering from the unbearable throb his stuffed sinuses drove to his headache, he tried—“Thank you, baby,”—though the letters were mashed together, and further pulped by the thickness in his throat. Loud, however, was his hug. Crushing you both to him with honed strength; flexed forearms demonstrating the power lying dormant in the track of muscle he snaked around your waist. Groans were earned from his expertise. Bones protested the gesture, begging to be released. It took several seconds of your heartbeat pumping visibly at the edge of your vision, but he let go. Afterall, there was no praise to be had by flattened lungs.

“That hurt,” Adrie complained.

“Ow,” you agreed.

“Sorry,” he said in non-apology.

At a change in tone, you fawned, “But that was a nice hug.”

Adrie rated it, “An 8 out of 10.”

Crowded together, the bond was unmatched. His arms were spread like a greedy dragon hoarding its wealth. Chest open, collecting his most remarkable treasures to the roaring furnace locked within the confines of his body, ready to share the warmth to those who could appreciate its value. Clasped in your hand was Adrie’s ankle, gaining squirmy kicks for each smile and giggle traded under Eddie’s chin. Dressed in his well-loved hoodie, the crook of his elbow fit to your figure, and the backs of his fingers strummed your bicep in a trained motion. None of it was perfect, no. The hoodie could smell less like cigarettes, his forearm stuffed behind you meant you couldn’t recline comfortably, and when he patted your hip, he awakened the dull throb of the bruising grip he left during earlier events.

Those weren’t bad things, though. They were as real as human flaws. Accepted as such, too.

“Are you feeling better?”

Sporting a grin favoring one cheek more than the other, Eddie’s eyes were framed by clumped together lashes after being stripped to his barest self and given the grace he needed. “Yeah,” he answered Adrie in fondness, “I’m feeling better now.” Not forever. He wasn’t cured. But with time, he guided his gaze to the velcro shoe you were wiggling back and forth onto her heel, and climbed his soft study up to the plump concentration on your bottom lip after you released it from between your teeth.

Perceiving his attention, you clocked him with a sneaky grin. “We’re a sardine family.” Brightening at the bewildered noise he made, you tapped Adrie’s knee, and imparted your wisdom as if he should know it too. “Yeah, you know, you, me, and Adrie. Jammed packed back here like a tin of sardines. All squished together.”

They blinked at you. You blinked back.

“And I thought I was supposed to be the one with bad jokes,” Eddie offered after some thought. You cut him a look. “But I like the image,” he amended.

“I like sardines,” Adrie chimed. She didn’t know what sardines were, but you appreciated her enthusiasm.

The conversation waned from there. Drowsiness from the old night seeped into your collective huddle, slouching you all towards one another. Heavy limbs went boneless. Tender brushes of thumbs came to an end. The sound of deep breaths were heard between the local ads for Indiana’s finest antique mall and an uptick in the rain smacking the paved street. Near the edge of sleep, you convinced yourself to get Adrie up and into her carseat. Eddie sat back and watched you go through the steps of buckling her in, listening to her plea for Fluff in her backpack, tucking the quilt around her just right, and hitting your head on the roof in pursuit of making her happy. Taking care of his kid. You collapsed beside him, far closer than would be proper for coworkers, and basked in his approval, noting the pride in his charged gaze. The emotional rollercoaster of the evening took its toll on his swollen face—nevertheless, romance novels could learn a thing or two from the way his stare rendered you weak.

“Should get you home before the storm gets worse,” he warned in an attractive thrum of sternness. He might call you lil’ lady next. Or remind you he promised your father he’d have you back on time.

Floating in the fizzy pool of your crush's attention, you nodded your dizzy head, and observed without need, “Yeah, should get home before it gets worse.”

He laughed. You swam in his laugh, in the instinctual desire based in his mood after watching someone nurture his young. A silly thing to rock you into a sultry sweat considering the outcome of your second date. Luckily, when you stepped out of the car, the frigid mist stole your focus, hosing you down and keeping you from reading too much into the odd chemical imbalance that must be happening in your brain.

The night was really fucking long.

Driving with the radio on low, Eddie drifted his ringed fingers over your forearm whenever they weren’t being used on the stick shift. A small gesture letting you know he was thinking about you when there wasn’t anything to talk about, not that it was needed. The calm was nice. The storm behaved en route to the Buckley’s, avoiding the occasional tree limb blocking a lane. He removed his touch from your person, and with a glance, you were assured it wasn’t the last.

“You didn’t have to walk me to my door,” you gasped, posing with your arms stuck out, useless against mother nature sagging your soaked clothes.

A puddle formed on the wood planks where he wrung his hair. “And make you do this run all by yourself? C’mon, sweet stuff. I’m a gentleman.”

Shivering on the covered porch, your shoes were partially to blame for the slipping incident(s) in the muddy driveway. The lack of the house lights on was another, slowing down your sprint into a crawl. A yellow cast from a lamp in the back room lit the hallway, but other than its soft glow, that was it. Clearly, no one expected you to come home.

“Is it okay if, uh,” you began, “Is it okay if we kiss in front of Adrie?” Oh, how your awkward pointing from yourself to the car came to a charming halt, fingers caught in the stiff fabric of his jacket, under his spell.

Plush pink lips warmed by vented heat promised your worries away.

“I think she’s asleep anyway.” His voice was playful, tugging syllables in the way his lopsided grin ought. “But,” he softened, “yeah, we can kiss in front of her.”

The permission washed over you. Weeks and months in the making. Brewing tension under the surface in your daily interactions—and now? You kissed him. Just for fun, just to show off. You kissed him again. Gentle, pretty brushes. Tame, refined, and for the sake of exploring the lack of boundary before saying goodbye.

Working man arms defined your waist.

Fingers calloused from gripping pens grazed his steady throat.

He swallowed, and spoke endearments with his busy mouth, “Could kiss you all day, baby.” Your lips kicked into a smile which he devoured, kiss after kiss. Neat little things. Virtues, maybe.

“Could’ve kissed me since the day we met,” you answered, feeling the squeeze around your back when his belly pressed you into his embrace. Though, his dismissive snort caused you to frown. “I’m serious. Coulda had me back then. Or at least you could’ve kissed me when we were slow dancing in the garage, or standing under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. Like, seriously, way to make me feel rejected.”

His wide passionate eyes shared common ground with his genuine smirk at your feigned agony. “Excuse you, but I am not having our first kiss be at work.”

“Then why not at DND when everyone left?”

“Because, sweetheart,“ his cadence loved those two words most of all, “I knew I only had a few minutes with you. And I needed a helluva lot more than a few minutes with you.”

“Or, what about when—”

Crazy how you strove to be silenced by his mouth. Craved it like no other, provoking him into eager unions, fulfilling the itch and providing the scratch with your bottom lip between his, just how he liked.

You shifted. Your inner thighs rubbed through your ripped tights. The untimely circumstances bringing you to Robin’s door lived on the surface of your chilly skin; ushering you to reality, and he as well.

“I’m sorry for how all this turned out.” Eddie’s sincere apology pitched his voice to something sorrowful, something deeper, and maybe you underestimated how much the night ending when it did upset him as a man.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

He shuffled his stance, scraping his boots in dissatisfaction. “Baby, you didn’t even get anything,” and you knew what he meant. And it annoyed you he’d even brought it up.

Combing your fingers up from his nape through his hair, you drove him into you, chasing the molten ooze pooling at your center in effort to shut him up. Wet, hard, nipping kisses at his plump lips until they were raw like his tear-stained cheeks. You forwent air. Mouths melding as one, then apart as two, then one, then a set of awake eyes boring into his drunk ones. “Our date was perfect. We needed this.” The trust, the experience, the uncomfortable glimpse into his life and how you handled it. His breakdown, his shame, his face when he finally let go and ugly cried in front of you. “I don’t regret how our night turned out.”

Nodding into a nudge of his nose stroking the side of yours, he was honest with himself, “I don’t regret it, either.”

“Well, you might regret it in the next half-hour if this storm keeps up, and you’re stranded with Adrie in the car because a tree fell across the road.”

“Shit.” Indeed, the weather was turning again. If luck were on his side, he could deal with the high winds and sheets of rain until he got home, but, more likely, he drained his luck over the course of the date, and lightning was about to start again.

Eyeing the sky with hesitance, he asked, “Can I call you tomorrow? Or—today?”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.” Acting as an endorsement to get going before things worsened, thick forest branches creaked in the distance, popping like warnings. You followed it with snappier affections doled between your palms fitted to his jaw. “Please be safe, Eddie.”

“I will, I will. Kay?” Urgency swept him from kiss to kiss—needy, and intense, treating them as the last. “I adore you, baby. Tell me you adore me.”

Mushy under his tender affirmations, your body went pliant and he accepted your weighty lean on his chest, making it harder than it already was for him to leave his sweetheart behind. “—dore you too, handsome,” you moaned into his mouth, sending him off on a proper goodbye.

“Jesus Christ, woman.”

Ever the lovestruck fool, he stayed rooted on the porch watching your figure move from shadow to light within the home, eyes glued to sways and curves as you met the hallway and bent to peep inside Robin’s room. It was the single lamp being turned off which broke his greedy gaze, and ended his fun. Oh well. His Monday morning was booked with penciled in meetings for his admiration and your assets.

Eddie spun on his heel and stopped stalling. He didn’t bother throwing his arms over his head, he accepted his fate, and ran. Sloshing through puddles, slipping in mud. He wrenched open the door, and fell inside the car. The heater made him sticky warm in the gross way, so he turned it down, and got comfortable behind the wheel, adjusting, adjusting.

Pulling oxygen into his outkissed lungs, he heaved a solid breath, and sank into his seat, unable to comprehend the recent events carving out a new path for him to consider where there wasn’t one before.

——Then——

In the beginning…

Summer died to autumn, and it was time to move on from Steve's. Eddie tried to make it on his own in the motel room over the three day weekend break from work, but his wallet was empty, his baby was dressed in another family's blue sailboat onesie, and come Tuesday morning at 7AM, he needed someone to watch Adrie who wasn't an overworked Nancy Harrington.

Infant in hand, pride left behind in his boyhood, Eddie knocked on his uncle's door, and in Wayne's usual manner, he answered by clearing his throat when neither words nor greetings failed to repair the strained relationship.

“Can I live with you?”

Taking in the marks of fatigue under his nephew's averted eyes, Wayne said, “Of course, son,” and welcomed him inside with a swung gesture.

The walk to the single bedroom humbled what spirit Eddie had remaining. Or, crushed what was left of it. He passed by the kitchen table which still had his chair cocked out, noticed the patched-up hole in the closet door, and flicked on the lightswitch, grazing the curled edge of a poster he hung over a decade ago. His stomach sank at the familiarity.

Blazed by the ornate lamp hung in the corner, standing out like a behemoth beside his white desk, was the crib he was never able to afford.

Adrie grunted awake in her carseat. Looking down at her would spill his tears, so he cranked his head back to stare at the ceiling, steeling himself after spotting the new bedsheets stretched across his mattress, and he knew—he knew—if he turned around, the pullout bed in the living room would still be set up.

His uncle never took his room back.

Defeated by the routine pang of worthlessness, impressed to have any self-esteem left to be stolen from him at the point, Eddie sank to his childhood mattress with his three-month-old daughter at his feet, undressed himself from his boots, and made a clear spot for them both on the bed, away from blankets or pillows. He laid on his side, legs crossed and knees bent with an arm beneath his head. Same position he assumed on the motel’s carpeted floor yesterday when Adrie experienced a milestone: rolling over. Not from her back to her stomach, she wasn’t coordinated enough for that yet, but with enough powerful kicks and wiggling, his paranoia coaxed his other arm around her.

He molded himself to be her protector. Chest sunken on a shallow breath, forearm spooned to her side closest to the edge, and gaze trained on her chubby cheek. Her babbly noise of happiness brought him a sense of reward, and though the newborn smell had faded in the weeks where motor oil stung his nostrils, he put his nose to the top of her head for a whiff of a sweet scent that wasn’t there, and felt the peace it brought him anyway.

Wayne shuffled into the room with a sizable stack of chunky hardcover books between his hands. “I, uh, checked these out from the library. Been doin’ some readin’ while you were gone.” He set them down on the bedside table, and pointed at a few of them. “Learned a lot from the one on the bottom, but they were all, ah, educational, I s’pose.. Some lean more religious than others,” he grumbled. “But, uhm..”

The expectant pause in his uncle’s speech drew Eddie’s awareness.

“Can I hold her?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah.” He almost had the strength to clear the rasp from his throat. “You can hold her.”

Putting his new knowledge to good use, Wayne first worked his palm under Adrie’s head before scooping her into his folded arms. Eddie took his shame in small doses, glancing at his uncle meeting his grandchild for the first time, and looking away when he cooed over her. Three months and his only family member had yet to meet his baby. Three months spent avoiding this trailer, and depriving his uncle from making these memories.

Self-loathing boiled under Eddie’s skin, and still, there was a fleeting desire to brag about Adrie’s neck strength, and how it wasn’t so necessary to be wary of her head falling back.

But he stayed quiet. He pushed his overgrown bangs out of his eyes, and read the book’s titles, wondering what sparked enough interest for Wayne to stuff receipts between the pages, or mark them with paper clips if they were particularly interesting.

Speaking in his gruff smoker’s voice with an edge of seldom heard unease, Wayne introduced a conversation, “I read in that yellow book there that babies shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as the parent. Dangerous, with how tired you are, ‘nd all. Should I put her in the crib?”

As gingerly and delicately as one could be when discussing the reality of a child suffocating to a parent who was well aware of the risks, Eddie regarded him with an annoyed expression, and Wayne shut his mouth in apology.

“I’ve gotta do her night routine again, so I’ll be up for a bit.”

“Yep.” A solid statement, and conclusion, to the conversation.

Bending down, Wayne positioned Adrie in the hollow Eddie created for her, and mentioned there were leftovers in the fridge on his way out. He shut the door behind him. It didn’t take long for tiny fists and tinier fingers to find a lock of his hair, and pull it into a drooly mouth. Didn’t take long, either, for his exhaustion to kick in and for the emotions to crash through his walls.

Tears slipped sideways along his features. Cresting over the bridge of his nose, colliding with his other eye, and joining the wetness at his hairline, dotting the bedsheet. He pressed his face to his baby who was too innocent for this world. “Daddy loves you,” he whispered, tasting the word for the first time. Daddy. It didn’t feel right when Steve stepped in as a father figure, but he could acknowledge it now. He was a dad. A momentous occasion followed by, “I’m so sorry you’re mine.” An apology uttered on a wet hiccup—borderline unintelligible—but after coming back to this trailer, and enduring his memories trapped between its thin walls, he promised, words slurring to a constricted squeak in his throat, “Daddy’s gonna get us a nice house, okay? Your own room. Your own bed. Daddy’s gonna do it. Just give me some time, okay? I’ll do it, I swear. Daddy loves you so much. So fucking much.” The promises bred dread even then, living in the pit of his stomach as future disappointments, knowing he would fail.

Perhaps sensing his distress, his little girl used the last of her energy to kick his arm in a fair warning before her face scrunched, and the wet coughs preluding her wail for food began.

He dried his face on the bedsheet. In this moment, it was hard to continue crying when he had another human relying on him. It was time to move on. Time to bury the pain, and move on. Time to neglect himself, and move on. Time to give up, and move on. Kiss her chubby cheeks so fucking much he feared he’d never be able to stop, and move on.

——Now——

Now, he checked the rearview mirror and Adrie was looking back at him, possessing a curious pinch between her brows at his reflection.

“You were kissing Miss Mouse,” she accused and questioned.

“I was,” he confirmed.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, ah,” he filled the pause with another ah while he searched, “It means we’ll be seeing more of each other. She’ll be coming around more, and stuff. Hanging out with us.”

Ever ponderous, ever candid, ever blunt, she asked, “Does that mean she’s my–”

Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasted their eardrums.

Eddie’s fingers slipped over the volume dial by accident—totally by accident—as he reached for the stick shift, turning the music on high and drowning out the last word of her sentence.

—Mom.

No way in hell was he ready for that conversation after the emotionally grueling night he’d had.

“Whoops,” he pretended, “Sorry, couldn’t hear you—but, uh! Hey, do you wanna start our bedtime story early? Should I go with the princess one, or the Sesame Street gang running their own bakery? Hmm.." He drew out his hum until he was in the clear of the Buckley's mailbox, swearing he wasn't the reason it was laying flat in a ditch. "How about we pick up where the princess one left off? So! The firbolgs have declared alliances with Toadstool Kingdom, and.." Throwing it into first gear, Eddie raced home as quickly, but responsibly, as possible, talking non-stop. His parched throat begged for a drink by the time he pulled into the trailer park—a scratchy pain made worse by his nervous chatter in the elusive quiet of his parked car.

He wrapped Adrie in her quilt as best he could while securing her on his hip and booked it through the rain, unlocking the front door and ducking inside right as an unlucky flash of lightning came.

And when nature’s nightlight died, he blinked and blinked at the spots in his vision.

It was unfathomably dark in his living room.

Stumbling over a small shoe in his way, he patted the wall for the lightswitch, and flipped it. And flipped it again. And harassed it some more. Sighing heavily in defeat, he grabbed the giant flashlight on the kitchen counter, and lit the way. "Looks like we're camping tonight." (Their codeword for when the power was knocked out.)

"Okie dokie," she said, ignorant to the cruel world of no pancakes for Sunday breakfast when the electric stovetop was out of commission.

In the meantime, he got them both ready for bed with the added pain of doing it by a single wobbly light source, ready to pass out the second his body sank to the mattress and his head hit the flat pillow—

But of course, Adrie rocked his shoulder incessantly, goading him into giving her attention at her whim, sanity be damned. "Mm?" he grunted, coating the noise in mild annoyance.

"Daddy?" she checked.

The wait for her question grew excruciatingly long.

He almost wasted an eye roll. "Yes, my child?"

"I wish Miss Mouse was here."

Surprised more so by his yawn than the request itself—and then surprised again when his heartbeat remained calm when confronted with the reality of Adrie noticing too much—he struggled to stay awake in his best interest, perhaps giving an inappropriate answer, and unwittingly feeding into her inner wishes, "I do too." He was fading, and quick. The hard rain had returned, droning white noise on the roof, soothing his eyelids closed over the dry sting they drew. Rolling, fighting the stiff sheets tucked around them both, he threw an arm over her before the doom-roll of thunder came. Sweet dreams greeted him in a pair of tiny arms folded to his chest. Brain shutting down. Night, night. Asleep.

"I wish she was my mom."

"Goodnight, Adrie," he stressed.

[penkura]

last forever [11/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, Creepy Older Dude, Mentioned Past Attempted Assault, Heavily Implied/Referenced Sex later on (NOTHING EXPLICIT)

Note: This is the one with the mentions of attempted assault in the past and reference to present relations. Again, SFW, nothing explicit, and this chapter is completely different from how I originally thought it would go. This is where I lost myself a bit and just said "screw following the manga/anime" lol. Next chapter is my original ending of the story but I split it into two chapters and chapter thirteen will have a tiny epilogue.

Taglist:

@misfits1a | @alucardsdaddyissues | @louweasleymalfoy | @fluffybunnyu | @yerrimm09 | @eyes-ofhell | @emmaiscool22 | @xenop0p | @hank88999

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5] ● [Ch. 6] ● [Ch. 7] ● [Ch. 8] ● [Ch. 9] ● [Ch. 10]

Wano is a beautiful place with desolate areas you realize, as you walk through the city trying to find a job. Kin'emon has already worked with you all to prepare your roles and provided you clothes that let you blend in, yours matching what most of the local housewives wear on a daily basis.

You've agreed to let him, and those of Wano, see you as a newly married couple with Zoro, even as he takes the role of ronin and seems less than enthusiastic about it. Faking a marriage twice over was truly an annoyance, he was beyond done with this part of his life. You hope it's not a sign of things to come with him, but right now, your focus is on finding a job, even something at a teahouse is enough. Anything that lets you blend in the best you can.

You find a small teahouse in the Flower Capitol, the owner agreeing to hire you once you had told him you were newly married and attempting to find a job temporarily to get you both on your feet since your husband was a ronin. Everything is well, you’re happy about what you’ve found and your role in helping to recruit Samurai to the raid, until you hear a voice you’ve not heard in years, making you freeze on the spot.

He's here. Why is he here?!

You’re quick to hide behind a building, barely peeking to look and see that it is in fact the man your parents had chosen for you to marry.

A man now in his mid-thirties, Hibine Kanzaki is out with who you guess to be a servant of his, and you can hear him bragging about a newborn daughter in his house. The guy always creeps you out, hearing his voice and the fake sweetness in it makes you want to bury yourself in a hole and hide. It’s the same voice he used when he'd come to see you, trying to win you over despite Elias’ glaring and you knowing he didn’t mean a word of it.

The second he seems to look where you’re hiding you back yourself up further behind the building, taking several deep breaths and praying he leaves, praying he didn’t see your face.

Once his voice fades away, you double check to make sure he’s gone, before you leave your hiding spot and hurry back to your temporary home while you’re here in Wano. Your biggest concern right now is getting to safety and staying with Zoro again.

Zoro will keep me safe, he won’t let anything happen to me…

+!+

“I-is Zoro back?”

Law doesn't miss how you're shaking like a leaf, watching you wring your hands while he shakes his head.

“No, not yet. What happened?”

“N-nothing, don’t worry about it, I just…” You take a deep breath, turning to leave again and go find Zoro, “I need Zoro right now.”

“Hey, wait,” Law’s up on his feet and grabbing Kikoku before you get too far, “You're in no state to be left alone, I'll go with you to find him. I need to see if my crew have found jobs or anything yet anyway.”

Nodding, you thank Law for joining you as the two of you return to town, you constantly looking around for Zoro, which makes Law watch you closely. No, he doesn't know your situationship with Zoro, but he's curious about what has got you so badly worked up. He almost offers you to hold his hand if you need, mostly so you stop wringing yours or balling up your kimono sleeves to the point they’re wrinkled. Law is highly tempted to ask what’s wrong as you re-enter the shopping district of the Flower Capitol, until he hears Shachi call for him.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

“Mm. Take your time, Traffy.”

Staying to the side, you keep watch to make sure you’re safe, hoping to see your green haired husband around somewhere, before someone places a hand on your shoulder and you look, your feeling of safety fleeing immediately.

“It really is you! My dear fiancée, I’ve wanted to see you for so long!”

You don’t have the chance to move away before he grabs your wrist and your voice catches in your throat, before you’re able to shake it off just enough to quietly respond.

“I’m not your fiancée…I have a husband.”

Shaking his head, Hibine steps closer and it makes you back up, your attempted glare coming off as more fearful than anything, which causes him to grin at you.

He never really loved you, you’ve known that from that start. Elias could see it when your parents couldn’t.

“Oh my dear, our engagement is still very much alive…your lovely parents have been looking for you, trying to help me find you so we can finalize our marriage. Your mother especially is anxious for us to marry and have a child already~”

“Elias has a child. I’m not rea—”

His grip on your wrist tightens and it makes you start to panic, it’s just like the last time.

Just like last time…stop touching me.

Hibine takes one step towards you and you take two steps back, while he continues to grin, one hand gripping your wrist like you’ve done something wrong.

“My cute little fiancée,” his voice makes your hair stand on end and you cringe visibly, “Let’s go home together, we’ll call your parents and tell them you've left that brute of a pirate.”

“You…” you gulp, taking another step back which he copies, and you hate how weak and pathetic you feel at the moment, this man makes you sick to your stomach, “You’re hurting me…”

You’re not Zoro.

This man disgusts you, he’s possibly the worst person you’ve ever met, you’ve felt that for the last five years since you first met him. How your parents could have chosen him, thought someone in his thirties when you were barely fifteen was a good idea, you’ve never understood their thought. Even after begging them to reconsider, you were terrified until Elias got you out of your home, away from them, away from this man who saw you as simple property. You want to grab your sword, putting your hand on its hilt and ready to do so if he makes a wrong move. He always made wrong moves around you, around Elias, even after the multiple times your brother had pulled this sword himself and told this scum to not touch you, Hibine still tried every time.

By contrast, you know Zoro would never touch you without your permission, unless absolutely needed. When he’d first taught you some sword techniques you didn’t know, he always made sure you were okay with him holding your wrists to show you the proper position for your hands, making you wonder if he noticed how you flinched the first time.

You really wish he was here right now.

I want Zoro, I need my husband.

You terribly want to throw up, but you keep stepping backwards, eyes locked onto Hibine with your hand on your sword as you wonder where the hell Law and his crew were, had they not noticed your predicament yet?

Back away, keep backing away…let me go, you’re not him.

Eventually you hear Law shout your name, he can see the fear in your eyes when you catch his, he’s about to rush over to you, but you back into a hard chest before anything else happens, an arm coming around your shoulders and it makes Hibine stop too, releasing your wrist.

“There you are,” relief washes over you instantly when you recognize Zoro’s voice, looking up at him as you finally breathe again, “Been looking for you. Where have you been, wife?”

“Z-Zoro…” you shake your head and his brow furrows before he looks at Hibine, who is nearly snarling at the two of you now. “That’s…my parents…it’s him, I…”

You turn yourself to face him better and he holds you a bit closer before looking back to Hibine.

“Sorry if my wife caused any problems, I've been looking for her all afternoon,” trying to play his part, Zoro notices you rubbing your wrist, setting a slight glare on Hibine and his other hand on his swords, maybe showing them off would scare away the creep, “She doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, she’d appreciate it if you didn’t–”

“The hell is this? You’re the brute she married over me?!”

“Yeah, got a problem?”

“This is ridiculous,” Hibine growls, attempting to grab you again, “I paid to marry this wench, she should be my bride!”

The shriek that leaves your mouth when Hibine grabs your wrist and tries to pull you from Zoro makes your swordsman husband glare even worse than he was already. He knocks Hibine’s hand off you, turning you more towards him, as he pulls one of his swords and has it at the older man’s neck in an instant.

“Guess I didn’t make myself clear,” Zoro gives a glance to you, you’re nearly hyperventilating while you grip his kimono top and he looks back at Hibine, ignoring Law yelling at him to not screw anything up, you’re more important at the moment, “Keep your filthy hands off my wife or I’ll make sure you can’t touch anyone again.”

A group of people had stopped to stare at what was happening, Hibine yelling about being threatened while Law starts yelling at Zoro that he’s going to ruin everything.

“Traffy, take [Y/N] back for me.”

“And what are you going to do?!”

“Nothing, don’t worry.”

Law wants to argue, until Zoro moves you to him and he can see how shaken up, how terrified you seem to be. You’re covering your ears and your breathing is getting faster, you need to be somewhere else now before you have a full on panic attack. Nodding at Zoro, Law Shambles you both back to your temporary residence, allowing your swordsman a moment to sigh before he looks back to Hibine with a glare again.

“Now you listen. Here’s what you’re going to do for upsetting my wife.”

~~

Once you and Law are back where you were staying, you almost instantly collapse to the ground hyperventilating and dry heaving. Law knew what to expect, he quickly pinned your hair back and gave you a bucket before he ran off to get you water while you vomited everything from your lunch earlier. Too many memories, all of them bad, had come back when you saw Hibine, when he touched you, tried to act sickly sweet while having that awful look in his eyes, trying to keep up his image. You really hadn’t meant to keep it a secret he was from Wano, that he’d intended to take you all the way here once your marriage was finalized. There was never a good tike to bring it up to Zoro. Thank God for your brother, for the Straw Hats, for Zoro saving you from such a life though.

When Law returns with water, you’ve gone from getting sick to crying over how ridiculous you feel. There’s no reason for this, you’re strong. You know you are, everyone knows, they’ve seen it. Law tries to calm you down, telling you that you’re fine now, you’re safe, your crewmates will be back any moment.

You are grateful for Law’s help, even as you finally calm down and apologize, he tells you there’s no need, while you start to explain what happened and who Hibine is. The look on his face goes from curious to concerned as you continue, and you do admit your current marriage to Zoro, which surprises him greatly. He never guessed you two were married, he figured dating or maybe even hooking up. Not a full on marriage, even though you also admit you two have started dating, it was still temporary unless Zoro said otherwise.

Once you’ve finished explaining everything, you feel like you’re about to pass out and Law finds that you have a fever, you need to be laying down. He's brought a damp wash cloth for your forehead once he helps you to your room, ensuring as little light as possible can get in before he leaves you to rest, and it's not long before you’re fast asleep.

Not even a few minutes later Zoro returns, and Law confronts him about everything.

“You didn’t think that mentioning you and [Y/N]-ya are actually married before coming here was important?! Especially when her fiancé is from here!”

“He’s not her fiancé,” Zoro grits his teeth at the thought of Hibine being anything special to you, the man was a coward who used money to get he wanted, he deserved more than just a scare, “And I didn’t know he was from here. She never told me that. The marriage isn’t something we broadcast to people.”

Law sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to calm his own pounding head.

“At least it’s dealt with. I trust you didn’t take things too far?”

“Just scared him, that’s all. Where’s [Y/N]?”

“Her room, resting. She has a fever. Does she get those easily?”

Nodding, Zoro doesn’t say anything else and enters your room, you’re sitting up with your head in your hands, he swears he can hear you crying to yourself. He's used to this, but knowing the reasons why nearly breaks his heart for once.

Seeing how utterly terrified of Hibine you were, it worried him more than he’d ever admit even to you. He wonders what else you may have gone through that you never told him, if that man took things too far or what. He'll have to ask you later, but for the moment, he’s glad you’re okay. You’d barely slept on the trip to Wano, not being used to a submarine but also getting to know the Heart Pirates, Zoro can only recall one night you went to bed at a decent time and that was when you’d had a little more to drink than normal and found yourself in his bed, latched onto his left arm and kissing his shoulder before falling into a dead sleep.

He'll probably never tell you how much he’d like that to happen again.

“Hey.”

“Hey…”

“You okay?”

You shake your head while Zoro comes over and sits beside you, setting his hand on your forehead to see how your fever was, and luckily you don’t flinch or stop him. He’s relieved that seeing that man didn’t cause you to suddenly fear him too. Not like he’d ever do anything to hurt you anyway.

“I haven’t seen you so skittish since we met…did you know he’d be in the flower capitol?”

“No, I…I thought he lived elsewhere…”

The way you start to grab at your hair, though he doesn’t show it, starts to worry Zoro, and he knows he has to ask what he’s started dreading since he saw the look on your face when he ran into you earlier. It’s going to dredge up some bad memories most likely, but he’s not going to force you if you don’t want to respond.

“Can I ask you something?” when you nod, Zoro takes a breath before asking, “Did he touch you back then? When you still lived with your parents?”

You stay quiet for a moment, sighing as you finally bring you hands down from your hair with a small nod.

“Once,” you bite your lip hard, you can taste blood, and Zoro nearly tells you not to worry about explaining it when he sees you start to look distressed, “He’d come to see me, and Elias had stepped out of the room for something. Next thing I knew, I was on the floor and…Hibine was over me. I was sixteen, I didn’t know what to do. He had my wrists in his hands and was saying something I can’t remember, I blocked it out I think. He ended up bruising my wrists from holding them so tightly, but Elias stopped him from doing anything else. He came back and saw the position we were in, started yelling at him to get off me and had pulled his—my sword and threatened Hibine.”

“Makes two of us that have now.”

You smile a bit with a slight laugh and nod, finally looking over at Zoro. “My dad wanted to call off the marriage after hearing what happened, but my mom wouldn’t let him. Elias never left me alone with him again, up until he helped me run away.”

“That does explain the first time I taught you a sword technique. When I’d held your wrist and you flinched.”

“Oh yeah, you did notice that? Sorry.”

Zoro shakes his head, finally moving to join you in your bed, something you gladly accept, you trust him with every part of you. He lets you lead as you wrap your arms around him and lay back down, doing the same once you’re settled and comfortable, placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t worry about him, wife. He ain’t gonna mess with you again. I made sure of that.”

Smiling, you nod and snuggle closer to Zoro, closing your eyes again before thanking him and falling back asleep. For once, Zoro doesn’t immediately fall asleep, instead staying awake for a bit to make sure you’re comfortable, while thinking about the brief summary you’d given him of that meeting with Hibine when you were still so young. He's glad you don’t remember what was said, it was likely the most unsavory things, he’ll never make you relive such things. Never put you through that himself.

If I’d been there I’d have cut his hands off. I’d have married you sooner, to keep him away from you. Your parents would’ve hated it, they’d have gotten no money from me…but you would’ve been safe sooner.

Zoro does eventually fall asleep, still keeping you close as you finally get much needed rest. Once dinner is ready he only leaves long enough to get you both something to eat, just letting Usopp, Franky, and Robin know you’re doing all right after telling them what had happened earlier. He doesn’t leave you alone very much that evening, apart from when Robin takes you to the bathhouse once your fever breaks.

You’re more relaxed when you make it back, but continue to lean against Zoro while Kin’emon and Law go into more details about the plan for the raid on Onigashima soon. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you a little closer, silently telling you to rest, you deserve it after the day you had, he or Robin will fill you in on anything you miss if you fall asleep. Once you do, and everyone else begins to turn in for the night later, Zoro is very careful to pick you up and take you back to your room, making sure you stay asleep as he gets you comfortable in bed. Part of him wants to stay with you, to be there if any nightmares of your time at home come up, but he’s not sure if you’ll be happy with that tonight

Instead, just like earlier, he kisses your forehead softly before leaving, letting you have some peace and quiet to sleep.

I’ll be damned if I ever let anyone hurt her again.

+!+

When Luffy and the rest of your crewmates make it to Wano finally, Sanji is the first one to hug you, not giving you a second to breathe which makes you laugh at him. You’re beyond happy to see he’s back, he's still himself, and it makes you return his hug just as tightly, while he tells you he fully understands your feelings about arranged marriages now. Awful things they are to him and to you.

You decide not to tell him or Nami, anyone really, about your run in with your now ex-fiancé for now. You will later, when it’s just you with them, for now you just tell Nami that you don’t have to worry about that man anymore, just about your parents reaction.

Zoro had scared Hibine enough that the older man decided you weren’t worth the trouble anymore, he rescinded the engagement and would inform your parents of it once he returned home. Whether he said anything more or not, Zoro never tells you, just that if the guy is a man of his word you should probably expect a letter from your parents soon about it.

Nami is relieved, pulling you into yet another hug and telling you so, expecting more details later on when you can tell her what you know.

For now, you all fall into your roles within Wano, you doing your job at the tea shop with your crewmates and even some of the Heart Pirates coming to visit when they can. Sanji comes in a few times to fawn over you in your kimono, he really thinks the floral pattern suits you which just makes you smile and thank him.

The next time Law comes in with Ikkaku, the manager has you take their order, and it gives you a chance to talk to them as you take your break at the same time.

“I was able to hand off a few of Kin’emon’s secret messages to more people today.”

“That’s good,” Law nods, watching Ikkaku as she gets up to leave with a slight smirk and he rolls his eyes at her, “The more the better, we’re going to need all we can find.”

You agree while you take the seat Ikkaku left, glad to be off your feet with someone you trust around. You still worry that Hibine is going to show up, but hope Zoro did more than enough to keep him from you.

“So, you and Rorona-ya then?”

“What do you—”

“You’re together, right?”

Taking a sharp breath, you let out a quiet ‘oh’ before nodding in return. Law doesn’t miss how bashful you seem to become, a small smile on your face while you briefly explain the whole thing to him. You trust he won’t use it against you, Law doesn’t seem like the type to do that, for whatever reason.

When you finish your story, as the tea shop owner calls for you, Law just nods.

“He saved you then, and you just fell in love with him over time.”

Your smile grows a bit as you nod, trying to keep your composure so your boss doesn’t think you’re flirting or anything.

“Exactly. I owe Zoro so much for saving me.”

There’s nothing really behind his questioning and listening to your story, Law’s curiosity got the better of him since he’s known the last couple days of your marriage to Zoro.

At least it sounds like you’re happy, whatever may come next.

+!+

Sanji does his best to keep you from hearing Brook tell him about where he’d found Zoro before Tonoyasu’s execution, how he’d been found simply sleeping with Hiyori and Toko by him, though the way it’s said makes it sound more scandalous than it actually was. Of course it’s nearly impossible for you not to hear it once Nami does, doing her duty as your friend to let you know, and while you’re shocked, you’re not sure if you believe it was anything salacious or not. She and Sanji offer to keep Zoro away from you once everyone is together again, but you reject that idea with a smile, saying everything is fine because you do believe that at least.

Zoro isn’t surprised you’ve heard about it, he just rolls his eye at Sanji who is convinced you’re secretly upset about it and your boyfriend/husband needs to apologize for something he had no control over. It’s not like anything actually happened, it was just like the times you’ve napped together, just nothing romantic involved.

So if you were upset, you’d have told him, he knows you would.

Sanji doesn’t understand it though, grumbling about it when you help him with making dinner one night that Luffy wants to have a feast with the Heart Pirates, Kid, Killer, and the Samurai, a few days before the raid on Onigashima is to start.

“That mosshead is so lucky to have you, I can’t believe him.”

“It wasn’t really his fault, Sanji. He already explained it.”

“Still though, it’s not fair to you…”

You shrug a bit, just giving Sanji a smile while you keep prepping the vegetables he gave you to work on.

“You give him too much credit.”

“And you are quick to think the worst of him, Sanji,” your friend makes a sound like he’s offended, which causes you to laugh, “I trust  and love Zoro, I know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

“…but does he love you back?”

Stopping your work, you shrug a bit, Sanji sighing slightly. With everything going on, you haven’t had much time alone with Zoro, not since you first got to Wano anyway. Every time you try to have any time alone, it gets interrupted by something or someone, there’s so much constantly going on, you’re running out of time before the festival and raid, it’s unlikely you’ll have any chance at any time together until after the raid is over.

So long as everything goes well.

Sanji throws an arm around your shoulders, hugging you when you lean into him.

“If that mosshead does anything to upset you, I’ll kick his ass for you.”

You laugh at the offer, shaking your head when you hear Luffy call for the two of you to hurry up because he was just starving to death out there.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know, Sanji.”

But hopefully that doesn’t happen.

~~

There’s finally time for you to spend with Zoro later that evening, once you and Sanji finish preparing everything and the feast Luffy's been waiting for all day gets going. There’s plenty of food to keep everyone fed, you and Sanji out of the kitchen for the rest of the night for once, and while you choose to abstain from drinking that night, you’re happy to bring some to Zoro, who gladly takes it before pulling you into his lap and keeping you close. Now that you have the chance to relax together, even with everyone else around, with all the stuff about Hiyori and the raid and what may happen afterwards being forgotten for now, a few moments of peace are greatly welcomed by everyone.

“You good?”

Nodding, you lean back against Zoro’s chest while he keeps his arm around your waist, silently telling you to stay there with him.

“I’m doing great, Zoro.”

Nami watches you two from the side, eventually tapping Sanji on the shoulder, nodding her head towards you when she sees you both get up and leave, almost sneaking off. No one else seems to notice, but Sanji hums a bit when he sees where she’s directing his sight.

“You think they’re turning in for the night?”

“Who knows,” Shrugging, Sanji goes to put his arm around her shoulders before Nami grabs his hand and moves it away from her, giving him a ‘not here’ look, “Maybe they just need a quiet place to talk about, you know, Hiyori and that stuff.”

“Hmm, maybe…”

Nami knows she’ll hear everything from you later on, you don’t keep things from her or Robin anymore, you’ve learned not to do that now.

She just hopes whatever goes on, it’s nothing you or Zoro come to regret.

+!+

“If you break her heart, I’ll never forgive you, mosshead.”

Zoro only wakes the next morning when you start to shift around, turning away from him in your sleep, relaxing again as you make yourself comfortable. He just watches you for a bit, wondering how last night got to this point. You and him in your room, consummating your two and a half year long marriage unexpectedly. Not a drop of alcohol in your system, a normal amount in Zoro’s of course, but, how on earth did it end up with the two of you in your bed?  

“What would you like from me? You’ve given me more than I could ever ask for.”

“I want tonight, just you and me, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Yes,” you nod, Zoro pulls you closer, one arm around your waist as his other hand is in your hair, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders while he brings your face closer to his, “I can happily give you that, Zoro.”

Oh right that’s how. You and Zoro had slipped away from everyone else after dinner, while Luffy tried to get the party going even more and Kid started to egg him on, it became too loud for the both of you. He’s not entirely sure how things escalated from you two talking about the raid to making out, you asking him what he wants in return for all he’s given you over the last couple years, he’d first told you that he didn’t need or want anything, but he could see you wanted something, you were just too shy to ask for it. Once Zoro told you what he wanted (he did want this, it wasn’t just for you) and you gladly agreed to it, he checked on you the whole night, to make sure you were comfortable, that he wasn’t hurting you, and that you felt safe, but you always feel safe with him, telling him so between kisses and ‘I love you’s with your hands holding his face.

You love him, and it’s still something new to him. Even last night, it was all new to both of you, two and a half years later than it normally would’ve been, but your relationship isn’t normal. You may not have come together by conventional means, not even being in love at the start, but things had changed and you’d waited for him to work things out with himself. He’s still trying to figure things out, how to voice his thoughts to you, but where you two are now feels nice to him. Whether you consider it dating or actually having a marriage, he doesn’t care anymore. So long as you stay near him and let him continue to protect you, for as long as you need him.

Zoro’s about to pull you back to him and sleep again when someone knocks on the door,  making him roll his eye before he kisses the back of your head which wakes you.

“Mm, Zoro?” You rub yours eyes a bit, sitting up to look at him once he’s out of your bed, worried he’s going to sneak off so no one catches him or because he regrets the night before, “Is it morning?”

“Someone’s at the door, I’ll be right back. Go back to sleep,” he smiles just a bit seeing you look slightly disappointed, like you don’t believe him, so he kisses your forehead gently before quietly promising, “I’m not leaving you alone, wife.”

“Okay…”

Zoro is quick to dress and makes sure you’re comfortable once you lay back down, covering you with his haori to reiterate his promise to come back, which you pull around you more as you attempt to fall back to sleep. He watches you for a moment, waiting until your breathing evens out and you’re almost asleep again before he goes to answer the door. Once he opens the door to your room, Zoro sighs and immediately wishes he’d ignored the knocking and went back to sleep with.

“Of course it’s you.”

“I’m not happy to see your face this early either,” Sanji scowls with his cigarette in his mouth, unhappy to know you and Zoro never came back to everyone the night before, and he had an idea as to why which was confirmed seeing the swordsman in your room still, “You better not have done anything to hurt her, mosshead.”

“Why the hell are you here this early?”

“Kin’emon wants to talk about the raid, I’m just rounding up people who are missing. He wants to talk during breakfast so it’ll be a little while still.”

“Got it. We’ll be there soon.”

Sanji stops Zoro from closing the door with his foot, the two shooting glares at each other before Sanji quietly speaks again.

“I’m serious, asshole. That’s my best friend you’re married to and had sex with. She loves you. Don’t break her heart.”

“I won’t, and I heard you the first twenty times.”

After Sanji leaves, you surprise Zoro by coming up behind him and hugging him, making him look back at you while you smile up at him, now wearing his haori.

“I thought I told you to go back to sleep.”

“I heard Sanji say Kin’emon wanted to talk about things, so I decided to get up.”

“Makes sense.”

Neither of you say anything for a bit, though Zoro does turn around to take your face in his hands while you keep looking up at him. He still doesn’t get why you give him such loving looks, after everything you’ve been through on your own and then with him. With him, he feels like he’s treated you so badly at times, all because he didn’t want anything to do with romance at the start. But you didn’t give up on him, not on your marriage despite the way it came about, despite his initial rejection of your feelings, your fight about Robin, your first kiss in Water Seven, you worrying about him after Kuma showing up at Thriller Bark. Then when you reunited and he was willing to try a relationship with you, though neither of you knew what to call it, you never gave up on him.

And then last night, it keeps replaying in his head. He wonders if it’s the same for you, though the slightest blush you have tells him that it is. There’s nothing but happiness and love in your eyes too.

Why did you choose to love me? You deserve much better.

Zoro wonders if you’d tell him an actual reason, or something cheesy. Something about the heart wanting that it wants, he thinks, is what Sanji’s said before while swooning over some girl, or that you don’t want better, you just want him. He probably wouldn’t mind hearing that from you, only because it’s you, he’d reason.

After a few more minutes of silence and just enjoying each other’s presence, Zoro finally leans down and kisses you, making you hum a bit and smile more.

“Good morning, husband.”

“Mornin’, wife.”

You giggle a bit at his response which makes Zoro smirk as he picks you up in a princess carry, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders, taking you back and dropping you on your bed, laying down with and trapping you against him. Everyone can wait a little while longer as the two of you sleep in a bit more, he thinks. Zoro tries to fall back asleep but you place small kisses all over his face, preventing him from doing so, since you know it’ll be difficult to wake him in time to see what Kin’emon wants from you all. If this is how his mornings could be, even with your touchy feely affection, Zoro thinks he doesn’t mind staying married to you.

In fact, he’s starting to think he can get used to this.

“I love you, Zoro~”

Zoro simply nods at you, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead. “I know. Thank you.”

I’ll tell you soon, I promise.

+!+

The bandage on your forehead itches and you’re fighting not to pull the same stunt as your husband would with ripping it off. Chopper would scold you, and right now, it’s one of the last things you need. With the fight against Kaido and his Beast Pirates over, Luffy and Zoro unconscious in the room you’re heading to, your prayers are going towards both of them waking soon. You want to leave Wano with them both, but also fear what may come next for you and Zoro as a couple or if he’ll put an end to your marriage once you leave this place. You try not to think about it, instead opening the door to the room where Chopper is checking Luffy and you go to Zoro, your doctor giving you a smile.

“They should both wake up soon! I think…”

Returning his smile, you nod a bit at Chopper.

“Thanks, doctor. I don’t know where we’d be without you, Chopper.”

While Chopper tries to pretend your words aren’t flattering him, you seat yourself beside Zoro, like you have the last couple days, quietly taking his hand and feeling grateful no one else is really around at the moment. Most of your new friends and allies still don’t know your real relationship, you’d like to keep it that way until you all leave, but who knows how that might go now. People are constantly in and out of this room lately, everyone it seems is taking turns to see if Luffy mostly is awake, your crewmates focusing on both your captain and swordsman.

For you, although you do want Luffy to wake quickly too, your main focus is on Zoro, ensuring he’s still alive after all the damage he'd taken. You’d gotten a basic rundown from Sanji, even hearing how Zoro had beaten King, which was right before you saw how badly he’d been hurt, how near death he was this time.

You think it must be worse than Thriller Bark.

Right now, all your hope is on his waking up. Being able to check on him, hold his hand, make sure he’s still breathing, it gives you some small semblance of peace, especially with Chopper’s comment that they should both wake soon.

When you’re sure it’s just you and them, or your other crewmates are around, you’re able to make yourself press your forehead into his chest, listening closely for his heart beat, and feeling nothing but relief each time you hear it. The few times you swear he squeezes your hand back, despite still being knocked out, give you hope they’ll be up sooner rather, that you and Zoro can finally work out what your relationship is and will be.

Truly you just hope he doesn’t break your heart.

“Please. Wake up soon, okay? I love you.”

You quickly place a kiss on his forehead, as he’s done to you multiple times lately, before contenting yourself to simply stay beside Zoro and hold onto his hand, silent prayers that he wakes up soon. After a little while, you get surprised by someone setting a hand on your shoulder, looking up to see Sanji giving you a smile.

“Why don’t you come with me, [Y/N]? I’ll make you something to eat~”

You return the smile and let Sanji help you up, him putting an arm around your shoulders as he walks you to the kitchen of where you’re being allowed to stay for now. He starts telling you everything he’s planning to make for when Luffy and Zoro wake up, before you two are stopped by a few of the younger samurai.

One of them, around your age, tries hitting on you and asking you out, but before you can even deny the invitation, Sanji steps up with a grin.

“Hey now! Don’t you know this lovely girl is our stupid swordsman’s wife? I don’t think he’ll take too kindly to you hitting on her!”

The samurai looks from Sanji to you, as you slap his arm and nearly hiss out his name.

“Is…is that…true?’

Smiling a bit, you simply say, “Zoro and I are just very close, that’s all. I am flattered, but I’m not looking to date anyone.”

It's not a full lie, you don’t know where you and Zoro stand at the moment anyway, and you aren’t looking to start dating someone from Wano anyway. Hibine be damned, you just aren’t interested in anyone here, Zoro is the only one for you, you believe.

The samurai takes your rejection well, saying he hopes you two are happy whatever happens, before Sanji starts to turn you back down the hall he was leading you.

“Stop telling people about me and Zoro!”

“Come on, you weren’t going to go out with that guy anyway.”

“You know what I mean though.”

“Do I?” Sanji shrugs, glancing over his shoulder in time for the door to the room you’d left to close, and he sighs, squeezing your shoulder lightly.

You don’t tell him that you saw Hiyori around the corner too.

+!+

“Do you think he likes her?”

For a second Sanji thinks you're kidding. You're in the middle of stitching up one of Zoro's shirts before moving to your own, while Sanji starts to work on something for you to eat, he raises an eyebrow and just looks at you. How lucky were you to make it out of that battle against the Beast Pirates nearly unscathed. The cut on your forehead and some other minor ones here and there, but you’re fine, nothing like what your husband and captain have had to deal with. Not even close to what Sanji's been recovering from, and he's already back up and ready to cook for everyone.

“You're kidding, right?”

When you shake your head, Sanji furrows his brow and sighs, taking a drag from his cigarette and moving to sit beside you at the table. He puts a hand on top of yours to stop your work and make you look at him, he's giving you the soft smile you've come to appreciate from him.

“That mosshead loves you, not Hiyori.”

“Sanji–”

“No, listen to me for a minute,” he tightens his grip on your hand for a second, before continuing, “I know Zoro better than I like to admit, and he has no romantic feelings for Hiyori, I can see that. The way he looks at you, though, there's always been something there.”

“What do you–”

“Every time he has just a bit too much to drink, he watches you. He gets this soft look on his face, like he's thinking about something. I've only ever seen that look on his face when he looks at you. He's been like that ever since I met you guys.”

“That doesn’t mean anything…”

Shrugging, Sanji gets up from his seat beside you again.

“Maybe not, but I don’t think he would’ve slept with you if he didn’t love you back.”

You nearly squeak a response, slapping Sanji’s hand off your shoulder as he laughs, shaking his head and asking how you expected him to not know by now. You’re not very good at hiding things, not from him anyway.

“Just talk to that mosshead after he wakes up. I know you two will be fine, you’re made for each other.”

You really do hope Sanji’s right. The two of you end up working in a comfortable silence that’s only broken by Chopper running into the kitchen, nearly in tears. You almost feel your heart drop as you fear the worst before Sanji speaks up.

“Chopper? What’s wrong?”

“They’re…they’re both…awake!”

[lostbookmark]

WHISPERED SECRETS

MDNI 18+

Masterlist

Summary: After four years your sister's ex-boyfriend comes back into your life. Can you keep your entanglement a secret? Will the guilt eat you alive.

Pairing: Sisters ex Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader. Possessive Yoongi.

Genre: SMUT, angst, hurt - comfort, romance.

Warning: Explicit sex, Possessive Yoongi, swearing, reader is insecure, jealousy, unprotected sex, drinking, praising, degradation, spanking, hair pulling, arguments. Overuse of the name, baby.

A/N: Welcome to my first story. This will have chapters. I just have to figure out how to add as I go. I'm so nervous! Let me know if I missed any warnings so I can add them.

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You clutch your phone in your hand tightly as you look around. Your other hand was preoccupied pulling down the too tight, too short dress you were forced into wearing. The chilly wind kept blowing your hair in your face. The sidewalk outside the bar is littered with drunk people stumbling away to their next destination. Their faces lit by the luminescent sign in the dark night. It was only 10 o'clock and you were already over it. You didn’t want to be there but your friend promised you some birthday shots. You didn't like shots but didn't want to let her down either. Unfortunately, she was your driver for the night, and you are pretty sure she ditched you.

“Y/N?” A deep voice asked.

You whip head to the side where the deep voice comes from. Min Yoongi stood next to you with a question in his stare. Min Yoongi, your sister's ex-boyfriend. You were sixteen the first time you met him. He was eighteen when she first brought him home, declaring to you in secret that he was the love of her life. Gone was the slim, dark-haired teenager with a soft stare Yoongi. The man beside you with sharp eyes, ripped jeans, and silver hair almost made you second guess yourself. It's been four years since you last saw him. He was still beautiful.

“Yoongi,” you say so softly you think that he didn't hear you.

“I thought that was you when you walked out. Why are you out here alone?” He questioned you. The concern in his voice is evident.

Your phone beeped right as you were about to answer. You nodded your head sadly as your text message revealed what you already knew. “Hey sweets, went home with that hot guy from the bar. You're good to get home, right?” With a sigh, you reply with a thumbs up.

“My friend Lisa just ditched me. Happy birthday to me I guess,” you say and give Yoongi a tight smile.

“It is your birthday, isn't it? Twenty-two now, right?” He asked with a smile on his face, and you just nodded your head in response. You feel the warmth of his body closer to you. When did he move closer? “ Look at you all grown up now.”

Min Yoongi didn't miss your birthday in the two years he was with your sister. He went out of his way to get you a cupcake and a little gift. He even lit a candle and made you make a wish. It was when you turned seventeen when you realized your small…… strike that, big crush on him.

“You mean I'm no longer gangly with braces?” You asked yanking down the dress again.

“You were beautiful then, too. Do you need a ride? My car is just over there,” he asked with a flick of his hand, pointing his thumb behind him. His eyes swiftly move to watch you fix yourself. His eyes snap back up to your face,“ I'll take you anywhere you want. Let's try and salvage this birthday for you.”

“I don't want to ruin your night. I..I can just take the bus,” you stammered. You didn't want him feeling bad for you. This was just embarrassing.

He shook his head, held out his hand, and you hesitantly took it. He's warm and calloused, but it seems to fit perfectly. You were scared yours would be sweaty and be a dead giveaway on how nervous you were. If not a sweaty hand, the heat going to your face certainly was. You look up at Yoongi, and he gives you a knowing smirk. Yup, you were caught. He chuckled deeply and guided you to his car. Opening the door for you, he waited until you were all settled in the passenger seat before closing the door and getting in himself.

As he turned the car on, the lights on the dash illuminated his face. Min Yoongi, your sister's ex who she cried herself to sleep over after he broke up with her. She constantly stared at her phone for weeks, hoping that he would call her. He never did. She told you loudly one night that he was a loser. How she was so mad she lost two years to him. She never told you why he broke up with her. In fact, she didn't say much to you after that. She left home and moved five hours away not long after. You barely see her. You hope she's happy.

“Baby?” Yoongi's voice broke you out of your thoughts. He placed his hand on your bare thigh, gently moving thumb across your skin. “You okay?” You nod silently, yes. Your eyes are locked on his thumb. Gentle circles, making the heat in your face spread further down. You try not to squirm or press your thighs together. Yoongi tilts your face up to look at him. Your heart is beating a hundred miles a minute. “Can I kiss you?” he asked in a whisper. Again, you nod your head silently. Yoongi cups your face and brings you closer. His breath ghosts ever so lightly over your lips. “Happy birthday.” He presses his lip surely over yours.

You let yourself get lost in the kiss. You feel his tongue lick your bottom lip and obediently open your mouth for him to explore. His skilled tongue massages against your own. Kisses that you don't ever want to come back from. Kisses that are making you lightheaded, but you dont dare pull away. You moan into the kiss and tightly clutch his black jacket. You need to feel him closer to you. His hand drops from your face back to your thigh. His fingertips run up and down the outside, inching just under the hem of the too short dress. You shiver and don't even hide pressing your legs together this time. Yoongi nips your bottom lip as he pulls away. You watch him slowly lick, then bit his bottom lip.

“Come home with me?” He asked. His voice is somehow even deeper and more gravelly than normal. Silently, you nod your head, yes.

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XIX)

Chapter 19: Ascent

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

We only have two chapters left, including this one :(

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 5157

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Andrew was never more aware that he was getting older.

The hangover that was stabbing his temples with daggers was the best reminder of all.

Details from the end of the night were fuzzy, at best. He wasn’t certain how he got home, but he had somehow managed to reach his bed. He was still wearing his shirt and pants from the wedding, his hair was a mess, but that was nothing compared to the fog that clogged his brain.

He made a stop by the kitchen first to drink some water, prepared some strong coffee. He splashed some cold water on his face to clear his head. Christ… he needed a shower. Maybe two.

He could recall a cab driver, some very loud music, jumping up and down with the beat, Sam and Daphne laughing, getting drunk on purpose…

… and then there was you lying in bed, fast asleep, him kissing your forehead in a chaste kiss, tucking you in, helping you through the mansion, finding you in the park, the fear of not knowing where you were, him singing that song to you even if the dance was meant for the married couple…

He could hear your voice ringing in his ears, echoing through his head, beating in his heart. Words that rang again and again. Words that he had dreamt of hearing.

He took a couple of deep breaths, and let the unkind voice in his head take over. You were drunk. You didn’t mean it. You said it yourself you didn’t want to be in a relationship, and especially not with him. You were scared, you didn’t want to take the risk, didn’t want to make the sacrifices that a long-distance relationship would require, not for him, at least, because he wasn’t worth it, he wasn’t enough and you didn’t love him, you were just drunk, you didn’t mean it…

He turned on his phone, checked the time. It was already 1pm.

Messages from his friends, from Sam and Daphne, one from his mom, a few from his label…

… and then 10 from you.

He swallowed thickly, but touched your name first anyway.

Hi! I hope you got home safely last night.

First, thank you for taking care of me. I was drunk… obviously

A true gentleman, as usual.

I’m so sorry you had to see that. I was hammered. I wasn’t myself and I said things I shouldn’t have.

Andrew had to stop reading. He took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, bracing for the rejection that was sure to come… again.

Still, he read on.

I know that I’ve fucked up, and that you don’t want to see me anymore. Which is perfectly understandable, and I completely respect your decision. I had no intention to contact you again. It was completely out of line for me to confess my feelings.

Andrew read that last sentence several times, before rushing to the next text.

I’m sorry about what happened. I know you don’t want to see me anymore, and again, I completely understand. I was an idiot and I’ve fucked up everything. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I won’t ask for it. At this point, I just hope that what I said last night didn’t make things even worse.

I know that you’ve probably moved on by now, and I’m not expecting anything from you. I don’t even expect an answer to these texts, and I will simply not contact you again if you choose not to answer. I guess that alcohol simply made me reveal things I would rather not have confessed. I trust you not to tell anyone about this, even if you don’t want to talk to me ever again.

I reckon that I should make it clear, although I expect that you don’t feel the same anymore, that I meant what I said last night. And I wish I hadn’t been so stupid, and told you how I felt while I still could.

His eyes ran through your words again and again, but they remained unchanged, no matter how many times he read them. He let out a long exhale, unable to believe what he was reading was true.

You couldn’t be meaning that… you couldn’t…

I’ll see you this afternoon at our cute couple’s get-together for post-wedding day, before they enjoy their well-deserved honeymoon. Don’t worry though, I won’t initiate a conversation, and will completely understand if you don’t want to talk to me ever again. Also, I’ll stay sober this time, just in case I do something stupid.

If I never hear from you again, know that I wish you the best. You deserve all the happiness in the world.

Andrew struggled to breathe for a moment. He dropped his phone on the counter next to him, buried his face in his hands.

What the fuck was going on?

Andrew hadn’t texted you back. He didn’t want to have this conversation with you over a phone. There were too many things to be told, too many things to be discussed.

He was a ball of nerves by the time three o’clock arrived and he stepped in his friends’ house. Some help was needed to make sure that the rented mansion was in good shape, to take care of the rest of the food and drinks, and obviously, to have another party to celebrate the newlyweds.

And you were there. Standing in the kitchen, making tea, your demeanour perfectly calm, as if you hadn’t dropped a bomb that had shattered his life in a million possibilities the night before…

“Andy!”

You turned to him at the sound of his name, he noticed the way your lips parted, before you looked away in a hurry…

The next second, he was engulfed in Sam’s strong embrace.

“How are you, Mr. Married-man?” Andrew joked, returning the tight hug.

“Ecstatic. Not realising what’s going on…”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“Daphne’s gone with her mother to deal with something… don’t remember what… but somebody has to go to the venue to check that everything is fine before we leave for good. Can you do that?”

“Sure, I’ll go.”

“You want some tea first?”

“No, no… I’m fine. I’ll deal with that.”

“Y/N can go with you, you might need help. The caterer left some food there apparently, even if they were supposed to deal with that and pack it up. Also, check that no one has broken anything, we were all quite drunk last night.”

“Sure, I’ll do that.”

Andrew looked at you, but you didn’t move towards him. You remained standing there, in the kitchen, the kettle in your hand. You looked almost afraid, definitely uncomfortable.

“You’re coming, Y/N?” he asked, making sure his voice was neutral but still soft. He didn’t want you to believe that he was angry.

You jumped, surprised that he would talk to you. Still, you nodded in a hurry, putting the kettle down.

“Yeah… yeah…”

You offered him a smile, and he reciprocated the gesture. You seemed appeased by it.

You both hurried outside, greeting some other friends who were coming and going, set on different errands. It was merry despite the grey sky and the threat of some new rain.

“I’ll drive,” Andrew said as you reached his car.

“My car is right over there, I’ll follow you.”

“No need, I’ll drop you here after we’re done. Come on.”

You remained staring at him for a moment, clearly trying to gauge his actions.

“I’m not angry,” he said, reading your mind too easily. “You can come in.”

Slowly, you nodded, and opened the car door.

It was silent as Andrew started to drive. An awkward kind of silence that Andrew tried to alleviate by turning on the radio. Van Morrison filled up the empty spaces of the car, while you tried to discreetly look at him, failing miserably. He wanted to laugh at you for being so obvious about it.

It was a short drive to the venue, but he couldn’t find anything to say to you. His throat was dry, he could feel his palms getting clammy at the mere thought of speaking to you. There was too much that needed to be said…

“Andy…” you finally broke the heavy silence, while he was waiting at a red light. “About last night…”

“Can we… can we not do that now?”

When he looked at you, you were clenching your jaw and looking away in a hurry.

“I’m not angry,” he repeated, his voice soft but neutral still.

He didn’t want to let himself get emotional now. There was too much to say and too little time before reaching the venue. Besides, he didn’t want to speak about this in his car, this wasn’t either the right place nor the right time.

“But we should talk about all this after we’re done with the venue and everything… like… when we’re alone and we have time to discuss things.”

“So… you… you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah… I reckon we should.”

“We don’t have to. I understand that you hate me, that you don’t want to have anything to do with me ever again. You don’t have to be this kind to me.”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. Christ, you were so wrong… about everything…

“I could never hate you, Y/N. I don’t have that in me.”

“I hurt you. A lot.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“You should hate me.”

But he slowly shook his head, eyes still fixed on the road, and he hoped you wouldn’t notice the way he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“That’s not how love works, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything, but he could feel your stare upon him. He didn’t know what he could add, so he let the rest of the drive pass in a silent haze, his mind swarming with thoughts and feelings and trying to figure out what he wanted, what he should do, what was reasonable…

More than anything else, he thought about how nice it was to smell your perfume in his car again.

Andrew had taken care of the caterer and the food while you were going around the bedrooms to make sure nothing was wrong. He was looking for you to give you a hand, the mansion was rather large, and the keys needed to be returned after everything had been cleaned and put in order, or fees might be added. Andrew had offered to pay for everything, but Sam and Daphne had refused, and seemed offended by the idea, so the best Andrew could do now was to make sure they wouldn’t pay anything extra. A few other friends and family members were also helping out, and everything was ready.

He found you in one of the bedrooms. You were checking the room quickly, but everything seemed to be in order, except for something that seemed to have been forgotten on top of an old wooden wardrobe. Andrew looked at you for a few seconds as you went on your tiptoes to try and grab whatever object was up there, but you were too small. An amused smile was drawn to his lips when you huffed in annoyance.

You turned around in a jolt when you heard the floor creaking under his weight. He said nothing, stopped only when he was close to you, so close he would only have to bend to kiss you… And then he reached up, and grabbed the forgotten object.

You both exploded with laughter as Andrew revealed a green bra.

“Somebody had fun here last night,” Andrew laughed.

“They definitely got lucky!”

He handed it to you, but you shook your head.

“I’m not taking this, I have no clue who it belongs to!”

“I can’t walk out of here holding a bra!”

“Why not? Is it better if it’s me?”

“Y/N… They’ll think I had sex with someone!”

“And if I walk out with this they’ll think I had sex with someone…”

He rolled his eyes.

“What do we do, then?”

“Can’t you hide it in your jacket?”

“Can’t you?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, grabbing the piece of garment and stuffing it in the pocket of your vest.

“Alright, crisis averted for our famous diva.”

“A diva? Me?”

You both chuckled at that.

“No, not at all… I don’t know why I joked about that.”

“Because you’re mean.”

He was joking, but your face fell, and the next second you were taking a step back and clearing your throat. And the moment had passed.

“It was the last room. Everybody behaved, apparently.”

“Good… that’s grand… let’s go, then.”

But when he turned towards the door, you held onto his hand.

He lost himself in your eyes… in their shade that he saw at night still, despite the long weeks you had spent apart, and they looked begging now, soft and vulnerable.

“Can we… can we talk before you take me back to my car?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“We can go to my place.”

“Your place?”

“Or yours.”

“You’re sure?”

“We should be alone for this. Alone, and undisturbed.”

You nodded in agreement, letting go of his hand again. He hated the cold of the air that replaced your skin.

You walked out in silence, managed to discreetly get rid of the bra in a bin, stopped to chat with a few friends, but Andrew could hardly be patient anymore. He was careful not to be rude when he pulled you away from the conversation so you could walk back to his car. Still, when you looked at him before climbing in his car, you seemed to read right through him, through the mix of emotions in his hazel eyes, from the impatience to the fear.

“Let’s go to my place,” you said softly as Andrew turned on the engines.

He nodded in silence, struggling to regulate his breathing. There was so much hope and bitterness mingling in his heart now, being injected to his veins, preventing his lungs from functioning properly.

Why had you acted like you didn’t care if you loved him? Did you even love him? Really? Would you be ready to give him a chance? Had you dated anyone since that night?

The drive to your house was made in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. There was music playing on the radio, but Andrew couldn’t notice it. It started to rain at one point, heavy and cold droplets that made it harder to see the road.

Not a word as you both climbed out of his car and hurried to your door, fleeing the rain. It was cold as it dropped on his face, the contrast stark when you let him in your house that was so much warmer.

“Tea?” you merely asked, but didn’t wait for his answer to go prepare a kettle.

He remained frozen in your hallway. All of a sudden, that evening was playing over and over in his head. He looked at the doorknob, and thought about leaving. Just… running away. Never see you again. Then what?

He would spend the next months, or most probably years, trying to forget you, trying to move on. He would bury himself in work so he could numb the pain. Eventually, he’d find someone new, build a life for himself without you in it. He’d avoid you at gatherings with your common friends. He would sing the songs he had written about you, trying to forget that you were the muse behind every note played and every rime spoken. You would find someone else too, get married, build yourself a home and a family with another person joining you in bed every night. Not him. He would never kiss you again, never hold you again, never hear your laughter, never giggle at your snarky remarks, never make love to you ever again…

“Andy?”

He spun around, facing you.

The choice was his. He could still tell you that he never wanted to see you again. That you had hurt him too much and that he didn’t want the two of you to stay in touch.

Or he could walk into your kitchen and talk with you until he was certain about the nature of your feelings for him. And then he’d decide if you were worth putting his heart on the line again or not.

He could run away, or stay.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, voice gentle, head slightly tilted to the side.

He nodded, took a deep breath, and walked over to you.

“Yeah… just… lost in thought.”

You handed him a cup of tea. No sugar nor milk. Two teabags. He recognized the tag of his favourite brand.

“We should sit down,” you offered, voice hesitant, but he nodded, and you smiled as you took a seat in your living room, around your wooden table.

He sat across from you, silently measured the distance that separated you. You were resting your hands on the wooden surface, and he ached to reach out, hold your fingers tight.

You didn’t seem willing to start the conversation, and after a couple of minutes of both of you silently staring at your cups of tea, Andrew exhaled deeply through his nose, closed his eyes, and finally broke the heavy silence that had entered the room.

“So… last night… when you were drunk…”

“Hmm…”

“I reckon we should start from there.”

“Thank you again, for helping me.”

“There’s no need to thank me for that.”

“Sam said you were worried about me.”

He finally looked up at you, gaze getting caught in your stare, and he couldn’t look away after that. He struggled to swallow.

“Of course, I was worried. You were alone, no one knew where, and you didn’t have your phone with you.”

“But you hate me.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“After what happened, you should hate me.”

He heaved a sigh, shook his head, his shoulders bent under an invisible weight. The burden of loving you despite everything…

“I don’t hate you. I’m just… hurt.”

“It’s not exactly better.”

“No, I guess not… But it’s not aimed at you. It’s aimed at myself.”

You blinked a couple of times, a pained expression on your features.

“Yesterday… you said…”

You looked away, setting your gaze on your tea, on the steam that was rising from the porcelain, on the coloured liquid inside.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Because you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I know you didn’t want to hear me say that. Because you want me out of your life, and I understand why. Because I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Andrew clenched his jaw, struggled to keep his heartbeat regular.

“Did you mean it?”

You brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, still avoiding his stare.

“Y/N, look at me. Please, look at me.”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, but then you complied, looked up at him.

“After everything that has happened, I just need the truth. I just need answers. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay…”

“Just answer me.”

You nodded, waiting for him to speak.

“Did you mean it?”

You blinked tears away, but slowly nodded still.

“When you said…”

His voice broke, he had to clear it to gather words on his tongue once more.

“When you said that you loved me… did you mean it?”

But you nodded again.

“I did mean it. I shouldn’t have said it, though…”

You fell silent when Andrew buried his face in his hands. He was struggling to breathe, struggling not to cry…

“I’m sorry, Andy… I’m so sorry…”

“Why the fuck did you reject me then?” he interrupted you, looking at you once more, his hands falling loudly on the table. “Why did you keep on pushing me away? On making me feel fucking miserable? If you loved me, why would you hurt me like that?”

“I didn’t mean to… I just….”

Your lips trembled, but you went on anyway, voice calm and a little cold.

“My life was a mess… still kind of is, to be fair. I had a new job, and then… then you kissed me that night at the bar and… old feelings came back. Feelings I had been very good at burying and forgetting. And I just… I didn’t want us to remain just friends, but… I was fucking terrified, Andy. I still am, to be honest. And so, I convinced myself that I could… have you while protecting my heart, which was the worst idea ever thought since the beginning of mankind, clearly…”

You heaved a tired sigh, rubbed your forehead as you tightly closed your eyes.

Andrew was remaining perfectly still, utterly quiet. Waiting for you to continue.

“I just thought… I thought that if we didn’t act like a couple, if we didn’t date, I would be able to control how I feel for you. I thought that it could be casual. And you accepted, and I thought… I thought that it meant that you were just attracted to me, and it helped me ignore my own feelings to believe that you just wanted sex.”

“I didn’t want you just for sex. I never did,” he interrupted you, and you stared at him with pain twisting your features.

“I’m sorry, Andy…”

“You said that it didn’t mean anything to you. You said that you didn’t have feelings for me, that… that you felt nothing when we were intimate. You said it was just about fucking…”

“I didn’t say any of that...”

“That’s how you behaved, though.”

“I didn’t say it was just about fucking…”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“It wasn’t about fucking. I always had feelings for you.”

He clenched his jaw, heaved a sigh.

“Why did you pretend it didn’t mean a thing then?”

“Because I was scared. And I didn’t feel ready to have a relationship with you.”

“Because I have to go on tours?”

“Yeah… not just that but… mostly, yes. Because you won’t be here. Dating you means signing up for a long-distance relationship, and I don’t know how to deal with that kind of situation.”

Slowly, he nodded.

“I understand that,” he mumbled.

“You’ll never be around… you’re always off to somewhere else. Our lives are so different…”

“But this is my home. It’s always gonna be my home. I’ll always come back.”

“How do you handle not seeing your partner for months?”

He let out a bitter chuckle.

“Badly,” he truthfully answered, and the two of you shared a sad smile.

“I was afraid to open up to you, to be vulnerable, to let myself feel this way… for you to disappear and break up with me because you’d have found someone better on the other side of the globe…”

“Y/N… I understand why my career can seem like a giant obstacle, because it is one. It’s… so fucking hard to not be with the person you love for months, and I’m so goddamn busy when touring that I can’t promise you that I’ll be able to give you the quality time that you deserve. It’s a nightmare to get our schedules to match, to plan everything out, and that’s without counting all the things that are added along the way that weren’t planned at the beginning of touring… And then there’s the press, and the writing, and the recording, and… and I understand, okay? I understand that you would reject me because of that. But Y/N… if you’re just afraid that I might fall for someone else because we’re apart for a few weeks… that is literally the least probable scenario that could ever happen.”

“Why would it be?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” he answered simply, earnestly, like it was the most obvious truth on earth. “Because I’ve been in love with you for years. And no one has ever replaced you, even when I thought you felt nothing for me, even when we both were dating other people. Trust me, you’re the only woman I want on this planet. The only one I really want.”

He watched as you took his words in, your lower lip trembling, blinking tears away.

“You should have told me,” he went on. “Instead of inventing this fucking arrangement, you should have just told me.”

“I know. But I wasn’t ready to try and be with you…”

“I would have waited. I would have waited for you.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It was fucked up, Y/N… you… it just… it was so painful to me,” Andrew admitted, trying not to let his voice shake too much. “I felt… I felt like you were just using me. I’ve never felt so terrible about myself… cause I… I was just enough for you to fuck me, and nothing more…”

“No, that wasn’t that at all...”

“That’s how it made me feel. Not all the time, of course. There were so many times when I felt… loved. When I felt like you felt more for me than simple physical attraction; most of the time it was the case. And that… it kind of messed with my brain, made me feel like you wanted more; but every time we were getting closer to an actual relationship, you rejected me. And you kept on doing it, over and over, and sometimes it was so fucking painful. Almost mean. And more than unloved, it made me feel… unlovable. Undesirable. And I know that you deserve better than what I can give you with my career, but…”

“Don’t say that. God, Andy don’t say that…”

You heaved a sigh, and Andrew was taken aback when you suddenly stood up, walked around the table and held him close. He didn’t think as he wrapped his arms around you too, though.

“I love you,” you whispered as you held him close, and felt his entire body relax at your words, tears rising back to his eyes. “God, Andrew… I love you so much. I was just scared. It was just bad timing. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I acted like the worst piece of shit, but you are everything but unlovable, okay? How could you think that?”

“Say it again,” he whispered into your neck, noticing the way goosebumps erupted across your skin under his breath. “Say it again.”

“I love you. I love you, Andy…”

Before you could say anything else, he was standing up as well, catching your lips with his in the process.

He heard the shock in your breath, but then your hands were in his hair, and you were pulling him closer, until you were leaning back against the table. His hands on your face to make sure you would stay close. And Christ… the relief of kissing you again, of feeling your lips move perfectly against his at long last, of tasting you once more…

You held him so tightly when you pulled away, arms wrapping around his neck while you rested your forehead against his shoulder.

“Are you dating anyone?” he asked, voice hoarser than usual.

“No…”

“Have you? Since we’ve stopped seeing each other?”

But you shook your head.

“No, nothing. You?”

“No one.”

“Really?”

“You broke my heart… it does take more than a few weeks to get over that,” he chuckled, but you didn’t laugh, merely holding him closer, so close he could barely breathe.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was so scared. I tried fooling myself into thinking I didn’t love you, but I do. I love you…”

“I’ll wait for you,” Andrew whispered into your hair. “If you’re not ready but you’d be willing to give me a chance, I would still wait for you…”

“I don’t deserve you.”

He chuckled.

“I don’t know about that. But I know that I love you, despite everything that happened. And besides… it wasn’t all bad. Most of it was good.”

“When I didn’t act like an arse, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“I loved it so much, you know? Whenever I let myself get closer to you… whenever I let myself love you… Christ, I was so happy then…”

“I was too. Whenever you let me in, I was happy with you. We could still be happy together, if you give us a chance.”

“I was breaking my own heart every time, you know? Every time, Andy… It was so fucking hard… but I was so scared…”

He pulled away, took your hands in his. He stared at you with begging eyes.

“If you want to try this, long-distance is going to be hard. It’ll be rough. Real rough.”

“I know.”

“I can’t… I can’t go through this again, Y/N.”

“Me neither. It was awful for me too.”

“So… if we try this… we give it a real try: I take you on a proper date, and we don’t hold back.”

“Are you sure you still want me?”

“Yeah… yeah, I still want you. Do you want me?”

You answered by kissing him, slow and passionate, making him melt against you, wrap his arms around your frame.

“I’m all in for the date,” you whispered against his lips. “But… can we still go to my bedroom now?”

“Before the first date? What about giving me a proper wine-and-dine treatment before taking me to bed, huh?” he playfully answered, grinning into your lips, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute.

“I’ll give you wining and dining and everything in between for our first date, but I really want you, right now…”

You fell silent when he let his lips fall to your neck and his hands rise to your breasts.

Little words were exchanged while you left a trail of clothes on the path to your bedroom, staggering now and then as your lips remained sealed to his most of the way.

Except when you were lying on your bed, head against your pillows, looking up at Andrew with adoring eyes as he hovered over you, staring at you like you had hung up the stars and moon in the sky. While he was trembling at the feeling of your naked skin against his, you raised your hands to hold his face, your thumbs gently brushing his cheeks, and his heart stumbled against his ribcage under your tender touch.

“I love you,” you whispered in the softest voice he had ever heard, adoration oozing from your sweet tone. “I love you, Andy.”

He rested his forehead against yours, lowering his body onto yours to feel as much of your skin against his as he could.

“I love you, Y/N,” he murmured with the same devotion and worship in his deep voice. “I love you so fucking much…”

And when he kissed you again, there was no doubt in either of your minds that this was what love was supposed to feel like.

[kanmom51]

JM Muse Blooming

Concept photos and clip

JM's first concept photos dropped, and what can you say? The man is 🔥🔥

Walking in the Smeraldo flowers garden.

Wearing this belt:

Same belt?

The minute I saw this photo it felt a little familiar.

And then it hit me.

JK's 2D shoot.

Now, I'm no photography expert, but it looks like the same kind of slow exposure technique is used for this photo.

And then we have this:

How far will you go for love

To the moon?

To tell the whole world that you want that one person you love, even if your love may be considered as wrong or ugly to some?

To enlist together, being the first idols EVER to do so?

I guess pretty far.

Yeah yeah, I know not everything is about Jikook. This is JM's album, JM's photo concept, JM's creation. And yes, not everything is about them as a couple. There is definitley plenty that isn't. But with saying that, we have seen, time and time again, referencing, coding and mirroring of one another. Not everything is about them as a couple, but yet, I do believe that some of it is.

And then we have this next photo.

Now really?

If you are sitting there and denying the second you saw the tie you didn't envision this:

then you are lying. Either out right or to yourself.

The tie, the crop top. Even the pose with the shoulder tilt and the lifting of the chin gaze looking down.

Reminds me of someone else that had some mirroring going on and was called a copycat and so much more and worse.

I can assure you that was one among many photos taken in that shoot, and yet, that was the photo chosen by JM.

Third photo.

Besides the fact that JM is beautiful, no need to even state the obvious, we get a few more details from this photo.

First we get the 13 on his cheek.

In the Face shoots he had the studs/thorns and scar under his eye, and now he's proudly wearing the number 13, a number that means so much to him that he has it permanently tattooed on his arm.

His nail art.

In the teaser clip we had the crescent (probably right hand) and now we get two parallel lines. An equal sign perhaps?

We also have a little bit more sharing going on.

I guess Jikook do love to share their outfits and accessories when it comes to these solo shoots specifically.

Another coincidence? I think we are way past the point of believing that it is.

We have shared belts.

Same pants.

Different parts of the same outfit.

Same singlet.

Same necklace.

We also got this message:

ARMY! Who knew a baby chick could be so dangerous? One look at these concept photos and you might have a heart attack 🐥 10 years of this boy and he’s still finding new ways to be beautiful? 🤦‍♀️ 🐣: Is that how you see me?! 💜: Exactly that, yes. Hope you’re all pumped up for another new chapter in our lovely shared story!!

I find a few things curious with this one.

First of all, using the terms "boy" and "beautiful".

JM being an almost 30 yo man choosing the work boy is a little strange here, and knowing that every single thing he does is done with thought, just like the use of the non binary singer emoji for the 30 minute reminder or the tteokbokkibyjk.

And what about the use of the term beautiful, a term usually used as an expression of feminine good looks rather than masculine (not by me, btw, but by many).

Another curious thing I found was the dialogue, and more so, the question asked by JM: "Is that how you see me?!"

Question mark exclamation mark.

Is he asking us if we see him as a boy? Is it about age or gender? If we see him as beautiful? Is this about me overthinking? 🤣🤣

And then we have the clip:

So, JM in the dark, looking away from us.

Then the place lightens up and the camera goes into a close up of JM's face, and he's looking into the camera, or at us.

He's literally looking into my soul.

What to expect?

With JM I think we have gotten used to expecting the unexpected, in the very best way possible.

D-19

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SEVEN

in which you come to a few realizations while remembering the very first night you'd met eddie. a phone call with steve leaves you with more questions than answers.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, heavier angst this chapter but all will be well soon, two uses of y/n, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ word count: 4.4k+

→ a/n: shorter chapter today but the focus here is the memory! finally making some progress haha. also trying out something new with formatting/the summary situation. if i hate it, i'll probably change it. <3 also, italicized portion is a memory.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

7:00 ────ㅇ────────────── 24:00

DINGUS: [image attachment]

DINGUS: y/n just texted me this. we’re not getting an update this hour. 

BIRDIE: what the hell happened?

DINGUS: she hasn’t said yet, as you can see in the photo, robs. 

ARGYLE  😎: what do we THINK happened? 

BIRDIE: my best bet is fighting? 

ARGYLE 😎: lover’s quarrel? Makes sense. 

BIRDIE: i’m adding nance back into the chat

BIRDIE added NANCE to the groupchat.

BIRDIE: @NANCE explain what you meant earlier please. we’re having a code red. the bad kind. 

DINGUS: there’s a good kind of code red?

NANCE: Oh God, what happened? 

DINGUS: y/n texted me saying she fucked up, and we’re assuming either she’s finally murdered eddie, or they’re fighting again.

NANCE: I can call Eddie, if you guys want?

JOHNNY: So does this mean we’re all $500 richer?

BIRDIE: @JOHNNY if you still think this is about the money, you’re a fucking idiot

—

HOUR SEVEN - 10:00 PM

There had been a time in your life where you believed you didn’t hold a single mean bone in your body. A time where you were soft-spoken, a time where you overflowed with kindness and dotted out compliments to random strangers. There was once a version of you in this lifetime that worked so fervently to be the type of person people liked and enjoyed the company of. You always swore to always treat others with the same grace as you would prefer to receive as well.

A year ago, that version of you had been sidetracked. 

You stare at the wooden frame of Eddie’s door with blank eyes. He wasn’t going to open it any time soon. You’d tried knocking multiple times, calling out to him in a soft voice, begging and pleading and begging and pleading. His response continued to be silence. 

“All I’ve ever done is hurt you.”

With the haze clearing, in the midst of the aftermath and sour clarity, you wish you would have corrected him. Eddie and you had surely hurt each other countless times, but it is not all he’s ever done. 

You can remember the better moments clearly now. The time you’d tripped walking up the steps of one of the bars on Main Street, and Eddie had been the only person in your friend group to stop completely, reflectively reaching out to catch you from embarrassing yourself. The night of your birthday, in which he hadn’t come to the party due to “work” as Steve had explained, but had sent a card along with your friends that contained a gift card to your favorite coffee shop. You hadn’t even realized he knew your favorite coffee shop, and you’d come to find out that he didn’t even ask a single one of your mutual friends for it. You’d brushed it off as a lucky guess. And there was the time you’d forgotten your wallet during a brunch with the group, and he hadn’t hesitated to pick up your bill with his own. He didn’t even give Robin the chance to argue; he’d simply snatched your bill from across the table when you’d paled as you dug through your bag, and didn’t say a word about you paying him back. 

Small moments. Glimpses of kindness, bandages on wounds that you’d been ignoring to keep up a war between the two of you that you’d always assumed he’d started. 

Eddie Munson wasn’t the enemy, and the first night you two met was never a red herring; it was a glimpse into who he actually was. A clear look past the armor he hadn’t formed yet when it came to you. 

—

A YEAR AGO

“They’re going to love you!” Robin insists as she continues to shove you from behind through the entrance of the bar. Steve is ahead of you, guiding you through the rough crowd to the table the rest of the group had already snagged. 

You turn your head over your shoulder, reaching up and grabbing the hand that Robin rested on you, “You don't know that. What if they hate me? What if they think I’m the worst person they’ve ever met?” 

Even as you wore a smile, there was a truth to the fear in your words. You were petrified that these strangers, strangers who meant so much to your only friends on campus, would turn their noses to you. There was nothing Robin or Steve could do to extinguish the fear. It was already a terrible knot in the pit of your stomach, tying and untying itself like a nuisance as Steve started to wave at a brunette who had been scanning the bar as if waiting for someone. 

She’s pretty. Wavy hair barely brushing her shoulders, sharp features accentuated in the shadows of the busy location. The moment her blue eyes locked on Steve, all the concentration on her face faded to be replaced with an excited smile. 

She returns the wave, and the boys surrounding her at the table all glance in your direction. 

You’re still half-hidden behind Steve as the three of you approach the group. Robin bounds out from behind you, scooping the woman you assumed was the famous Nancy into a barrelling hug. Your eyes flickered to the boy sat to Nancy’s right, shaggy hair flopping against his forehead and smile creases exposed as he nods to Steve and holds up his drink in greeting. Beside him, another man sits, long and shiny hair flowing over an outrageous Hawaiian print shirt and topped off with a baseball cap that looked to be the merchandise of a pizza shop. His smile is welcoming – something comforting in the relaxation of it. 

You’re almost completely captivated by the warmth that bled from the group when Steve and Robin are suddenly taking their seats. Robin sits beside Nancy, while Steve takes the seat across from the man with long hair. 

The only seat left open was between Steve and a man who’s back was turned to you. 

His hair is in a loose bun, unraveling against the nape of his neck.  You could see each and every defined curl. His broad shoulders stiffen beneath a leather jacket and denim vest, and his ring-clad hand cradles a short glass of something dark, something fizzy. 

“Alright, everyone!” Steve announces, turning and beckoning you to take this seat. Your stomach twists again, realizing you’d be sitting beside a stranger. One who had yet to even spare you a glance, “This is Y/N.” 

There’s rounds of greetings and introductions as you brush shoulders with the stranger to take your seat, and try as you might to keep up, all you can focus on is not looking at him. 

You’re guess was correct – the pretty girl that Robin had hugged was Nancy. The boy with floppy hair at her side was Jonathan, and the man with long hair told you his name is Argyle. His tone of casualty matches the comfort of his smile as he holds a hand out to you across the table, both your elbow and his brushing against empty baskets once filled with bar food as you shake. 

Finally, you turn to look at the stranger beside you, Steve reaching around to clasp his shoulder. 

“And mister oh-so-welcoming here is Eddie.” 

Eddie. He finally turns to look at you, with doleful eyes and a tight-lipped grin, and you almost forget how to breathe. 

He was intimidating. All broodish glances and stand-offish energy. But then Argyle cracks a joke, and suddenly, it all fades. The air in the room crackles frantically as you watch him chuckle slowly at first, until he finally descends into cackles with Steve and Jonathan alike. 

That’s when the first vine sprouts. 

The second one does when the conversation becomes overwhelming, and you find yourself lost amongst the sea of new friends. They’re nothing but friendly, trying to learn more about you but easily falling into well-established inside jokes at times. When you descend into silence as you watch them recount a story of a time that Argyle snuck them into his job after hours, you suddenly feel Eddie lean in closer to you.

“I think they tell this story every time they get drunk,” he whispers, tilting his head so that the words only reach your ears, “I’ve probably heard it a hundred times by now.” 

You bite back a smile, “Just tonight, or the entire time you’ve known them?” 

“Both.”

You have to fight hard to swallow down giggles, Eddie hiding his with a sip of his drink. A waiter who had taken your order nearly ten minutes ago arrives with your own drink. An amaretto sour. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way,” he says as you taste the drink. Its citrus bursts across your tongue and you nod.

“So Steve mentioned.” 

“Yeah, but I felt bad for not introducing myself,” he shrugs. You were facing him fully now, no longer trying to stick vehemently to Steve’s side. “I didn’t want to seem like a dick, just… had a long week.” 

You knew all about long weeks.

“I get it,” you assure him, “Are you in school, too?” 

“Night classes,” he supplies with a wave of his hand, “Midterms are a bitch, especially after working all day.” 

“Tell me about it. I think I’m about ten seconds away from getting fired at my current gig,” you joke, and Eddie laughs. It occurs to you that you’d probably do just about anything to hear his laugh more, and already begin to conjure up terrible jokes to pull that sound from him once more. It’s even more comforting than Argyle’s friendly cadence, than Steve’s elbow knocking yours to remind you he’s still there.

“Why would you think that?” Eddie’s nose scrunches, more curls falling against his cheek. Your drink is immediately forgotten. 

“He caught me talking shit,” another laugh falls from Eddie’s lips at your deadpan, more reserved than the previous but just as melodic, “I give it a week. He was already looking for a reason to send me to the chopping block. Says I talk too much to customers.” 

“Is that even possible?”

“Apparently.” 

For a moment, in the smoky bar, it’s just you and Eddie. All knotting nerves have been replaced by the weight of the vines that surge higher and higher in your chest, growing at impossible rates. They don’t strangle you like your fears of the night had; their weight is a comforting hold, something solid to reach out for in the unfamiliar territory of new socialization. Without the mask of intimidation, Eddie feels like an old friend. 

You assume that everyone else is distracted by their own conversation, but Robin catches the way you lean into him as the two of you joke. She nudges Nancy subtly, and they both share a look when Eddie blushes at you being impressed as he tells you that his battle vest is hand-sewn. 

Your vines are not as hidden as you assume they are, certainly not when the first bud of hopefulness begins to grow. 

“So how long have you known Steve?” you ask him quietly, still under the guise of the two of you having created your own small bubble of a moment. 

Eddie downs the last of his Jack & Coke, something you caught onto by smelling it on his breath when he had gotten particularly close to you during conversation, “Too long. We all met in high school, actually.” 

“Oh, don’t tell me that,” you groan, and your forehead dramatically falls into his shoulder without second-thought. He stiffens beneath the connection, “I’m infiltrating a friend group that’s stood the test of times? I’m doomed.” 

You nearly lift your head from his still stiff shoulder, afraid to make him uncomfortable, when he brings a hesitant hand to pat your back jokingly, “There, there. I think you’re fitting in fine.” 

“Just fine? Ouch,” you finally lift your head as you had planned to, just as Eddie had begun to relax into your touch. His hand doesn’t fall too far from your back, resting on the back of your chair. His shy grin is impossibly charming, “You could have just said I’m crashing and burning, you know?” 

The night carries on like that, you and Eddie lost in private conversations only to be occasionally dragged back in on whatever debate the group is having. It’s a spring reaction; once one or both of you have given your two cents, you return to one another, finding solitude in joking and Eddie updating you on the group’s ‘lore’, as he puts it. Steve shoots several glances in your direction, always prepared to offer comfort in what should be an overwhelming situation, but he never has to. Every time he glances at you, Eddie is already taking the lead of entertaining you, qualming all your anxieties into non-existence. 

Your vines decorate with buds of hope. Every laugh you pull from Eddie, every fleeting touch that passes between the two of you, every new inside joke he decides to make with you rather than indulging in ones set in stone already with old friends - they all whisper of new friendship. They whisper in potential, in new beginnings and coming home after long weeks. 

By the time Nancy announces she has to go to the restroom and invites you and Robin, you’re in full bloom. You’re convinced that Eddie is a friend. And you can see it in his eyes – he’s convinced of it too, looking nervous when you stand and agree to go with Nancy. He looks like a child about to lose their social crutch, and it has potential to be devastating.

It’s almost enough to make you ignore your bladder, but you need to pee, and you need to socialize with more than just Eddie tonight. 

You’re not sure what happens at the table during your trip to the bathroom. But something surely does happen as you giggle with the girls under the humming lights of the restroom, as you all stand in the mirror side by side and fiddle with your hair and makeup and Robin makes a comment about how terribly cliche the moment is. Nancy slaps her on the arm, mutters something about the importance of girls bonding, and when you return to the table, you see it immediately – Eddie’s mask of indifference has returned. 

His cheeks are flushed, and all the boys are sharing nervous glances between one another as you all sit down again. 

There’s no more fleeting touches. You sip on your now watered down drink, and you try and pull Eddie out from wherever he’s ventured in your absence, but it’s no use. A conversation was had while you girls had been in the restroom, and it left Eddie in his head, out of reach. The buds of hopefulness quiver on their vines, and you try to reassure yourself that it’s nothing personal. It’s nothing personal when he clearly holds back any laughs at your jokes you lean into his space to whisper to only him, it’s nothing personal when his arm never rests on the back of your chair again, it’s nothing personal when he won’t meet your eyes the rest of the night. 

It’s nothing personal, but it’s sorely disappointing. 

You end the night, everyone splitting up, Eddie heading off towards his motorcycle. He hadn’t even mentioned driving a motorcycle during the night, and you curse the way you watch him straddle the seat as he secures his helmet over his tied-back hair. You desperately wish to know what was said while you were in the bathroom, what had happened to make him retreat so far from you after spending the entirety of the night tending to the greenery that had grown attached to your ribcage. 

“You like him, don’t you?” Robin teases at your side, bumping shoulders. 

Something aches in you. The thrill of meeting someone new, of getting along, of finding them cute and endearing, is beyond your grasp. 

He didn’t even say goodbye. 

“I did,” you whisper softly. A reverberation of past-tense, an exhale of worry. 

You did. But he didn’t even say goodbye. 

—

Eddie still hasn’t opened the door. But to his defense, you haven’t tried knocking again. 

That ache from that night, the feeling of a delicate rush of possibility taunting you from a distance, still remains. Even amongst now rotted vines, even as petals fall from your hopeful buds. It never really went away. With each group hangout that followed, it echoed louder and louder, demanding to be heard and demanding to be felt as Eddie grew colder. You were an idiot the first few times; you’d still gravitated to him, falling right into his orbit and begging for his attention. You’d still seek him out in every room, craving to find the warmth that had once sparked in his eyes only to find them averted from you entirely. And when you couldn’t take the hint, when you wouldn’t leave him alone when Steve and Robin left you to your own devices at the hangouts, he became mean. 

You took it as a joke at first, but six months ago, something inside of you finally wisened up – it wasn’t a joke. Eddie Munson hated you. Somehow, he hated you, and yet he also swore to protect you. He hated you, and yet he would still pay for you without you asking him to. He hated you, and yet he still remembered your birthday. He hated you, and yet, he still knew your favorite coffee shop. 

He hated you and yet. 

You stand, unable to take your racing thoughts anymore, moving to pound on the door again, “Eddie. Open the door.” 

You’re not asking anymore. 

You don’t care for answers any more. In this moment, you truly believe you could let it all be water under the bridge. Right this second, if you looked into honey brown eyes and goddamn dimples, you’d forgive him. 

“Eddie,” your voice cracks, and you scorn yourself. 

All I ever do is hurt you. 

Even in locking himself away, he’s hurting you. Putting that distance, choosing to not work this out like adults, is hurting you. 

“Can you- I don’t know, at least let me know that… that…” you trail off, huffing in frustration and finally smacking a flat palm against wood, watching the door shake on its hinges from your force, “Just let me know you’re alive, Jesus Christ, Eddie. We still have to take the stupid fucking photo for this hour, and we-” 

Mid-tirade, the door swings open to reveal Eddie. He doesn’t look irritated, he doesn’t look mad. He looks tired. 

The war between you two has weighed heavy on him, too. He doesn’t look like the same person you met a year ago. The battles raged, the fights lost, the victories celebrated through bloody teeth – they all show on the shadows of his face, a clear mirror image to your own. 

“Take the photo,” he says in monotone, hardly leaving the door cracked enough to catch a proper glimpse of him. 

“What?”

“The photo. Take it. For the chat, so you can get your money when it’s all over.” 

You’re stunned for a second. The money hadn’t even crossed your mind; you had just been rambling, hoping to find the right thing to say to get him to unlock the barrier between you two. 

Who the fuck even cares about the money anymore? 

You do. You’re supposed to. And so is he. 

You sigh and pull your phone from your back pocket, and turn your back to him before lifting the camera to capture the two of you. The door creaks open an inch more. 

There’s no fun pose. There’s no smiles. There’s nothing. It’s even more lifeless than the first photo taken. You can’t stand to look at it longer than necessary as you send it off to the group. 

Just as you turn around to face him again, to try and talk to him, the door shuts again. You can hear the soft click of a lock. The ache is heard, the ache is felt, as you refuse to look back at the wood that still separates you physically, at the emotions that separate you mentally.

You don’t really know why you do it. But you walk out to the living room, deciding against sitting outside the door any longer and continuing to make yourself miserable. Your feet carry you straight to the sliding door of his balcony, and you press outside into the cooler night air, shutting the door behind you. 

What happened when I was in the bathroom that night? 

The thought haunts you, a new ghost that had been lingering and gathering dust since that night. You never asked anyone, certainly not Eddie, and refuse to overthink it until now. But after tonight, after practically reliving your first encounter with Eddie all over again, the deja vu and the curiosity are winning over. 

You dial Steve’s number.

“Hell-”

“Why do me and Eddie hate each other?” you blurt out, cutting off Steve’s greeting. 

“I- What?” Steve’s confused, understandably so, “How should I know? I don’t keep a list of every time you rant about him to me.” 

“What about him?”

“Okay, you know I love you, but I’m not a mind-read-”

“What about a list of every time he rants about me?” 

Silence buzzes through the line, and you glance up at the night sky. It’s a cloudy black. The city pollution hides most of the stars, and from Eddie’s balcony, you can’t locate the moon. 

“I also don’t have one of those.” 

“Why not? Because, Jesus Christ, Harrington, I have questions-”

“Because he doesn’t rant about you. Especially not to me, but Nancy says he never talks about you usually either,” Steve explains in an even tone, still not sure how his answer should be helping you. You are the one, afterall, with Eddie right now. 

Even if he is locked away in his room right now, refusing to speak to you. 

“That makes no sense,” you sigh, exasperation creeping its way into your bones, “I rant about him all the time. I’ve bitched to you and Robin more times than I can count about him. He should be doing the same.” 

Steve says your name softly, “Why are you asking me this?” 

You laugh humorlessly and shake your head, even knowing Steve can’t see you, “It’s stupid. Forget it,” It’s not stupid to you, and you can’t forget it, but this doesn’t concern Steve, “Can I ask you one last question, though?”

“Shoot, babydoll,” you can’t help but grin at that nickname. Steve pulls it out at random, every time he’s trying to make you feel bad. He knows that neither of you can take it seriously. 

“Um, that night you introduced me to everyone,” you begin, stepping up to wrap your free hand around the iron railing of Eddie’s balcony, letting the cold seep into your palm, “At the bar, you know?” 

“Right…” he encourages, “What about it?” 

“Me and Eddie got along,” you spit it out, letting it tear from your chest and score your throat on its way out, “We… we were getting along at first, and then I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, he…. He…” 

He was gone. The Eddie I’d first met had vanished. Where’d he go? Why’d he go? 

“Shit, your memory is way better than mine,” Steve chuckles, sounding nervous, “But, I mean, I kind of remember that. You two getting along, at least. Guess that’s why we all were really confused when you started hating each other. But I’m still not understanding the question - are you asking if I remember the night? Or if he’s ever talked about it? I was a jock, you’re gonna have to spell it out for my pea brain.” 

“Stop insinuating you’re stupid,” you scold on instinct, scowl settling along your features as you lean onto the railing and glance down. It’s only two stories, but the ground feels impossibly far as you ask, “What happened when all us girls went to the bathroom? When we came back, he acted differently. Did he mention hating me that night? Did I leave a bad first impression? Was it all just a joke to hi-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. One question, remember?” you’re sure Steve can hear the panting in your breath over the line, the way your chest heaves in the memory, “I’ve gotta be honest - I don’t remember. I know that’s probably not the answer you’re looking for, and I don’t know what’s going on with you two right now, but I was already well on my way to drunk. I think Jonathan and Argyle poked some fun at Eddie, maybe teased him about something, but I really can’t recall what it was about. Maybe his hair? Who knows?” 

The answer isn’t helpful. It’s only more confusing, more hurtful. 

He stopped joking with you because someone made fun of his hair? You lost access to the warmth buried beneath his surface because his friends teased him? 

“Okay,” you sound defeated. You feel defeated – defeated by the weight of still feeling like an outsider, defeated by the barrier of some measly wooden door, defeated by the hurt in Eddie’s eyes as you admitted that he only ever hurts you, “Okay, thanks, Steve.” 

You hang up before either of you say goodbye. When you pull your phone down from your cheek and ear, you see your phone still open to the photo of Eddie and you that you’d sent to the group. 

You were wrong. There wasn’t only nothing. Your face may have been void of all emotions, but now looking at it, you can see Eddie’s isn’t. 

He’s looking at you and not the camera during the shot, face crestfallen, eyes nearly teary as the corners of his mouth tucked downward. 

He’s looking at you with regret, with sadness. He’s looking at you as if he can see the vines he’d planted in you, all rotted and dusting away, and he’s mourning them just as you had. 

It’s bullshit, or your imagination, or your innate need for Eddie to bleed the same way as you have over your entire situation with each other. You lock your phone and don’t bother to look at the photo again as you enter the living room, as you toss your phone onto the loveseat, as you curl up on the couch and don’t even bother to go to ask for a pillow or blanket. He probably wouldn’t answer the door, anyway. 

You don’t say goodnight to Eddie, just as he never said goodbye to you the first night, and wonder if he notices the absence of your salutation.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

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[stargirlrchive]

ocean eyes: chapter two ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ocean eyes masterlist

summary: widow!jake sully x female!reader, 10 year age-gap. jake is lowkey sunshine <3 reader is grumpy! arranged marriage/marriage of convenience, eventual smut + wc - 1,753

comments: part two lovers, i love reader, she's is slay girl boss fr ! idk what to say lmao but tysm for the love on part one, i hope you love this just as much! also omg pls check this out, @saltsacc drew what they think reader looks like and she's gorg! i litch cried ! but okay bye lovers <3 part three should be up on thursday <3

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The morning time had come quickly, the bright sun hitting your features and it disrupted your wonderful slumber. But if the sun hadn't woken you up, your sister's voice certainly would have. “Tsmuke! You need to be ready by now. Oh Great Mother, give me strength!”

You rubbed at your sleepy eyes, throwing her an annoyed glance, “Why are you being so strange? They are just other Na’vi. Or let me guess, Eywa has let you know they are of importance?”

Ronal pinched at her nose, “If you must know, he is Toruk Makto. He was the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. He is important, more than you know!”

You laughed quietly, “Do not let Tonowari hear you, you sound enamored.”

“Stupid girl!”

You laughed louder, shaking your head as you stretched before getting up. “Make haste!”

You hissed at her lightly, your good-hearted nature wearing thin as she rushed you. You quickly washed your face, Ronal helping you by fixing up your hair. “Oh Eywa, you are preparing me like I am going to marry the man!”

She said nothing, her nervous fingers quickly braiding a few pearls into your hair. “What is so special about him anyway?”

“Did you not hear what I said? He is Toruk Makto.”

You huffed in annoyance, “Of course I heard you sister, but-” Your shoulders shrugged, “How mighty can he be if he left his whole clan behind?”

She smacked your shoulder roughly, “Ow! Ronal-”

“Must you always be so crass? His mate died a few years back.”

“How did she die?”

“Protecting her children, in the battle field. I do not know much else.”

You bit down on your bottom lip, instantly feeling guilty, “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. So be kind to him, to all of them.”

“You may think poorly of me sister, but I am not mean.”

Ronal’s fingers stilled in her movements, face scrunching up as she mulled over what you said, “I do not think poorly of you.”

You didn't say anything else, toying with your fingers as you sat in front of Ronal, “Tsmuke, I do not think poorly of you.”

You grumbled out quietly, “You already said that.”

“I-I just want what is best for you, and at times I do not think you know how to find that for yourself.”

“Ronal, I am happy.”

“You are reckless! You think I do not know why you behave the way you do? You want the attention you lacked as a child, but you are grown now. There are responsibilities and duties you must fulfill.”

Her harsh words caused tears to well to your eyes, pulling away from her, “You do not listen!”

“And you do not obey!”

“Why should I? You are my sister, not my mother! Just because you ended up happy with Tonowari does not mean I will end up happy with whoever you stick me with. I love my freedom far too much to give it up.”

She sighed in exasperation, “Well that is not your decision. It is the Great Mother’s and she has spoken to me.”

It dawned upon you then, what all this was about. The enthusiasm to have you meet the Toruk Makto, dressing you up. “You are planning to mate me with that man?”

There was a glimmer of guilt in her eyes, but it was shaken away as she nodded her head. “He is a good man, with a strong heart. He will be good for you.”

Your words were low, quite with disbelief, “I cannot believe you.”

Ronal said nothing, “I always knew you wanted me out of your life, too much of a burden for you and Tonowari but I did not expect you to push me into the arms of the first man you saw!”

A spike of pain ran through Ronal, this is exactly what she feared. She made her way to you, the apology already starting to fall from her mouth but your shaky finger pointing at her stopped her movements. “Stop! Don’t-do not come near me!”

Your ears flattened against your head, the words getting caught in Ronal’s throat as she watched your eyes pool with tears. “Please get out so I can change.”

Ronal’s fear of hurting you even more had her walking out of the marui, leaving you to wallow in your own pity as you dressed yourself.

Tonowari instantly wrapped Ronal into his arms, rubbing against her back to soothe her, “Wari, she is going to hate me for the rest of her life.”

He shushed her quietly, having heard everything that happened, “No she will not, Yawne. You know how nervous you were before we actually mated. It is a big step in our lives, we just need to let her be.”

Ronal let herself bask in the warmth Tonowari provided, pulling away just a few seconds before you stepped out. Ronal’s eyes scanned over you, you looked so beautiful. She wanted to compliment you but knew you'd take it as mockery, some sort of jab to make you feel worse. So she said nothing, walking besides Tonowari and you followed quickly behind the two.

You were far more quiet than normal, and it hit Ronal just how much she actually enjoyed your inability to remain quiet. Tonowari called your name, “Did you hear me?”

“No-I did not.”

“I said I think he will be good for you.”

“If you say so.”

The pair shared a look, your tame behavior caused a sense of worry to nestle into Ronal. They entered the marui of Jake Sully, the Na’vi was sharpening his knives but other than that, it was empty. Tonowari cleared his throat, Jake’s head snapped up and was greeted with the three of you. “Tonowari, Ronal-oel ngati kameie.”

His eyes shifted to you, your eyes were already locked on him and Jake felt his ears twitch. Ronal uttered your name out, “This is my Tsmuke.”

“Oel ngati kameie, Jake Sully.”

“Oel ngati kameie.”

He noticed your intricate top, your pretty hair and how your skin glowed beautifully against the sun. He felt his throat instantly dry up the more he took you in. “We spoke briefly yesterday of your stay here.”

“Oh, yes.”

“The Tsahik and I have discussed what we wish for you to be able to stay. We know you have come seeking Uturu, a fresh start but we must also ensure this is safe for the clan. Beneficial to our people. You understand?”

Jake nodded his head, he more than most understood what it was like to make decisions that he did not entirely want for the prosperity of the clan. “Well, we can allow you and your family to stay if you mate with a woman of the Metkayina Clan. More specifically, with her.”

Your ears turned downwards slightly, but still you held his gaze. That was certainly not what he expected. “We understand that it may be hard to just thrust this upon you, so we will give you both time to adjust. She will be the one to train you, help you adjust to life near the water.”

A swift flicker of anger made its way to your eyes, turning towards Tonowari, “I do not have time to train him.”

“Well then you will make time.”

Your eyes rolled back, anger seeping into his family home from you alone. Jake would be lying if he said he did not enjoy seeing you so agitated, especially when it came to him. He fought the smile that was trying to make its way to his face the more he watched you. “What do you say, JakeSully?”

Your eyes jumped back to him, there was a look in your eyes that he could not quite place but it excited him beyond belief, “If that is what you wish. I only hope I can speak to my children about this before the clan is made aware?”

Your mouth dropped slightly in disbelief, confusion webbing its way into your mind as to why he would agree to this so willingly. You thought you'd have time, time to be on your worst behavior around him so he can back out before he even agreed. But no, he had already said yes to you.

Your arms crossed over your chest stubbornly, huffing out a breath of annoyance as you watched the smallest of smiles fall across his features. Ronal was trying her best to contain her excitement, she had always wanted you to mate with someone, and it appeared that the time was soon.

She turned to look at you and was unsurprised to find you glaring at the Toruk Makto, your lip jutting out in an angry pout. “Very well, JakeSully. Make your preparations and we will announce it during a feast a few weeks down the line, yes?”

He only hummed, eyes still locked onto yours. You rolled your eyes at him, he was clearly enjoying himself, “Can I leave now?”

Ronal called your name but you ignored her, walking fast out of the home and towards the beach.

Tonowari’s mouth turned into a thin line as he sent an awkward look towards Jake. “She is very kind, just-strong willed.”

A quiet laugh left Jake’s mouth, “I can see that.”

He walked with the two out of his mauri, his eyes scanning the waters and he locked onto your form, jumping head first into the water as an ilu swam towards you. Ronal tsk’ed quietly, “She is going to ruin her clothes.”

Jake watched you retreat further into the water, your animal easily gliding along as you got smaller and smaller. “Are you sure she will show up to train me?”

Jake’s eyes moved over to Tonowari, “Yes, I will make sure of it.”

Jake’s fingers reached his forehead, signing them goodbye as they walked away. He let out a quiet breath, his thoughts consumed with excitement and wonderment at just how these next few weeks may play out.

Your feelings on the matter were entirely different, anger coursing through your veins as you swam out past the reef.

Ao’nung and Tsireya shared a look, noticing the angry glare on your face when you didn’t even bother to stop and talk to them. “Should we tell Sa’nok and Sempul?”

Ao’nung shook his head at his younger sister, “Ma’ will pluck her eyes out for real this time.”

Tsireya fumbled with her fingers nervously, “Ao’nung, it is going to storm, she didn’t look to be thinking clearly-”

He watched your form retreating farther and farther, heading towards the Three Brothers rocks. “If she does not return in an hour we will call for father.”

Tsireya sighed quietly but listened all the same, returning back to her task at hand. “So, you must learn to breathe from here.” She pointed to her stomach, “Take deep breaths, fill your lungs and slow your heart. It will assist with staying underwater longer.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Three hours had passed by and you were still out past the reef, finding refuge in the mountains as the waters turned violent, your ilu having swam away as it noticed the dangers of the water. You huffed out in frustration, Ronal was truly going to kill you now.

Ao’nung was the first to notice just how late it had become. By the way the sun was hitting just a few moments ago, he could tell that well more than an hour's time had passed, and you were still not back. The water rocked them violently, and Tsireya’s sharp gasp of air at seeing a lone ilu swimming back only furthered his fear for you. His parents were going to kill you.

“Tsireya-”

“We must cut the training short, we will see you all tomorrow.”

Both Ao’nung and Tsireya swam quickly back to shore, leaving behind four confused Omatikaya Na’vi. “Their aunt, she’s-how do I put this nicely-rebellious?”

Rotxo laughed quietly, shaking his head as he watched his two friends swim as fast they could back to the beach. “Lets head back, no point in training with the waters like this.”

The two siblings entered their marui, surprised to find Jake sitting with their parents, they both dipped their heads to the former Olo’eyktan before turning to their parents, “Have you seen Tanhí?”

“That is why we are here, Sa’nok.”

Ronal’s brows raised in question, noticing the tremble of worry in her daughter's voice, “She-she left past the reef a few hours ago.”

Ronal swore she felt her blood pressure go up, feeling woozy at her sister's complete disregard for rules. “But-”

“But what?”

Ao’nung watched his younger sister's ears pin to her head, losing her voice, “But she has not returned, and the ilu she rode on did. She rode in the direction of the Three Brothers.”

Tonowari let out a deep breath, his head throbbed roughly as he looked out to see how violent the waters were. “I will be back shortly.”

“Sempul-the water is dangerous.”

“Yes, but knowing your Aunt the trouble she is in is more volatile than the waters.”

Jake noticed how calm the breeze was despite the rain, it was perfect weather to take flight. “I know where Three Brother’s rocks are. I can fly on my Ikran, it is safer than you riding out on a Tsurak.”

Ronal protested quickly, knowing her sister, “I do not think that is a good idea, JakeSully.”

He felt a bit of disappointment settle into his chest, he couldn’t help it, he was so intrigued by you. And truth be told, maybe it was a stupid part of him, but he liked the idea of saving you. Or at least helping you. From what he had heard, you were more than capable to fend for yourself. “It really is no big deal, I will be back quickly.”

He was hoping his eagerness was not evident in his voice, and with the worried look Ronal shared with Tonowari he was sure it wasn’t. “We should let him? Yes-might ease your sister's resistance if he’s the one to go for her?”

Tonowari was asking, but Ronal knew he had already made up his mind. She sighed quietly, “Fine-sure. Just-I cannot guarantee she will greet you with a warm smile.”

Jake refrained from thumping his tail in excitement, “It’s fine. I will not take it to heart.”

Jake quickly made his way outside, calling for Bob just as his children made their way towards the beach. “Sir?”

Neteyam, his oldest, was looking at him in confusion. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I will be back shortly.”

He sent all of them a smile, instructing his Ikran to take flight. The air got colder the further he was from the beach and it caused a shiver to run down his spine. He was well past the reef, and searching for you within ten minutes. As his Ikran gently flew around he caught the blur of teal blue amongst one of the tall rocks. His head shook, a laugh threatening to fall from his mouth, as even from this far away you looked upset.

He did not know you, but he was curious, beyond interested in knowing you. There was a deep itch in the back of his brain that seemed to only simmer at the thought of you. Call him stupid, he had only caught a few glimpses of you, but he felt the pull. He hoped you felt it too.

With quick glides he was by your side, dismounting Bob with ease as he sent you a smile. Your eyes narrowed in on him, annoyance clear as day on your features. Jake’s lips tugged gently, refraining from cracking you a toothy smile. “Why are you here?”

“Hello to you too.”

You grumbled out angrily, arms crossing along your chest as you looked away from him. “I am here to take you back.”

Your thick tail swayed behind you in annoyance, “I was perfectly fine here. Waiting for the storm to pass.”

“I am sure you were, but I am here now. So let me take you back.”

You did not like the tone he had with you, his accent thick with humor as he watched you. It only caused your irritation to spike up. “I do not know you. Plus I am not used to riding on-those bird things. I rather not.”

Bob huffed at your words, clacking loudly at you. “They’re Ikrans, and very smart.”

Jake was sure his voice was dripping with his amusement, he couldn’t help it. You made him laugh. “I know what they are!” You all but shrieked, “Does not make me trust them anymore so.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head at you. Your eyes narrowed in on him, irritation flowing through you so deeply you refrained from yelling at him. You hissed at him, and it caused a harder laugh to leave his lips.

“If you keep me here for any longer, Tonowari will come searching for us. You are already in trouble with your sister. Do you wish to make it worse?”

“I am not a child!”

“That is very obvious, so why make this harder than it needs to be?”

Jake quickly mounted his Ikran, he was almost positive you would follow after him. You weighed your options, you knew Ronal would be angry with you, should you really test your luck?

You groaned out in frustration, walking towards Jake and his Ikran. This was far scarier than taming a Tsurak, you would have no control on the animal. His five fingered hand extended to you, and you could not help but stare. His fingers were scarred, and calloused, slipping your fingers together as he pulled you up.

You swiftly threw a leg over the Ikran, shifting farther back on the animal as you were pressed too close to him. “Hold on.”

“I am fine as I am.”

He shook his head, creating Tsaheylu with his Ikran and the animal instantly jolted forward. You were thrown back lightly, hands instinctively wrapping around his waist to keep you steady. If you could see Jake’s face he was sure you’d hiss at him once again. The smallest of smirks fell onto his features.

The cool wind caused a shiver to run down your back, admiring how beautiful the island looked even in the darkness of the storm. You peaked your head to look ahead, frowning deeper the closer you arrived to the beach. “I hope you know I could have made my way back without you.”

“And I do not doubt that.”

“Good.”

As you both landed, you could see Ronal’s angry face as she stomped towards you. “Here we go.”

Jake helped you dismount, jumping quickly down after you. “See what I mean! Reckless!”

You rolled your eyes at your sister, walking straight past her and towards your home. Jake could see the exhaustion on Ronal’s face. He would be lying if he said he did not sympathize with her. It was clear that she cared for you deeply, but there were some lines blurred between the two of you. “Thank you, JakeSully.”

Jake only dipped his head down at the Tsahik, watching your figure retreat farther away.



⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

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[darlingshane]

Salt of the Earth ~ Part 3 (Final)

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: 18+. Explicit, Friends to lovers, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Smut, Shower Sex, BJ's, P in V, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Addiction, Alcohol, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy, Undisclosed age gap.

Word Count: 12.3k // Chapters 8-10 // AO3 Link.

— Part 1 (Chapters 1-4) // Part 2 (Chapters 5-7)

A/N: This part includes my version of the famous 'Fishes' episode. Though having Maya in it changed a few things, most of it is pretty faithful to the actual script. I also borrowed some of the dialogue to keep it as close as possible.

Chapter 8: As warm as toast

Maya is hugging Michael’s back when the warm breath of her dog is pressed against her ear. She tells the dog to go back to sleep, but Coco, ignoring her request, whines a couple of times until Maya has no choice but to get up. Though it's still terribly early, she takes Coco out to the park down the street from Michael’s building. It's freezing outside, but that doesn’t stop Coco from zooming across the park a hundred times until she’s spent while Maya paces along the fence, wrapped in thick layers of hat, scarf, mittens and a bulky coat.

Upon their return, Maya fills Coco’s bowl and makes some coffee.

They’ve fallen into a nice routine with Michael. He’s made room in his life for them, as much as they’ve welcomed him open into theirs. Half a week they spent in his apartment, and the other half at Maya’s house.

While she sips on her coffee, she tries to guess what's inside the big wrapped box that has been sitting in Michael’s living room for a week. Curiosity has been killing her since she saw it the other day. Her fingers tap on one of the sides and lightly pull on the edge of the red and white paper, trying to sneak a peek of the box.

“I told you to leave that alone, Maybird. That’s not for you.” Michael catches her red-handed as he comes out of the bedroom.

“C’mon, Bear, let me open it already. It’s Christmas.”

“Uh-uh, it’s Christmas Eve.”

“Is it a sex swing? It feels like a sex swing.” She keeps tapping on the box.

“It's not a sex swing. Keep guessing.” Michael snorts, leaning over to kiss her good morning. “Your face is cold, did you go out?”

“Uh-huh.” She glances at Coco, who’s currently devouring her food by the kitchen. “She woke me up and dragged me outside.”

“At least she knows how to hold it and ask for the head.” Michael goes around the breakfast bar to fill a mug with coffee. “Remember that yorkie that Francie had that couldn’t stop peeing everywhere.”

“Well, training goes a long way.”

“That's what everyone kept telling her, but her parents ended up leaving a poor thing in the kennel.”

“I mean it's Francie. I'm not surprised. She really can't be trusted to take care of anything. How's she? I haven't seen her in ages.”

“She's around. I think. Last time I saw her was probably a couple of years ago. She’s banned from our house.”

“Why?”

“Beats me. It's a Sugar thing. I think Francie tried to hit on Pete or something. You'll have to ask Sug.”

“Really? Just when I thought she couldn’t sink lower.”

“Tell me about it.” He pulls up his sweats as he takes a seat on the couch next to her.

“Okay, stop trying to distract me. So, if it’s not a sex swing, or a pizza oven, which I really wanted by the way…”

“The sex swing?” He lifts a brow at her and takes a sip of his mug.

“The pizza oven, smartass. How about… a weighted blanket?”

“First, you don’t need any of those. You can cook pizza already in your oven, and why do you need a weighted blanket or a sex swing when you have me?”

“That’s true.”

“You know what? Go ahead and open it, but you’re gonna need Coco, cause like I told you, that’s not for you. C’mere Coco Girl.”

Coco’s floppy ears perk up at Michael’s call. The dog turns her head to look at Michael for a second before continuing chewing her food.

“She’s too busy to open presents right now.”

“Figures.”

They wait till she’s done, and Maya beams in delight, quickly tearing apart the flashy wrapping paper. That delight turns into a mocking frown when she finds out it’s a big, fluffy dog bed for Coco.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding. It’s not for me.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous, sweetheart. You know I have something else for you. She needed a bed here. This couch is so uncomfortable, no even a dog wants to lay here. She’s always either hoarding the bed or sleeping on the rug.”

“Yeah, I know.” Her lips curve up, watching Coco inspect her present before attempting to curl inside. “That’s it, baby, lay down. Good girl.”

“Are we still up for tomorrow?”

Maya sighs, “yeah, I think so. Did you tell them I was coming?”

“I said you might. Just in case you change your mind.”

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

“No,” he strokes her hair with his free hand. “I really want you there.”

“What are we going to tell, y’know… everyone?”

Everyone – meaning Carmy. Though their relationship is practically nonexistent, the last thing she wants to do is show up holding hands with Michael and flaunt it on anyone’s face without a warning.

“Well, Richie is the only one who knows.” Cause he caught them last week making out at their usual bar. “I guess Tiff knows too. Does it freak you out? Do you wanna back out now?”

“No, no. I just… I guess I’m not ready to announce it on a day like this. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s okay, baby. I get it. It’s driving me crazy, too.”

“If they find out, that’s great, but I don’t just wanna put it out there right away.”

“We’ll just have to keep a low profile, then. How hard can it be?”

“I’ve never had a secret relationship before. It could be fun pretending, even if it’s just for a few hours.”

“We just have to hope Richie doesn’t blow our cover.”

“Oh, we’re screwed.”

“I don’t know about that. But I can tell someone is about to get screwed. Shower?” His brow playfully arches.

“Hmm, you’ve read my mind.”

It’s that rush of excitement of being with someone new that leads them quickly to the bathroom. He undresses her just as fast as she pulls his sweats and underwear off him. He hasn’t finished taking off her bra and his lips automatically invite themselves into her neck as she fumbles to get the water going so it warms up before stepping inside.

Under the warm spray of the water, their bodies fuse together. Lips against lips share a vicious amount of kisses and laughs. Their arms tangle around the other, her hands become his, and vice versa. The steam filling the room boils hotter when Michael turns Maya around and presses himself on her ass while one of his hands slides between her legs. Her palms brace the tiled wall, as his mouth bites the flesh at the curve of her neck. Her moans and curses sound like heaven when the blunt tip of his cock slides into her opening. His hips push painfully slow as her walls stretch inch after inch. Once he’s fully sheathed in her tender pussy, his eyes squeeze shut, he lets his desire guide the pacing of his thrusts. Maya waves her hips at the same time, countering his moves until both find the same rhythm. One of his hands clutches the curve of her ass, keeping her secured, as the other stays right on her pussy, rubbing her swollen clit with passion.

His back turns red as the hot water keeps pouring over him. The fiery pressure rising up in his core makes his cock throb inside her. He looks down to see his length disappear inside her fast with each push. At the same time, his mind dissipates somewhere up, above the mist of the bathroom, somewhere above clouds. It’s like he’s traded one addiction for another. As long as he’s with her, he’s safe. It’s not the healthiest way to deal with it, but right now he doesn’t give a shit. The climb to that high is way faster, it feels better, it’s less toxic, but it lasts shorter. That’s the only downside.

“Michael… please,” her breathing swallows, as she inches close to the finish line.

“I know, sweetheart, shh…. Come for me. C’mon…”

Following her plea, he pushes a little harder, rubs a little faster until her body seizes up. She lets out a strained moan that bounces off the steamed walls, as her opening contracts around him harder than he’s ever felt. Maybe it’s the position. It feels like pure bliss to have her squeezing every last drop of him.

Catching his own breath, he hangs his head down to rest on her nape for a moment. While still riding that high, he slowly slips out of her and drops to his knees on the shower floor. His hands handle her body around so she's facing him. As her abdomen lines up with his face, he glances up to capture her glowing aura, stunning as ever. Maya’s still floating in that same sea of ecstasy he floats on. It makes her look like a goddess from his position. Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders, sticks to her skin as it touches the curves of her chest. Water trails down her body as if she was standing under a waterfall. And like the Goddess she is, he aims to devout himself only to her.

He gently holds one of her legs up, letting his lips glide across the surface of her thigh as he drapes her leg over his shoulder. His mouth waters as it gets closer to her center. Licking his lips, his eager tongue just to taste the heaven between her legs. It's slicked and tender, ready to consume. His mouth fits perfectly against it. Wide open. Desperate to please her with the flick of his tongue and ease his own affliction.

Maya leans her back on the wall, anchors her only feet hard to the floor, and grips at his soaked hair as his tongue works restlessly all over her sex. He sucks her clit between his lips, licks her folds, circles her dripping opening, and revels in tasting both, him and her. In a wild frenzy, he devours it all. It consumes his need and desperation for more. Her moans are exquisite. Her body writhes in his hold as she rises up gracefully to a higher plane.

Chapter 9: Bigger fishes to fry

“Are you really going to wear that?” Asks Maya as soon as she sees the outfit Michael has chosen for Christmas dinner.

“What’s wrong with this?” He gazes at his blue Under Armour shirt and jeans ensemble.

“Workout shirt, jeans and kicks, really? Why don’t you put on a nice sweater at least?”

“Baby, it’s just dinner at my house with the same fucking people I see every year. It's not like the Queen of England is gonna show up to have tea and biscuits.”

“C’mon, Bear, do it for me?” Maya pulls out her big adorable eyes and disarming smile.

“Ugh, alright, only for you.” Unable to resist her power, he easily yields and goes into his bedroom. From a drawer, he collects a dark blue fisherman sweater. Then he sticks his hand into the closet to pick up the vintage jacket she bought him for his birthday. To finish his new getup, he trades his sneakers for ankle boots.

Maya is taking out a dessert from the fridge that she bought this morning to take to The Berzattos.

“Wow,” her head turns when hearing his footfalls. “See, you look so much better now.”

“Yeah? You clean up pretty nice too,” he picks up her hand and makes her spin under his arm, capturing the stunning shape of her body hugged in a cream knitted dress that almost touches her knees. Right below, black leather boots cover the rest of her legs.

“Thanks, handsome bear.” After her spin, her head tilts to the side, capturing a chaste kiss from his lips.

“What’s that?” Michael points at the dish covered in tin foil on the breakfast bar.

“It's a strawberry tart.”

“You made a tart?” He lifts part of the foil to uncover the well-crafted pastry.

“What? Surprised that this tart made a tart?”

“Well, yeah. You almost poisoned me the last time you cooked.”

“You got me. I didn't make it. I bought it this morning when I took Coco out.”

Michael softly chuckles. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring that. Have you forgotten about pudding-gate? Donna's going to eat you alive if you show up with food.”

“Oh, I think that night was the first time I got drunk. I don't remember the details. But I do remember the pudding and eating a bowl with Carmy in the garage. Who brought it?”

“Uncle Jimmy's first wife.”

“That's right. She was never seen again after that. Okay, I guess I could bring a bottle of wine.”

“You're gonna make me look bad if I show up with nothing.”

“You could bring the tart, and say that you made it. I bet Donna will be delighted if it comes from the golden child.”

“That's a great idea, baby. It'll be a great distraction when she starts strangling me that people won't even notice this other tart.” His hand boldly squeezes her ass.

“Hey!” she swats his shoulder with the back of her hand. “I thought we agreed to keep our hands off each other.”

“I meant later. Here, I can still get a piece if I want.” He links his arms around her waist and peppers the curve of her neck with kisses, making her laugh with the coarse tickle of his beard.

“Oh, this is gonna be harder than I thought,” she whines when his lips nibble her earlobe.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” He laughs against her ear, gripping tightly at her hips. “I’m not sure how long I can make it without touching you like this.”

“Well, we better think of something…”

Ready to go, they hop in the car and drop Coco first at Maya’s house. While Michael waits in the car she collects a bottle of wine to bring for dinner.

It’s then that she gets jittery about the whole ordeal. It’s been years since she attended one of their functions. Christmas at the Berzattos was never a walk in the park, and as she has heard recently, they still aren’t. But she’s not the one to talk cause the Silvas have always had their own issues, proof of that is her desertion from her own family dinner.

“Okay, kiss me one more time,” she requests after parking at the end of the street. They both lean in to meet in the middle over the center console for a chaste kiss. “One more.”

Michael delves into her mouth a little deeper, hoping it’d ease her up.

As they walk up to the house, they pass Maya’s empty childhood home, and Michael just wraps an arm around her and kisses her hair.

“Their loss,” he mumbles. “Don’t think about them, Maybird.”

“I won’t.”

His arm unfurls away from her body as they get closer to the Berzattos’ house. When they reach the door, they stay there for a minute, filling their lungs with cold air as they muster the courage to cross the threshold.

The house is loud with people talking and laughing when they step inside.

Maya can see Michael's face changing as the door closes behind them. That raw vulnerability, his bashful expression he's not afraid to show her slips once again behind that mask he's fought so hard to get rid of. She can't hold it against him. Everyone has their coping mechanisms and this is Michael's.

She becomes suddenly the new sensation, everyone openly welcomes her as if they hadn't seen her in ages. Which is actually the case. She's bombarded with questions she doesn't really want to answer like — How are your parents? How does it feel being back? Are you seeing someone?

Mirroring Michael's, she just draws her best smile and tries to satisfy their curiosity while Michael takes a smoke break with Sugar leaving her to be eaten by wolves before she can protest.

To Maya’s disbelief, after the third degree, she’s welcomed with open arms by Donna Berzatto, who is just as intense as she remembers. Hair on point, makeup on point, fresh manicure softly scratches Maya’s jaw when she briefly holds her face.

“We've missed you, Mayhem Maya.” Donna actually coined that nickname after that incident when she broke one of her figurines when she was a kid. And she'd never live that down. It makes her feel like a child every time she calls her that or the way she manages to compliment her and patronize her at the same time.

“Hey,” she hears the familiar voice as Donna disappears into the kitchen.

Maya turns around to see Carmy climbing down the stairs.

“Hey, you made it,” she says a little hesitant, trying to decide whether to hug him or just shake his hand as he reaches the last step.

“You too.”

Hug. She goes for it and tucks her arms around his shoulders for no more than two seconds. It feels a little awkward and cold given their history but understandable. They're not as close anymore, and it doesn't come as natural as it used to. She tries to internalize that as best as she can, but there’s still something that doesn’t feel right. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to show up back again into his life. Being Michael’s girlfriend, no less. Perhaps deciding to hide that wasn’t the best choice after all. It sounded reasonable when she chose that, but right now, it feels like she’s betraying him.

“How's Copenhagen?”

“Cold. How is being back?”

“Weird.”

“Tell me about it… Never thought I'd see you again in one of these functions.”

“Yeah, Michael insisted. You knew I was coming, right?”

He nods. “Sugar told me.”

They shoot back and forth meaningless questions without really diving into anything substantial. For the first time, she looks at his cold blue eyes and realizes they're not best friends anymore. She might have known everything about him once upon a time, but now it feels like talking to a stranger, and it breaks her heart not being able to pass that invisible wall between them.

Maya stares at him one last time as they are interrupted by the rest of the party. He’s dragged to a mindless conversation with Neil and Ted Fak, while Michelle brings Maya a drink and settles with her on the couch to catch up.

Carmy manages to escape the Faks and asks for some help from his siblings that were hiding outside.

Michael does another quick round before disappearing again somewhere with Richie.

“I thought you weren’t serious about bringing her.” Richie takes him to the garage where they open a couple of beers.

“I was dead serious. And please, don’t say anything. Tonight, we’re just friends, alright?” he gives him a menacing look.

“You’re dead for sure when Carmy finds out. Don’t get me wrong I love Maya, but is she all that? Is she worth the trouble, Cousin?”

“She’s all that and a basket of biscuits.”

Soon, Michael thinks. Soon everyone will know how much he loves her but for now, this is for the best. This is what she wants and he respects that.

When they go back into the house, Michael goes checking if she needs a break from socializing. Figures, she probably does as much as he does. She's not in the living room anymore, or anywhere on the first floor. He climbs upstairs and from the cracked door to his room, he finds her snooping around the bedroom with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Hey. What are you doing up here?”

“The bathroom downstairs was occupied, so I came up here, and I realized I never really saw your room. Was it always like this?”

“Kinda. It’s cleaner for starters. The walls used to be covered in Red Sox merchandise and movie posters. It’s all in the basement at The Beef now.”

“Traitor,” Maya mockingly squints her eyes before taking a sip of her glass.

“Why do you care, you don’t even watch baseball?”

“Yeah, but if I had to pick I wouldn’t even dream of going against my own home team,” she says, scanning a pile of CD’s on the corner of the desk and picking one from the middle. “Marky Mark, really? Who are you?”

“That’s Sugar’s.”

“Sure it is,” she laughs.

“This is why you came up here, to make fun of me?”

“Nope, I just like snooping.” She turns around and keeps flicking through those albums while Michael shuts the door to seize that as an opportunity to kiss her again.

“Hey, c’mere.” Quickly wetting his lips, he cups her face as it turns to the side and gently captures the flavor of her mouth soaked in white wine.

“Hmm, we’re a lost cause,” she says as his lips bounce a few times against her.

“I know.” Michael hums, unable to stop himself from going deeper into her mouth.

As she places her glass on the desk, his tongue swipes past her lips.

Michael moves his hands to her hips, as Maya links her arms around his neck, letting her tongue slowly play with his.

His mouth grows hungrier and desperate for more. She can feel it at the eager tip of his tongue demanding more action. He blindly guides Maya to the bed, and almost without breaking from the other, as she settles on her back, he pushes all the coats people left on his bed to the side. Michael lies on top of her, nestling between her legs, claiming ferociously another kiss from her mouth.

From zero to sixty, his hand slips beneath the hem of her dress and hikes the skirt up to her waist to grab her ass. He digs his fingers on her skin over her tights. He could rip the fabric apart in a second if he pressed a little harder.

Maya hums in his mouth, struggling to keep up with the burning passion he's pouring into her lips as the coarse texture of his beard scratches her face.

The setting is a little off-putting for her right now no matter how much she wants him and as his bulge hardens between her legs, she promptly puts a halt on.

“Michael, baby, shh. We can’t do this here.”

“We’re just making out. The door is closed.”

“We’re not just making out. You’re already hard. What if someone comes in?”

“There’s a lock on the door. I closed it.”

“The lock is not the problem. It's this place. This house.”

“The house is cock-blocking you?”

“Pretty much. Yeah. Let’s just take a breath and go back down. We’ll finish this later at home. See, this is why we can’t be left alone.”

“Okay,” he begrudgingly rolls to the side with a sigh, feeling a little disappointed to be honest and stares at the ceiling. “Is it the house or is it Carmy being here?”

“I don't know. Maybe both.” She leans on her elbow to look at him.

“I see.”

“It’s not like I don’t want to. I do. More than you know, Bear. I just feel weird about doing this right here. We said the other day that we should be honest with each other to make this work. And this is me being honest.”

“I know, baby. I get it. I just… All I wanna do is be with you right now. Can't stop thinking about you. That’s why this happens…” he gestures vaguely as his crotch.

“Now, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to give you blue balls. I know how much that hurts.”

“I don’t think you do,” he snorts.

“I’m sorry,” her palm covers her smile. “I really am. But I… I guess I could do something about it. Don’t move.”

Maya’s fingers glide over his crotch to undo his fly.

“Wait, are you changing your mind?”

“No, but I don’t wanna leave you like that either. Just trust me.” She shifts on the bed as her hand slides under the fabric to feel the pressure of his straining erection.

Biting her lip, she locks eyes with him as her fist curls around his shaft as Michael’s hand wraps around hers.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I wanna. Just because I can’t, doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t. Let me do this for you. Please.”

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” he sighs, letting her hand move up and down his hardness.

“I know. Just relax for me. I'll make it quick.”

Maya leans closer to his face to lock her lips with his. His low grunts echo in her mouth while her fist prompts him to spill his early drops of arousal. They help her pump more swiftly. He has to bury his sounds deep in his throat when she parts from his mouth and moves her head down his torso so he can finish him with a blow.

“Fuck, Maybird,” he moans as her lips wrap tightly around his swollen gland. Her hand keeps a nice pressure at the base as her head bobs quickly to have him climaxing all over her tongue.

She cleans him up, licks her lips and makes sure nothing was spilled on their clothes before taking a long swig of the glass of wine on the desk to get rid of the aftertaste of his cum.

“God, sweetheart, that was…” he stands up and pulls his clothes together while she finishes her drink. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“You better.” She collects a pocket mirror from her purse to check her makeup. As she moves Michael's jacket out of the way, something falls from its pocket — a round pill container lands at her feet.

She means to bend down and pick up, but she freezes. It's Michael the one to reach and grab it. Maya stiffens, stares at him as he quickly tucks in his pocket. Unable to process any thought at all, she pins that in her head to revise later. As she intended to do, she fixes her hair and makeup.

Michael should have left those at home. He didn’t even mean to grab them. It was just exactly that– a habit he can’t break yet. Especially on a night like this.

“Hey,” he says softly, holding her chin under his finger and tilts her head up so he can capture her eyes. “We'll talk about it later, okay?”

“Okay.”

She checks her face in the mirror a second time to make sure there’s no visual signs of her just going down on Michael before leaving the room.

Their hands are still linked together when they step into the hallway, and it isn't until they spot Natalie coming from another room that they quickly pull them apart.

So much for being sneaky… There's no way she didn't see that. The shock flashing across her face is telling.

“Michael, can I talk to you?”

“We should go downstairs before… Carmy can't handle all those people.”

“This won't take a minute,” she says firmly.

He glances at Maya, and they nod at the other.

As Maya returns to the party, Sugar can't help but question Michael about it.

“I don't know what you saw, but it's not what you think, Sug.”

“You came out of your room holding hands. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to put two and two together. Are you dating her?”

“Would you have a problem with that?”

“I don't know… It's just… She's Maya. She practically grew up here. In this house. She and Carmy were… you haven't told him, have you?”

“Nobody knows yet. Well, just Richie. But it hasn't been going on for long, and we just thought it'd be best to wait.”

“And you brought her here tonight?”

“I didn't want her to spend the night alone. Do you think it's weird, me and her?”

“I don’t think it’s weird. I… I guess it's a little unexpected. It just caught me off guard. If you had given me a warning…”

“You wouldn't be so shocked. I'm sorry. I wanna tell everyone, but it's all so new, and she's…”

“Maya.”

“Yeah.”

“Look, it's an adjustment, but if you're happy with her, then I'm happy, Bear. Does she make you happy?”

“She does,” he smiles bashfully.

When Michael and Natalie join the rest, Cicero and his wife arrive. Uncle Lee follows.

The delicious smell of food cooking fills every nook with the house and Maya's stomach rumbles under layers of wine. She desperately needs to soak all that alcohol before it's too late.

She goes into the kitchen to find Michael casually leaning on the counter bantering with his mother as she works against the clock, cooking those seven fishes that’s the staple dish of her house.

“You doing good?” He gives Maya a look as she props her hands on the breakfast bar.

“Hm-hm.”

“You hungry too?” He guesses and Maya only nods at his question as Donna points at the meatball casserole on the counter.

“Here,” Michael grabs one meatball from the casserole, dabs the sauce on the edge so it drips as he lifts it up to her mouth. His eyes light up as she carefully bites half of it directly from his fingers. Then he shoves the other half into his mouth. Smiling at the other, both thinking about what they did earlier as they fight the urge of eating each other's mouths again.

A beat after, Maya looks to the side to see Carmy standing by the door as Donna barks something at him. She swallows, watching people come and go out of the kitchen. The timer goes off as voices get louder all around. Maya helps herself to another drink in the middle of the whirlwind of chaos of the heart of the house while Carmy takes him upon himself to organize the mess of the kitchen against Donna's wishes.

“Ma, why don't you let him help you? It's all he fucking does.” Michael picks up another meatball and offers it again to Maya, but she declines this time.

“What was that?” Carmy glances annoyed at Michael. “Like uh, that was a shot or…”

“Wasn’t a fucking shot.”

“Mikey, he’s helping me. Back off.”

“Yeah, that was a shot.” Carmen states more sternly this time. “I'm the guy that does food. You're the guy that what? You-you, uh… You start 100 different businesses and have zero follow-through.”

“You’re the one to talk,” Maya rolls her eyes, taking a long sip of her wine.

“Yeah, what are you doing here? Thought you had a husband.”

“Wow. Leave her out of this, Carm. She’s here cause I asked her to.”

“It’s fine, Michael. Let Annie Oakley take her shots at me.”

“Okay, this is why I didn't wanna come home. This is why.”

“Fuck you!” Donna shouts.

“What the fuck? Why the fuck would you say that?” Michael raises his voice. “It's fuckin' Christmas. Why would you say something like that?”

“Whatever, okay? Whatever.”

“Maya, sweetie, can you bring some ice from the freezer in the garage?” Asks Donna in the middle of the argument, and she just silently agrees.

All their voices ebb as Maya disappears into the hallway that leads to the garage to grab some ice and pull herself together. She stays there for longer than she should, collecting her thoughts and checking her phone for all her friends and co-workers messages and sending some of her own. Her eyes pull away from the screen when the door swings open.

She tucks her phone in her pocket as Carmy climbs down the two steps into the room.

“What are you doing here?”

“Grabbing some ice.” She glances at the freezer where her ass is propped.

“No. I mean, why did you come here at all?”

She shrugs, folding her arms against her stomach.

“Michael invited me.”

“It’s pretty fucking weird, don’t you think?”

“Why? I used to come here all the time when we were kids. Hell, the first time I got drunk was right in this garage with you.”

“Yeah, that’s my point. You and I aren’t friends anymore, Maya. It doesn’t make sense that you’d come anymore.”

“You've made that clear but hey, you’re the one who stopped talking to me in the first place.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. I’m not psychic, Carmen.”

“Doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“No? It matters to me.”

“Guess I got tired of waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me? You’re completely delusional, you know that?”

“Am I? I thought you were different, but you’re just…”

“Just what? Are you going to call me a slut or something? You better watch your mouth.”

“No. You’re… reckless.”

“I'm reckless? For what? Living my life? Growing up? Marrying another guy?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d rather be reckless than be anything like you, Carmen. You think you're better than me, than anyone in here, but you're not. You're conceited. You've always looked at everyone down from your ivory tower like you've never made a mistake in your life. You said you were waiting for me? You had many opportunities to say what you felt, and you never did, why is that? Because you’re a fuckin’ coward. I’ve watched string along girls you weren’t into for longer than you should have. Anytime anyone has shown you an ounce of love, you’ve run the other way. You've shut down me and everyone out cause you don’t know how to love anyone but your self-righteous, narcissistic ass.”

“That’s rich coming for someone who’s fucking my brother.” His voice comes out deeply loud as Maya swallows. “You think I’m dumb? It’s written all over your face.”

Her posture stiffens all of a sudden. She opens her mouth to contradict his words, but she can't. It's pointless. He's chosen to attack, and she's going to stand and take blow after blow without throwing some of her own.

“You had your chance, Carmen, and you never took it. And the worst part is that you expected me to do something about it, but it really wasn’t up to me. I’m sorry I never felt anything for you… but I don’t think you ever loved me like you wanted either. You only thought you did cause I was there all the time. It was easy, right? We were friends. Best friends. And you ruined that.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah, we can agree on that.”

“It’s fucked-up, y’know?”

“What is?”

“You and my brother.”

“You know what’s fucked up?” She pegs him with a harsh twisted brow. “You. Coming here judging everyone and pretending you know anything about me or him. Say, when was the last time you said I love you just cause you wanted to and not because someone said it first? When was the last time you were in a relationship that lasted more than two dates? When was the last time you woke up next to someone and the thought of leaving them ripped your heart apart? I'd rather take risks and be called reckless than feel nothing, do nothing, say nothing at all, and turn into a bitter asshole like you.”

Maya walks past him and heads out the door without giving him the opportunity to respond.

As tears threaten to come out, she stops in her tracks and draws a fortifying breath to keep herself from falling apart. Though she knew sooner or later she’d have to deal with Carmy, that conversation was truly more difficult to deal with than she expected. She couldn't handle that better if he wasn't acting like an asshole.

Disheartened… Maya feels just at home. It really is no different from being with her own family. Next year, she swears she's going to take a trip or just stay at home with Coco, which sounds like something she should've done today. Coming here tonight was a mistake. If she could turn back time to earlier in the day and convince herself to stay at home she would.

In the never-ending night of riffs, she overhears Donna yelling at Natalie in the kitchen as she crosses the hallway. In the living room, Michael has everyone's attention while telling one of his stories. Every one seems entertained except for Uncle Lee that has to poke the bear as usual.

It feels like an eternity until dinner is finally served it doesn't get better once everyone is sitting at the table. No. Because, of course, there can't be a moment of peace, everything escalates from that point.

Maya’s taking a swallow of her glass when Lee starts telling the story about the seven fishes and the Dutch oven when Michael makes a buzzing sound and throws a fork at him. It hits his shoulder.

“Wrong answer.”

“Did you just throw a fork at me?” Lee's high-pitched tone breaks.

“I did,” Michael snorts.

They both start bitching back and forth. The tension strains harder after every word, every sentence interrupted, every thought unfinished.

She places her glass down as the animated conversation grows more heated by the second. The voices get louder. There's a countdown hovering over the table showing how many seconds are left for the bomb to go off. Maya hears the ticking in her head, or maybe that's just the sound of her own heart racing.

In the heat of the moment, Michael borrows a second fork from Fak and repeats the same action. This time he misses Lee's head by an inch.

Everyone tries to put off the fire before it rises, but Michael is too far gone into his own head, nobody can talk sense into him.

“Cousin, you're scaring the normals.” Richie nervously laughs.

“This is fine. It's nothing.”

“Mikey, can you hear me, buddy?”

“Not now, Stevie.”

“Cut it out.”

“Hey, look, here's the thing.” He leans back on his chair ignoring everyone. “You see, I can throw forks cause this is our father's house. My father's house.”

“Okay you have everyone's attention so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.”

“That's good Lee.” He laughs manically while Lee goes on a rant about him living off his mom and borrowing money from everyone.

“… I don't know what the fuck you're on, but if you can hear me through the fog, throw another fork at me, you're gonna get fuckin’ rocked!”

There's a long moment of silence. Michael scratches his beard and gazes to his side, where Maya is sitting trying to process the whole thing happening before her eyes.

“Hey, Maybird.” He says softly, and waits until she looks at him. “I just… You think I could just borrow that for one second…” he points at her fork.

“Michael don't,” she tries to say, but the rest of the table speaks louder over her voice.

“It's okay, baby.” It slips out as he picks up her fork. “This is fine. I’m fine.”

“Michael. Please don't do this!” It's Natalie's words that stand out over the others. “Hey!” She calls his attention and when Michael glances at the opposite side of the table and Sugar lowers her voice. “I love you. Okay?”

“I love you, too, Sug.”

“I'm begging you. Don't do it.”

He vaguely nods. But he's dead set on making everyone shift in their chairs as the ridiculous dispute picks up again.

The flames touch the ceiling, and there's nothing she can do to smother the fire.

Maya nudges his thigh under the table with her knee, and says his name softly, hoping it'd be enough to calm him down. But it's too late, he's already so riled up that not even her can't stop him from rising from his chair, fork in hand taunting Lee non-stop.

Petrified, she stares at the man she loves, the one who looked like a dreamboat when she woke up next to him this morning, turning into something completely different. The cracks of his mask can't hold any longer. Behind it, it all slips out. His haunted expression taking over the rough edges of his face, the sorrow in his eyes, and his tired voice, makes her heart hurt.

“Bear.” She resorts to a term of endearment, but there is no use. He's on a different plane now, guided by his addiction.

Her eyes well up as Lee keeps repeating that he’s nothing. She can see his gears spinning in a different direction and for a moment everyone stays still watching everything unfold until Donna comes into the room.

That only puts a temporary patch on the wound. It's only a matter of time before someone takes it away to let blood spill all over the table. Michael sits back down, pushing his hair back before clutching the fork again in his fist as Donna lights up a cigarette and takes a seat.

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing.”

“I missed something.”

“Uh, Stevie, Stevie's about to say grace, Ma.”

“Ooh, good, yes.”

“Go ahead and take it away there, Stevie.”

“I uh… I don't think…”

“Just say the fucking thing, Stevie.”

The tension eases up for those couple of minutes while Steve improvises grace. It all seems perfect for a moment, they all nod and smile a Steve’s kind words, but that countdown is still ticking down every last fucking second.

Everything afterward is a tableau of surreal events tangled together that would play in Maya’s head for years to come… Donna’s meltdown, Michael throwing the last fork, flipping the table and taking a more physical approach against uncle Lee, Donna losing her hinges and crashing the car into the house, the police attending the disturbance…

Out of all the memorable dinners she's had in this house, this one really takes the cake.

It's the shitshow of a lifetime that nobody will ever forget.

Chapter 10: Basket of biscuits

It’s past the witching hour when all the voices, all the noise, all the sirens, and rumblings of his own thoughts quiet down in his head when he closes the door as he settles on the driver's seat. And at once, the only voice he wanted to hear the most echoes in his head with one simple word — his name. The fear in her tone haunts him. He probably scared the shit out of her after what went down. Staring at the ruins of the front of his childhood home, Michael turns on the engine and takes a final look before steering Maya’s car out of that place.

Maya left earlier, after the police took everyone’s statement. Though she wasn’t as drunk as he was, he begged her to take a cab back home. While Donna refused to leave the house, everyone eventually left as well. Michael stayed all the way through while they boarded up the hole in the wall as a temporary measure.

Sobering down, the road gets clearer the closer he gets to Maya. He can't stand the thought of her being witness to his frantic meltdown. All he can see now, clear as day, the utter disbelief and fright in her eyes when she was pleading him to stop. He should have listened. He should have held himself better in that situation. Drugs or not, there's nothing or no one to blame but himself. That was… Embarrassing. Even for him. He swore he'd never sink that low, that he'd never let anyone see that part of him. It was bound to happen. He lost control and everyone saw. And if he wasn't for Donna interrupting his act, he's not sure how far he'd have gone.

For a split moment, he blames it on something else taking over his actions, like being possessed by one of his demons. But it doesn't last long. He can’t continue denying the fact that he’s the only one responsible for his actions. Claiming otherwise would only delay the inevitable.

They say all roads lead to Rome, and if keeps driving in the same direction, he’d surely find the only possible outcome to this. It’s time to veer off the path and find that there’s more world to see besides Rome.

He has to find a new way, and she is the only thing that could save him from this right now. However, after tonight, it wouldn't surprise him if she was already thinking about kicking him to the curve. He would blame her.

Christmas lights and empty streets quickly take him to her house. He can even imagine what’s going through her head right now… but it’s time to find out.

He parks on the driveway and takes measured steps toward the front door as the weight of the world perches on his shoulders. He feels like shit and the biggest asshole in the world for breaking his promise.

The glow of the TV and tree lights shine faintly behind the curtains when he knocks on the door. He should have called before, he realizes on that spot. Or even just text her to say he was coming so she would know what to expect. But there’s not going back now.

She takes her time to open the door and when she does, he’s met with the reflection of all his fears coming true. It flashes across her face the disappointment and disgust and utter terror of what happened at the table.

“I brought your car.” He reaches out to hand her the keys.

Hesitantly, she collects them, and makes room for him to enter before closing the door behind him.

“I… You shouldn't be driving.”

“It's fine. Sobered out pretty soon after… Where's Coco?”

“Upstairs. Hoarding the bed.” Maya puts the keys on the console table as they stand by the staircase railing. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, Carm and Sug stayed with her at the house for the night. Everyone else left. ”

“She wouldn't leave?”

“No, she locked herself in her room.”

“That's crazy.”

“Yeah, another Christmas at The Berzattos. Hey, but at least none of us got locked up.”

“That's not funny, Michael.”

“It wasn't meant to be funny.”

“I think you should go… You should've stayed with them.”

“I wanted to check on you.”

“I'm fine.” Her tone says otherwise.

“Are you?”

“I was about to go to sleep.” She’s already slipped into her pj’s and was just watching TV cause she couldn’t fall asleep.

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“What do you want me to say? Of course, I'm not okay. You lied to me.”

“What… When did I lie to you?”

She fights the urge of rolling her eyes and instead, crosses her arms against her midsection to keep herself together.

“You said you weren't using when you were with me, but tonight you did. Instead of coming to me and saying — hey I'm dealing with this and that, you straight up hid it, and then you just… went off. I thought we were being honest with each other.”

He hangs his head down as she tiredly leans her back against the wall.

“I don't know how to help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on, Michael.”

“There's nothing you could've done.”

“Maybe not but you didn't even give me the chance to. I'm really concerned about you and after tonight… I don't know… I'm out of my depth here. I knew it was bad, but it's worse than I thought… If you're not seeing that, if you're not willing to admit that… Then maybe we should take a step back and consider our options before going further.”

“Consider our options? You're getting cold feet now?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just…” she sighs in exhaustion. “You should go. It's been a long night. And I'm not in the mood for this.”

“If you're gonna break up with me, just say it. Don't wait till tomorrow.” Though it’d be the right decision for her to do, he can’t stand the thought of not being with her now that he’s seen what it is to have her in her life. It would rip his soul and heart apart to hear her say those words.

“I don't wanna break up with you, but I can see that you're going through something right now, and I think it’d be best to talk about this tomorrow or the day after with clear heads.”

“Okay, okay…” he says under a heavy breath, as he shortens the distance between them.

Michael cups her jaw, and places his lips gently on her forehead.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He tries to not sound desperate but it fails so badly.

“Michael…” He grabs his wrist and takes a step back to detach herself from his hold.

“Please, Maybird, I don't wanna go. I… I can’t be alone right now. I’d… I don’t know what I’d do…” There’s something brewing inside him and if tonight wasn’t bad enough, not being able to be with her would send him down to that hole of despair he’s dug himself.

“You're scaring me, Michael.”

“Fuck, I know… I know I’m an asshole. I just…” He frantically runs a palm over his beard as he keeps pleading. “I need you. Don’t make me leave. I'm begging you.”

Those words put her between the sword and the wall. As much as he loves him, as much as she’d want him to stay, she’s still shaken and would rather be alone right now. But she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to him because she sent him away.

Before she has the chance to reply, while she gathers her thoughts he dramatically drops to his knees on the verge of tears.

“Please. I’d do anything for you, but don’t ask me to go.”

“Michael…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he grabs her waist, pulls her close, and links his arms around her hips, planting his full face on her abdomen. He swallows his sobs in his relentless ramble. “Please, baby, I need you… I’m sorry I lied to you… I’m so sorry that I'm scaring you… I swear I’d never hurt you…”

Her eyes brim with tears and unable to pull away she just holds his head protectively in her hands, threading her fingers in her hair to calm him down.

“You’re everything to me, Maybird. I know I’m a pathetic loser and that I don’t deserve you, but I’m fucking ready… just tell me what to do… I don’t know how to fix this… please just… let me stay…”

“Shh, it’s okay, Bear.” She’s so overcome by the love she has for him, she doesn’t have the strength to kick him out. So, she just gives up to his implore. “We’ll figure it out.”

Michael’s breaking point came like the most unexpected Christmas gift he didn't ask for. He can't return it or exchange it for something else. It's only up to him to either throw it away and pretend it didn't happen or use that as the catalyst to his recovery. They say that sometimes you have to break down to break through. And he went down so many levels, that there’s only one option but to go up from there. No because he feels like he has to, but he'd do anything to stay with Maya, and he knows the only way to do it is to climb out of the dirt.

After falling asleep in Maya’s arms, he wakes up in her bed alone the next morning. The clock says it is 10am when he looks up to her night stand and from the feet of the bed is only Coco, keeping a close watch of him. Her tail starts wagging when he gazes at her and extends his hand to scratch her head.

“Hey, Coco girl.” His voice rasps as she climbs up closer to lick his face relentlessly, slobbering all over his beard. “Okay, okay, that's enough, sweetheart.”

He holds her close and scratches her neck to calm her down, as Maya’s measured footfalls make the stairs creak when she climbs up. He looks to the door and watches her as she enters the room. She's fully dressed and by the amount of layers she's clad in, it looks like she's been outside.

“Morning.” She smiles softly as she proceeds to take off her hat and scarf.

“Morning.” He props himself on his elbow while Coco jumps suddenly out of the bed and circles around Maya’s legs before leaving the room at once. “Went out?”

“Yeah, just went for a drive and grabbed some breakfast. You two looked so cozy together, I thought I should let you sleep a bit longer. You're not opening today, right?”

“No. C’mere, sweetheart.” He finds her hand and gently tugs on it so she would sit down next to him. “I'm sorry about last night, I shouldn't have come here like that. I thought I was…”

“Sh, it's okay. You already apologized, hon.”

“No. That wasn't me. That was fucking embarrassing.”

“Is this you now?” She tenderly moves his straightened hair away from his forehead and combs it softly.

“Think so.”

“You look better.” Her fingers keep gently peppering him with caresses all over his head and neck.

“I feel like shit.” He gets a hold of her hand and kisses her knuckles. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“No. I can’t really stay mad at you for long. You know that. And the good thing about all this is that since last night, I haven't really thought about being ditched for Christmas by my family.”

“Fuck, I'm such an asshole… I had all these plans with you after dinner… and I totally ruined everything. We didn't even get to open our presents.”

“It's okay. I promise. We'll try again next year. Maybe just the two of us.”

“You still think we'll be together next year?”

“I have no idea. But I'm hoping so… I want to.”

“God, you’re a fucking angel.”

“I’m not,” she laughs softly.

“Yeah, heaven-sent. You took care of me last night when you had your own thing going on. Not many people would’ve done that.”

Maya leans in and kisses his temple before wrapping her arms around his neck. She bathes him with love cause she’s not sure what else to do than to show him that she needs him just as much.

“How about we get some food in you?” She smooches his head and as she attempts to stand up, he curls his arms around her, pulling her down with him.

“Not yet, baby. Let's stay here for a minute. I'm not hungry.”

She relaxes in his hold and cuddles with him until his phone goes off.

“It's Sugar.” Maya sees on the screen. “Are you gonna pick it up?”

He vacillates, but he ends up taking the call while Maya dislodges herself from his embrace. She collects a tray and some food from the kitchen while Natalie tells Michael that they finally got their mother out of the house. She'll be at Nat's for a few days until they fix the front of the house.

“Yeah… I'll take care of it. See you later.” Maya overhears as she returns to the bedroom with his breakfast.

“Everything alright?” She sits down on the mattress, placing the tray in the middle.

“Yeah. She asked me to go talk to uncle Jimmy's friend. You know, the contractor? He said he could get it done fast.”

“That's good, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What's wrong?”

“I don't know… I just… how can I look at these people in the face after what I did.”

“Because you're Michael fucking Berzatto. And you don't take shit from no one.” She tries cheering him up. “Uncle Lee was an asshole. Nobody cares that you threw a couple of forks at him. They're worried about you. And I don't think anyone remembers what you did. Donna upstaged the two of you, I'm afraid.”

“How do you manage to put a positive spin on everything?”

“Someone has to.”

As much as he loves hearing her talk like that is time for a reality check. Besides Maya being the brightest light in his life from the past few months, the rest have been hell. The restaurant has been struggling for way longer than he’d like to admit and has become the biggest failure of his life. His dependency has only been exacerbated by the pressure he’s put on himself to try to fix all by himself. All the lies, the high expectations, and the way his family look up to him for answers and comfort have become a lead weight on him.

The Beef was an inherited mess that was passed down to him when his father died. He took it upon himself to carry the family business to keep the family afloat, especially since Carmen and Natalie were merely teens, and there was nobody else but him to provide for all of them. He always thought he’d had his own restaurant and part of that pipe dream was bringing Carmy along. That dream faded as soon as he got hit with the hard cold truth that managing a restaurant, even a sandwich shop wasn’t as easy as his father made it look. But to be fair the late Berzatto didn’t have the best system either. It was all back door deals and handshakes and fucking agreements with this guy and this other guy. It made him wonder if the old trio had some shady business going on. Even Maya’s uncle was involved at some point, he recalls seeing his name a couple of times in one of the accounting books.

To sum it all up, he was set up with a business that was already failing before got it. His optimism and passion could only keep him trying for so long. The last couple of years have been hell, and at this point he’s not sure if he wants to run it anymore. He’s toyed with the idea of burning it to the ground and starting over, or just selling it and walking away. But there are a lot of factors in play that are stopping him from doing that. Like disappointing his family or the people who work for him. And let's not forget the big question of what Michael would do if he didn’t have The Beef.

With a heavy heart he finally pours everything out to Maya. If someone can understand, it’s her. She knew when her life needed a turn and took it. He’s at the same crossroads right now, but unlike her, he doesn’t feel brave enough to do what needs to be done.

Maya draws a breath, absorbing every single thing Michael has laid out. It’s a lot to process, but her mind is already spinning ideas and questions that could potentially help him.

“You could sell and start over. The Beef is not your failure. It wasn’t even your dream to begin with. And I don’t think anyone will hold it against you if you give it away.”

“I guess I’m not ready to give up, you know? I don’t know what I’d do if I walked away now.” He shifts in the bed, laying on his side, placing his head on her lap while she plays with his hair.

“What about the restaurant you wanted to open with Carmy? It was all you talked about once upon a time. ”

“I can't bring him into this. He's better off without me.”

“He's not. Your brother is fucking miserable.”

“How do you know that? Did he tell you that?”

“No… but we shared some words last night, I don't want to get into the whole thing right now, but I could tell that he's not happy either.”

“Last night… He gave me this thing. It was a sketch he did about that restaurant… I just don't know how to make you both understand that I have no idea how to make it true. He's worked so hard to be where he is now…. I won’t be the one to keep it away from all that.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you could learn something from him and that teaming up would solve all your problems?”

“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t want to take that chance. I won’t ruin his career. He’s where he’s supposed to be.”

“You know, you’ve talked a lot about not wanting to let everyone down and keeping everyone happy. But when are you gonna start taking care of yourself, Bear? All those people you’re caring for, they’re pretty much grown up. They don’t need you to keep holding their hand. Not Natalie, nor Carmy, nor your mother. And don’t get me wrong, the way you care for them is part of the reason I care for you… but at some point you’re going to have to care for yourself too. Cause I can’t keep an eye on you 24/7.”

“Did you go to shrink school or something?” He scoffs, glancing up at her eyes from his comfortable spot.

“No, I wish! It’s hard to put yourself above anyone else… I get it. But you’re going to have to, Michael. If you don’t, it’ll eventually catch up with you. The pressure, the pills, the need to please everyone…”

“What if it’s too late?”

“It’s not. I promise it’s not. I know it seems that way, but you, asking the right questions… That tells me it’s not too late. And the thing is that you don't have to decide anything right now. But hypothetically speaking, if you didn't have The Beef to take care of, and could do anything in the world, what would you do?”

“Well, If I could do anything, I'd stay in this bed, day, and night with you for a year.”

“Okay, let's say you've done that now. You wake up, get out of bed and where do you go?”

“I've always….” he pauses as the corner of his mouth pulls up.

“What? Tell me.” Her hand fists his hair without pulling.

“I've always wanted to buy a bike and drive across every state.”

“I could see you doing that.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Stop doing that. It's not an unattainable dream, Bear. You can do whatever you want.”

“Would you come with me if I asked you?”

“Hm, I don’t know… I’m not a huge fan of bikes. But I guess if I could follow along with my car and bring Coco with us, I’d go.”

“How about next summer?”

“Bring it on.”

“You know I’m joking, right?” He scoffs.

“I’m not. If you really wanna do that. Do it. What’s that thing you always say… Let one rip?”

“Let it rip,” he snorts and shakes his head, utterly amused by her way of messing up his motto.

“So, let it rip!”

“How? How do you walk away from everything?”

“You put one foot in front of the other and repeat.”

“Well, thank you for just describing walking, baby.”

“I’m serious, Michael. You take enough small steps and one day you’ll look back and won’t be able to see what you left behind.”

She holds his face firmly and dips to leave a small peck on his lips, then plants her forehead on top of his.

“I’d go anywhere with you. Would you?”

“Yeah, always.”

Michael’s palm slides along her jaw as his lips capture her mouth one more time. In this room, on this bed, he feels more safe and loved than ever before.

In the evening, Maya takes Michael to meet the contractor who comes into the house to survey the damage. After that, they swing by Natalie’s to check how Donna is doing.

Maya stays in the car. Her choice. She’s not ready to have another Berzatto reunion so soon.

She’s listening to the radio when all of a sudden a tap on the glass startles her. She glances to the side and finds Carmy motioning with his hand to roll down the window.

Sighting, she turns off the radio, as the glass slides down.

“Hey, can we talk?” His breath manifests in the air.

“I'm not in the mood for you to keep jabbing at me.”

“I wasn’t going to… I just…” he props his forearm on the roof of the car. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. You were right about… well, about almost everything. I have no right to tell you how to live your life and shouldn’t have talked to you that way. I still think it’s pretty weird that you’re dating my brother… but I guess I’ll have to get over it.”

Maya swallows, staring at her hands curling around the steering wheel. It feels forced to hear him say that so soon, but not completely dishonest. He’s making an effort, and she appreciates that.

“Thank you for saying that. I’m sorry that you had to find that way and that I called you a self-serving asshole that doesn’t care about anyone but himself. I know you cared about me… I just…”

“Hey, I get it. We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I don’t know… I couldn’t sleep last night and Sugar and I started talking, we were up for hours… I guess she knocked some sense into me.”

“Do you think we could ever be friends again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could we pretend that we are just for five minutes? I need to ask you something.”

“I… I suppose we could. Can I get in? It's freezing out here.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Carmy goes around the car and hops into the passenger seat as Maya closes the window.

“What is it?”

“How's Copenhagen? Are you liking it there? Is it everything you ever dreamed of?”

“It's one of the best jobs I've ever had.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“I… I don't know what you want me to say… I guess I always thought I'd end up here with Michael… But I don't think he even wants me here anymore. Why are you asking me this?”

“God, he's going to kill me for telling you this… But hypothetically, what if he was in trouble and was too prideful to ask for help? What if he wanted to build that restaurant you dreamed of but wouldn't want you to give up your career for him? What if he was thinking of selling the shop but was too afraid of disappointing all of you?”

“Fuck, that's a lot of what ifs, Maya. Is that all true?”

“I can't tell you that, but if that were all true would you consider coming back?”

“You know better than anybody that all I wanted to do is work with him. If he asked, I'd be here in a second. But he's not going to ask, is he?”

“I don't think he's ready yet. I'm trying to help him as best as I can, but I feel like I'm not enough.”

“What do you think I could do if he doesn't want anyone's help… ”

“I don't know… he's too stubborn to ask for help. I'm just running out of ideas here… and he's looking at me like I have all the answers…”

“You think if I came back that'll change?”

“Maybe not, but if there's just a small chance that you were considering doing what you always wanted to do… if he saw that you weren't going anywhere, perhaps it’d point him in the right direction.”

“It takes guts to ask for help like that. And I'm not talking about him. I know you wouldn't be asking if it wasn't serious.”

“Yeah, like I said, if he knew I was telling you this…”

“I won't tell, if you don't.” He smiles softly.

“Thank you.”

“I'll think about it though.”

“Yeah? I'll keep trying too.”

As Carmy leaves the car, Michael comes out of the front door. They meet in the middle and Maya watches them quickly sharing some words before saying goodbye.

“Everything good here?” Asks Michael once he's taken his seat and closes the door.

“Yeah, we were just straightening some things up. I didn't want to tell you earlier, but we had an argument last night. It's all good now…” and she feels like an asshole for going behind his back, but if Michael is too proud or ashamed to ask for help, someone has to. She'd love to have all the answers laid out for him, but she has no idea what she's doing half of the time.

“He knows about us, does he?”

“Yeah, we weren't as careful as we wanted. Even Sugar saw. I mean… you even called me baby at the table. Don’t think anyone really noticed but… I guess it’s out now.”

“Does it freak you out that they know?”

“No. It was never about that. I just wanted to keep it just between us for a little longer.”

As they drive back home they toy with the idea of recreating the Christmas dinner they never go to have the previous night. They make a quick stop at a couple of places to gather some ingredients and scramble something together.

Michael has a lot of faults, but he's a natural in the kitchen. He feels right in his element when he's crafting a meal, especially when it’s for her. There’s no pressure laying on the counter, no bills to worry about, but the need to impress her makes him rise to the occasion.

After dinner, they exchange those gifts they put under the tree in her living room a couple of days ago. There’s a gift basket for Coco with toys, her favorite snacks, a blanket, and bathing products. While the dog is distracted with a chew on the rug, they sit on the couch to open theirs.

Maya’s gift to Michael is considerably bigger than what he got for her, which is a thin flat box as long as her palm.

“You want me to go first?” Asks Maya.

“Yeah, sure. Go on, baby.”

She’s kneeled by his side on the cushion, and he closely watches her hand unwrap the jewelry box that contains a dainty gold necklace with two twin pendants. Two small discs share an M etched on one side but are different on the back. One of them has the outline of a bear, and the other a dog paw.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, Mikey Bear.” Her free palm slides at his nape. “Thank you.”

“Thought you could wear this one,” he points at the one with the bear, “and I could take the other.”

“Yeah, that’d be perfect.” She inspects the pendants for a bit longer before sliding the one with the paw on it out the chain. “We’re kind of an institution now, like M&Ms.”

“Or Eminem.”

“For sure,” she laughs at the same time she clasps the chain around her neck. “Are you gonna open yours?”

Michael nods and extends his hand to open the big wrapped box waiting on the coffee table. In it there's a record player set with speakers and a couple of Otis Redding albums.

“You’re the best, you know that?” He holds his chin on top of his fist for a second, mesmerized by how much he adores her.

“Hm, I’ve been told.” She smugly slings her arm around his lower back as he inspects his new gift and starts setting all the components on. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Otis, but it’s one of my favorites.”

“Yeah, I dig it. Everyone loves the king of soul.”

Tucking her palm under the hem of his shirt, she kisses his shoulder, as he carefully slides one of the vinyls out of its sleeve before placing it on the platter.

“I haven’t used one of these in a while, let’s see if I remember…” he thinks for a beat, staring at the levels and buttons as he figures out how to set it up.

“You know, there are instructions on the box, right?” She playfully scratches his back.

“Don’t need instructions.”

“Typical male response,” she scoffs.

“Look, it’s done.” After settling the needle in position he hits the on button and stares at the record as it starts spinning. It rotates a couple of times before the first track comes out of the speakers.

Michael curls his arm around her, pulling her flush against his chest as they lean back on the couch. Maya drapes her legs on his lap, pillowing her head on his shoulder as the ever so beautiful melody of These Arms Of Mine plays on the speakers.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Maya tucks her hand in her jean's pocket to collect a keychain of a miniature motorcycle she got at the gas station earlier. “I also got you this when we stopped for gas. I didn't have time to get you a real bike in time but– what do you say, you wanna go on a road trip with me and Coco?”

“A Harley-Davidson? I don't think the three of us can fit here.” He dangles the keychain between his fingers. “But we'll see.”

Maya smiles against his shoulder as he kisses her head.

“Hey, can I tell you a secret?” His voice changes to a softer tone.

“Uh-huh.”

He knows this is far from perfect and that he's probably going to screw everything up at some point, but whether it's perfect or not, right here, in her arms, everything is like it's supposed to be.

“I love you, Maybird.”

She tilts her chin up so he can capture the glint of eyes. She doesn't say it right away, it takes her a couple of beats to build up the courage to say back…

“I love you too, Bear.”

The End.

[cheegu3]

Enhypen - the glory (part 10)

summary; after rejecting one of the most popular boys at your new school, you soon realised that you'd done the gravest mistake of your life; these weren't ordinary boys, and now they were set on making your life a living hell - heavily based on the kdrama with the same name

warnings; yandere themes, bullying themes, blood, knives, death? sexual tones, swearing

genre; yandere

wc; 7.6k

pairing; enha x f.m reader

note; some will be horrified and some will be happy after reading this lol, also let me know if you have any unanswered questions u want for the next chapter, love u thank u 🤍🤍

masterlist

‘’ I have no idea. ‘’

The car fell silent and continued to be all the way until you reached your house. Soobin hesitated before unlocking the car, which scared you a little; having been used to the torture at school for so long.

When he noticed your panicked eyes, he looked apologetic. ‘’ I was just thinking about if you still feel safe staying at your house. ‘’

‘’ Do you mean because of Jake? ‘’

‘’ Mainly, but I guess…everything else too. ‘’

You hadn’t even considered the possibility of not going home for a while. But thinking it over, you realized that Soobin’s house was a lot closer to where they lived. Even if you felt a bit better having someone else by your side, it was more likely that something would happen if you stayed the night over there. Especially since they had shown some jealousy over the friendship. 

Not wanting to trigger something, you opened the door and gave Soobin a small smile. 

‘’ No, I’ll be okay. ‘’

‘’ Are you sure? ‘’

Although you took some time to answer, when you finally did you felt pretty sure in your decision and hoped Soobin wouldn’t worry too much.

‘’ I’m sure, I will just text you if something happens. ‘’

‘’ Not just that. You can text me if you can’t sleep or if you want to come over because you’re scared too, ‘’ he softly said, warming your heart with his compassion. 

‘’ Okay, thank you. ‘’

He unlocked the car at last and waved goodbye before driving off. You stood outside and watched until his car wasn’t visible anymore.

‘’ Y/n? ‘’

You turned to your dad, relieved it was his voice and not someone else’s that you heard there in the dark; the clock must be what…7pm now? You wouldn’t want to be caught out that late with one of your bullies like last time with Jake.

‘’ What are you doing out? ‘’

‘’ I was just throwing out the trash. Why did you come home so late? ‘’

‘’ You just noticed, ‘’ you chuckled dryly, ‘’ Dad of the year. ‘’

You went inside without waiting for him but he quickly caught up, joining you in the elevator just in time for it closing. He fidgeted with his hands and looked very uncomfortable as you passed the first floors. You tried to ignore him, which proved to be quite difficult since it looked like he had something he wanted to say.

‘’ I haven’t been the best dad, I know that. Especially lately I’ve…been just out of it. I’m sorry, y/n, I really am. ‘’

Your mouth stayed closed - you did so hoping that he would continue talking because you wanted an explanation. He had been quite bad with being present in the past but lately it was constant. He acted as if he didn’t have a daughter at all which was odd given he should’ve been concerned for you since you were getting bullied at school.

‘’ Your mother’s not doing well. ‘’

Your heart twisted painfully at the sudden revelation, ‘’ What do you mean she’s not doing well? ‘’

He had your full attention now. You could tell it was something that had weighed down on him for a long time; he looked really guilty when he saw your glossy eyes and worried voice at what he had said. At the same time, he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself forever.

‘’ Her condition has drastically worsened since the last time you visited her. ‘’

‘’ So get her treated! ‘’ you burst out passionately. 

‘’ She is. ‘’ 

You tilted your head, watching him in silence. If she was getting treated why did he still sound so sad, like he had news that were even worse, and not any good ones? 

‘’ It’s just- ‘’ he struggled with his words and tried to gather them with his gestures before continuing, ‘’ You won’t like how. ‘’

Your dad glanced at you quickly and sensed the rising panic within due to being out of the loop so he hurried to explain it to the best of his abilities, still knowing it would probably cause strong feelings and arguments afterwards.

‘’ They’re helping me with the treatment. She’s been transferred to a private hospital. ‘’

‘’ They? ‘’ you laughed humourlessly, ‘’ No- don’t tell me…’’

‘’ I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice. It was between that or letting her die. ‘’

You guess you got your answer as to why he wasn’t so concerned with you getting bullied; he wasn’t just indebted to them for life, he probably saw them with halos over their heads too and not horns like you did.

‘’ No! I can’t possibly understand that. I would’ve taken more extra jobs if it meant saving mom, we could’ve done it together. But you went behind my back and did this! ‘’

Your words seemed to hit him like knives. Every time your voice got even louder and your throat started to hurt from the hoarseness, he flinched as if you were hurting him physically. But you didn’t care; you no longer saw him as the hero who had saved you from Jake that day and defended his daughter, you saw him as a betrayer. 

Sure, most people would do anything it takes to save their loved ones but this? This was a clear way of showing that if he had to choose between you and your mom, he would choose her every time. In such a cruel way too - your bullies of all the rich and ‘’ hospitable ‘’ people in the world.

This was just another method for them to keep their claws around their puppet that was you, playing with life and death as if they were nothing.

‘’ We can talk again when you’ve calmed down. This is something you will understand when you get a bit older, and then…hopefully there will come a time when you don’t resent me for making the right but hard choice. ‘’

You felt so angry and overwhelmed that you didn’t even know what to say or do with yourself. In an attempt to save face, you ran out without a word when you felt the hot tears start to sting in your eyes. 

Immediately you got the phone out and called Soobin. You managed to keep your feelings under the surface until you got inside his car and the bubble burst, tears flowed down your cheeks and you let it all come out.

‘’ What- what’s wrong? ‘’ he realized when he had already started driving that you were crying.

The adoring smile that he had directed at you when just casually glancing was wiped off immediately and he pulled the car over to the nearest place.

‘’ No, Soobin it’s okay keep driving, ‘’ you said in between your sniffles.

He didn’t look convinced but drove to his house anyway. From the spot he stopped until the car pulled into his road, he kept asking if you were really sure you wanted to stay at his house and not go to a hotel or somewhere else.

You were ready to get irritated when he asked for the third time. Then you spotted Jungwon’s house far in the distance up the hill and changed your mind. 

‘’ Actually…do you have another place we can stay? ‘’

‘’ Of course! Our family has a cabin outside of the city. Let me just park here and grab some stuff, okay? ‘’

‘’ Yeah, can I wait here? ‘’

‘’ Sure. I will be back super super soon, don’t worry. ‘’

You nodded and smiled through the blurry vision of tears. Soobin half-jogged inside and was back before you even had time to let the anxiety grow inside you. 

He explained that the cabin was about an hour or two from the city; and that was the last thing you heard before the exhaustion took hold of you and you succumbed to a comfortable slumber while he drove.

*******

‘’ Hey, we’re here. ‘’

You flinched at the touch of someone else, sitting up straight and now wide awake. The familiar sigh coming from Soobin in front of you made your whole body visibly relax. 

‘’ Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. ‘’

‘’ That’s okay. ‘’

You got out of the car and started helping him unload the trunk. Tons of stuff was thrown into the cabin - a cabin that was about twice the size you expected. A big wooden house that had three stories and was right by a lake. 

‘’ It’s a modern cabin, so we don’t have to make the food over a fire, don’t worry, ‘’ Soobin joked, earning an airy laugh from you.

‘’ I would’ve taken whatever to be honest. Just needed to get away from the city and everything there for a while. ‘’

‘’ I get that. ‘’

The last few things from the car had been carried inside now. Soobin started unpacking the bags and moving all over the cabin as he spread things out, making himself at home. 

You brought your own stuff to one of the bedrooms on the top floor. A few thoughts started popping into your head about how you wouldn’t be able to sleep alone. But you pushed them aside, convincing yourself you didn’t need any more help since Soobin had already done so much for you.

‘’ Are you sure you want to sleep alone? We could sleep in the same room, I’d just take the couch, ‘’ Soobin said not a second later when popping his head in through the door.

You smiled. Sometimes it felt like he could read your mind and knew exactly what you secretly wanted.

‘’ I think I’ll be okay for now, but I will let you know if it changes, thank you. ‘’

He nodded and went downstairs again. You peeked around the corner and saw that he had started making food for the both of you. 

‘’ Soobin? I have an idea, ‘’ you shouted to the first floor.

‘’ Yeah? What? ‘’

Feeling like you didn’t want to shout the whole thing, you made your way downstairs and tried to explain the sudden idea that had come to you.

‘’ Not even like fifteen minutes of rest here and you’re already thinking of another step in the plan, ‘’ Soobin shook his head as he flipped the food in the pan.

‘’ Sorry, ‘’ you mumbled, ‘’ I just feel on edge the whole time, I’ve told you this. ‘’

He hummed, ‘’ Okay, so what were you thinking about? ‘’

‘’ We already know the best way to get to them is when they’re alone, right? ‘’

‘’ Yeah? ‘’ 

‘’ Jake is the first person we should try doing that with. ‘’

‘’ Do what? ‘’

‘’ Well, invite here…alone. ‘’

‘’ Alone? Do you really think that’ll work though? He will just tell the others, and then there won’t be a conflict. ‘’

‘’ I’m not sure about that. He seems a bit more- territorial almost. When I was invited to a party at Jungwon’s house he seemed jealous when I talked about being theirs and not his alone. ‘’

‘’ Right…but he still told them about the time he went to your house. ‘’

You bit your lip.

‘’ Yeah, I guess so. Still, there might be a chance there. I just have to think through how to word it. ‘’

‘’ What about Sunoo? ‘’

Your head snapped up, ‘’ Oh shit! I had forgotten about him. ‘’

‘’ He was pretty kind last time you talked to him, willing to give information and stuff. ‘’

‘’ Yeah, but Sunghoon seemed like he was the one that was responsible for keeping him in line though. ‘’

‘’ If we make Sunoo come we can make Ni-ki come too since they are practically stuck together. ‘’

‘’ Jake is the main one though. The others have a lot of loyalty. ‘’

‘’ So does Jake, no? ‘’

‘’ I don’t know…I haven’t really seen that in him yet. ‘’

‘’ It’s worth a try, ‘’ Soobin shrugged.

You went quiet. While watching him lay the food on the two plates, you thought deeply about which route to take, which person to target, and which words to use.

‘’ Let’s eat first, enough thinking and worrying miss. ‘’

‘’ Okay, fine, ‘’ you grinned and sat down obediently just in time as he placed the plate down in front of you.

‘’ Thank you. ‘’

He hummed and sat down next to you. The silence that followed the scraping of the chair felt comfortable when it was Soobin you experienced it with. You both ate in that silence, probably due to your heads being filled with so many racing thoughts.

‘’ Do you want to watch a movie or something? ‘’ he asked when you were done.

‘’ Sure, ‘’ you followed him to the couch, zoning out while he put something on.

Your head almost hurt from how much you were thinking. Anxiety had infested your brain and alternated between obsessing over your bullies, the plan, and your dad and mom. Already predicting you wouldn’t be able to pay attention to the movie you laid a gentle hand on his arm.

‘’ Maybe we can just put on some…calm music instead? ‘’

He understood immediately like he usually did. After changing it and returning to the sofa, he moved further away to give you some space which you responded to with an appreciative smile.

‘’ I don’t think I can relax. ‘’

Soobin opened his eyes and put his head up to look at you. You had also leaned back against the cushions and closed your eyes, but weren’t as lucky as he was; no serenely rest was offered for you.

‘’ Do you want to do it then? ‘’ he asked after carefully thinking over what you said, ‘’ Invite them? ‘’

What you said next was something that almost made Soobin’s jaw drop, it was so unexpected of you and also downright crazy.

‘’ Yes, and if they won’t come willingly, we kidnap one of them. ‘’

*******

Twenty minutes later, the two of you were driving back to the city while you were on your phone texting. The easiest person to kidnap? Sunoo of course. Most likely he’d be near the gym where Ni-ki trained so you had to act very quickly. 

But when going through the contact list you realized you didn’t even have his number. With a groan in frustration, your eyes scanned over the only numbers you had, Jungwon and Sunghoon - and well, also Jay since you had gone over to his house.

You assumed he got your number from the others, because one day he just texted you with his name and told you to add him. The others hadn’t done the same yet.

Jungwon was an immediate no, but would Sunghoon be willing to help you get to Sunoo? You didn’t have a good excuse for why you’d suddenly want his number.

‘’ We might have to go for Sunghoon. ‘’

‘’ Really? Is that the only option? ‘’

‘’ I didn’t even have Sunoo’s number. I thought I did. Seems they might’ve been strategic and not given everyone my number for a reason. ‘’

Soobin continued driving despite the lack of plans you had for when you’d eventually arrive. He went over the different people, weighing the pros and cons until he came to a suggestion.

‘’ You could ask Sunghoon where Jake is, or to get his number because you want to confront him about what he did. ‘’

‘’ Wouldn’t that bring them there too? ‘’

‘’ Maybe. It’s just the only thing I can think of. It’s definitely better than saying you want to apologize for your dad punching him and I don’t think Sunghoon would be very willing to budge. ‘’

‘’ Maybe, ‘’ you said mindlessly.

‘’ What about Yena then? ‘’

Your whole body stiffened. You hadn’t thought about her since you saw the phone. 

‘’ Can’t, she’s locked up. We also don’t know why she had even contacted him in the first place. She could be on their side, ‘’ your voice had more edge to it than you had expected, making Soobin look at you wide-eyed. 

‘’ You think she betrayed us? ‘’

You ticked your tongue, the annoyance and anger that had been brewing underneath the surface coming to light now.

‘’ I was wary of her in the beginning, ‘’ you huffed, ‘’ I can’t possibly come up with any other reasons for her texting him. It seemed- ‘’

‘’ Like she liked him? ‘’ Soobin filled in, sounding like he was in disbelief. His voice raised slightly without him meaning it to.

‘’ Exactly. ‘’

‘’ I think that’s too harsh, ‘’ he didn’t look like he agreed, ‘’ We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. We need to get her out before the guys have tightened the leash even more. ‘’

You rolled your eyes.

‘’ You wouldn’t understand how I feel anyway, you have never even been bullied! ‘’

With the two of you visibly getting irritated at each other it felt like the conversation had steered into an argument. Therefore you pressed your lips together and turned wordlessly to the window, only a dissatisfied grunt escaped from your mouth. Soobin looked at you rather disappointedly but then redirected his attention back on the road again.

It was clear that neither of you would change each other’s minds. Therefore, you went on your phone without consulting with him first, although you had listened and taken his suggestion into consideration. While going down the contact list yet again, you came up with a good idea.

You had to text Jungwon after all.

If you were in their shoes, texting the leader of the group would make you think that person wasn’t scheming; especially since Jungwon already knew how scared of him you were. To him and the rest of the group, it would seem illogical for you to text him if you were trying to trick them, because he would be the first to see through you.

9:45 pm

You: Hey

You: I don’t have Jake’s number

While you were typing the next message, an answer popped up.

Jungwon: Why do you need it?

You swallowed the nervosity you suddenly felt wash over you now that he was replying. Knowing the truth about him after today, you almost felt paranoid when you just thought about talking to him. What if he was analyzing your every word? What if he was watching you right now - following you everywhere and being one step ahead at all times?

You: I want to confront him about what he did

When you finally had the bravery to send the text, you almost had your heart in your throat as he replied just as quickly again. It felt like he was glued to his phone, waiting for your next move and maybe even amused at your behavior when texting; could he feel that you were anxious?

Jungwon: come over and I’ll tell you

It felt like a trap, especially considering Heeseung had mentioned a sleepover that would be coming up sometime soon. 

You almost threw your phone and ranted to Soobin about how annoying and uncooperative Jugwon was being. In the end however, you bit your cheek and sighed, letting the awkward atmosphere from the disagreement continue.

The closer you got to the city, the more restless you felt. The phone hadn’t been picked up in a long time now; you had left him on read, surely making him seethe in anger.

But you didn’t care too much because you needed more time to gather your thoughts and scattered ideas.

Should you text Jay? You looked at the phone again - no, he was scaring you when you saw him earlier. Just Sunghoon left to try.

You: Sunghoon?

You had to make him feel special like you came to him first because you needed his help and no one else’s.

You: can you do me a favor?

Minutes passed with no response. You could feel Soobin glance at you every so often, eyes narrowing any time your head dipped down to your phone. The hands around the steering wheel had started clenching around it. 

He wasn’t sure why you didn’t want to talk to him, he hadn’t said anything wrong after all. And the fact that you were so busy staring at your phone, eyes glued to it like you were in a trance - made him feel…

What did it make him feel, was that jealousy?

Soobin ran his hand through his hair and leaned his head against the arm that was resting on the window.

Jealousy?

He didn’t feel like he had the right to be. But, something about not knowing made him feel his stomach turn uncomfortably. What if you were flirting with them to get your way?

Even if that was a smart tactic it made him feel sick knowing they were enjoying it too much, maybe Jake would even-

He shook his head, trying to get the destructive thoughts out. They weren’t serving him any purpose except for making him miserable. He just wished you would talk to him.

The two of you now neared the parking lot where you met up with Yena. Soobin turned without warning and parked there, making you finally look up from your phone, having stared at it for minutes trying to figure out a response,

‘’ Why did you stop here? ‘’

He couldn’t stop the bitterness and irritation from showing in his tone.

‘’ You didn’t tell me anything so how was I supposed to know where to go? ‘’

You bit back your own need to be bitchy, ‘’ I’m sorry. ‘’

Soobin let out a deep sigh of relief, a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders and a small smile shot to his lips, ‘’ I’m sorry too. But also…I got more pissed off by you not telling me anything, not just the disagreement. ‘’

‘’ I guess it was a good idea to park here then so we can go over the plan. ‘’

He turned off the car and turned to you, waiting for you to tell him what was going on. 

‘’ Currently, Jungwon has been left on read- ‘’

‘’ Not smart, ‘’ he cut in.

‘’ And he’s not being cooperative at all. Like usual he’s just trying to make my life harder than it already is. So I texted Sunghoon but he’s taking a long time to respond. Also, if he’s with Jungwon he’ll probably give the same response as him. ‘’

‘’ Can I ask - is there any reason in particular you’re so adamant on making them come over? You haven’t even slept since everything went down this morning. Are you sure you’re okay? ‘’

‘’ What? Why wouldn’t I be? ‘’

Soobin grimaced and gave you a scolding look.

‘’ You know why, it’s not exactly something normal to cope with. ‘’

‘’ I’m not thinking about that right now because I don’t need to, ‘’ you snapped, biting down on your cheek when you realized the tone had come back.

He watched you silently.

‘’ Remember I told you I was scared they’d go for my parents? ‘’

‘’ Yeah? ‘’ his voice was laced with concern now.

‘’ They have, paid for my mom’s hospital bills so she could get treatment in a private hospital. ‘’

‘’ Did they have anything to do with it? ‘’

You frowned, ‘’ With what? ‘’

‘’ Well…she got bad so suddenly after being pretty stable. ‘’

You hadn’t even considered that possibility. You made a mental note to confront them about that sometime in the future.

Shrugging it off for the moment, you picked up your phone yet again and made sure to reply to Jungwon in case he’d do something bad.

10:01 pm

You: I’d rather die

He answered just as quickly yet again.

Jungwon: oh? 

Jungwon: are you sure about that?

You ignored how it felt like your heart almost stopped. Clearing your throat you pressed on Sunghoon’s name instead, but this time you called him.

‘’ What do you want? ‘’ he picked up pretty fast.

‘’ Where’s Jake? ‘’

You thought it would sound less suspicious than asking for his number like you had with Jungwon.

‘’ Eh…why do you ask? ‘’

‘’ Just want to talk to him. ‘’

A chuckle could be heard from the other side of the line before it was cut off and another voice came on the phone, it was Heeseung.

‘’ Talk to him? Sweetheart, ‘’ he drawled, ‘’ You’ve done nothing but avoid us, and now you suddenly want to talk? ‘’

You swallowed thickly, ‘’ Yes.‘’

‘’ About? ‘’

‘’ What he did to me. ‘’

Heeseung hummed and seemed to think it over. You were about to say something again to catch his attention but it seemed Sunghoon was quicker than you. You assumed the phone was held far away from his mouth as he mumbled something to him.

Then the voice became clearer again when Sunghoon took the phone back and addressed you.

‘’ He’s at the gym Ni-ki and Sunoo train at. ‘’

‘’ Why? ‘’

‘’ They play baseball together sometimes, Sunoo isn’t really into sports so he just watches, ‘’ he answered, sounding a bit surprised by your curious question.

‘’ And where is it? ‘’

‘’ I’ll text you the address. See you soon. ‘’

He hung up on you.

‘’ What did he say? ‘’ Soobin immediately asked.

You saw the text come through at the top with the address like he had said. Turning to Soobin you answered him, ‘’ Not much. ‘’

‘’ Not much? ‘’

‘’ Sunghoon said Jake was at the gym Ni-ki trains at. ‘’

‘’ Alone? ‘’

‘’ No, Sunoo and Ni-ki are also there. ‘’

He cursed under his breath, ‘’ I can’t see how we’re going to take on three guys at the same time! ‘’

‘’ Or more…’’ you mumbled ominously.

‘’ More? What do you mean more? ‘’

‘’ He said he’ll see me soon, probably meaning he and the others will show up too since I’m going there. ‘’

Soobin leaned back against the seat and sighed.

‘’ I guess we have to leave now then before they get there. ‘’

He turned the car on suddenly and pressed on the accelerator. The car jerked forward causing your body to be pressed against the seatbelt. 

Soobin ignored your cries for him to slow down, because it was just a race against the clock now. 

*******

You arrived at the gym around ten minutes later. It was located outside of the city, meaning you hopefully had an advantage in the time it would take to get there.

From the car, you couldn’t see anyone outside. It was a large warehouse-turned-gym with barely any streetlights. Stepping out of the car however, you spotted a dock not too far away where workers seemed to be busy. They were the only ones around and didn’t pay any attention to you and Soobin.

Overall it was a pretty shady area; if you didn’t know Ni-ki and Sunoo’s background you’d question why a guy with such rich friends was going to a gym like that.

‘’ Let’s go. ‘’

Soobin insisted on walking in front, occasionally sticking his arms out protectively whenever he saw a car that looked like it was turning into the area. You tried to go in front of him but he would just pull you back behind him and shake his head determinedly. 

‘’ Soobin, how about you wait outside instead? ‘’ you eventually said, feeling anger bubbling inside of you.

‘’ Okay…but I’m not waiting in the car! ‘’

‘’ Fine, ‘’ you rolled your eyes.

Pushing past him you were just about to open the entrance door when it swung open and Jake almost walked into you. Right before he hit you, his head snapped up, a genuine look of surprise adorning his features.

‘’ Y/n? What are you doing- how did you know I was here? ‘’

You and Soobin looked at each other. They hadn’t told him they were coming? Maybe they weren’t and had just said that to scare you. Or maybe…they were watching from the shadows.

‘’ It doesn’t matter, can you talk? ‘’

He shrugged, ‘’ I was going out for some fresh air anyway. ‘’

Soobin backed away to give you some space, you knew it would just tick Jake off if he saw him being near you.

You dragged Jake in between the gym and another warehouse. It wasn’t quite small enough to be called an alley so Soobin could still see you clearly from where he was standing and you didn’t feel as scared.

‘’ Please come with me, I know you want me for myself and you hate it when the others are near me! ‘’ you spat out immediately and then chewed on your lip, thinking you had been too direct.

His puppy eyes widened. He was a lot more surprised and taken back than you expected. Would he put up a fight instead of coming willingly? You had been so sure he would, with just a few words and nothing else.

‘’ Slow down! Are you in a hurry?

He seemed to have noticed your flickering gaze, alternating between glancing back at Soobin, the gym where Ni-ki and Sunoo were at, and even behind him to see if the others were approaching.

‘’ No- I, oh forget it. Just answer me, do you not want to have me all to yourself? ‘’

An amused smirk spread on his face. The tables had finally turned for him - now you were the one begging for his affection and attention. He remained silent, curious to see what else you’d say if he didn’t give in.

And you did continue speaking rapidly. You gave him the one thing he wanted - the most tempting offer to Jake.

‘’ I’ll…sleep with you. ‘’

It was like everything went quiet, both for you and Jake. Like the birds stopped singing out of distaste for you going against your morals to get that revenge you so desperately wanted; like the wind stopped howling out of disbelief and even like the cars in traffic stopped in their tracks.

‘’ Yes, ‘’ he said breathlessly.

You were already starting to regret it when you saw his eyes darken with lust only at the promise of such unholy things. Disgust flashed across your face before you hooked your arm under his and hurriedly brought him over to Soobin’s car.

‘’ Go! ‘’

He started the car and drove away in a flash, leaving Sunoo and Ni-ki who had stepped outside staring after the car with open mouths and worried expressions. 

While driving onto the highway, you felt eyes on you from the front seat. Soobin was watching you silently, trying to read your expressions to figure out how you did it. Your face was blank, mirroring your thoughts as you felt empty and repulsed by yourself - so instead, his attention drifted to the one sitting next to you in the back of the car.

Immediately when their eyes met, Soobin’s stomach dropped. A feeling that something was wrong, off, or that you had done something he would disapprove of hit him. Jake faced him confidently, with a big grin, telling him that you couldn’t have threatened him much. What have you done?

*******

The atmosphere was weird when the three of you finally arrived at the cabin. After the whole silent car ride, you stepped into the house feeling more with every step that you were making a huge mistake.

‘’ We’ll talk alone for a bit, ‘’ you said to Soobin when you took Jake by the hand and started pulling him towards the staircase.

Hurt flashed across his features, but he only nodded and smiled, going off somewhere to wait and be blissfully unaware of what was likely about to go down.

You avoided looking at Jake on the way up, knowing what facial expression he’d likely wear. It wasn't until you closed the door behind you in a smaller bedroom that you did so at last.

He threw himself on the bed comfortably and his eyes watched you, full of anticipation.

‘’ First, you give me information, then- ‘’ you grimaced and had to look away.

‘’ Then you’ll give me what I want? ‘’

You nodded, throat too dry to say it out loud.

‘’ Yena, ‘’ that was the first thing you could think of asking him about.

‘’ What about her? ‘’ he scoffed with a smile on his face.

‘’ Did she betray me? Is she on your side? ‘’

It took some time before he answered. He was carefully reevaluating if this was actually a choice the rest of the group would be fine with. After all, he could lie about some things and say some truth; then he’d have you, and finally he’d text the guys his location so they could come.

It was too risky to text now though, so after making up his mind for the final time, he was ready to answer your questions.

‘’ She didn’t betray you. But it’s a long and complicated story. ‘’

‘’ Tell me. Everything. ‘’

‘’ Jungwon found out she had a crush on Sunghoon, so he convinced us to try and use that as leverage to get her to spy on you and get close to you. ‘’

‘’ But? ‘’

‘’ She found out about the bullying from eavesdropping and wanted to help the poor girl she heard her brother boast about torturing before even meeting you. That bitch was smarter than we expected, ‘’ he chuckled, ‘’ She pretended to have a crush on Sunghoon, it was never real. All she had to do was give him some looks and get all shy whenever he was at the house and it fooled her brother. ‘’

‘’ Did she hear them talking about using her? ‘’

‘’ Yeah, but even before that she predicted that they might try to. Everyone in Jungwon’s proximity has been forced to help in one way or another, Yena was always next on the list. Only, they hated each other so much that he needed to have some sort of blackmail or something to lure her with. ‘’

‘’ Lure her? ‘’

‘’ Sunghoon promised to date her if she helped us, ‘’

You didn’t answer, because you weren’t really sure how to respond.

‘’ To be honest, I’m not even sure she did it for you. Maybe she just thought it was the perfect opportunity to use the situation with you as a means to bring her brother down. But, I think after some time of being close to you she developed some compassion. ‘’

Your head hung as you felt shame wash over you. So Soobin had been right again. First, you relentlessly suspected him, and now Yena, the only two that have been the most willing to help you.

‘’ How did you find out she tricked you? ‘’

‘’ Most of our parents work at the company, she was stupid to think not a single worker wouldn’t recognize her and rapport it. ‘’

‘’ She was in disguise, kind of. ‘’

‘’ Not a very good one, was it? ‘’

You felt a sour taste in your mouth at the mocking. However, something far more important occupied your thoughts not long after.

‘’ What is going to happen to her then? ‘’

A half-smile appeared on his lips. ‘’ I don’t actually know. Whatever Jungwon sees fit. ‘’

Your eyes bulged and your mouth hung slightly open.

‘’ What no- don’t tell me. ‘’

His face was an answer in itself. You slumped down in defeat on the chair that was standing in the corner of the room.

‘’ Kill her? ‘’ you mumbled, voice shaky.

‘’ Anything else you want to know? ‘’ Jake continued unbotheredly. 

You took some time to think of things, still processing everything else. It felt like it never ended, more and more information that was worse than the last kept piling up throughout the day.

‘’ Did you do something to my mom, ‘’ you carefully began, unsure halfway through the sentence if you wanted to finish it or not.

His eyes narrowed.

‘’ That made her need treatment? ‘’

Jake licked his lips, but his gaze didn’t waver when he responded, ‘’ Yeah. ‘’

‘’ Why? ‘’ you whispered.

Tears that hadn’t yet reached your eyes irritated your throat and made it feel like it was hard to speak.

‘’ Heeseung thought it was the best way to make you act, or come to us. ‘’

‘’ You’re so fucking…evil. ‘’

He didn’t flinch at the harsh words. Maybe he was used to hearing them. Staying on the bed, he kept his distance and gave you some space, not even bothering to try and console you.

Another question popped up when you started burying your face against your knees.

‘’ Are you going to hurt Soobin? ‘’

‘’ Do we have a reason to? ‘’ Jake stilled, ‘’ Do you like him? ‘’

It was easier to lie when he couldn’t see your face, quickly you shook your head.

‘’ Then maybe not, for now. ‘’

‘’ And Yeonjun? ‘’

An amused laugh broke from his lips.

‘’ Oh, that guy! ‘’ he dramatically burst out.

‘’ He won’t be a threat at all, he’s been locked up in his room for hours and refusing to come out. If he actually does at some point, he will be too emotional to do any real damage to us. ‘’

You were thinking of more questions to ask and raised your head to see if you could think of any if you looked at him. It was obvious he was getting impatient. His leg was bouncing up and down and he was partially glaring at you.

When you finally gave him your attention fully, he stood up. With every step that he got nearer, you tried to push yourself as far away as you could while sitting in that chair.

Two arms came down and rested on either sides of the chair, caging you in. You dreaded what would come next.

‘’ Y/n! ‘’

Soobin’s shriek made you jump out of your seat. It sounded serious. With Jake hot on your heel you ran down the stairs and found him in the hallway, looking out of the window next to the door.

‘’ Come, ‘’ he stepped aside so you could go up to the window, ‘’ Doesn’t that look like Sunghoon? ‘’

You practically pressed your face against the cold glass, desperately hoping it wasn’t true. But, just like Soobin had said, you saw a figure followed by one more moving closer and closer right to where you were.

‘’ Is the door locked? ‘’

The door abruptly swung open just then, making you and Soobin jump back while Jake’s face lit up with hope. You had missed one figure; the one who was much closer to the door than the others. 

Through the door came your bullies, one after another except for Ni-ki, Sunoo, and Sunghoon.

Jungwon didn’t waste a second, he approached Jake and - plunged his fist deep into Jake’s abdomen which had him doubled over in pain, head thrown back in a silent scream. He clutched his stomach and slowly raised his head, on his face wasn’t anger but betrayal. 

He moved and his hand slipped a bit, giving you a full view of where he had been hurt. You saw it first - blood. He wasn’t just punched, he was stabbed. The scarlet liquid trickled down onto the white Victorian carpet below, coloring it terrifyingly fast.

But despite that, he looked more psychologically in pain. Crystals of tears had started glossing his big eyes, which held so many unspoken words in them.

Jungwon looked at him blankly at first. Then when the blood had started seeping out and Jake had looked so terrified of him and caught by surprise, not being able to take his eyes off of the friend that betrayed him; he slowly stopped trying to hold back the sinister smile that wanted so badly to adorn his ruby red lips.

This is what you deserve, traitor, he thought, wondering if Jake knew him so well after all those years of being friends that he could see what he was thinking by just looking at him. It was hard of course. Eyes are the windows of the soul, but what if you don’t have one? Or rather, what if it is the soul of the devil?

Jake began shaking his head, digging his heels into the ground to be able to push himself back a little, creating very little distance between him and Jungwon. It amused the psycho, whose smile only grew wider, you think you’re safe?

‘’ I-I was-wasn’t going…to betray you, ‘’ Jake pushed out in between his ragged breaths.

He came closer, eliciting panic to flare up in Jake, making his eyes bulge. But he couldn’t push himself back anymore, he had hit the cabin’s wall behind him.

‘’ I don’t care. You came here only for selfish reasons, ignoring the pact we made, ‘’ Jungwon said sternly, the smile had disappeared. He looked furious now, all that hidden anger coming to the surface. 

‘’ Jay got punished today too when he didn’t tell us about y/n coming over, didn’t you know about that? ‘’ Heeseung added.

Jay shifted uncomfortably in the background, he seemed to have a limp, but it was still nowhere near as bad as the punishment Jake recieved.

‘’ This isn’t the same as with Jay, ‘’ Jungwon started when he noticed Jake’s eyes wandering to him, ‘’ He told us he didn’t do anything with her, and we know out of everyone you would be more likely to. ‘’

Jake sniffled, ignoring how pathetic he looked to the others. He didn’t want to die yet, he was too young. No part of him understood how this happened - he just wanted his friends back, for them to tell him it was going to be okay and take him to the hospital before the time ran out.

His hands reached up to the crouched Jungwon’s legs, grabbing onto the fabric, ‘’ No, please…please don’t do this to me, ‘’ he let the tears he had fought so hard to keep in fall.

Jay stepped forward and Heeseung followed close behind. It was like you were invisible to them, completely uninvolved in the internal friend conflict that had happened. You and Soobin stood a few meters away.

Soobin, when seeing what had happened, pulled you into his arms and turned his body around so you were blocked from seeing your bullies. You cried, shaking against his chest while he tried his best to calm you by stroking your hair slowly. 

His eyes were glued to the scene unfolding in front of him, listening closely to any cues that meant he should get you out of there. The words that were said sounded muffled to you. You weren’t sure if it was due to hearing your heart racing in your ears or being pressed so close to Soobin, either way it blocked out the voices.

You were brought back when you heard Jake’s distressed crying. They hurt Jay? You and Soobin should’ve probably expected that. Jake did tell them about the time he went to the apartment alone so you weren’t sure why you forgot that and assumed any action done alone by the members was completely fine.

Jake shook his head again. Beads of sweat had started to form on his pale forehead. The energy had very quickly drained out of him, likewise the blood that didn’t stop flowing down despite his efforts to put pressure on it with his hands.

‘’ I was going to-to call y-you after. ‘’

Pouring more salt into the wound of betrayal, the group stood up without neither saying another word to him or letting him speak. His cries became louder as his head fell down with a thump on the floor, desperate words begging for saving going ignored while he laid there. His tears mixed with his blood, but it was like he was a ghost to everyone.

Heeseung turned to Soobin who had almost forgotten he was there, so encaptivated and invested in what he was watching. He inhaled sharply through his teeth and stepped back further, forcing you to move. Your head snapped up when your feet seemed to have moved on their own. 

You were so stunned when they came up to you and hooked their arms around Soobin, dragging him away that not a word left your mouth. Paralyzed you stared at them, feeling as if your limbs were unable to support your weight if you tried moving.

‘’ If you want him to live, come to the sleepover. We’ll give you three days. ‘’

With one last look at their friend on the floor, looking quite immobile now - the three of them walked out of the door, not once looking back at him. It was as if he had never existed to them at all.

*******

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[jessicaloons]

Chapter 46:

You play stupid Games, You win stupid Prizes

Masterlist - Previous - Next

"Did you read that?" Charles asked and I looked at his phone.

"He's still gambling? He should just take that Williams seat and this whole mess is over... but no, he and his father are still talking about my goddamn seat like it's vacant!" I rolled my eyes and Charles chuckled a little.

"I can't wait for you to step out in your race suit, Doetterer 2027 on your back, right in his face that your seat is taken for the next 3 years." he sat down on the edge of the bed, and I sat up.

"I honestly don't care about him or his father... I just want to have a good weekend, perform well here at home. I want to make Germany proud. It's been a long time since a German driver won the German GP..." I sighed a little.

"Was Seb the last winner?"

"No, that was Nico in 2014. 10 years ago. Seb wasn't that lucky with Ferrari at the German grand prixs..."

"Oh yeah, true... but this year a German driver from a German team will win." Charles sounded determined and I smiled at him "I have a feeling."

"Yeah? Then let's hope you're feeling is right." I kissed his cheek and got up "And now let's go. I'm hungry." I put on Charles hoodie and we went downstairs, a loud hustling and bustling already awaiting us. Mum, Pascale and Sissy made breakfast, while Dad, Arthur and Daniel, sat at the table talking away. Benji and Liam sat on the floor playing with Arlo.

"Good morning sleeping beauty 1 and sleeping beauty 2."

Daniel was the first noticing us, right as Arlo turned around, over excitedly wagging his tail.

"Morning." I bent down, ruffling Liam and Benji's hair before I scratched Arlos head

"Sit down, sit down, breakfast will be ready any minute." Mum said from the kitchen and I plopped down next to Arthur.

"I guess you've seen the latest chapter in the never-ending Sainz to Audi saga?" Dad asked and I sighed a little.

"This weekend it will be over. He can watch Lizzie walk out in her race suit, announcing her contract renewal, Audi will put out the statement and he has to say yes to Williams, if he doesn't want to be seatless next season." Charles said and Dad nodded.

"I honestly don't get what Carlos problem was with you, Lizzie? Like seriously? He was a funny bloke, one of the guys? Nice one. But you and him? That just didn't work out." Daniel said and I shrugged my shoulders.

"He didn't like that Lizzie was better than him." Charles stated simply but I shook my head

"No, I think it all started when I was speaking out against Ferrari, mostly Mattia's way of handling you guys. And that I openly said that you are the better driver and fight for the championship and your team should fully support you. I think that was what made him furious... and from then on... well we all saw what happened."

"Yeah but everything you said was true!" Arthur said and Daniel nodded slightly.

"He's playing a dangerous game though, publicly talking about the Audi seat, not even mentioning the interest of the other teams? Basically saying he only waits for the right offer from Audi? He'll end up with no seat for next year."

"Is it a dangerous game or just a stupid game?" Charles shrugged his shoulders.

"I guess we'll see..."

"Nervous?" Elijah asked and I hesitated for a moment.

"I honestly don't know. I mean, it's Hockenheim, I know this track better than any other track. I raced there so often, I tested for Audi there so many hours, that would fill 10 full races. I raced here in F3, F2. The WSeries. Not to mention all the times I tested various cars there... but this time I race here in Formula 1? My dream comes to life... so yeah, sure I'm kinda nervous because I want to win this race and put myself under a lot of pressure. But I'm also super excited, because it's my home race that I race in freaking Formula 1." I replied, watching Dad joke with Charles, Daniel and Lorenzo.

"And today you're kicking off the race week with a nice family barbecue?"

"Yeah kinda, it's been a long time that we've all been here together. And now we added Daniel to the family, which means it's getting even louder around here." I joked right when said driver joined us at the table.

"I heard my name from my little sister?" he wiggled his eyebrows, pinching my side and I rolled my eyes laughing.

"I just said the neighbours will complain now that we added you to the family and our little backyard hangouts will be way louder than before." I chuckled and he nodded.

"Big possibility, not gonna lie."

"They survived all of you screaming and shouting after the world cup final 2014... I guess they can handle Daniel." Mum laughed and put down a salad bowl.

"Oh come on! We just won the title! Of course we freaked out a little bit!" Dad said from the barbecue and I nodded.

"A little bit? You and Hervé had fireworks! Fireworks! In July! In Germany!" Mum said and I laughed, thinking back to that day.

"It was an amazing evening! Come on!" Charles threw in, as he sat down next to me.

"Two semi-drunk men handling firework, they probably purchased illegally, in a backyard full of people and flammable things?" Pascale looked at him pointedly.

"We were careful!" Dad stated.

"Oh yeah? You two lit up one of these stick things and then, while it was already burning you read on it that you're not supposed to hold it in your hands but stick it in the ground!"

"Well... that was unfortunate. But nothing happened! We just shot these sparkly fireballs at each other." Dad shrugged.

"Seems like you guys had some good times together in the past?" Elijah smiled and I nodded.

"The best! Dad and Hervé always came up with the craziest, most random things out of the blue." I laughed and squeezed Charles hand under the table.

"They said they were brothers from another mother." he said and Pascale nodded.

"Yeah. Both grown ups with the mind of two little boys sometimes."

"Not gonna argue with that." Dad mumbled and we laughed.

"Good old times." Lorenzo said and I nodded.

"Yeah. Good old times indeed."

The moment we arrived at the Hockenheimring my mind was blown. A sea of German flags were waved everywhere. For the first time ever there where more fans waiting for me than for Charles. I was overwhelmed with the amount of people chanting my name.

"Look how they love you." Charles said, opening the door and I got out of the car.

"This is crazy!" I mumbled.

"No, its not. It's what you deserve! You deserve to be here, now and forever. This is your home. These are your people.

And look at how much they love you." he took my hand and pulled me towards the fence "Come on. They're all waiting for you, cara mia!"

I didn't know where to start, who to look at first, the amount of people cheering me on was overwhelming. I took more selfies than at all races combined before as it felt, signed team kits, flags, poster, caps and what not. My wrists were full of new bracelets, hands full of gifts.

"Thank you so much!" I hugged the girl who handed me a scratch book, after explaining to me that’s it’s a book with fan letters from girls around the world, thanking me for being their role model and writing how me being in F1 changed their life’s "This means so much to me! What’s your insta name! I want to post it and tag you! I mean if that’s okay for you?"

"Yes! Of course! I made it together with my best friend, she can’t be here unfortunately." the girl replied, typing down her Instagram name in my phone "We both hope that you’re winning this weekend! And if not you, then Charles!"

"I will try my very best!" I chuckled and took back my phone, when Charles tapped my shoulder "Thanks again for the book!"

I waved one last time to the crowd and then followed Charles to the gates, the book pressed tightly to my chest.

"Cara mia." Charles nodded towards a little girl, covered in Audi merch, hiding behind her father's legs.

I handed Charles the book and several other gifts and slowly walked towards the father daughter duo.

"Hi." I smiled at her and she gripped her dad's leg tighter.

"Maddie, come on, say hi to Lizzie." he cooed and the little girl, Maddie, carefully stepped around his legs. I immediately kneeled down, smiling at her.

"Hi Maddie, my name is Lizzie." I said, stretching out my hand and she hesitantly shook it.

"I know who you are." she said quietly "I'm a huge fan."

"Thank you, that really means a lot." I smiled.

"Maddie started karting 2 years ago after she saw you debut in F1." her dad said, and I looked up at him "She said if you can make it into F1 with only men, she can start karting with the boys."

"And you are absolutely right! Just because you're the only girl doesn't mean that you shouldn't do it! When I started karting, I also was the only girl, for a really long time actually, but it never stopped me."

"And now you're in Formula 1." she said.

"And now I'm in Formula 1."

"I think you will win this weekend, or at least I hope so."

"I will try my very best." I smiled and Maddie poked her dad's leg.

"Oh yeah, umm- can I take a picture of you two?" he asked and I nodded

"Of course." I smiled waving the girl over.

"Can you sign my cap as well?" she asked as soon as her dad gave us the thumbs up.

"Sure." I took the sharpie from her dad's hand and signed the cap "Here, all done."

"Thank you! And good luck this weekend!" she smiled and I nodded.

"Can I get a good luck hug?" I asked and she nodded excitedly and hugged me "Thank you." I got up and waved her and her dad goodbye when Charles lead me away, towards the hospitalities.

"You're so loved here, I honestly wished it was like this everywhere..." he said and I nodded a little.

"Yeah, it's really a total new feeling."

"You deserve it." he kissed my cheek and we stopped in front of the Audi hospitality "See you later? I'll pick you up and we can go together to the press conference."

"Alright." I took my gifts from him and kissed him goodbye, then walked inside where Julie was waiting for me.

"The crowd loves you!" she smiled and I put down the gifts.

"They really do, I have a feeling that this weekend we'll shoot something special." Elijah said and I flinched a little.

"I completely forgot about you." I mumbled and he laughed.

"We stayed behind, just filmed you without you even knowing we were there."

"Can you do that the whole weekend like that?" I asked and Julie laughed.

"That’s our plan. You’ll not even know that we’re here." he said and I sighed a little.

"Well, yeah, let's hope so."

"Welcome to round 13 here at Hockenheim, home gp of two of our drivers and teams. Today we're having hometown hero's Lizzie Doetterer, Audi and Nico Hülkenberg, Haas, with us, as well as Charles Leclerc, Scuderia Ferrari, Max Verstappen, Red Bull Racing and Daniel Ricciardo, Racing Bulls. I start with you Lizzie. First time racing in F1 on home turf, how are you feeling?" Tom Clarkson started the press conference, and I took the microphone.

"I'm excited, nervous, overwhelmed, yeah too much to put into words. When I was younger I watched some of the best drivers race this track and dreamed that one day I would be one of them and here I am." I answered and Charles next to me smiled.

"How does it feel, seeing all those German flags being waved, all those people in Audi merch?"

"It's just amazing. I never felt this much support ever before and it makes me more than excited to finally race here."

"You always said that Hockenheim is the track you know the best, the track you race better than any other track. Do you think it gives you a little advantage, that you know this track so well, raced here more often then most other drivers on the grid?"

"It's no disadvantage, that's for sure, but honestly, on other tracks I only raced once before I had to do it in F1, on others I've never raced before. It's like this in F1 sometimes. And nowadays with the simulators you can race as often as you want on every track, so yeah."

"Alright, let's continue with you Nico, another hometown hero." Clarkson looked at Nico and began his interview with him, then continued with Max, Daniel and lastly Charles.

"Charles, you said that Lizzie will make a big step forwards this weekend and will be one of the main threats."

"I've seen her progress over the last races, she was always close to the win, collected podium after podium, and now we're here at Hockenheim, the track she can race blindly... which she did, by the way, and Audi brought a new set of updates? Yeah, she definitely will be one of the main threats this weekend."

"You raced here with a blindfold?" Max asked me and I laughed.

"No! It was only in the simulator, a couple of years ago!" I replied and he laughed.

"And? Did you make it?"

"She did, she was only 3 seconds slower than me." Charles answered and Max looked impressed.

"Not bad."

"Alright. Let's open this up to questions from the floor. As always, please state your name and publication first." Clarkson looked into the crowd of reporters and picked the first question.

Most of the first ones were for Nico and me, how we felt about finally racing back in Germany. If Hockenheim should be permanently on the race calendar. Then the questions switched to Max and Charles and their close battle for the championship.

"Question for Lizzie. You brought a whole set of updates, how do you think they will be working?"

"Well the weather got a bit in our way to fully say how they will work out with heavy rains on the forecast for the whole weekend. So we will have to wait what we can do under this rough conditions." I say honestly.

"But you're usually really good in the rain and love a rough track?" he countered and I laughed.

"Well, yeah, but I’m usually liking it not that rough." I answered.

"News to me." Charles mumbled, not directly into his microphone, but still loud enough to get caught and the silence was loud in the room.

I looked at him with wide eyes and he sat there, petrified. The shock what he just had said evident on his face.

"So a freak in the streets and a freak in the sheets. Lucky you, Charles" Daniel laughed and I blushed.

The whole room erupted in laughter and Charles just facepalmed and mouthed a 'sorry' to me. I silently prayed for Clarkson to end the press conference and when he did I was the first one to leave, taking a deep breath as soon as I was outside.

"I’m so, so sorry, cara mia! I swear I didn’t expect the microphone to catch that." Charles followed me and held me by the waist, looking at me "It was more a joke to myself and… god I’m so sorry."

"You‘re not… you‘re grinning!" I pushed him off and he chuckled.

"Because it was kinda funny! Freaking embarrassing, but funny!" Charles pouted a little and I rolled my eyes.

"Everyone laughed and had a blast, come on mate." Max laughed, appearing right behind Charles and I glared at him "Okay. Sorry. I’m scared of your girl…" he then whispered to Charles.

"Kids, kids! Come on. It was a joke, we all laughed. Nothing bad happened." Daniel said and Charles nudged my shoulder a little "Well, nothing bad happened yet… if I’d be you, Charlie boy, I’d be scared to walk back to the paddock, where Pops will wait…"

"What?" Charles stopped grinning in an instant and swallowed hard.

"What you said? About his perfect, little girl? His princess? I wouldn’t want to be in your skin." Daniel walked off with a satisfied smile on his lips and Charles looked at me.

"Pops will laugh about it, right? He knows it was a joke?"

"I don’t know… not so sure…" now I chuckled and grabbed his hand "Come on, let’s see."

"Lizzie!" he whined and I laughed even louder.

"Oh come on, it was just a joke, you said it yourself…" I pulled him with me and as soon as we spotted Dad sitting outside the Audi hospitality, playing with Arlo, Charles slowed down.

"Look who’s there!" Dad unbuckled the leash from Arlo’s harness and he bolted off, straight into us and I bent down, scratching his ears.

"Hello my good boy. Did you play with Pops a little?" I cooed and followed him back to where Dad was sitting, Charles staying a little behind.

"So, how is it being here?" Dad asked me and I sat down, shrugging my shoulders.

"It’s normal, I guess?" I said, watching Charles take a tentative step towards us, still looking at Dad.

"Pete is confident that the upgrades will work out."

"Yeah, they all are, I guess we have to wait and see, no?" I picked up Arlo, sitting him down in my lap, when Dad turned to Charles.

"And what about you?"

"Me?" Charles asked nervously.

"Yeah, your car was lacking straight line speed in Silverstone? Did you fix that problem?"

"Oh… umm yeah, yeah, the team is confident that they fixed this issue." he sounded slightly relieved, letting out a deep breath, sitting down next to me, still a little fidgety.

"You okay there, Charles? Rough night?" Dad asked and Charles eyes widened.

"It was a joke! A stupid joke! I’m so, so sorry!" he blurted out and Dad bursted out laughing.

"Boy, I never saw you sweating like that." he shook his head, still laughing.

"I’m really sorry." Charles mumbled and Dad got up, patting his shoulder.

"It’s alright, Charlie boy." he said and walked inside.

"Why do I feel like he’s secretly planning something?" Charles mumbled and I shrugged.

"Because he probably is…"

"Very comforting, thank you."

"Always."

Another day, another sea of German flags, Audi shirts and caps and poster of me were greeting us when we stepped out of the car and I couldn't stop the big grin forming on my lips. I zipped my jacket close and put the hood on, trying to stay dry.

"Excited?" Charles asked and I nodded.

"I think I was never this excited for FP1 ever before.. " I laughed and he pulled me to his side, kissing my temple.

"Same, same." he chuckled, dropping me off at my hospitality "Have a good session."

"You too." I smiled, climbing up the stairs.

"Lizzie?" Julie held the door open for me and I walked inside, the whole team standing around a table and I followed her inside.

"What's going on?" I asked when Pete and Valtteri stepped aside, revealing a cake.

In big red letters DOETTERER 2027 carefully piped on.

"Congrats on your contract renewal!" Valtteri said and I hugged him.

"Thank you, Valtteri! But where are you going? I mean... with Nico coming?" I whispered.

"It's all good, little one. I talked to Felix the moment I got a new offer, that’s when he contacted Nico…" he said and I looked at him "I’m going back to Mercedes, for one year and then it’s time to retire."

"Wait… what?"

"Toto called me as soon as Lewis told him. With Kimi Antonelli Mercedes has a good driver for the future, but he needs more experience, 2025 is too early for him, so I’ll take over for one year."

"But why retire? You still have some good years ahead of you!"

"Because it’s time. One day, you just feel it." he nudged my shoulder a little and smiled "And now come on… let’s have a piece of cake and then go into the car!"

"Okay…" I nodded slowly and stepped closer to the table.

"Speech! Speech! Speech!" Matt and some of my mechanics began to chant and I chuckled, shaking my head.

"Okay, okay, okay! Honestly I don’t have much to say, just that I’m grateful for every single one of you! You are the best team I could’ve ever ended up in. You always believe in me and have my back, support me no matter what. Today we celebrate us, this team. Thank you guys!" I said, smiling at my team and Felix pulled me close to his side.

"Alright everyone! Let’s have some cake!" he said and then turned to me "And then get out there and have some fun."

I sat on the sofa, mindlessly scratching Arlo’s head in my lap, not listening to the conversations around me.

"Cara mia?" Charles squeezed my thigh and I looked up from my lap "Come on, eat something."

"I’m not hungry." I mumbled, looking back down.

"Hey, look at me." he scooted closer, gently grabbing my chin, turning my head "It wasn’t your fault… you couldn’t do anything. You were amazing in FP1, okay? We all saw how good you were! And what happened in FP2? It was out of your hands, until the crash you were the fastest on mediums! No one could match your pace, not even on softs!"

"Yeah but I crashed out, Charles!" I groaned and he sighed.

"No you didn’t! Logan crashed out and took you out as well an-…"

"I could’ve reacted quicker! Go around him, just do something to avoid the crash!" I interrupted him.

"No, no you could not, okay? Stop bashing yourself. It’s not your fault, end of the story." Charles looked at me pointedly and after a moment I sighed and nodded a little "Now, would you please eat something?"

"Yeah…" I sat Arlo down next to me and grabbed my fork.

"Thank you." Charles kissed my cheek and I took a bite of my salad.

"Tomorrow’s a new day, don’t beat yourself up too much." Dad said and I nodded again.

"I just wanted this to be the perfect weekend, you know? No mistakes. Good results. So that when the contract renewal is announced on Sunday no one doubts it…" I sighed.

"And you still can do it! Today was unfortunate, but it wasn’t your fault! Tomorrow you’ll come back stronger." Charles looked at me determined.

"I hope you’re right…"

"I am. You’ll see…"

Pole position. Freaking pole position. I cheered into the radio. Not understanding what Pete said for the first few seconds.

"You did it, little one! P fucking 1! Wooohooo! We’re all so proud of you!" his voice rang in my ears and I laughed.

"Let’s fucking go, guys! The car was on fire!"

"It really was!"

"Where’s Charles? Valtteri?" I asked, hoping to hear some good results.

"P2 and P4. Amazing job from you guys!"

I parked my car in the P1 spot and jumped out, running towards my team, celebrating our first pole in a while.

"Amazing job, little one!" Pete patted my back.

"What a lap!" Felix shouted.

"Thanks guys!" I high fived everyone when a pair of arms engulfed me from behind.

"What an amazing lap, cara mia!" Charles muffled voice behind me.

I turned around and opened my visor, his eyes already on mine. He pulled me towards the tables and I took my helmet off, followed by my balaclava, wiping my face.

"POLE SITTER!" Daniel yelled, storming our way, hugging me tight "Good job, Lizzie!"

"Thanks Danny." I smiled, seeing Pierre making his way to us.

"You so going to win tomorrow!" his first words as soon as he pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Don't jinx it!" I laughed and slapped his arm.

"I don't! It's just an honest opinion!" he chuckled and walked off.

"Lizzie?" an F1 official smiled at me and I nodded, taking the microphone from him.

"Lizzie! Congratulations on your pole! What an amazing qualifying session! Talk us through your pole lap." Nico Rosberg smiled his 10.000 mega watt smile at me and I took a deep breath, seeing all the Germany flags being waved behind him in the grandstand.

"Honestly, I just pushed, pushed, pushed. I knew that the rain would come any minute back and thought to myself that I just have to go full throttle. And it worked out perfectly."

"That it did. What do you think is possible in the race, can you win tomorrow, as the first German driver in a long time?"

"You mean as the first German driver after your last win here?" I chuckled and he nodded laughing "I think if we can maximise our race pace, have a good and clean start, a lot is possible."

"You're driving with a special livery this weekend, and I noticed a very interesting detail on your car and helmet..." Nico pointed at the hood of my car and I smiled, looking at the large 7.

"I wanted to pay tribute to not just this amazing track, because it's a shame that we don't have this track in the race calendar every season, but also go a little deeper. Germany and F1 belong together, and that's because of the amazing German F1 driver's of the past, but also the present. After waiting for this race for so long, I wanted to have every single German F1 driver with me, so yeah. I wanted to pay tribute to the guys who represented Germany so well in Formula 1, so yeah there's you, Seb, Timo, Nico but also some less known names, but still important. And of course, the Schumachers. Ralf and Michael, who was my hero growing up and I'm sure of so many others as well, he gave so much to this sport, he’s a legend, and also Mick, who should be driving on this track with me tomorrow, he didn’t get the chance he deserved back in Haas and I hope that changes in the future." I said proudly and Nico nodded.

"What a beautiful gesture. I think I speak for everyone who's on your car and helmet, when I say thank you so much, it means a lot." his voice was wavering a little and I squeezed his arm.

"I hope you like the photo of you that I chose." I laughed, to brighten the mood again and he smiled.

"I have to check it out, but honestly, every photo would be great, just because of the gesture. For now, I wish you all the best and good luck for tomorrow."

"Thanks, Nico." I handed my microphone to Charles who smiled brightly at me, then walked off to Julie, who was already waiting for me.

"Good job, Lizzie." she smiled and I followed her to the media pen "I need to take some pictures of you in your new race suit for tomorrow."

"Okay..." I sighed and she chuckled.

"Just a few quick shots, that's all I need."

"Okay.." I repeated and she playfully rolled her eyes.

"Thank you! And now smile, your on pole for your home race!"

"Yep, that I am." a big smile on my face again, when I read the text from Seb.

I woke up earlier than usually. Got up and took a quick shower, getting ready for the day. Then I waited for Charles to wake up. Breakfast went by in a blur and the drive to the track was even faster. All the fans around cheering for me, wishing me good luck, telling me that I would win, made me smile. I was getting more and more excited and when I walked inside my drivers room and looked at the race suit, the excitement bubbled up even more. The German flag in stripes down the arms and legs, my name on the back as well coloured in the German flag, paired with the 2027. All black. It looked dangerous. Our designer team really did an amazing job.

"Come on, fireproofs on and then let me braid your hair…" Mum smiled at me and I nodded, going on with my usual race day routine "We’re all so proud of you, Lizzie. So incredibly proud! Pole position, new contract, high chances of a win. And that all here at Hockenheim…"

"Oh Mum stop! Don’t cry!" I chuckled and she wiped away a tear, smoothing down my hair, combing through it "It’s a weekend like any other!"

"But it’s not! I’ve never seen so many people supporting you! Screaming your name! Finally you get the recognition you deserve." a soft smile on her lips "It just makes me so happy to see you happy."

"Oh Mum…" I turned around and hugged her.

"Okay, come on now. Silly me. Let’s get you ready and then present that beautiful race suit!" she wiped her tears away and braided my hair.

I checked as always that they weren’t too tight, moved my head around and gave her the thumbs up.

"Alright. I’ll wait outside for you." she kissed my cheek and left.

I turned around, grabbing the suit from the hanger and put it on, leaving the top unzipped pooling around my waist.

"Liz? You decent?" JK knocked at the door and I opened up "Ready for a little warm-up?"

He walked inside, a big grin on his lips, looking at my race suit.

"I'm so freaking excited to see Sainz' face." he laughed, and I chuckled a little.

"I just have to deliver as well... then it's a lethal punch in the guts." I shrugged my shoulders a little and he nodded.

"You'll do great, and now come on, let me get you ready." he clapped his hands, and got up "Okay, first your back and then some agility."

We started the warm-up routine and JK watched me carefully, every little hiss or frown was noted, and the exercise immediately adjusted. After 30 minutes I got up from the mat on the floor and took a big sip from my water bottle.

"I think I can win this today…" I said after a while and JK nodded.

"I think so too. You worked so hard the last weeks. You’ll start from pole. This is your win today." he smiled "And now let’s go, it’s time to show the world who‘s driving for Audi the next 3 seasons to come."

"Who‘s that? Oh right… ME!" I laughed and he chuckled.

"Come on now."

"Aye, aye captain." I saluted and he rolled his eyes, pushing me away gently.

I looked outside, the sky grey, light rain falling.

"Lizzie? It’s time." Pete looked at me and I took a deep breath.

"Alright, let's do this." I took one last sip of water and then turned to Julie, a big smile on her face.

"We'll let you walk out, stand with Nico in front of the entire grid, everyone will see the 2027 and right then I will post the official announcement." she said and I nodded, pulling my race suit up.

"How does it look?" I asked her and she gave me the thumbs up.

"Freaking amazing." Charles said behind me and I turned around "You look gorgeous."

"Oh stop. I'm just wearing a race suit..." I chuckled and he grabbed me by the waist pulling me into him.

"Yeah, I can see that, but it's your smile that's so captivating..." he kissed me, and I heard some of my mechanics hollering "Ready to kick some asses and let some jaws drop to the floor?"

"Hell yes!" I said and he smiled, taking my hand, leading me outside.

The first moments nothing much happened, but with every step I took further down the grid, a murmuring was going around. I saw the cameras filming us, Charles grinned, and some mechanics from other teams pointing at my back. And then I looked up at the big screen, showing my back, flashing the message out for everyone to see and the crowd cheered even louder.

"Seems like the crowd likes it..." Charles nudged me gently and I nodded, looking up at the screen again, where I looked in my face, a big smile on my lips.

"Urgh...stop filming my face." I chuckled and turned slightly, looking for the camera man.

"Stop whining, this is your moment!" Charles whispered and pushed me towards Nico, who already waited for me.

"Ready?" he asked and I nodded, walking in front of the rest of the grid to stand on the marked spot for us.

"It’s so weird… I’m used to stand somewhere behind… not in the middle with all eyes on me, or us…" I mumbled and he chuckled.

"It’s just for the anthem, you will survive." he said, then grinned "Oh, and congrats, team mate." he nudged my shoulder and I chuckled a little.

As soon as we both stood on our designated spots and Nico took off his cap the German national anthem started playing and we both sang along. For the first time today I felt the nervousness overcoming me, felt the tingling in my hands. This was it. This was it. The day I dreamed of for so many years. I would race in Formula 1 at Hockenheim. I saw the marching band preparing for the anthem and closed my eyes, for a moment, soaked it all in. With the beginning of the anthem I opened my eyes, starting to sing along. I never felt this pride in my life and the atmosphere was buzzing.

The next moments all happened in a blur. I walked back to my garage, did some last stretches, looked over the data once more, then it was time. Mum, Dad, Sissy, Liam, Marcus and Benji looked at me. All smiling. All looking proud.

"My sweet girl, we're all so, so proud of you!" Mum hugged me and I smiled

"We had that already today, Mum." I chuckled and she pulled awa, sniffling lightly.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry!" she whispered and managed to smile a little.

"Come here, my little owl." Dad pulled me in another bear hug "Kick their asses, Lizzie. Show them how good you really are." he whispered and I nodded.

"I'll try my best." I whispered back, then he pulled me away and next Sissy, then Marcus hugged me.

"We're proud of you."

"You'll win this."

"Only if my two little lads hug me!" I smiled at my nephews and both hugged me in an instant.

"Good luck, Lizzie!" Benji chirped.

"I know that you'll win!" Liam smiled brightly.

"Thank you guys so much!" I kissed their heads and then waved one last time.

Then I turned around, following JK out on the grid.

"Lizzie! Lizzie!" Martin Brundle caught up to us and I smiled at him "Woman of the hour. Pole setter, contract renewal, maybe race winner?"

"I will try my very best to achieve it." I replied and he smiled.

"3 more years with Audi, what a way to announce it, here, in front of your home crowd."

"They don't say for nothing there's no place like home, you know."

"Very well said. And I'm being honest with you, I'm rooting for you today. No better way to celebrate your contract renewal than with a home race win. Good luck out there!"

"Thanks, Martin!" he squeezed my shoulder and then hurried off, right when we arrived at my car.

"This is it. The moment you've been waiting for." JK smiled and I looked up at the sky for a moment. Watched the clouds brighten up a little.

"This is it. Indeed." I smiled and saw Charles coming over.

"Ready for it?" he smiled.

"Baby, let the race begin."

Charles chuckled and then hugged me one last time, kissing my temple.

"You can do it. We all believe in you. You'll win this race today!" he whispered and I nodded.

"I see you next to me then?"

"Oh hell yes." he nudged my chin gently and then walked back to his car, getting ready himself.

"Liz?"

I turned around, taking my balaclava first and then my helmet from JK, putting both on. Then I climbed in the car, got buckled and strapped in, put my gloves on and waited lastly for my steering wheel. A sense of calmness was washing over me and I felt myself smiling. This was my home. This was my win.

"Ready?" Matt signaled me and I gave him the thumbs up.

"Ready."

I never felt this at one with my car. It was almost like the car and my brain were connected and whatever I thought, the car reacted immediately. I was like in a tunnel, my whole surroundings faded away and it was only me, my car and the track. It felt like I heard Pete for the first time in hours when he told me that I should bring it home.

"Last lap?" I asked, almost flabbergasted.

"Last lap, Lizzie." he radioed back and I couldn't believe it.

"Already?"

"Already.. you were flying." he chuckled.

I breezed past Sachs, into turn 13 and 14, next into turn 15 and lastly into the Südkurve, watching the grandstand, a sea of black, red and yellow. I spotted the checkered flag and it was done. I won. Hockenheim.

"YOU DID IT!" Pete screamed "PHENOMENAL JOB, LIZZIE!"

"I won..." my voice barely a whisper.

"Yes you did! You won!"

"FUCKING HELL I WON!" I yelled.

"We're all so proud of you, little one! Amazing race!"

"Thank you guys so much! This is our win. All the hard work every single one poured into this made us win today!"

"It was you, who won today!" Felix radioed "You drove brilliantly, Lizzie."

"Thanks Felix, for everything."

"We're so proud of you, little one."

"Where's Valtteri?"

"P4. We earned a big chunk of points today. Well done!" I was overwhelmed. I won. Hockenheim. My mind went into autopilot. I parked the car in the middle spot. Unbuckled my seatbelt and headrest. Unclipped my steering wheel and climbed out. The crowd chanting. My name. Unbelievable. On shaky legs I jumped into my team. Celebrated our victory.

Watched my family celebrating my win.

"YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT! YOU WON!" Liam and Benji chirped and I hugged them both, jumping up and down.

"We're so proud of you. You were amazing!" Dad patted my helmet and I saw Mum wiping away some tears.

"Mum! Enough tears, come on!" I chuckled and she nodded.

"Go! Celebrate!" she smiled, looking behind me and without even turning around I knew who she was looking at.

I pulled my helmet off and turned around, Charles. Helmet already off. Wearing his biggest, most adorable smile. His eyes sparkling, looking at me. I pulled my balaclava off and sprinted towards him, not caring for a single moment what people would say, and jumped into his arms.

"You won, cara mia! I'm so proud of you!" he whispered, hugging me tight and the moment he pulled away slightly, I captured his lips in a searing kiss.

The world faded to nothing. Only Charles and I. And after what felt like ages my head started to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen and I slowly pulled away.

"I love you." I breathed out and Charles smile made my heart go faster.

"In front of everyone? What's gotten into you?" he chuckled and I smiled sheepishly.

"I don't give a fuck anymore. I have a seat for the next 3 years in the best team. I won my home race. I have the best family and friends. And I have you. Why would I care about anyone else anymore?"

"I love you, my crazy girl." he whispered against my lips and kissed me again, right when someone cleared their throat, making us pull away.

"I really don't want to interrupt..."

"No, its fine..." I laughed, taking the microphone.

"Lizzie! Congrats on your win here today! What a race. At no time your win was in danger. How do you feel, after winning your home race?" Nico Rosberg asked and I took a deep breath, looking up at the crowd, the sea of German flags, the people chanting my name.

"I'm speechless. Seriously. I'm overwhelmed with it all... I was the whole race like in a tunnel. Just kept doing my thing. I think I never spoke this little with Pete during a race."

"You were genuinely surprised when your race engineer told you that it was the last lap?"

"Yeah, because I was so freaking focused. I swear I don't even know anymore when I pitted! It was all one big blur." I chuckled a little.

"You did amazing. Congratulations. You made all of Germany proud today, am I right?" Nico turned to the crowd and the chanting got even louder "Congratulations again, Lizzie, what an unbelievable race!"

"Thanks Nico." I smiled, handing Charles the microphone and followed the F1 official to the cool down room.

I put my helmet down, grabbed a bottle of water and sat down, closing my eyes. All the emotions almost bubbling over. I still couldn't believe it. I won Hockenheim.

"There she is, my race winner." Charles walked in and I smiled "How does it feel? Winning your home race?"

"Umm... freaking amazing? Overwhelming? Fucking awesome?" I laughed and he nodded "You kept Max behind you then?" I looked at him, when a replay of the race start was shown.

"Yeah, wasn't easy though." he shrugged, right when Max walked in.

"There she is. Home GP winner." he smiled and hugged me "What a race. I think I saw you at the start the only time the whole race."

"Our pace was out of this world today." I nodded when I watched another replay on the screen. Sainz going wide off track. I couldn't stop the grin from forming.

"Come on now, lets get your trophy!" Charles pulled me out of my chair, then he grabbed something out of his helmet and threw it around my shoulders, I looked down. A German flag.

"It's your home race! Let's go, don't let your crowd wait." he pushed me towards the door and I braced myself one last time, then stepped outside.

I climbed up the highest step, the sun breaking through the cloudy sky, the crowd chanting my name. I did it. I really did it. I watched Michael, one of our head strategists walk outside, hugging me again, taking his place on the right. Next came Charles, then Max. I took off my cap and looked up in the sky as the German anthem played. Charles smiled up at me proudly and I couldn’t contain the smile on my own face. The crowd singing along our anthem. Dad, Pete and Felix all together screaming it from the top of their lungs. Liam and Benji waving and clapping. I felt invincible. The moment the anthem stopped I prepared myself to lift up the most important trophy of my life so far. I held the German flag together, taking the trophy from Stefano Domenicali, who congratulated me and stepped aside. The moment I lifted the trophy over my head the crowd erupted. It was almost deafening. I sat my trophy down, waving at Liam and Benji when Les Toreadors started playing and I felt myself getting soaked in champagne from 3 sides. I managed to grab my bottle and spray a little champagne myself before we toasted our bottles together.

"Cheers to Lizzie!" Charles smiled at me and I took a swig of champagne, immediately scrunching up my nose.

We all huddled together to take the photos and I felt like I would never stop smiling. All the way down the podium, back to the garage where every single one of my team hugged me, to my family doing the same. The smile on my face only getting bigger and bigger. I even enjoyed the interviews and the press conference for once, even joked around.

"Go back to your team now, and later on, we’re going to celebrate!" Charles kissed me one last time and I cocked an eyebrow.

"Where are we going?"

"You’ll see. And now go!" he pushed me up the stairs of the Audi hospitality, laughing when I turned around and stocked out my tongue "GO!"

I shook my head and walked inside, the team already celebrating.

"I heard that Charles planned a party?" Felix looked at me and I shrugged my shoulders.

"I have no idea. Honestly."

"There is still one last race before the summer break next week…" I could see how he was fighting off a big smile and made my best puppy eyes.

"Only a ittle partying? Pretty please?" I pouted and Felix laughed.

"Just a little!" he said and I cheered.

"Let’s fucking gooo!"

It was like I was floating on cloud 9 the next days. After a big hangover for the half of Monday, the big smile on my face returned immediately back. I won Hockenheim. My home race. One more race and it was summer break. Life couldn’t be better. Only the weather didn’t pass the vibe check. Still heavy rains. Still grey skies. Spa would be another battle in the rain.

"Lizzie, how do you feel? After winning your home gp, seeing how good the updates worked?" Lawrence Barretto asked.

"Honestly, it still feels a little unreal. I mean it was an incredible, unbelievable feeling. The atmosphere was great, the fans were amazing. It was overall one of my best weekends in F1 so far for me." I replied with a big smile.

"Spa is, after Hockenheim of course, one of your favourite tracks, do you think the updates will work on this track as well?"

"I’m confident that the car will do great here as well, yes."

"There has been a lot of… different opinions about your contract renewal, what do you say to the people, thinking you don’t deserve a seat in F1?"

"I did the talking on track. I won a race, three in total in my third season in a midfield to slightly top team. While others in top teams won their first race in their sixth season. That’s all I have to say."

"Thank you Lizzie and good luck this weekend."

"Thanks." I smiled and walked off,

"Subtle." Julie chuckled and I shrugged.

"He could’ve just shut the f up and not comment on it. I just won my home race and instead of saying that he’s happy for me. Or just laugh and say good for her. No he had to say that it leaves him worried for Sainz, because he hoped that he would get my seat to make him stay in F1… he can fuck right off." I said, raising my voice at the end when I spotted the very person of my rage.

"Yeah, he should’ve just kept quiet. But you know him…" Julie sighed and we walked towards the exit.

"Yeah. Doesn’t make it better."

"I know. Let’s go. Ignore him." she lead me outside and for a brief moment Norris looked up, his eyes on mine, but I looked away and kept walking.

"I guess I have to do the talking on track again this weekend." I mumbled, and Julie nodded.

"That you do! And you show everyone that you deserve this seat more than Sainz does. Period."

"Oh 100 %."

"Hey Mr. Pole sitter." I smiled at Charles when he unlocked the car, ushering me inside "Not gonna lie. That lap was sexy."

"Oh come one, silly girl." he laughed, starting the engine.

"What? Max had all purples and was this close setting a new lap record and then you chimed in with all purples beating his time, even closer to a new lap record and then just casually top your won times with again all purples and really set a new record?" I looked at him and he shook his head "That was sexy. So. Damn. Sexy."

"Okay, okay!" he chuckled and I smiled "It was a good quali, I’m just sorry for you."

"The rules are the rules. He set the time first, so he’s in front of me." I shrugged my shoulders a little and Charles sighed.

"I know, it still sucks. You’ll be in a Lando and Carlos sandwich at the start."

"Ewww, don’t you dare ever saying that again!" I punched his arm and he laughed.

"Sorry. But seriously. Be careful."

"I will be, don’t worry." I said, looking out the window, watching how the rain kept pouring down.

"Let’s just hope for better weather tomorrow. Spa and that rain? That’s a red flag fest." Charles said and I nodded.

"Yeah, let’s really hope for better weather."

But all hopes and prayers were for nothing. It was still raining cats and dogs and when we arrived at the track, we were soaked down to our bones.

"I’ll see you later, cara mia." Charles kissed me and left.

I walked inside, taking my rain coat off, watching a few team members sit huddled together in the corner.

"That’s just sad. Both cars? I mean, better than the whole Australia incident, giving the driver who crashed out the other one’s car… but still…" Matt said and shook his head.

"What happened?" I asked and they turned around, greeting me.

"Williams won’t start the race. With both cars. They had to withdraw. Chassis and PU problems. They didn’t get ready in time because the spare parts were missing." Matt said and I looked at him with big eyes "Yeah, it’s sad…"

"Fucking hell, both cars? Damn." I mumbled, taking my phone out to read the official F1 article.

I finished reading when Charles texted me, saying he overheard the biggest news. When I asked him what it was he replied to wait and enjoy. I groaned and JK looked at me questioningly.

"You good?"

"Charles said A but not B…"

"Sorry, what? Is that a weird sex code?"

"What the fuck? No! He hinted at something but then didn’t tell me what it was about and I want to know!" I looked at him with big eyes.

"Oh, okay. So you mean if you are at the ball, you must dance. The saying goes who says A must say B in German?" JK asked.

"Better than if you’re at the ball, you must dance? That’s weird? And so long!" I defended and he held his hands up.

"I forgot, German efficiency."

"Exactly. German efficiency."

"Will you tell me now what you heard?" I asked Charles when we got ready after the anthem and he chuckled, grabbing my hand "Charles!"

"Patience, cara mia, patience!" he pulled me with him, looking around, searching for something.

"What are you looking for?"

He shook his head and then spotted Sainz, pulling me towards him.

"Carlos. Hey. I overheard the big news earlier, congrats on your new team. Looks like they all can’t wait for you to come, in fact, they were this excited that they completely forgot to get their car’s ready for the race." Charles said and I looked at him with big eyes "Let’s go, cara mia."

"What the…" I began, looking at him.

"He signed with Williams. I heard him, his father and cousin and Sylvia talk about it. The way they want to announce it." he chuckled and then turned around, grinning at Sainz who looked our way.

"You’re evil." I whispered, following his look.

"I know… but you love it, no?"

"Not gonna lie, it’s hot. Scary, but hot." I chuckled and he laughed.

"What is scary but hot?" Andrea asked and JK just shook his head.

"Do we even want to know." he rolled his eyes and I laughed.

"We were just talking about our good friend Sainz."

"What about him?" Andrea asked and Charles wiggled his eyebrows.

"He has a new team… sadly that team has no car on the grid…"

"He sighed with Williams?" JK asked, his head snapping around, watching Sainz "On the weekend where both cars have a DNS?"

"Williams. One of the worst team on the grid…"

"You know, like a really famous poet once said: You play stupid games, You win stupid prizes." I shrugged and all 3 looked at me for a moment.

"Taylor Swift." they said in unison and I laughed.

"I’m proud of you, my fellow Swiftie."

"Let’s get you guys in the car." JK rolled his eyes playfully and I pushed him away.

"Good luck, cara mia. Be careful. They both are ruthless at the start! I want you on that podium with me." Charles pulled me close, then kissed me gently "Drive safe. These conditions allow zero mistakes. I love you."

"I love you too, go and win this race." I smiled and he nodded, pecking my lips again, before he walked off with Andrea.

"Alright. Let’s get you in the car, come on." JK said and I nodded, turning around and preparing for the race.

When I sat in the car, everything was checked and ready, I took a deep breath. Looking to my left, spotting Norris who looked my way. I had to fight off Tweedledee and Tweedledum right at the start. Great. One last radio check and the formation started, the spray from Max making my vision practically non existent. As soon as we were back in our grid boxes I focused on the lights and accelerated the moment they went out, gaining massive momentum, almost instantly overtaking Norris. I inwardly cheered a little, pushing the throttle full through, focusing on what was happening in front, while trying to stay ahead of Norris and Sainz.

"Red Flag. Red Flag." Pete radioed and I cursed.

"What happened?"

"Daniel, Pierre, Ocon, Stroll and Alonso had a little something."

"Everyone okay?"

"Yeah, looks like Ocon and Alonso won’t be able to continue."

"Okay."

"Safety car."

The track was clear surprisingly fast and we all left the pits again, following the safety car.

"Standing start, Lizzie, back in P4."

"Of course." I mumbled hoping for another good start like the one minutes ago and was pleasantly surprised when I breezed past Norris for the second time today.

The rain was slightly getting lighter, the sight was still bad though and the first laps I had to focus more on seeing something than on driving fast. But that soon changed and I saw Sainz coming closer and closer.

"What lap are we in? I can’t read it."

"17."

27 more to go. I could do it. I could stay ahead.

"Weather update." I radioed after another 3 laps.

"No change for the next 6-8 laps."

"And then?"

"Heavier rain."

"Okay." I sighed.

The track was slippery and I felt my car slide from left to right, right to left in every turn I took. Charles and Max in front were having the same issues, fighting each other hard. I slipped and hit a kerb hard, feeling how I was losing the rear, but managed to keep the car on track, giving Sainz the opportunity to come even closer.

"Check the floor."

"On it."

I waited anxiously for Pete’s reply, while trying my best to stay ahead of Sainz.

"No significant damage."

"Okay."

The next 4 laps Sainz caught up to me, trying to overtake me and I had to fight him off more than I liked. The rain was slightly getting heavier, my sight was getting worse. 20 more laps to go. And Sainz was now closer than ever.

"I don’t think I can fight him off much longer." I radioed.

"Lizzie, let him pass… you can catch up to him again. But with your tyres now, it’s too dangerous."

I didn’t answer. Giving up my position wasn’t what I wanted. Especially not to him. But destroying my tyres by fighting him off, having no grip in these conditions was indeed dangerous.

"Lizzie."

"Okay."

I clenched my jaw and drove to the left, making space for Sainz to overtake me, which he did immediately. I had a bad feeling when I saw him breeze past me and as if on cue his car was wavering, losing grip, his left rear tyre, touching my front tyre and I felt my car sliding to the left, trying my best to keep it on track but it was already too late. I lost all control, losing the rear entirely, spinning out, the wet track didn’t slow me down and by the time I reached the gravel my car was already spinning to fast and I prepared myself for the impact. The moment I hit the wall, pain erupted in my back and I screamed out. Panting heavily.

"Are you okay?" Pete radioed and I tried my best to calm down my breathing "Lizzie?"

"I- I ca-…" my voice broke, breathing staggered.

"Lizzie? Hey! LIZZIE! Can you hear me? Are you okay!" Pete shouted in my ear.

"I’m okay." I pressed out, hearing my blood rushing in my ears.

I was heaving. Hands shaking. A pain raging through my back like a wild fire. The pain in my neck and shoulders, mind numbing. I looked ahead, saw what was left of my car stuck in the wall, front tyres, hood, all gone.

"Stay put. The medical car and marshall’s are on their way."

"Pete?"

"Yeah, little one?"

"I can’t feel my legs."

Chapter 46 - winning a home GP is something special and making Lizzie win hers was one of my favourite things in this whole fic, as a German myself I miss having a German GP and most importantly a German driver in a big team who can actually fight for wins (sorry Nico 🙈) … what else happened? Oh, yeah… Belgium… 😬 I guess I’ll leave you hanging for a bit…

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

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Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

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[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Surely, when two friends set up their two friends on a blind date in the very small town of Hawkins, they make sure those two people don't know each other beforehand, right? And, more importantly, aren't coworkers, right?✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, angst towards the end, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 3/20 [wc: 6.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 3: The Accidental First Date

“Is this too much?” you asked, yanking down the visor and checking yourself in the small mirror.

Sitting in the back parking lot of the movie theater, you went through your purse for the finishing touches on your look. Doing your last paranoia check for anything in your teeth, turning your head this way and that to zhuzh your hair, and most importantly, preening your oxymoron of a sweater to show a decent amount of cleavage without flashing the cups of your push-up bra.

Truly a walking contradiction of a top. Cable knit and warm, but with a plunging neckline, to where the top button started at your sternum.

“No, you look hot,” Robin assured with her goofy smile. “New York modest is Hawkins slutty. He’s gonna love you.”

You shrank into your girlish giggle. “Good, I want my dating debut in this little town to be a statement. Set the stage for future escapades.. Until I run out of men, I guess. Seriously, how many bachelors live here and aren’t total hicks? Four?” Robin laughed.

“Could be worse. You could be a lesbian.”

“True,” you concurred. “Good thing you have Vickie. Sucks she couldn’t come tonight.” Robin made a sad huff of agreement, working a mascara wand through her lashes. “Hey, I know I said ‘yes’ without asking, but is this guy you set me up with even my type? Not that I care, obviously; a good story is a good story, but I’m just trying to set my expectations here.”

She furrowed her eyebrows dramatically, and paused unscrewing her lip gloss to rock her entire body into a positive affirmation–almost bumping her forehead on the steering wheel from the force of her nodding. “Oh, absolutely,” she said emphatically. “Looks scary on the outside, but is a total sweetheart on the inside. Overconfident, and obnoxious, but in that charming, swoony way.”

“Perfect!” You clasped your hands together.

Stepping out of the car, she waited for you so you could walk with your arms linked together, and she continued, “I haven’t seen him in years, but Steve was telling me over the phone that he’s been going through a tough time, and hasn’t been on a date in a while.”

“Aw, poor guy.”

There was a beat of silence where both of your faces twisted into knowing smiles.

“I know what that look means..” Robin led, canting her head to you.

Innocent, you lifted your shoulder in a coy shrug, bringing a collection of her soft hair up to your chin. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking, if he hasn’t been on a date in a while.. Why not make it memorable for him?”

You laughed together, rounding the sidewalk to the front entrance of the theater where the glamorous marquee shined gentle daylight upon the darkened street. Romantic and intimate, with a crowd of people standing in vague suggestions of lines; some broken off, gossiping, smoking.

“There they are,” Robin whispered, letting go of your upper arm to wave at Nancy–who you had met at the grocery store last week. She saw you approaching, and tapped her hand on the chest of the man beside her.

Still a considerable distance away, you peered at him, and placed his luscious hair in your memory. “Oh, that’s the guy who came to the shop today.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, he was talking to the annoying mechanic I’m always telling you about.”

“The one you have a crush on?”

“Shush,” you bristled at the mention of your not-so-secret. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. Anyway! Did I tell you what he did this morning? He fuckin’ stood outside the window next to my desk, just out of my view for like, full on minutes, waiting for me to look at him. Like Michael Myers or some shit. Scared me half to death.”

Robin, still caught on one detail you had somehow failed to mention in the month you worked at the auto body shop, quietly asked, “..Eddie?”

“Yeah, my coworker,” you answered, not looking at her when she fell a step behind, since you were too focused on greeting Nancy, and introducing yourself to Steve to notice her sudden jog up behind you. Too fixated on complimenting Nancy’s skirt to witness the way Steve aimed his confused frown just past your shoulder. Missed his dismissive hand gestures, and Robin’s panic as she tried to wordlessly communicate something dire to him.

You were too busy listening to the cars cruise by on the street, and chatting casually, and savoring the warmth of a new friendship to scrutinize the sound of quick footsteps from the other direction, or the jangle of metal chains attached to their presence, or Robin’s damning groan.

“Sorry, I’m–” a familiar voice said. A bit nasally and on the higher side. Mirthful, awake with youth, and excited to make a good first impression.

You turned to them. Your date.

“..Late,” they trailed off.

Deer in headlights. Big, brown doe-eyes wide with surprise, framed by beautiful black lashes.

He stared at you.

His stomach sank.

You stared at him.

Your heart raced.

Eddie had stopped mid-step with his hand raised in greeting. The chains on his leather jacket tinkered until they stilled. Kind smile frozen from a better time. Chest filled with a held breath. Presenting himself with his best foot forward, and now his ears were tinted with the embarrassment of trying too hard to impress.

Oh, God.

You blinked away, and were intentional to accept the situation for what it was without showing your surprise, opting for a simple, timid, awkward, shaky, exhaled, “Hey, Eddie.”

He wasn’t so poised.

Shutting his eyes, he allowed the realization to wash over him, scrunching his face in a pained expression as the puzzle pieces slotted into place. He hung his head, and released his breath through his nose. “Your roommate is Robin,” he stated, pointing at her to punctuate his sentence. “And you call her Bobbie.”

“Yeah..” It was an apology as much as it was a confirmation.

“You still call me Bobbie?” Robin asked, tugging on your sleeve, forgetting the tense air surrounding the group for the moment. “I haven’t used that stage name in years.”

“Guess it stuck with me..”

Thankfully, someone else added to the conversation. Unfortunately, that person was Steve addressing the elephant outside the ticket booth.

“So, I take it you two know each other,” he deduced, looking from Eddie’s dejected gaze at the ground, to you wringing your purse strap over your chest.

Eddie enlightened him in a solemn tone, sparing a single glance at his friend, “She’s the receptionist at work.”

“Ah.” He turned his attention to Robin. “You set up two people who work together.”

She threw her hands up and blamed him, “Uh! No way, dunce, don’t put this on me. This whole thing was your idea, and at no point in the conversation did you tell me Eddie was a mechanic! If you had told me he was a mechanic I probably could’ve put two-and-two together myself, and avoided setting up people who see each other every day.”

Increasingly red-faced, Steve very pointedly avoided Eddie’s suspicious squint after being outed as the one who set up the date, not Nancy. “You’re the one who lives with her, how could you not–?”

“Okay!” You clapped once to end their bickering. “Then it’s not a date.”

Nancy, bless her, picked up her improv skills fast. “Yeah! Not a date. Just a casual outing between friends. Steve, get the tickets ready so we can get popcorn before the line gets too long.” There was a ripple of unanimous murmurs, followed by shuffling to the entrance.

“Silver lining,” Nancy muttered out the side of her mouth to Steve, “It’s a movie date, so it’s not like they have to talk to, or look at each other.”

Steve tempered his laugh to a hiss and held the door for Robin, who in turn kept the it ajar behind her for you, but as you went to catch it, it was opened for you.

Clack- clack- clack. You’d heard the sound every morning; his distinct rings on the metal frame of the glass door beside your desk, followed by his soft grunt when pulling it open. But whereas his whispered ‘morning’ normally echoed in the tiled lobby, it was now on the back of your neck, fanning your skin, and it wasn’t a sweet greeting, but a reserved, solemn, regretful, sad, “Sorry for.. yeah.” That’s how he started your date that wasn’t a date. With an apology. And still, as the crisp autumn air was replaced by the humid waft of buttery popcorn, your brain was stuck at the garage, filling in the drag of his heavy work boots on the way to the breakroom for coffee, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke trailing his stride.

Except, as you were jolted back to reality, you came to know he didn’t present himself so generically outside the context of motor oil. Due to the traffic clogging around the ticket ripper, Eddie ran into you and you discovered the nuances of what he smelled like when not at work, with the added intimacy of his chest pressed to your back.

Worn leather enveloped by notes of vanilla musk cologne. Spicy deodorant carried by the sweet earthy tang of tobacco. Dove White on his heated skin, and Dawn on his hands.

A symphony you could immerse yourself in learning for hours if it wasn’t for the crime of your group moving forward.

“Did you want anything?” Eddie asked you, pointing at the concessions.

“Oh, no, I’m good.” You made a clawing gesture at your mouth. “Eating popcorn before the movie even starts because I have no self control and then being forced to sit there with kernels in my teeth drives me nuts.”

Not finding you as endearing as you intended, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and motioned for both of you to stand off to the side, out of the way while you waited for the others to get their snacks. And he just stood there. Not saying anything. You were turned to him as if to carry a conversation, but his gaze was set ahead; not on anything in particular, just away from you.

Rarely had his face been this slack, this devoid of emotion. Even when doing menial work like filling out invoices for parts you would need to order, there was activity. Liveliness in the tic of his eyes reading lines on the paper. Movement of his tongue sliding across his top lip. A subtle crease between his brows. Something. Anything.

You spoke above the giggly teenagers sneaking into the film next door, “For a stick in the mud, you look nice.” He really did, in his well-loved jacket draping his frame after years of being broken in to perfection. Tight black jeans. Sensible boots. More accessories than just his rings.

Try as he might to cut you an unamused look, his freshly washed hair bounced in immaculate waves around his face, catching the low mood lighting like a messy halo.

“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it.

“I can see why you don’t get many dates if you always look this miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Glum, then? Woebegone? Hapless? Crestfallen?” When he seemed hellbent on wishing he were anywhere else, you eased up on your act. Harboring the pit of rejection eating away at your stomach, you pried, “Disappointed?”

The glimpse of vulnerability in your words was not lost on him.

He snapped to, shaking himself out of his funk to reassure you in his gentle timbre amongst the chaos of someone beating the top score on the pinball machine, “I’m not disappointed to be here with you.”

“Then what are you?”

“Sorry,” he guessed, shrugging. He was the type to speak with his hands, moving them despite being confined to his pockets. “I’m sorry our friends suck at communicating and this is how your night turned out; you being here with me when you were clearly expecting someone else.” His gaze didn’t dare dip lower than your nose, but the effort you put into your appearance did not go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he stared a little too directly into your eyes after you decided to stop covering yourself up.

“I don’t go on dates intending to find my one true love or anything lame like that,” you said, honestly. “I go on them to have fun, and I think we can still have fun, even if we have to share the same tiny lunch table come Monday, and we side-eye Carl for bringing tuna again.” He almost smiled at that.

Sensing he needed another boost of confidence, you kept going, “Before I knew it was you, Robin was talking you up in the car. Going on about how my date was some sweet guy, super handsome, and with a heart of gold. You know, the Prince Charming type. Oh, and totally obnoxious too. Real loudmouth who never shuts up.”

Okay, maybe some of that was ad libbed, but you wanted to know how much of it was true.

Eddie shifted from foot to foot, subduing his grin by biting his tongue, literally. “That’s a pretty apt way to describe me back in high school, yeah, especially with how I’m dressed.”

“What changed?”

“Uh, I had a kid,” he laughed. “She stole all my charm. I swear Adrie can talk me into anything.”

“I think you’re just a pushover.”

“Probably,” he surrendered. Raising his brows, he mused aloud one of the many things on his mind, “Do you not agree that she described me accurately? Sweet Prince Charming guy, all that?”

There was no way in hell you were going to speak your truth. Instead, you smirked. “I don’t think you want to know what adjectives I’d use to describe you.” They were far too vulgar to utter in a crowded room. Hot in the most annoying way. Absolute pain in my ass. Just the worst, especially when I don’t hear you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, and you think it’s funny to scare me right as I open my drink from the Coke machine, and you laugh your stupid laugh when I drop it. An absolute eye-sore when you look up at me while you're on your hands and knees cleaning up the mess you created. Irritatingly handsome when you grin and buy me another one.

Ignorant to your private thoughts, he swung his elbow out to push you, and smiled.

Relaxing into the natural lull in conversation, you both watched your friends make it to the front of the line and order their food. They waited at the counter, starting the clock on when they would inevitably make it back to the two of you, and cease your alone time with Eddie. (Although, first, they’d have to traverse an entire bucket of dropped popcorn, and navigate around more than one group of children reenacting a fight scene they just watched on the big screen.)

“Were you disappointed I was your date?” you asked.

Robin was right. Eddie was a sweetheart. As soon as he detected an inkling of insecurity–whether it be in your strained voice, or etched into your face, or imbued in the question itself–he was quick to absolve your worry.

“No, no,” he said. “Relieved, if I’m being honest.”

“Relieved?” You weren’t expecting that.

“There’s a reason I haven’t dated since having Adrie. It didn’t sound like Steve made it clear to.. you, well, my anonymous date which happened to be you. Jesus, this is confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean, he didn’t say if he told my would-be date that I’m a dad, and I was afraid of coming here and having to tell them myself. Even if we hit it off, it’s a deal breaker for some people, y’know? Not that I blame them. I would’ve said the same thing five years ago.”

You nodded as you listened to him. “Never thought about it from that perspective. All my dates have been one-and-dones. Super casual. Kids were never really brought up.”

“Yeah, the dating world isn’t always so gracious. I’m kinda glad I’m here with you–someone who knows me, at least.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Steve raising his sodas above his head as two boys ran past him, pretending they were in a shootout.

Knowing he wouldn’t have time to respond, you informed Eddie, “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Adrie’s an angel. You should be more concerned about your curmudgeonly attitude being a deal breaker.” His narrowed-eye glare had never felt so sweet.

Robin’s giddy presence became known. She dropped her chin to your shoulder with a satisfied hum, and wrapped her arm around your waist to hug you snug to her body. You laid your head on top of hers, swaying with her.

She must’ve made a face at Eddie, because a different emotion flinched across his features, and he was back to avoiding making eye contact.

You, however, were more enticed by the drink in her hand than analyzing his change in demeanor. “Shit, now I want an Icee.”

“Yeah, I got cherry,” she said, angling the straw towards you. “They have Coke too–Okay, bye, dork,” she giggled after you.

“Go ahead and sit without me! I want an Icee.” Nancy clutched the largest size of popcorn to her chest to avoid spilling it as you stumbled out of Robin’s hold and darted for the concession stand.

Eddie raised his voice, “You couldn’t have decided that five minutes ago when I asked?”

“Nope!”

————

The theater for the low budget horror flick reflected the town’s perception of it. As soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your footsteps on the dense carpet echoed around the empty room. Your group was sitting in the back row, and their murmurs could be heard from the bottom.

You climbed up to them and flumped into the seat next to Eddie. “We can share,” you said excitedly, shaking the drink at him before placing it in the cupholder at the end of the single armrest.

When the subtle pinch of concern around his eyes remained, you promised him you didn’t have cooties.

He played with his rings, pulling them down the length of his fingers and spinning them while he worked through his confusion. “You don’t have to sit next to me.. You can sit next to Robin.” He motioned beside him, to Steve munching on his popcorn while Nancy held it, and Robin whispering on the end, rolling her eyes at something Nancy said.

“Why wouldn’t I sit next to you?”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to settle on what he wanted to say, and finishing with a submissive shrug, leather jacket groaning at the act. He bounced his foot quicker, shaking the aglets on his laces against his boot in a chaotic rhythm. “Dunno..”

“You’re silly. I’d pinch your cheek if I didn’t think you’d bite me.” He reeled at that, and you giggled. You didn’t mind making him balk at your weird quirks; whatever put him at ease. Rather, whatever made him stop rubbing his knee against yours, because you were certain the friction was about to cause a fire.

Digging through your purse, you took out a rectangular box and slid your finger under the flap, popping it open and dumping a handful of candy into your palm. You threw it back into your mouth. “Want sh-ome?” you chewed, offering the box to him.

“Who the hell eats Mike and Ikes?”

“Uh, me, jerk.” Right as the lights dimmed to pitch black, and the curtains drew back from the screen, you hit him with the most exaggerated pout. “I only eat them at the movies. They’re a ritual, and you’re rude.” The shadows lining his face twisted into a deeper grin. “Are you more of a chocolate guy?”

“Maybe,” he answered like he was suspicious of your motives.

And maybe he should be. Afterall, you committed the number one sin when it came to cinemas.

“Looks like I chose right,” you said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a Kit Kat. “I was hoping my date would be a chocolate sorta guy–” You went quiet seeing his eyes widen a touch. “I mean, not date. Begrudging coworker? Tentative acquaintance?”

“Reluctant friend,” he answered smoothly, taking the package from you and ripping it open with his teeth.

~~~

Trailers for other films played, bathing the room in flickers of light interrupting the darkness. The opening credits began. Your candy was half-eaten. His was devoured. You took a sip of your Icee, and from the vantage point of pressing your back into the cheap theater seat, you observed him in your periphery.

His gaze hardly left the drink. Your offer to share it gnawed at him in a visible way. Scoping out the straw, the possible trace of spit you left behind, the possible trace of spit he’d leave behind. He peered at the screen to acknowledge the intro, and then back down it was, boring holes into the Icee.

You were no better, nibbling at your lips when he finally caved and took a sip–all too quick, and clumsy, almost missing the cup holder when he put it back down with lightning speed.

The edge of your thighs touched under the arm rest; worse so, when you folded one leg under you, and leaned into him. “Do you hate it when people talk during movies?”

“Not these kind.” He meant the genre in general, which made for great fodder for ripping apart in friend groups, but another popular trope among this realm of fiction became apparent. The first set of tits flashed on screen, and you both found yourselves lacking in the commentary department.

After a moment, you tilted your head. “That actress looks familiar..”

“She’s been in other cult classics. Always acts with her eyebrows.” He turned to you and nudged your shoulder, vying for your full attention. He emphasized the end of each word with an inflection as if it were a question, and raised his eyebrows in every way possible, mocking her slowly, “She’s the one who always talks like this–!” He looked crazy contorting his face to make his point.

“That’s it!” You snapped. “Her wearing glasses really threw me off.”

“Mhm.” His hum vibrated along your upper arm pressed to his, and he asked quietly under the screams of the first gorey death, “Do you like B movies?”

“Hell yeah. Back home they would play them at this rooftop drive in place. I rarely paid to watch them, though. The next building over had a good view of the projector screen.”

His banter dropped in favor of chewing on the corner of his thumb. If it wasn’t for the wild change in scenery cast across his face, you could’ve sworn his faint smile faltered into inscrutability.

Did you say something wrong?

————

“Damn, that was a cool practical effect,” Eddie complimented the purplish fizzing ooze that once was a person.

“I know, right? That’s why I love these bad movies. There’s no budget for good CGI, so they have to do creative stuff like that.”

It was inevitable. Bound to happen. A mere act of fate. Stars aligning in the close knit group leaning forward to exchange witty quips about the hare-brained plot holes in the movie, and not minding their surroundings except to receive everyone’s laughter, making jokes at the expense of the bad acting.

Steve was asking a question that was technically answered by the movie’s lore if he’d paid attention to the dialogue during the second gratuitous stripping scene. You or Eddie could have answered, but Robin took it upon herself to explain, and you two nodded along.

Absentminded, you reached for the Icee.

Distracted, Eddie reached for the Icee.

The waxed paper cup was cold under your fingers, but your hand was blanketed by warmth.

Slow to process, you both glanced down at the reason why neither of you were achieving your goal, and the overload of sensory inputs faded away to one: touch.

Your thumb was trapped under his palm, and his fingers stretched around the cup, meeting yours on the other side and housing them beneath his in a steady amount of pressure. They were almost interlocking. Holding. Wrist on top of wrist–his with the extra harshness of his leather and chain bracelet on your skin. The heaviness of his forearm resting on yours.

Truly, the accident lasted all of two pumps of your heart, but it felt like more when he stroked his calloused fingertips over your knuckles as he let go.

“Sorry!” he blurted.

“S-Sorry,” you laughed, jittery from the encounter.

Your cheeks were hot. His were flushed red. The lewd moaning of a woman feigning to orgasm just from the male lead removing her bra alone played in the background. Neither of you could decide which plan of escape was less embarrassing: continuing to stare like idiots at each other, or watch the actress’ ginormous boobs bounce as she faked riding a guy.

You blinked. His eyebrows ticced up.

Boobs it was.

He adjusted how he sat, tugging his jeans down his legs a little, and crossing his arms. Eyes laser focused on the woman’s face. The why was obvious, and you couldn’t help but tease him for pretending to be a gentleman in your company when you held no such modesty when it came to ogling her tits.

“Thinking about how much Aquanet she uses?”

“Shut up.”

————

Later into the film, after the plot circled back to the juicy gore, you leaned into Eddie to ask him a question.

What that question was, you couldn’t remember.

As soon as you placed your elbow on the armrest and used the back of your hand to tap his shoulder, he dipped his head to hear you. It was an automatic thing starting from the moment you slouched in your seat. That’s all. A shift in your sitting position and intake of breath, and he knew you were going to speak, and he wanted to listen. He cared about what you had to say. He leaned into you as well, because listening to you took priority over the movie.

“Eddie?” You sought any words. Any words at all. Any would do. Any question, even if you knew the answer. “Uhm. The music sounds really familiar. Do you recognize it?”

“It’s the same composer as Chopping Mall and Deathstalker II.”

“Ah.”

Ah. All you could muster when you were charmed by the silhouette of his lips moving. Watching them form letters, pout on the plosives, press into a line on his thick swallow.

Ah. All you could say when his hair brushed over your fingers. Dry, in need of a deep conditioning. Curling around your forefinger. Tickling your palm.

Ah. All you could respond with when you lifted your gaze, and caught him staring at you like you stared at him.

————

As predicted, the filmmakers padded the runtime with another topless scene, and the movie ended on a witty one liner that included not one, but two puns, and no resolution to the numerous plot threads left hanging.

“That was.. certainly something!” Robin summed up, holding the doors open to the subdued hours of the night.

Once outside in the fresh air, the dynamic reverted back to its original status.

Your friends made themselves scarce in the worst way; whistling, shuffling to the side as they found asinine things to comment on, leaving you and Eddie alone. Their intentions were pure, but reality was not so kind.

Eddie cemented his gaze on the sidewalk as he picked at his callouses, and apologized for the mistake of going out with you. Again. “Sorry about all this.”

Itchy sweat broke out across your back. It sucked he was so brazen about rejecting you. You had  hoped some of the tender crush you had on him extended past the armrest you shared, the looks you shared, the touches you shared; but maybe you were just tricking yourself into finding things that weren’t there.

Wanting to end on a better note, you appealed to him in a last ditch effort to smooth over the situation, “I meant it when I said you looked good tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of your work clothes.”

“Thanks.”

That’s all. Thanks. A shy glance from beneath his curtain of messy hair, and a somber tone to maximize the awkwardness of the not-date with your coworker.

You needed to get the hell out of there. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, see you Monday.”

The group winced in unison when they saw the way you two departed.

Robin was quick to link her arm with yours and gather you closer, bringing your heads together to gossip as you walked back to her car. “That bad, huh?”

Around the corner and out of sight, you gave her half a smile, trying to appear in better spirits. “Well, I don’t think he likes me. He didn’t return any of my compliments, and he apologized for being on a date with me no less than four times over the course of the evening.”

She cringed for you. “That’s worse than Balloon Guy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, remembering what would go down in history as the shittiest date you’d been on. “Yeah, that’s more times than Balloon Guy.” Robin hugged you tighter, making your steps go clumsy. She apologized for Eddie’s weirdness, but you shrugged. Maybe you were supposed to find it weird, too. Maybe you were supposed to disapprove of the idea of romantic feelings for your coworker, too. Maybe you were supposed to have no expectations for it to lead anywhere, too.

Maybe you were supposed to reject him, too.

————

Still loitering outside the theater, Steve exchanged a look with Nancy, and jogged to catch up with Eddie before he made it too far in the opposite direction.

“Uh, hey buddy!” Steve clapped him on the shoulder to stop him. “It sounded like you two were hitting it off during the movie, what happened?”

Eddie sulked under the question. His chest fell with a surrendering sigh, and his boots scraped the concrete as he turned to him, not bothering to mask the dullness in his slack expression. Everything about him was tired, including his voice when he slipped into a lower, raspy octave. “She’s nice, but..”

“But what?” Nancy asked, searching his face.

Bottling his burdens, he clenched his teeth, and worked his jaw as he contemplated evading their insistent prying; but after ruminating on it, he explained the source of his problems, “She lives a very.. whimsy life.” He fluttered his hand like a bird flapping its wings, or a butterfly. “She does this thing where she says ‘yes’ to anything anyone asks her; it’s why she moved to Hawkins, and why she ended up on this date to begin with. Y’know, just doing whatever seems like fun. It’s cute, in a way, and obviously I.. feel a way towards her, but this place isn’t where she’s looking to lay down roots. New York is her home.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, knowing what was about to come.

“I’ve already been left for someone better.. I can’t go through that again.” Eddie’s eyes begged them to understand. “I don’t want Adrie to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave.”

Nancy started, “Eddie–You don’t know if she’d leave.”

He shook his head, and pulled away from Steve’s lingering grasp. Shushed his friend’s well-meaning words about him being valued, and to forget his insecurities about not being good enough.

“A girl like that doesn’t need me weighing her down,” Eddie said, imparting the wisdom he’d come to accept since you made a mark on his life weeks ago, when it became your mission to befriend him. “I’ll pick up Adrie in the morning. Thanks for watching her.”

The night got darker as he left.

Darker still, when Steve waved at his back, and Nancy played with the locket around her neck, and her goodbye went disregarded.

————

Silence.

It surrounded him. Blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beat, the refrigerator hum, the tink of glass bottles as he grabbed the full six pack and brought it to the couch, springs squeaking under his weight.

Utter emptiness welcomed him.

Not a sound in his home. Not a giggle from his daughter, or scrape of a skillet from Wayne’s makeshift breakfast-dinner before he went to work. Even the dogs around the trailer park were quiet.

Just.. nothing.

It was what he wanted, right? A night to himself; a break from the chores, the questions, the food making, the taking care of a tiny human being who made everything tougher than it needed to be.

He got his wish.

Two beers down in peace, he got his wish.

Eddie looked around his trailer lit by the single lamp beside him.

Quiet, empty, nothing.

Dark silence.

The jolt of his sob startled him. It erupted from his chest so suddenly. Ripped from the tightness of repressed emotions; the things he tried to deny, to feel and then lock away. To keep safe, buried down deep where he could manage them from progressing past the boundaries he created for his own good, and Adrie’s. He felt the agony of them all at once. The morning smiles, the afternoon laughs, the evenings of pretending you didn’t plan to bump into each other in the doorway to the lobby. The game of seeing how long he could watch you twirl the phone cord around your finger before you looked up from your desk. Your sweet way of comforting him after the hard nights of Adrie’s sleep regression by taking his tan work jacket and draping it over his shoulders while he slept at the lunch table in the break room. Your gentle method of fixing his collar when it was tucked on the inside of his coveralls.

The date was too good to be true.

In fact, the truth itself was far more painful.

The date was amazing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had more fun. More thrills, sure. But not more fun. There wasn’t a day in his youth where he experienced more of the flirty thrum in his veins than when he committed himself to learning the way your lips moved when saying his name in the darkened theater.

The date was perfect. He was happy. And he couldn’t have it again. Shouldn’t have it again. Wouldn’t have these feelings again.

Eddie doubled over and put his third beer on the floor before he spilled it. Nothing was discernible beyond the water invading his ability to see, to fathom his reflection in the old TV. Sad, miserable, and lonely. An idiot for finally getting attached to someone, and it was someone he wasn’t supposed to.

Tears slipped from between his lashes. He smeared them on his cheeks, covering his sweaty face from his possessions bearing witness to his stupidity.

It was in his best interest to reject you–reject your casual stance on dating, and relationships, and people with kids–but the face you made when your advances went underappreciated churned his stomach.

He needed to be stronger. But he was weak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighed into the stale air. Opening another beer, he nursed it as he huddled into the corner of the couch, and searched for Adrie’s quilt to soothe him. But of course, he sent it with her when he dropped her off at Steve’s.

No baby blanket to hold onto. No Adrienne to sleep on his chest to ease the pain of loneliness. No reason to look forward to Monday after he royally screwed everything up.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned.

Maybe, if he apologized enough, there was a chance you wouldn’t hate him.

Maybe, if you forgave him, you’d go back to the morning smiles, and the afternoon laughs.

And maybe, if he was enough of a masochist, he’d let you gently ease past those boundaries meant to keep you, and your kindness out. If you wanted to trespass, that is. He didn’t know. He was an idiot.

[to-the-stars8]

Reviving Love

Jason Todd x Reader Chapters AO3

Chapter 10

Oh, my life is changing every day, in every possible way…

When Jason approached your door he heard that familiar song that brought back two vivid memories. 

The first memory was the day he was supposed to help the art club paint the background for the school play. When he had walked into the auditorium with a basket of supplies, Bruce had insisted he bring it, and the song had been blaring full blast with a chorus of out-tune voices singing long. Yours’ among them. As he approached the stage, he finally saw you. You were knelt next to a huge wood tree, paintbrush in hand, and singing along to the lyrics. 

And, oh, my dreams, it’s never quite as it seems—Never quite as it seems

He remembered suddenly feeling flush and stumbling to get all the words out of his mouth. All at once, he just found you so incredibly pretty. 

The second time he had heard that song was his first year of high school, the autumn right before he died. It was homecoming and, after some begging since he was technically grounded, Bruce had let him go. Jason made a point not to tell you so it could be a surprise when he showed up. He found you standing off to the side looking heartbroken. When your eyes met it felt like one of those stupid high school romance movies. Where the room stopped and was drowned in a pink light with roses. When you kissed him he remembered how your breath smelled like cinnamon and your eyes sparkling in the lights. 

Now, as he stood at your front door, he felt that same rush of feelings that made everything dizzy. Luckily, when you answered it brought back some of the senses he had lost while reminiscing. As you welcomed him in, the song still played. 

I know I’ve felt like this before, but now I’m feelin’ it even more—Because it came from you...

“I’m sorry,” You said, walking past him to turn off the speaker. “I was a little lost in my tunes.”

“No worries, I like that song,” Jason admitted. 

You turned to him, smiling. “You do?”

“Yup. I…danced with my prom date to that song.” It was a stretch of the truth, but the last thing he wanted was to connect the dots any further.

“Oh! I danced with my homecoming date to that song, too! I guess it’s pretty popular at school functions,” You laughed and motioned him to the kitchen.

That had been the first time you had referred to him, well the younger him anyway. When he entered the kitchen, you were leaning over a pot of some boiling pasta. Next to it was some sauce that he could only assume you had made from scratch with all the spices, herbs, and other things cluttering the counter. 

“Do you mind trying some of this?” You asked, turning to look at him with a spoon in your hand. 

Nodding, he stepped closer and put his lips to the spoon. It was awful, and he found it hard to tell you it sucked—Unfortunately, his face gave away his feelings. You laughed and it was beautiful. 

“I admit, I’m not the greatest of cooks,” You said, putting the spoon down. “Do you cook?”

“I do, so maybe I could give you some pointers?”

You grinned. “Please?”

Everything you did was so sweet, and he was sure you weren’t even doing it on purpose. With every mistake you made or everyone he made, you laughed it off. You made the whole situation of essentially being the worst cook ever into something fun. You were kind enough to open your home to him, the worst person alive.  

You were inching another forkfull of pasta towards his mouth, and, before he even entertained the idea of taking a bite, he said, “You know, if you keep feeding me, I’ll just keep coming back.”

The way you smiled gave away that he had said something good. Bashfully, you responded, “Well, what if I was trying to do that? Have you come back, I mean.”

Instead of saying anything, Jason took a bite of the pasta as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down at you. You took the hint and looked away so he wouldn’t see your blush. As you stirred the pasta a few more times, you wondered if he could hear how loud your heart was beating. You felt like an awkward teenager again. 

“Um, we should eat,” You said, not sure what else to do as you moved around Jason to get to the bowls in the cabinet. “Or else I’ll be spending all night forking food into your mouth.”

“I wouldn’t complain—Hold on, let me get those,” He said, reaching above you to grab the bowls on the top shelf. He put one hand on the counter next to you, encasing you in, and pressing right up against your back to reach for the plate. As you sucked in a breath, you could smell him. Jason smelled of cigarette smoke and mint, an odd but welcoming combination. 

As he put the bowls down, Jason stopped as you turned around. He hadn’t realized just how close you were, only mere inches from your lips, and he could have swooped down to seal in his feelings. Yet, he didn’t. You looked up through your lashes, eyes going to his lips, but made no move to kiss him. 

“I should…” You trailed off, hoping he would do something. 

A quick image flashed in Jason’s mind, one with you bent over the counter and him whispering just how pretty you were into your ear. As soon as the image came into his mind, he backed off. Smacking his face lightly when he turned away, he pulled his thoughts from his little head. He couldn’t get over how shallow it was to think of you in such a way, especially when couldn’t take that final step. It was too much, and he was terrified to be a disappointment to you since he had little to no experience.

You didn’t let him get away this time, though. You stepped around him, your fingers gingerly pushing his cheek to look at you, before stepping closer to him. He could feel your body press against his, and he had to think of every disgusting thing he had ever seen to not get hard. He tried focusing on the music he had insisted you turn on. This time, you looked down at his lips and then back up at his eyes, wanting him to know how you felt. 

“I know,” You began, and Jason could smell just how sweet you were. “You want to take things slow, and I respect it—but, please, don’t tease me like this.”

“I…” Jason tried to find some excuse, but he couldn’t. Quickly, he said, “I’m sorry.”

You grinned, leaning up to press a ghost of a kiss to his cheek. “I hope this is okay?”

“Yes,” He breathed. 

You smiled as you pulled away just enough to remember himself. You reached up, eyes not breaking away from his to make sure no lines were being crossed, to fix a bit of his shirt that had become wrinkled. “Do you think I’ll bite?”

“Maybe, can never be too sure in this city.”

You giggled. “I promise you I won’t. Unless you ask.”

Jason smiled and he saw you blush. He could do this, he thought, he could be with you. Maybe, he could figure out how to be good enough for you, too. In the background, he could hear Dreams playing again. 

Then I open up and see the person falling here is me—A different way to be.

[reimenaashelyee]

The World in Deeper Inspection UPDATE Read: (Chapter 1: Pages 57 to 68) (COMPLETED)

About the comic

Grimsley confronts the man who set him on this goose chase.

And with that… that’s the end of the 10th Anniversary revamp!! Can’t believe it took me almost a year to get this short project done, but blame my school and day job for that! *drives the nail into the TWIDI IS NOT DEAD sign deeper into the wall*

It was enlightening to reinterpret my first ever completed comic (more complete than the strips and unfinished or one-off shorts I had done prior) – basically the one that started me down the road to a career as a published author. I was happy to see how much my style had improved – not just in the layout, flow and pacing – but in how my characters have become more expressive and energetic, and how comfortable I am with the cartooning. Here is the proof that drawing comics helps you get better at comics!! It only took 10 / 11 years!

Plus, after a long while of drawing with a more reserved, professional approach (see: Seance Tea Party, Alexander Comic), I enjoyed the abandon and whimsy of TWIDI. The lettering is inconsistent all over but that only adds to the handmade whimsical charm of TWIDI, so lol.

Anyway – I have the 10th Anniversary ebook edition up on my Ko-fi and itch.io! This edition carries both the original and revamped versions of Chapter 1. No new cover or illustration for it this time; I think they are perfect as they are.

I have been meaning to make a continuation of the end of TCM that bridges the start of Chapter 1. It’s a long time coming: a story that had somewhat existed since the early days of TWIDI in 2010. Hopefully I will find that stability in my life to return.

Open the cut below to see my notes.

There’s also nothing exciting here, EXCEPT I severely cut down on the number of panels (and the verbiage).

As with the previous spread I cut down and distilled a lot of the verbiage. I shifted the dialogue slightly so that the reveal that Mr. Brown is a Lord comes from Grimsley (in 2013, Mr Brown never admitted he was an aristrocrat until this page) – it made more sense since Grimsley had gotten the info independently from the newspaper article and Andrew, and Mr Brown not mentioning it himself fits with his whole lying thing. For this spread and the next couple of them I am zooming out the panels to include more scenery. The 2013 layouts felt very claustrophobic, with the over-reliance on bust shots of the characters to carry the tension of the conversation.

Some more dialogue trimming and background scenery. I decided to change the setting for the chase sequence to be within the cemetery – just ’cause it makes more sense than if it was done all around Brookham. The panelling for it is a bit more dynamic too – look, Grimsley is parkouring!!

I have no idea why 10 (actually, 11) years ago I had so much trouble conveying and pacing this sequence of Mr Brown being set on fire. That’s the hindsight of experience, I guess??? Anyway I added a few more panels for actual build-up, and the blocking is way better now – there’s more energy (especially Skeleton’s expressions) and clarity (omg we can finally see where and what’s happening to the lamp). The last panel is a new addition to better connect with the next spread. Also… I am excited to see how much further I can draw Mr. Brown’s demise.

Man, the difference some changes in pacing can make. I added some panels with witnesses to the fire, just to emphasise why Grimsley and Skeleton have got to run. It’s crazy enough if a Brookie has got to witness immolation in the middle of the Night, but two paranatural spookies??? Also human fat has such a colour hdsjkfhsdkf the things that come out of an immolated body are so eerie….

The 2013 spread is almost perfect. 18 Year Old Me got it.

[deceptive-daydreams]

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 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Six - Sugar

W/C: 4.5K

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

A crybaby and the town grump walk into a bar...

A/N: idk why but this chapter was giving me so much trouble and i've been really doubting my writing and second guessing. It's more of a filler chapter but still important to the story. I'm super excited for what's to come tho!!

Masterlist

Prev | Next

Three Weeks Later

“Bambi, go home already.  Your shift ended–”  Eddie pauses to check his watch.  “-jesus, like an hour ago.  Why are you still here?” 

The floors were pristine, mopped to perfection, chairs stacked on top of the tables, and rags started in the washer.  Every glass found home on their corresponding shelves, all dried and perfectly polished for the following shift, not one imperfection among the twinkling surfaces.  The place was spotless and there you were, standing on top of the bar in order to reach the top of the light fixtures which, judging by the amount of dust on them, went neglected for some time now.  Your apron was long discarded on one of the barstools and sweat dripped from your brow, the epitome of hard work if he’d ever seen it.  The Bourbon hadn’t been this clean in years.

“I’m almost done, I swear.”  You reply quietly, clearly far more engaged in your cleaning frenzy than any conversation he was trying to coax you into.

“No, you’re done.”  Eddie marches around the bar, revealing himself just in your peripheral.  “Get outta here.”  There wasn’t an ounce of venom behind his words, however, he was without a doubt becoming increasingly annoyed.

You chance a glance down at him only to find his standard scowl etched onto his face.  Except, it wasn’t as mean spirited as you were used to and it hadn’t been for quite some time.  It was cute; the way his lip would slightly jut out and how his smile lines were so prominent, eyes drooping in irritation.  Endearing irritation that you grew accustomed to.

“I will.”  You state, feather duster swiping through a satisfying amount of dust.  “When I finish.”

“No, get down.”

Your first instinct is to obey without question.  Listen to authority.  But in the previous weeks, you’d found it easier to let loose.  Sure, Eddie was always somewhat crabby but it never intimidated you and whenever he found himself particularly pissed off, he’d banish himself to the back office which aided in releasing any tension you’d built up throughout the week.  So, it wasn’t that difficult to at least attempt some friendly banter.  Especially if you could get him to crack a smile.  It was a win in your books when he tried so hard to withhold it from you or even better, turned around completely to shield his broken composure from you.

“Don’t you have–what did you call it– ‘a shit ton of paperwork’ to do?”  You joke. 

“Ha.  Ha.  I’m serious, get down.”  He mocks, glaring up at you, a stupid little tug pulling at the corners of his mouth.  Barely noticeable, but you take note of it.

“‘M not gonna fall, if that’s what you're worried about.”  You mumble, shaking your head.

“Judging by how many times you nearly eat shit throughout the week, I’m pretty worried.”  

Pretty worried.   

Saliva caught in the back of your throat, you try to play it off like dust that had gotten trapped in your airways, clearing your throat.  Only, your body had just reacted far too quickly to his words, resulting in the failure of a simple bodily function.

“I do not…”  You crouch down, poking the end of the feather duster at his chest.  “...fall that often.”  You pout.

“Yeah?”  A tiny smile pulls at his lips.  There it is.  “That’s why I said ‘nearly’.”

If you could bottle up the look he was giving you, you would selfishly keep it all for yourself to stare at on bad days.  Such mischief and amusement lingered in his gaze.  Sparks lighting up the dark and cloudy haze he usually exhibited.  Like fireworks against a colorless sky, beautiful hues popping left and right but after all, everything is always temporary.

“I don’t ‘nearly’ fall that often either.”  You whine.

“Just get off my bar and go home.”  Eddie demands, voice warm and buttery despite his intent to kick you out.  

Staring at him expectantly, he relays the same expression to you with raised brows.  In response, you cock your head to the side, luring the word out of him.  He doesn’t quite catch on, eyes narrowing while you wait.  A smirk appears on your lips as you remain perched on top of the bar, feather duster forgotten next to you.  His eyes grow a few sizes as if to urge you to speak up.  And then he gets it.

“Please.”  It drips from his tongue like warm caramel.

His eyes relax, creases between his brows ceasing and lids becoming heavy.  Another look you would mentally take a snapshot of just to hang it on the walls of your cluttered brain.  You’d be sure to clear a spot just for it.  

“Gladly.”  You offer the same smooth tone, hopping off the bar only to lose your balance along the way.

And before you can face plant into the hard wood planks, two large hands stabilize you, holding your waist firmly until he is sure you aren't going to collapse, but not yet letting go.  If you were to set aside your cowardly tendencies, you would look up and feel his breath against your face.  And you’re sure you could probably count the faint freckles on his nose that you’d only seen briefly when almost colliding into him during a rush.  You only remain glued to the floor, both your eyes and feet.  

“Careful, Bambi.”  He scolds softly. 

“‘M sorry.”  You murmur.

“No need to be sorry.”  You timidly glance up at him.  “Just–just be more careful.”  He pleads.

You were good and ready for him to yell at you, fully prepared to recoil as he raises his voice but it never comes.  And it hadn’t since that one time with the plates but you were like a skittish animal and long before you had even known him, any conflict had you in a corner every time, eyes full of tears and lip trembling.  You could only hope you didn’t look as pathetic right now.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”  He begins to soothe, a certain nervousness in his voice.  Obviously you did look just as pathetic if not more.

His hands had left your waist to graze over your shoulders hesitantly, concern evident in his tone while he consoled you.  He shouldn’t have to console you for fuck’s sake.  Why were you on the verge of tears over your clumsiness?

“Sorry, sorry.  ‘M fine, I swear.”  You attempt to suck back the tears, head tilted toward the ceiling, lip tucked in between your teeth anxiously.  “J-just go do your paperwork.  I’ll be gone in a minute.”  

Just when you think–no hope that he walks away, those large hands are gently grabbing at your wrists as you use your fingers to push the tears back into the corners of your eyes.  A soft touch that for some reason, only made you want to cry more.  

“Stop apologizing.”  Eddie says, attempting to catch your gaze, finding it difficult as you begin to stare at the floor, hiding huge watery globs under your eyelashes.

“Just–let me get my things–”  You begin to voice shakily, vision blurred with tears that you resented.

“Sit down.”  He demands calmly, concern carved into his features from what you can make out through blurred vision.

“No, no, it’s okay–”

“Right here, sit.”  

Eddie directs you to a barstool, the distorted world around you becoming progressively more overwhelming by the second.  And all because you almost fell in front of your boss and he had to catch you.  It wasn’t your intention, appearing as the stupid girl who happened to be a gigantic cry baby, emotions too sensitive to the horrors of the real world.  Though, that was the reality, wasn’t it?

“Sorry.”  You whisper, a few rogue tears escaping after the good fight you put up.

At this, he releases a heavy sigh.  You can’t help but feel childish and small, your confidence devastatingly lower than before as you try to regulate your shaky breathing and wobbly lip.  You just needed a minute, one minute to ride out the wave of anxiety.  Eddie lets your umpteenth apology slide, slowly slipping into the stool next to you.

“I’m–uh–I’m gonna go home.”  Your voice is an octave too high for his liking.

“Not like this you’re not.”

You remain on the stool, embarrassed, your cheeks feeling hot with stained tears.  This was hell if anyone ever asked you.  Slowly but surely revealing just how big of a wimp you were.  Sure, you’d shed a few tears when he screamed at you over the plates but he hadn’t even done anything this time.  You reacted purely on instinct and it was humbling.

“Let’s uh, let’s try this…”  Eddie starts, running a ringed hand through his bangs.  He slides a napkin in front of you before reaching for your apron on the back of his stool, stealing a pen and setting it on the napkin.  “W-write down, uh, write down your feelings?”  He says, so unsure even he couldn’t take himself seriously.

With a sniffle, you try to hide your confusion as you stare at the bland brown napkin.  Eddie groans and for a moment you think it’s because you’re not playing along but quickly dismisses the thought when he reaches for another napkin and steals a second pen from your apron.

“Um, it sounds–it sounds stupid.  It kinda is stupid.  But, um, you just write what you’re feeling?  A-and it’s supposed to…shit I dunno.  It’s supposed to help clear your head I guess?”  He explains.

You wait for him to laugh, wait for him to mock your tear stained face and absolute lack of emotional control.  You wait for the ‘why are you crying’ in the most condescending tone and the lecture as to why you had no reason to cry.  It never comes.  Instead, as you sneak a glimpse at him from the corner of your teary eye, and he starts writing. 

“So, right now, um…”  He clears his throat.  “Right now I’m feeling, uh, concerned?” 

You can tell he’s having trouble coming up with words and that this was difficult for him…feelings were difficult for him.  Something you could heavily relate to.

“Or, uh, you c-can just write…whatever…”  He trails off, clicking the pen against the counter repeatedly. 

Rather than answering, you clumsily pick up the blue pen, dropping it once with a trembling hand before fully grasping it.  Then you begin writing as he instructed.  If he made fun of you for what you were writing down, so be it.  You’d already embarrassed yourself enough.

You expected him to chime in by now, scoffing at what you had written down.  But when you glanced over, he was doodling on his napkin, something that appeared to be a dragon.  Minding his own business.  Awkwardly, you set the pen back on the counter, causing him to peek over at you.

“It helped.”  You mumble.  “A little.”

“Good.”  He replies, tapping his pen against the counter.  “So, uh my therapist usually has me share once I write everything down–or at least share the main points.  You don’t–you don’t have to but that’s just…that’s what we do.”  

Eddie expects you to crumple up the napkin and throw it out.  Then you would leave and think to yourself how ridiculous he is.  He didn’t know how to help people–hell, he didn’t even know how to help himself most of the time.  What he doesn’t expect is for you to shyly slide the napkin in front of him.  Averting his eyes, he’s unsure if he actually has permission to read but when you nod your head ever so slightly, he still has trouble looking down at what you had scribbled out.  It felt like he was peeking into your brain, something he felt he wasn’t worthy of.

Humiliated

Stupid

Exhausted

Anxious

Small

Burden

Crybaby

Lonely

So many words for such a small increment of time that you had been scrawling away on that napkin.  So many words that held such heaviness.

“Wow.”  Is all that he says upon his first glance over.

Anxiously, you suck in a breath, attempting to snatch the napkin back in regret only to fail as Eddie slides it out of your reach.  

“It’s stupid, I-I’m gonna go…”  You begin, hopping off of your stool.

“It’s not stupid–”

Then you were gone, a gust of wind practically slapping him in the face.  He couldn’t find it in himself to complain, only troubled by the inner workings of your mind.  It was all too familiar and he was beginning to feel as if he wasn’t the only one cursed with a diseased mind.  Selfishly, he found comfort in that.  

–

There’s only one thing worse than a shitty car.  Two shitty cars.  Specifically a shitty car and a shitty truck.  Both unreliable, both sputtering every time Eddie put the key in the ignition.  Grandpa Roy’s ‘Ol Reliable four-door sedan wasn’t living up to its name and was on the decline by the looks of it.  It had been for some time, though he was alway able to find a temporary fix and keep it running.  Today he had no such luck.

The truck, Sugar, was arguably in much better shape.  She was well-loved, red paint chipping after years of use and a cracked rear window.  The engine had its moments but she was still better off than ‘Ol Reliable.  

“C’mon, Sugar.  Don’t be like that.”  Eddie mutters, turning the key in the ignition a few times more, only to be met with failure.  “Fuck.”  He whispers, hopping out from the driver’s side to prop the hood open, large hands splayed out along the sides as he prepares for battle.

With a sigh, he ties his hair back and discards his leather jacket on the ground in exasperation, even going as far as to give it a small kick away from his work space.  A wooden work bench was strategically placed on the porch under the awning, leaving no issue for when winter came around so that he had easy access to his tools even in the most dreadful of snows.  Snow hadn’t kissed the ground quite yet but the further into October it got, the more crisp the air became, a subtle announcement for what was to come.

A deep, resentful groan leaves Eddie’s chest as he trudged up the steps to the porch, lips all perfectly pouted while he reluctantly pulls each of his large rings off only to drop them in a cup he’d taken from a diner years ago when he made the move to Knife’s Edge.  An already greased up rag was snatched from the worktop and tucked snugly into his back pocket.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

He counts to himself under his breath as he collects the necessary tools.  It wasn’t like he had to be at the bar yet, though he would’ve liked to stop by the store to stock up on cigarettes and see if he could find any of those cocktail cherries on sale.  He wanted to save where he could.  Every cent mattered.  Then he was more than likely going to sulk in self pity while trying to figure out how to summon money from the sky.  Maybe indulge in a beer in his office.  He couldn’t afford to comp beers for himself like that but he could dream.  After that maybe he’d have a good cry before the chaos ensued again.  

Those plans went out the window when Sugar decided to test his patience.  Perhaps he should be grateful to his unfaithful truck for attempting to lure him out of the isolation he planned to encase himself in.  It was one thing to isolate yourself at home, it was another to trap yourself at your place of work hours before it actually opened and beat yourself up over every little thing and question where it all went wrong.  

“Dammit, dammit, dammit.”  He reiterates to himself, tossing a wrench in his hand as he makes his way back to Sugar.  “Go easy on me.”  He begs.

The pumpkins you had been angling perfectly on your porch were suddenly so miserably uninteresting; how could they not be when such an erotic site was placed right in front of your prying eyes?  Regretfully, your wet dream came to life.  Except, you played no part in it and Eddie paid no mind to you.  Not that he ever would.  And even if he did, you’d made it clear that you were a nutcase.  

You still couldn’t tear your eyes away from the way his arms flexed under his short sleeves and how he grunted while tugging at something under the hood of his truck.  Drool could have been dripping from your chin and you wouldn’t notice, too hypnotized by his every movement.  He had opted to wear some black converse today rather than his standard black combat boots.  It was cute, you couldn’t lie, the small change made you giddy.  And the way his shirt was riding up as he stretched himself over the engine felt like a tease.  A peek at what you had once gotten a glance of while wasted but didn’t get to fully appreciate as your sober self.  

God, you could recall the blurry image of him momentarily pulling his puke stained shirt off cautiously, revealing his lean figure.  It was practically pixelated in your mind.  As you reminisce on what your drunk self had taken for granted, reality feels just as distorted when Eddie’s eyes land on yours.  Huge doe eyes, almost cartoon-like catching your attention as if a moth to a flame.  You want to look away, you beg of yourself to look away but your inner voice is muffled; almost as though you were under an enchantment.

And like a siren call, his voice reaches you.  You fear that you may be all too willing to drown just to hear it again.

“Will you hold this for me?”  He shouts, almost desperately.  Almost.

Your eyes widen, hands still resting atop a perfectly orange pumpkin while you sit pretty on your porch step.  An Autumn dream.  Suddenly, Eddie wishes he would’ve kept to himself rather than requesting your assistance.  Had he thought it through, he would’ve opted to magically grow another hand.  Instead, he stands with ruddy cheeks and syrupy eyes, glazed with adoration that he was frantically attempting to wipe from his vision, shoving the feelings that were oozing out of him back into his stupid sweaty skin.

“Um…”  You reply in surprise, already crossing the border between properties, a shy stutter to your walk.  “Well I don’t really know how to…”  You trail off, suspecting that he could figure out the rest of your thoughts on his own.

Oh, how he regrets calling you over.  His clammy hand clutches the wrench, providing no aid in his attempt to calm his nerves.  

“You don’t…you don’t have to, uh…”  He appears as if he’s battling his own thoughts, gaze casted toward the ground as his eyes dart left and right.  “Can you just hold this?”  He finally gets out, pointing to a part of the engine.  “Sugar won’t start and I swear I can have her running again but it’d be a hell lot easier if you could just hold this real quick.”

“Sugar?”

“Sugar.”  He confirms.  “Oh!”  Realization hits him.  “Yeah, Sugar.  My truck.”  

“Okay…”  You whisper, unsure.

You could almost forget the mortifying incident from the early hours of 3:00 AM as you took in his wet chocolate coated eyes, the light Fall breeze seeming to affect him.  His lashes clumped together like art and his nose was tinted the perfect shade of rose, those faint freckles dotted along the bridge like little constellations.

“Just, right here.”  He instructs, turning his attention back to Sugar.  

Following his lead, you adjust your hand where it's needed, an uncomfortable, greasy residue coating your fingers as he works.  From this angle, the afternoon sun casts a golden glow over his profile, flyaway curls highlighted in the light like a halo and nose endearingly round at the tip with lips tucked into his teeth as he concentrates.  And then, his tongue pokes out, an adoring sight that only makes you yearn to reach out and graze your fingertips over the stubble threatening to emerge from his cheek.

“Thought you’d name it something more…tough.”  

Your meek voice earns a glance over his shoulder, brows furrowed in that cute way that everyone always recognized as harsh and cold-hearted.

“What?”  The way his eyes crinkle at the corners paired with his confused expression only give you more reason to let your stare linger a little bit longer, a bold move on your part.

“Um, Sugar–”

“Oh, Sugar.”  

Simultaneously, you refer to his truck, interrupting each other while his elbow grazes your arm as he tightens a bolt.

“Uh, well…she’s, uh, the only girl in my life.”  He jokes, quietly chuckling.  “And, she’s not exactly brand new so I’ve gotta treat ‘er nice.”

“And…she can hear you?”  You question, attempting to hide your oncoming grin.

This time, he only glares at you over his shoulder.  There’s a comfort in the way his eyes seem to swallow you whole.  

“Okay, okay, ha, ha.  I know, she’s a truck–”

“And you keep calling it a ‘she’.”

Eddie pulls back, stepping away from the engine, prompting you to do the same as you stare up at him, a smidge afraid that you might have actually offended him.  A few rebellious curls frame his face, creating the vision of a princely man who in reality, was nothing of the sort.  Not in the sense that he wasn’t gentlemanly, only in the sense that he didn’t care what others thought.

“What?  You never heard of people calling their car a ‘she’ before?”  He asks, offense barely evident in his tone.  More than anything, he appears to be amused by your observation.

“No, I have.  Just didn’t think you seemed like one of them.”  You remark.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Again his eyebrows crinkle in the cutest fashion, lip curling ever so slightly as he brings a hand to his hip.  You begin to think that no one has ever looked so good covered in grease and you’d never been attracted to the smell of oil but you could make an exception if it meant you’d get to see his features this close.  Eddie was a pretty guy.  And the more his colors showed, the more entranced you became.

“I dunno, nevermind.”  You attempt to divert the conversation.

“No, no, you have to tell me.  Please enlighten me.”  He crosses his arms, a smug smirk pulling at his lips.  

“No, forget it!.”  You giggle.

Eddie can feel his shoulders relaxing at the sound.  Can feel his tension release even if just the slightest.  His eyes relax, a lazy gaze focused on you.  Everything suddenly feels so…calm.  As if his life wasn’t falling apart.  You were like some kind of drug that made him forget how shitty things were and if it only lasted a few seconds at a time, he would gladly invest in as much as he could until he overdosed.  Which to be fair, he didn’t think was possible.  

“No, what do you mean?  Say it with your chest, I dare you.”  He nods at you, eyes showcasing that same spark you’d notice every now and then.  The spark only seemed to get bigger and bigger.  One day you’d hoped to see a fire ignite, a full explosion of his personality.

Biting your lip, you look at him sheepishly, doubting yourself.  But something about his gaze eggs you on.

“You just…you’re all…big and bad.”  You mumble, eyes finding themselves glued to the ground.

“Big and bad?”  Eddie repeats.

It’s enough to have you backtracking, pathetically trying to erase your words.  Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, like a goldfish.

“See, it was stupid!  I was being stupid.  Just forget–”

“Why do you keep doing that?”  He asks, genuine curiosity blended in his tone along with a dash of concern.

“Doing what?”

Your puzzled expression only makes his chest ache.  Leaves crunch under your feet as you fidget, visually nervous.  He hates that he always ends up making you uncomfortable, never able to get a grip though maybe he can blame his highschool-self.  He never talked to girls and maybe if he had, he’d be having better luck right now.  Who’s he kidding, maybe if he just wasn’t even himself he’d be making a lot more progress.

“Calling yourself stupid.”  He mentions quietly.

No one has ever confronted your self-deprecating commentary, only ever remained silent as if to agree with you or they’d simply shift the topic.  Never has someone questioned your reasoning.    

“Oh…well I uh, I didn’t think I did it that often.”  You begin to stutter, clearly taken back.  He wishes he could rewind back to when you were bantering back and forth about his truck.  He probably would’ve found another way to fuck up the conversation, even if he could go back and give himself another chance.  

“But if this is because last night I wrote–”  You start again, only for him to keep running his big mouth.

“A bunch of bullshit?”  He states.  Like it's a fact.

Your wide eyes aren’t a good sign.

“What?”

“Yeah.  Bullshit.”  He sounds so sure of himself.

“Oh.”  

You physically seem as if you're deflating, your body closing in on itself, shoulders slumping while you take a step back.  It was the opposite of what he wanted.  But he could always count on himself to ruin a good thing.

“No, no!  I didn’t mean it like–I didn’t mean–fuckin’ christ.”  Eddie runs his clean hand down his face.  “I didn’t mean it was bullshit.  I meant that…I guess I meant that you shouldn’t feel like that?”

It’s quiet.  Eddie knows he deserves a slap across the face, if anything.  But you just continue staring at the ground, lost in thought.  Moments pass and he’s starting to feel he should dismiss himself and hide forever.  Forget fixing Sugar and just become a hermit.

“Why?”  You whisper.

He doesn’t offer an answer, only shrugs slowly.  He just kept putting nails in his own coffin.

“Don’t you…don’t you think I’m those things?  Like…like there’s something wrong with me?”

Eddie steps closer, not enough to push your boundaries but still enough for you to notice.  He tugs his lip in between his teeth, pulling at it anxiously while he thinks.  And with his arms still crossed, one finger taps at his elbow in threes.  You follow the action.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

“No.”  He says simply, to which your head snaps up.

Cola colored irises are awaiting you, welcoming you in a way.  A softer expression falls over his face, his cherub-like features becoming enhanced.

“I don’t think you’re those things.”  Eddie says confidently.  “I think you’re just right.”

~end~

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[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 10

Hello Dear Readers! Here comes the new chapter, it's 6239 words, so be prepared.

What do you think about a game? It's almost Threshing. If you can guess (correctly or close to that) what kind of dragon and/or what kind of signet Aelin will have, then I'll answer one question in private about the story. Even if it'll be a spoiler. Good luck!

Don’t underestimate the challenge of the Gauntlet, Mira. It’s designed to test your balance, strength, and agility. The times don’t matter for shit, only that you make it to the top. Reach for the ropes when you have to. Coming in last is better than coming in dead.

—Page forty-six, the Book of Brennan

I look up, and up, and up, and I can only blink.

“Well, that’s…” Ethan swallows, his head tilted just as far back as mine as we stare at the menacing obstacle course that’s carved into the front of a ridgeline so steep, it might as well be a cliff. The zigzagging death trap of a trail rises above us, climbing in five distinct switchbacks of 180-degree turns, each increasing in difficulty on the way to the top of the bluff that divides the citadel from the flight field and the Vale.

“Amazing.” Liam grins.

Ethan and I turn, both staring at him like he must have hit his head.

“You think that hellscape looks amazing?” Ethan asks.

„I mean look at that. I heard a lot of stories about this, but it’s so much more complex. It will be a real challenge.” Liam grins, his blue eyes dancing in the morning sun as he rubs his hands together, shifting from one toned leg to the other in glee.

“Challenge? Yeah, sure we can go with that.” I laugh at him. “At the gym in the challenges you don’t have a real opponent, it was way too easy for you.”

“You’re one to talk.” Ethan stares at me. “You’ve never lost either.”

“Well…yeah” I scratch my head.

„Still not sure why they call it the Gauntlet,” another squadmate - whose name I don’t remember - says from my right, blowing into his cupped hands to ward off the morning chill. The sun hasn’t touched this little crevice, but it’s shining above the last quarter of the course.

“To ensure dragons keep coming to Threshing by weeding out the weaklings.” An obnoxious girl says, maybe her name is Vila? At some point I should start memorizing their names. But they are fucking annoying.

I shoot her a glare and then shake it off.

“Knock it the fuck off,” the first-year snaps, earning the entire squad’s attention.

My eyebrows lift. They’re really annoying.

“We have such a lovely and cohesive squad.” I murmur to Liam. “What is his name anyway?”

“Do you really not know their names?” He laughs at me. “We’ve been squadmates for a while.”

“I know your name, Ethan’s and Vila’s too. Oh and there’s Theo and Zanaya.” I list.

“That’s all?” He grins “You know my name because we’re friends. Ethan is my friend and he hangs out with us during classes, so that doesn’t count.” He counts the names on his fingers. “And the only reason you know Vila’s name is because she annoys you. Theo and Zanaya don’t count either. They’re the squadleader and his executive.”

“Fine. I admit it. I don’t know their names. “I give in. “They die like flies. We’re the smallest squad.”

“Then why do you think it’s called the gauntlet?” I hear shouting behind me.

God. They’re still arguing.

„It’s called the Gauntlet because this is the cliff that guards the Vale,” Professor Emetterio says, walking up behind our squad, his shaved head glinting in the growing sunlight. “Plus, actual gauntlets—armored gloves made of metal—are slippery as hell, and the name stuck about twenty years ago.” He cocks a brow at Vila and the man next to her. “Are you two done arguing? Because all six of you have exactly an hour to get to the top before it’s another squad’s chance to practice, and from what I’ve seen of your agility on the mat, you’re going to need every second.”

There’s a grumble of assent in our little group.

“As you know, hand-to-hand challenges are on hold for the next two and a half weeks before Presentation so you can focus here.” Professor Emetterio flips a page on the little notebook he carries. “Liam, you’re going to show them how it’s done, since you’re the best of the squad. Then Aelin, Jake, Ethan, Rio and Vila.” He finishes calling out every name in our squad, and we file into order. “You’re the smallest squad so far. You need to work hard to remain intact. If you’ll lose two or three more cadets then you’ll be dissolved and you’ll be assigned to another squad. Wait here for a second.” He walks past us, waving at someone high up on the cliff. No doubt that someone has a watch.

We wait silently, thinking about what he said. I don’t want to be assigned to another squad. I like it that Liam is my squadmate, and I’m starting to like Ethan too. There’s no guarantee all three of us will be in the same squad.

„Here we go!” Professor Emetterio walks to the head of our line. “You’ll get your time at the top of the course, if you make it, but remember, you’ll still have nine practice sessions before we rank you for Presentation in two and a half weeks, which will determine if the dragons find you worthy at Threshing.”

„Wouldn’t it make more sense to let first-years start practicing this thing right after Parapet?” Ethan asks. “You know, to give us a little more time so we don’t die?”

“No,” Professor Emetterio replies. “The timing is part of the challenge. And some words of wisdom, before you start.”

“There are ropes every six feet that run from the top of the sheer cliffside to the bottom,” he says. “So if you start to fall, reach out and grab a rope. It’ll cost you thirty seconds, but death costs you more.”

Awesome.

“I mean, there’s a perfectly good set of steps over there.” Vila points to the steep staircase carved into the cliff beside the wide switchbacks of the Gauntlet.

“Stairs are for reaching the flight field on the top of the ridgeline after Presentation,” Professor Emetterio says, then lifts his hands toward the course and flicks his wrist, pointing at various obstacles.

The fifteen-foot log at the start of the uphill climb begins to spin. The pillars on the third ascent shake. The giant wheel at the first switchback starts its counterclockwise rotation, and those little posts there? They all twist in opposite directions.

“Every one of the five ascents on this course is designed to mimic the challenges you’ll face in battle.” Professor Emetterio turns to look at us, his face just as stern as it is during our usual combat training. “From the balance you must keep on the back of your dragon, to the strength you’ll need to hold your seat during maneuvers, to”—he gestures upward, toward the last obstacle that looks like a ninety-degree ramp from this angle—“the stamina you’ll need to fight on the ground, then still be able to mount your dragon at a second’s notice.”

The posts knock a chunk of granite loose, and the rock tumbles down the course, smacking every obstacle in its path until it crashes twenty feet in front of us.

“Whoa,” Rio whispers, his brown eyes wide as he stares at the pulverized rock.

„What if we can’t make it up?” Vila asks from my right, securing her long hair in a loose braid, her usual haughtiness not so in-your-face today. “What’s the alternative route?”

“There’s no alternative. If you don’t make it, you can’t get to Presentation, can you? Take your position, Liam,” Professor Emetterio orders, and Liam moves to the beginning of the course. “After he makes it past the final obstacle, so everyone can learn from this cadet completing the course, the rest of you will start every sixty seconds. And…go!”

Liam is off like a shot. He easily runs the fifteen feet across the single log spinning parallel with the cliff face and then the raised pillars, but it takes him two rotations inside the wheel before he jumps through the lone opening, but other than that, I don’t see a single misstep in the first ascent. Not. One.

He turns and rushes toward a series of giant hanging balls that make up the second ascent, jumping and hugging one after another. His feet back on the ground, he turns again and heads up the third ascent, which is divided into two sections. The first part has giant metal rods hanging parallel to the cliff wall, and he easily swings arm over arm, using his body’s weight and momentum to swing the bar forward and reach the next bar hanging half a foot higher than the previous as he climbs the side of the cliff. From the last bar, he jumps onto a series of shaking pillars that make up the second half of this ascent before finally leaping back onto the gravel path.

By the time he reaches the fourth ascent, the spinning logs, Liam’s made it all look like child’s play, and I start to feel a bubble of hope that maybe the course isn’t as difficult as it looks from the ground.

But then he faces a giant chimney formation rising high above him at a twenty-degree angle and pauses.

“You got this!” I yell to encourage him.

As though he heard, he sprints toward the leaning chimney and flings himself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with his body, then starts hopping up the conduit until he reaches the end and drops down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff’s edge at a nearly vertical climb.

My breath catches in my throat as Liam sprints toward the ramp, using his speed and momentum to carry him two-thirds of the way up the ramp. Just before he starts to fall, he reaches up with one arm and grasps the lip of the ramp and hauls himself over the edge.

Ethan and I cheer for him. He made it. In an almost flawless approach.

“Perfect technique!” Professor Emetterio calls out. “That’s exactly what you should all be doing.”

„Aelin, begin!” Emetterio orders.

Be with me, Zihnal. I haven’t spent nearly enough time at temple for the god of luck to care much about what happens to me right now, but it’s worth a shot.

I bolt up the first part of the ascent, coming to the spinning log within seconds. My stomach feels like it’s being stirred by this balance beam from hell. “It’s just balance. You can balance,” I mumble and start across, jumping off the end to land on the first of four granite columns, each one higher than the last.

There are about three feet between them, but I manage to leap from one pillar to the next without skidding off the ends. And this is the easy part.

I jump into the rotating wheel and run, leaping over the only opening as it flies by once, then watching it come around. Timing. This one is all about timing.

The opportunity comes and I seize it, racing through the opening and turning back onto the gravel path of the second ascent. The buoy balls are just ahead.

I start to hum to calm myself. The music always helps me.

I spring from the edge of the path onto the first ball, grasping it up top. The immediate strain on my shoulders makes me tense but it’s bearable. Not bad.

Throwing my weight, I force the ball to rotate, swinging me toward the next one.

I repeat the motion, grasping from one ball to the next, keeping my eyes on the chains and nothing else.

I still hum as I reach the fifth and final ball. With one last swing, I throw myself sideways, releasing the ball and landing on the shoulder-wide gravel path and I almost hit the wall with my head.

It’s all momentum for the next ascent.

I line my body up with the first metal rod and get ready to sprint forward.

There are three iron rails in front of me, each lined up like a battering ram toward the next.  I then launch myself towards the first. At least the texture gives me something to keep hold of as I work my way hand over hand.

The first clang of iron as the rails meet makes my fingers slip, and I gasp.

I throw myself to the next and move across the rail with the same hand-over-hand motion.

My right hand loses purchase and my weight swings me into face-first of the steep mountainside, my cheek slamming into the rock. A high-pitched ringing erupts in my ears and my vision darkens at the edges.

“Aelin!” Liam shouts from the top.

My other hand is still holding the rail. I can do it.

I’ve survived seven weeks in this damned quadrant, and this course isn’t going to beat me today.

I immediately start the hand over hand to get me to the next one, until I finally let go, landing on the first shaking iron pillar. My brain is rattled as the thing shudders violently, and I leap to the next, barely gaining a foothold before jumping to the gravel path at the end of the ascent.

I reach the twisting staircase posts jutting straight from the side of the cliff face.

Each three-foot-wide timber rotates from its base in one of the steepest sections of the course. I quickly calculate. I need to do it with one go. If I stop they will probably roll me off.

I bounce on my feet, dredging up whatever courage I have left. Then I run. My feet are quick, making contact with each post only long enough to push off for the next, and within a few heartbeats, I’m on the other side.

I hear someone cry out and my head snaps toward the voice, just in time to see Jake wobble and slip on the rails. The air freezes.

“Jake!” I hear Vila screaming.

Our eyes meet, shock and terror filling his wide black eyes as he falls. Halfway down the cliff.

Shit.

“Aelin! Come on, you’re almost up here.” Liam shouts at the top.

I look at him and nod. Yes, I can do it.

I face a giant chimney formation rising high above me at a twenty-degree angle and pause.

God, it’s really high. But if Liam could do it, then so do I.

I sprint toward the leaning chimney and flings myself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with my body.

Okay, now I need to climb.

I start hopping up the conduit slowly, maybe a little too slowly, until I reach the end and drop down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff’s edge at a nearly vertical climb.

Fuck. It seems the most difficult obstacle of all of them.

But I can’t give up now. It’s the last one. I can do it, I just need to be fast.

I sprint toward the ramp, using my speed and momentum to carry me almost all the way up the ramp.

Just before I start to fall, I reach up and I can grab onto the lip of the ramp with one arm.

My god. I did it.

I reach up with my other arm and haul myself over the edge.

As soon as I stand up, Liam is there and sweeps me into his arms.

“You were great Aelin!” He laughs. “You did it!”

I still can’t believe that it’s over. I hug him back and start laughing too.

“Yeah. It seems I did it.”

“How’s your face?” He pulls back and look at the side of my face. “You hit it pretty hard.”

“It’s not that bad actually. I mean, later it’ll hurt probably.”

“Then we will get some ointment later.”

I nod and then we watch the others.

Ethan has made up his way to us. He was the slowest of us who made it to the top, but it doesn’t matter to me. He did it, and we survived.

Rio made it too. He did a great job and since then he bahaves as if he was already chosen by a dragon. And naturally Vila argues with him about this too.

Vila had to use the ropes at the shaking pillars. She almost fell down like Jack.

Shit. We lost Jack.

There are only 5 of us first-years left.

***

The sun burns my eyes as we stand in morning formation.

“Calvin Atwater,” Captain Fitzgibbons reads, his voice solemn like always.

First Squad, Claw Section, Fourth Wing. He sits two rows behind me in Battle Brief. He sat.

There’s nothing special about this morning. Our first trial on the Gauntlet has made the roll longer, but it’s just another list on just another day…except it’s not. It’s not like the first day anymore. I know more than half of the names as they’re called. “Newland Jahvon,” he continues.

Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.

We have to be in the twenties by now. How can this be all there is? We say their names once and then go on as if they never existed?

„Aurelie Donans.”

Shit. She was Vi’s squadmate. She told me what happened yesterday. Watching one of your friends falls to death? It’s cruel.

I look at Violet and see that she ripped open one of the scabs along her cheek. A trickle of blood follows as the next name is called.

***

“You’re sure about this?” Dain asks Violet the next night - as I approach them - two worried lines between his brows as he clasps Violet’s shoulders.

“If her parents aren’t coming to bury her body, then I should be the one to handle her things. I’m the last person she saw,” She explains, rolling her shoulders to adjust the weight of Aurelie’s pack.

Every Basgiath parent has the same option when their cadet is killed. They can retrieve the body and personal effects for burial or burning or the school will put their body under a stone and burn their effects themselves. Aurelie’s parents have chosen door number two.

“And you don’t want me to go with you?” he asks, palming her neck.

She shakes her head. “I know where the burn pit is.”

“Besides I will be there for her.” I say and stand next to Violet. “Now hands off. We have more important things to do, than listening to you.”

“Cadet Melgren, do I need to remind you that I’m a squadleader? Show some respect.” He growls at me.

“Respect must be earned. And I think it sends a completely different message that you coddle Violet, squadleader.” I raise my eyebrows.

“It’s okay, Dain. We should go.” Violet says then we start to climb the stairs of the academic tower’s turret past the Battle Brief room and up to the stone roof, going by a few other cadets on their way down.

„I never got the chance to ask you if you made it all the way up,” I say.

She shakes her head. “I got caught at the chimney formation and had to use a rope to get back down. I’m too short to span the distance, but I’m not thinking about that tonight. I’ll figure something out before the official timed Gauntlet on Presentation day.”

“I help you. We will figure something out, together. You’re not alone, Vi.” I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.

The burn pit is nothing more than an extra-wide iron barrel, whose only purpose is to incinerate, and the flames burn bright against the night sky as we stumble out onto the roof.

There’s no one else up here as Violet slips the bag from her shoulder.

I stop a little further away from the pit. She wanted to do it alone, and I will respect her wish.

“I’m so sorry,” I hear her whisper, as she flings it up and over the metal edge of the bin.

The flames catch and whoosh as it becomes more fuel for the fire, just another tribute to Malek, the god of death.

Instead of walking back down the stairs, I make my way to the edge of the turret where Violet stares at the sky.

It’s a cloudy night, but I can make out the shadows of three dragons as they approach from the west and even see the ridge where the Gauntlet lays, waiting to claim its next victim.

It won’t be me.

I stand here, patiently waiting for Violet to be ready to go back, letting minutes tick by before the bells sound for curfew. We climb back down the stairs without a word.

We walk through the courtyard, empty but for a couple who can’t decide if they’d rather kiss or walk near the dais.

“I don’t want go back yet.” Vi whispers while avoiding my eyes.

“Then we won’t. Come, if I remember correctly there’s an alcove over there.” I smile at her softly. Understanding the pain, that makes her want to hide.

We’re heading for the alcove where Dain and Vi first sat after Parapet.

It’s almost been two months, and we’re still here. Still waking every morning to the sunrise. Doesn’t that mean something?

I wonder as we sit in silence, watching the stars on the sky.

The door that leads to the tunnel we took to cross the ridgeline to the Gauntlet this morning opens along the courtyard wall, just left of the academic building, and my brow furrows. Who would be returning this late?

Sitting back against the wall, I let the darkness conceal me as Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi—Xaden’s cousin—pass under a mage light, headed in my direction.

Three dragons. They were out…doing what? There were no training ops that I know of tonight, not that I’m privy to everything third-years do.

“There has to be something more we can do,” Bodhi argues, looking to Xaden, his voice low as they pass by us, their boots crunching on the gravel.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Garrick hisses.

My scalp prickles and Xaden stops mid-step ten feet away, the set of his shoulders rigid.

Shit.

He knows we’re here.

Instead of the usual fear that spikes in his presence, only anger rises in my chest. If he wants to kill me, then fine. I’m over waiting for it to happen. Over walking through the halls in fear.

“What’s wrong?” Garrick asks, immediately looking over his shoulder in the opposite direction, toward the couple who definitely decided making out is more important than getting into the dorms by curfew.

“Go on. I’ll meet you inside,” Xaden says.

„You sure?” Bodhi’s forehead puckers, and his gaze sweeps over the courtyard.

“Go,” Xaden orders, standing completely still until the other two walk into the barracks, turning left toward the stairwell that will take them to the second- and third-year floors. Only when they’re gone does he turn and face the exact spot where we’re sitting.

“I know you know we’re here.” Violet says and moves toward him. “And please don’t prattle on about commanding the dark. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

I try to suppress my laughter as I walk next to Violet, standing between her and Xaden.

“No questions about where I’ve been?” He folds his arms across his chest and studies us in the moonlight. His scar looks even more menacing in this light, but I can’t seem to find the energy to be scared.

“I honestly don’t care.” Vi shrugs and makes her way toward the dorms without another word.

“As much as I enjoy our conversations, I have to go. It’s curfew after all.” I say.

“Are you going to tell someone that we were out?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No. I don’t care what you do.” I cross my arms. “It’s probably the best if I don’t know anyway.” I mutter silently.

He cocks his head to the side. “You really don’t care, do you?”

I just shake my head.

“What are you doing out after curfew, Sunshine?”

“Counting the stars, what else?” I retort. “How about you? Feel like sharing?” I ask mockingly, knowing he’s not about to answer me.

“The same.”

Sarcastic ass.

“Look, are you planning to kill us or not? The anticipation is starting to annoy the fuck out of me.” I ask.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he answers, like I’ve just inquired about his dinner preferences, but his gaze narrows on my cheek. There’s still a bruise from yesterday’s Gauntlet practice.

“Well, could you?” I mutter. “It would definitely help me make my plans for the week.”

“Am I affecting your schedule, Sunshine?” There’s a definite smirk on those lips.

“I just need to know what my chances are that Violet and I are going to make it through alive.” My hands curl into fists.

The ass has the nerve to smile. “That’s the oddest way I’ve ever been hit on—”

“Not my chances with you, you conceited prick!” Fuck this. Fuck all of this. I move past him, but he catches my wrist, his grip light but his hold firm.

His fingertips on my pulse make it skitter.

“Chances at what?” he asks, tugging me just close enough that my shoulder brushes his biceps.

“Nothing.” He wouldn’t understand. He’s a damned wingleader, which means he’s excelled at everything in the quadrant, even somehow managing to get past his own last name.

“Chances at what?” he repeats. “Do not make me ask three times.” His ominous tone is at odds with his gentle grasp, and shit, does he have to smell so good? Like mint and leather and something I can’t quite identify, something that borders between citrus and floral.

“At living through all of this! I have to figure it out how Violet can make it up the damned Gauntlet. And there’s my own problems I have to deal with, and here you are, annoying me.” I half-heartedly tug at my wrist, but he doesn’t let go.

“I see.” He’s so infuriatingly calm, and I can’t even get a grip on one of my emotions.

„No, you don’t. You’re probably celebrating because she’ll fall to her death and you can kill me anytime, we saw that on the mat the previous time.”

“Killing you wouldn’t be any trouble, Sunshine. It’s leaving you alive that seems to cause the majority of my trouble.”

My gaze swings up to clash with his, but his face is unreadable, cloaked in shadow, go figure.

“Sorry to be a hassle.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. “You know the problem with this place?” I tug my arm back again, but he holds fast. “Besides you touching things that don’t belong to you?” My eyes narrow on him.

„I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” My stomach flutters as his thumb brushes my pulse and he releases my wrist.

I answer before I can think better of it. “Hope.”

“Hope?” He tips his head closer to mine, as if he wasn’t sure he heard me right.

“Hope.” I nod. “Someone like you would never get it, but I knew coming here was a death sentence. It didn’t matter that I’ve been trained my entire life to enter the Riders Quadrant, but it isn’t a guarantee that I will survive it; but when General Melgren gives an order, you can’t exactly ignore it.” Gods, why am I running off at the mouth to this man? What’s the worst he’ll do? Kill you?

„Sure you can.” He shrugs. “You just might not like the consequences.”

I roll my eyes, and to my utter embarrassment, instead of pulling away now that I’m free, I lean in just a little, like I can siphon off some of his strength. He certainly has enough to spare.

“I knew what the odds were, and I came anyway, concentrating on that tiny percentage of a chance that both of us would live. And then we make it almost two months and I get…” I shake my head, clenching my jaw. “Hopeful.” The word tastes sour.

“Ah. And then you lose a squadmate, and you are reminded that you can’t help Violet, and you give up. I’m starting to see. He holds my gaze locked with his. “Here’s the thing, Melgren. Hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. It steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs—on the probabilities.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Not hope that we live? Just plan for death?”

“You’re supposed to focus on the things that can kill you so you find ways to not die.” He shakes his head. “I can barely count the number of people in this quadrant who want you dead, either as revenge against your father or because you’re just really good at pissing people off, but you’re still here, defying the odds.” Shadows wrap around me, and I swear I feel a caress along the side of my wounded cheek. “It’s been rather surprising to watch, actually.”

“Happy to be your entertainment. I’m going to bed.” Spinning on my heel, I head toward the entrance to the barracks, but he’s right behind me, close enough that the door would slam in his face if he wasn’t so unnaturally fast at catching it.

“Maybe if you stopped sulking in your self-pity, you’d see that you have everything you need.” he calls after me, his voice echoing down the hallway.

“My self-what?” I turn around, my jaw dropping.

“People die,” he says slowly, his jaw ticking before he drags in a deep breath. “It’s going to happen over and over again. It’s the nature of what happens here. What makes you a rider is what you do after people die. You want to know why you’re still alive? Because you’re the scale I currently judge myself against every night. Every day I let you live, I get to convince myself that there’s still a part of me that’s a decent person. So if you want to quit, then please, spare me the temptation and fucking quit. But if you want to do something, then do it.”

What an annoying prick.

I open my mouth to retort when I hear footsteps.

We turn around and face the man whom I know too well. He’s the aide of General Melgren.

Fuck, he must be back. I can feel my face turning as white as a ghost.

Xaden must see it too because he steps in front of me without a word. He’s trying to protect me?

“Wingleader Riorson I need a word with Cadet Melgren, leave.” The man says to Xaden without a glance at him.

“She’s in my chain of command. I don’t see why I should leave her here.” He crosses his arms. “If you have something to say then do it in front of me.”

“Fine.” The man nods and stares at me. “General Melgren wishes to see you. He returned from the front and like’d to hear your report.”

My god. I didn’t prepare a suitable story for him. I will be in big trouble, if not worse.

“I understand, I’ll be there.” I nod.

Without another word the man turns around and leaves us alone.

“What’s all this about?” Xaden looks at me with an unreadable expression.

“Nothing. You heard him. The General wants to see me. I have to go.” I say and try to walk past him to the doors but he grabs my arm.

“Nothing? I don’t think so.” He leans closer. “You look as pale as a ghost.”

“It was a surprise, nothing else.” I try to lie, in hope that he lets it slide. I don’t want him to find out.

“Why don’t you call him father?” He observes me. “You always call him General. He’s your father isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. It’s just that we’re cadets and it wouldn’t be appropriate.” I yank my arm and he releases me. “Now if you excuse me, I have to go.”

I walk out the door, towards the building where the offices are located. I feel nauseous. Everystep on the stairs is harder. I’m scared.

I stop in front of his door. Breath in and out. Then I knock.

“Enter.”

I open the door and enter his office. The air is chilling because of the open window. I stand in front of his desk and wait until he’s done with writing whatever he’s writing.

“What happened since we talked last time?” He puts down his pen and looks at me with a cold gaze.

“The challanges are over for now, we started practicing on the Gauntlet.” I try to keep it short.

“How many challanges did you lose?”

“I didn’t lose a single one.” I reply in an emotionless tone. I need to lock up my feelings as usual. This is the only way to survive it. Later…later I can think about it.

“That was expected.” He nods with approval as he stands up and walks around the desk. “The Gauntlet?”

“Yesterday was our first session, I made it up on my first try.” I answer.

“And what about that Riorson kid and the other marked-ones?” He raises an eyebrow and stands in front of me.

I gulp.

“There’s nothing that’s worth mentioning.” I try and hope so hard he’d accept it.

He grabs my arm tightly and yanks me toward him.

“I will decide if it is worth it or not.” He squeezes my arm tighter. It will leave a bruise. “Do you understand, Cadet?”

“Yes, General.” I reply quickly.

“Good. Now tell me what you know.” He releases my arm and I try not to show that it hurt.

“They attend classes like anyone else. They don’t stand out.” I say the basic facts that anyone can know. I don’t want to betray Liam and his friends. “Most of the other cadets are avoiding them. Some of them are good at studying while others at fighting. They seem pretty normal to me.”

“Hm. And Riorson?” He asks with a calculating look.

“We don’t have much common classes. At Battle Brief he’s observant and clever. At the gym he’s strong and quick. He spends a lot of time with the leader of the Flame Section, Garrick Tavis.” I say only what’s neccesary to ease his suspicion.

“Do you ever see them in groups larger than three?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

The night at the tree. Images flashes through my mind. But… they didn’t do anything wrong.

“No. Never.” I shake my head.

“I see.” He looks at me with a gaze that makes me chill to the bones. “That’s all you could gather the past weeks? I heard you’re friends with Colonel Mairi’s son.” He spat the word friend as if it’s a disease.

“I’m close with him because of his relationship with Xaden, and he’s a first-year too.” I lie to him. I can’t bring more attention to Liam. He’s truly a good person. “He’s a pretty private person, but slowly opening up. Maybe later I can gather more information. I don’t want to look suspicious.”

“And the daggers? Did you see them with the marked-ones?”

“No, they mostly use the ones they earned at challenges.” I’m curious to why that strange dagger is important to him. “If I know what they are, maybe I could search more efficiently.”

“That’s above your paygrade, Cadet.” He says towering over me. “You’re dismissed.” He leans on his desk.

“Understood.” I say and turn toward the doors.

There’s a sound, a dagger cutting through the air. Instinctively I turn around and lean to the side.

I was almost too late. I feel the dagger grazing my cheek and then the blood.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He knows that I lied to him?

In the blink of an eye he’s there and squeezes my neck.

“Don’t forget that the only reason you’re alive is because of my mercy.” He leans closer and cuts off the air supply when he squeezes harder. “I expect useful information from you. If you have to then use your body. You’re only worth is your usefulness. I don’t need people who are useless.”

There’s a knock on the door behind me. He glares at me a moment longer then releases me and pulls out his dagger from the door and sheetes it.

I start coughing and try to squeeze enough air in my lungs through my bruised throat.

Damn. I almost died.

The General is already sitting at his desk when another knock sounds.

“Go, I have better things to do.”

I open the door and see General Sorrengail.

“General.” I greet her in a rasp voice.

She looks at my cheek where the blood still flows with a raised eyebrow then toward my neck.

Shit, I didn’t think. She’s not stupid. I have to get out of here.

I exit the office and without another word I’m stumbling down the stairs.

I need to go out. I need air. My thoughts are fuzzy. I almost died. The sentence repeats again and again in my head.

But depsite of it, I still can’t bear the thought of betraying the marked-ones. Liam. Xaden. I…like them.

But what if it’ll cost me my life?

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

to ashes, development

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Summary: a development on a mission means it's time to move on.

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2,313

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Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Eighty-Five Days

“Holy shit, you got any idea how fuckin’ hard I am right now?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Oh, gross.”

Clint frowned.

“What? It’s seedy as hell,” you waved a hand. “You take me to the worst places.”

You swore, you could actually see him roll his eyes from the other side of the building. “Not exactly poetic, are they?”

The two of you were on top of an old disused warehouse in Harringay, listening with distaste as the men inside discussed their, ugh, merchandise. What was it with men and guns?

The weapons ring you’d fought in Holland Park was still at large, and Clint had spent the last two weeks tracking them down again. Honestly it was a testament to them that it had taken him this long, even without his old SHIELD connections. Whoever they were, they weren’t street level thugs.

…It made you feel the tiniest bit better about them getting the better of you in the park.

Clint had scrubbed through the local police files for any clues as to where they were setting up house. Between that and his own reconnaissance, he’d managed to track one of their prominent dealers to right under your feet.

“You still clear on the plan?”

Nodding, you unhooked the safety hood of your holster. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

“Y/N…”

You looked up with a raised brow, fixing him with a pointed look. “Are you really about to lecture me about not taking revenge?”

Clint met your eye with an almost exasperated expression. “Point taken.”

“You ready for this?”

“That’s my line.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” you smirked, stretching out a kink in your neck. “Let’s go to work.”

***

You were really getting tired of these guys.

That’s the only thought that came to you as you rolled behind the crates to your left, gun still in your hand. You came to a kneel, your back meeting the wood with a dull thump. They were too prepared, to ready for the two of you.

This wasn’t supposed to end in a shootout. This was supposed to be a quick job, and yet… how did they know about the two of you? They’d mentioned a boss in the park, someone who had guessed you’d been Clint’s back up, but still… they knew you were coming. Not well enough to lay a proper trap, to ambush you before you got inside, but well enough to be ready.

You ducked lower with a curse as wood shattered above you, large splinters raining down on top of you. Thankful for the hood that kept them out of your hair, you exhaled and turned to fire two shots back around the corner. One shot went wide, but you smiled grimly as the second bullet buried itself in a man’s shoulder. He cursed in a heavy Eastern European accent as you ducked back behind the crate.

“Did you have a plan B for tonight, or are we winging this?” you said into your comms. You heard a cry go up among those shooting at you, followed by shouts of confusion and a few wild shots. You winced despite yourself for a second, waiting for a response in your ear to assure you that they’d missed.

“I’m working on one,” Clint replied gruffly, and you released a small, relieved breath despite your faith in him.

“So… winging it, it is then,” you sighed wearily, setting a new magazine into your handgun and adjusting your hold on the grip. “You know, I kinda hate being the one to draw their fire.”

“I’ll make note of it for next time,” he replied dryly, and another gurgling cry went up among the men between the two of you as Clint shot back out of the shadows long enough to take one of them down. He sliced up two – the one you’d wounded and the man closest to him. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright? We’ve got this under control.”

“Do we?”

“You doubt me?”

“I—”

“Fuck this!” shouted one of them – a burly brunette with a greying beard and tattoos scattered over his biceps. “Get one of the pushka out here and end this!”

“Clint—” you said warningly, stealing a glance over the crates.

“Don’t panic,” he warned, and you swore you caught the glimpse of silver in a brief shift of the light to let you know exactly where he was. “You’re not their biggest problem right now.”

“Clint—”

A deafening blast sounded and you fell forward, hands flying automatically to your ears. The crate to your left exploded – as did the wall in front of you, burst apart in a wave of electric blue energy.

“Holy—”

“Y/N!”

“I’m fine, just—”

“Forget the bitch! Get the Ronin!”

You scrambled away from where you’d hidden, throwing yourself behind an old forklift. Too late, you realized you’d left your gun behind, having dropped it when your hands had flown to your ears. Swearing to yourself, you winced as another blast fired. The building itself groaned as they blew another hole in a wall.

“What the hell is that thing?!”

“Just get outta here, Y/N! I’ll distract—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Barton!”

“Just go!” he barked back. “Now!”

“Goddamn it!” you growled, standing as you heard the men shout that they’d spotted the Ronin above them. You saw the gun – a bazooka-like cannon – turn upward, point directly at the shadowy figure above. “Stubborn-ass-son-of-a—”

The blaster fired, and you swept your arm upward in the same moment. A shield appeared seconds before the energy wave could hit Clint, knocking him to the side. The energy wave just barely glanced off the shield before blowing a hole in the roof and sending debris collapsing down on the men below.

“What are you—?”

“Take the moment, Clint; you can yell at me later!” you spat back through gritted teeth, sprinting towards the group still shielding themselves from falling bricks and timber. “Get out! I’m right behind you!”

Pulling the knife from the back of your belt, you turned it in your grip and plunged it into the hand of the man closest to the crate they’d pulled the pushka from, ignoring the way he screamed. You released it, instead grabbing the first weapon you could from the crate – thankfully, a much smaller hand-gun style weapon – and kept running. A few men managed to get off a few shots before you were clear, and you winced as you felt a bullet tear through your sleeve to graze your forearm.

Feet pounding too loud on the pavement, you made it quickly to an alleyway across the street, tucking your prize under your injured arm as you grabbed hold of the rung of a fire escape ladder with your other arm and swung yourself upwards. You could hear the building behind you continue to collapse as you climbed the ladder, and you winced as a hand gripped yours as you reached the top.

“Are you insane?”

“Are you?” you shot back breathlessly as Clint pulled you up onto the roof beside him. “What the hell kind of plan was that? You were gonna let them shoot you with that thing?”

“I’m faster than I look, Y/N,” he pointed out sourly. “And now they know—”

“They don’t know shit,” you argued. “There’s no way they could see the difference between that shield and whatever the hell they were shooting at us with.”

“It was still really stupid, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clint gave you a look that somehow managed to look grateful and exasperated all at once.

“Oh, and I totally get MVP this mission.”

“Is that a thing?” he replied dryly.

“It is now,” you said proudly, finally managing to catch your breath. Ignoring the pain throbbing in your arm, you held out the gun you’d stolen. “Ta-freakin’-da, Barton.”

***

“Lat—”

“What?”

Clint repeated himself louder, but his voice was still muffled by the wood of the door and the spray of the shower.

“What?”

You heard the shower door open and a few dull sounds before the bathroom door in front of you opened. Water dripped over Clint’s bare torso and soaked his hair, one hand clutching the towel slung around his waist. You watched him hesitate as he met your gaze, watched the adam’s apple in his throat bob. “Latveria.”

“Lat– Latveria?”

“This is starting to feel dangerously like a bit,” Clint said dryly, stepping back into the shower stall. You felt heat rise in your face as he closed the door and the towel was thrown up over the top of it. You stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before closing the lid of the toilet and perching on the edge of it. “That’s where the weapons are being made.”

“And they’ve made it all the way out here?” you replied, swallowing as you tried to pointedly avoid staring at the shower. The stall was made of textured, frosted glass, and while it granted Clint modesty, you could still just make out his silhouette against the screen. His hands rose to scrub through his hair, his profile turned just barely away from you.

“They’re global,” Clint told you, raising his voice over the spray. “I heard reports of them turning up in New York back before… Fury had someone else working on it.”

“And we just happened to stumble onto them in a park in London?”

Clint’s hands lingered at the back of his neck. “They’ve been making bigger waves lately. Guess she’s been getting a little cockier since the Decimation wiped out half the authorities that could work their case.”

“‘She’?”

Clint’s hands moved down his chest to his stomach, and you lowered your gaze to the floor, face burning. Your thighs pressed together despite yourself. You knew your voice had broken slightly as you’d spoken that one word.

“Lucia von Bardas.”

The water shut off, and you straightened slightly, your hands threaded together in your lap. The towel disappeared into the stall. “Should I recognize the name?”

“Only if you’re trying to be familiar with Eastern European politics,” Clint told you, the shower stall opening after a moment. “She’s a pretty big name in Latverian political parties. She’s got interests in most of the big exporters coming out of that place, including Von Doom Industries. There’s been rumors of her dealing in some… less than legal businesses for a while now. Guess now we’ve actually got some proof.”

Clint stepped out; the towel tucked securely around his waist once more. He seemed to be avoiding your eye, wiping down the foggy mirror with his palm.

“And?”

“And what?”

“We’re going to take her out, right?”

You stood up, and Clint met your eye in the mirror. He sighed.

“That expression tells me you’ve already decided on the answer for us.”

***

“I’m starting to miss Stark’s money.” Clint sighed, settling back into the seat beside you.

“You’re the one who books these oh-so-deluxe travel arrangements,” you pointed out, attempting to find a comfortable position against the firm back of the bus seat. “You’d think with your super-ninja-spy-magic you’d be able to get us a fancier ride.”

“I’m not a ninja,” he told you patiently. “Or magic.”

“You’re a little magic.”

Clint shook his head with a smile; you were sure there was faint color on his cheeks as he dropped his head back against the headrest.

“So, how long exactly is this ride?”

He answered with his eyes closed. “…About two days.”

“Two days?!” you repeated, when you saw his smile grow slightly, you scowled. “I kinda hate you, you know.”

“I thought I was magic.”

“Magic and despised.”

He chuckled; eyes still closed. The bus pulled away from the curb, surprisingly empty. The sky outside was already dark, and the glow of the streetlights passed over the archer’s face. “We’re less likely to be recognized on the bus.”

“Curse you and your logic.”

Clint didn’t reply, and the two of you sat in silence for twenty minutes before you spoke again.

“It’s a little annoying how easily you can fall asleep.”

He smirked; eyes still stubbornly closed. “I’m not asleep.”

“…How about now?”

“Were you always this annoying on road trips?” he teased.

You laughed, closing your eyes too. “Oh, please. You’d be so bored without me.”

***

You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep still lingering. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but the wide expanse of road ahead of the bus told you you’d left the city a long time again, as did the faint pink glow tainting the deep purple of the night sky. You shifted, brow furrowing as you felt the warmth pressed up against your side and the rough fabric against your cheek. A comfortable weight rested against the crown of your head, and you frowned against the fuzziness still clinging to your tired mind.

Your eyes finally cleared to settle on the color of Clint’s jacket, and you felt his breath fan softly against your hair. You’d fallen asleep, your head falling against his shoulder, and he’d apparently done the same. His cheek was pressed against your hair, his breathing steady and even. A smile touched your lips as you let the sensation of his chest rising and falling lull you back into rest, and you ignored the sensible part of your brain that was trying to remind you that you were supposed to maintaining your distance from him.

Your eyes fell to your lap as your eyelids began to droop, and warmth flared in your cheeks. Your hand was on your thigh, and Clint’s rested beside it, his fingertips settled on the back of your hand. Your skin was warm and tingled under his touch.

Had he… had he been holding your hand?

.

.

.

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