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persevereforahappyending · 1 month

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Luck Runs Out |Epilogue|

Pairing: Mabel x Reader

Summary: When your luck runs out you unknowingly drag Mabel back into the life, she's so desperate to escape.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Mabel heard her name called, she stood up, silently hoping the sleeves to her gown were covering her shaking hands, she had them bunched into fists, but it wasn’t helping much. She made sure to walk up the stage quickly but no too quickly, she had been practicing more than she cared to admit. She smiled as the man shook her hand and handed her the diploma.

She had done it; she had officially graduated. It was only an associate degree from a community college, but she had gone back to school, and she had done the work. As she made her way off the stage she smiled when her eyes landed on you in the crowd, you were standing up, clapping your hands, probably making more noise than anyone else. You told her it didn’t matter what kind of degree she got or what kind of school she went to, she should be proud of everything she accomplished because you certainly were.

“You did it!” You shouted when Mabel came outside, already waiting for her. You didn’t wait for her to get to you before you ran up, lifting her in your arms and spinning her around.

Mabel giggled at being lifted in the air. When you finally sat her down, she took off her cap and lightly slapped you on the shoulder with it. “You’re ridiculous,” she said through her laughter. She glanced around, seeing other graduates hugging and smiling with their loved ones as well.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “You ready for your graduation party?”

She blushed ducking her head in your shoulder. “I told you I didn’t need anything like that.”

“And I told you,” you wrapped your arm around her, pulling her tighter against you. “It’s also a going away party.”

“I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow,” she mumbled as the two of you walked to her car.

You snatched her keys from her hands before she even got the chance to unlock the car. You untangled yourself from her so you could run to the car, opening the passenger door for her. “Your charity my lady,” you said with a bow.

“I hate you,” she said with affection.

“You love me.” You tilted your head, giving her that smirk you always gave her when you did something you knew would annoy her.

“Regretfully,” she mumbled, already leaning in to kiss you.

“Shut up,” you smiled before closing the distance.

She finally pulled away from the kiss to slip in the passenger seat. You peeked your head in to make sure her legs were in before shutting the door. She shook her head as she watched you run around the car to the driver's side. You quickly slipped in the driver's seat, started the car, then reached over taking her hand in your own. Whenever you were the one driving somewhere you always held Mabel’s hand, she learned that pretty quickly, no matter what, you always reached over to take her hand. You brought your intertwined hands to your lips, giving her fingers a soft kiss before backing out of the parking space.

“What if we just spent tonight at the apartment?” Mabel suggested, resting her head back against the headrest as she looked over at you.

You smiled at her question but never took your eyes off the road. “The guys are already waiting for us,” you reasoned.

“We could work on packing.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, she knew she wasn’t going to get out of this, but she was determined to try. “We’re already packed.” She let out a huff, crossing her arms before you let out an exaggerated sigh, she perked up, she didn’t want to get her hopes up but the idea that she might have gotten you to cave was too exciting. “How about we stay for a couple hours and if you still want to leave we can?”

Mabel nodded her head back and forth as if she was considering it. “Fine,” she grumbled.

A few minutes later you parked the car. Mabel looked out the window at the rundown bar, the same bar where she had met Charlie for the first time. She waited for you as you jumped out of the car and ran around to open her door again. You didn’t have to do it but for some reason it made you so happy and Mabel loved seeing that smile on your face. She rolled her eyes when you bowed once again, holding out your hand for her. She took your hand and allowed you to help her step out of the car and as usual you refused to let her hand go even if the two of you were just going to the door.

You pouted when she let go of your hand, but she wanted to take off her cap and gown. She tossed them in the backseat and was quick to grab your hand again, instantly making you brighten up. You led her to the door and allowed her to step in first. Mabel was greeted by cheers from the guys. It was just the two of you and the guys for the party, and were hardly the only ones in the bar but that didn’t matter, the guys had a couple tables in the corner saved which you were quick to drag her over to.

She continued to hold your hand under the table, playing with your fingers. Charlie slipped in the seat across from her, leaning over the table to whisper, “Congratulations.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” she said. Which was true, she had wanted to go back to school for some time but didn’t really consider it until she met Charlie. Charlie also took time to help her decide what to write her essay on and read it over before she submitted it.

Charlie scrunched up his face, waving her off. “Of course you could have.”

“A gift from the wife,” Costa said, setting down a large cake.

“Holy shit!” Mabel’s eyes widened, Anne-Marie went out of her way, the cake was amazing. It was pretty simple, but she had done it all by hand, she wrote Mabel’s name and congratulations across the top in gorgeous cursive and made a little cap and diploma out of icing in one corner.

“Drinks for everyone!” Nunes yelled as he and Tommy arrived with hands full of beer.

Everyone grabbed a beer while Charlie cut the cake and began passing out pieces. You let go of Mabel’s hand only to throw an arm around her waist, tugging her a bit closer to you. Mabel leaned into you, smiling as she laughed along with whatever crazy story Nunes was telling as she ate her delicious cake. If you couldn’t be holding her hand you found some other way of touching her or having your arms around her, she was never a physical touch kind of person but with you she didn’t mind, she actually missed your touch when you weren’t around.

She looked over at you while you were in a deep discussion with Costa, waving your fork around to help make your point. She was so lost in admiring you, she didn’t hear what you were saying but she was pretty sure it was about some movie or show, though you were being very serious about your discussion. You always got so serious when talking about something you were passionate about. There were times, like this moment, when she couldn’t believe that you were real, you were here, you were real, and she had been dating you for a whole year already.

So much happened over the year, after your first kiss, Mabel didn’t leave your side until the boat got back to port. At the docks they were greeted by the coastguard, she was terrified you were going to be arrested, the potential of all of you being arrested, including herself, didn’t cross her mind, she was only concerned about you. They didn’t arrest you though, the police were called in and you were brought down to the station for questioning. You somehow managed to sell the story that you weren’t on the boat with the rest of the crew when it exploded, you even admitted to your crew bringing in drugs. Mabel fully expected you to go away for life, to only have a future with you involving a glass window in between the two of you.

The drug operation your boss was running was so much bigger than she imagined, even though he was the boss here and you weren’t super involved in everything you were able to provide the authorities with enough information, location of the warehouse, how many workers there were, even some names, the type of drugs being brought in, and the amount and times you guys did runs. You provided them with everything they needed to bring down the biggest drug operation on the east coast. You were willing to pay for your wrongdoings, you had said you were hoping for a light sentence for your cooperation, but you were fully willing to accept jail time. Luckily for her and more importantly, for you, Charlie’s dad is an amazing lawyer and got you immunity.

Your ‘death’ was basically retracted and that was that. They managed to keep everything pretty hush hush so there wasn’t a target on your back. Besides your boss and crew, most people didn’t know who you were anyway, the one good thing your boss actually did was keep everything so secret. Everyone who could accurately identify you by photo, or name, and who knew exactly what you were involved with were all dead.

Mabel was by your side through it all and somehow you managed to take her on a real date. The two of you had been together since she kissed you, it was the longest relationship Mabel ever had and every day she fell in love with you even more. Sometimes you’d go out and have fun but then there were other times Mabel would have to stay in and study for a test or exams and you’d come over and silently sit next to her, reading or doing something else quietly. Mabel never knew how much she could enjoy just the presence of someone.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me with these knuckleheads,” Tommy said, bringing Mabel out of her thoughts.

You chuckled, taking a sip of your beer. “You did just fine before me,” you said.

Tommy scoffed, waving you off. “You choose,” he leaned across the table, pretending you were the only one that could hear him. “I’ll get rid of any of them.” He glanced to his side where Charlie sat. “Even him,” he nodded at his brother.

Charlie gasped, turning his full body to face his brother, his mouth wide open. Tommy ignored him, not even bothering to spare him a glance. Mabel felt your entire body shake with laughter. “Sorry,” you gave him a sympathetic shrug.

Tommy grumbled into his beer. “You’ll have a job when you return.”

“If they return,” Nunes said, slinging an arm around Tommy. Tommy gruffly shrugged off Nunes.

Mabel chuckled along with everyone else. Despite your differences and the amount of times you antagonized the crew of the Finestkind Tommy allowed you into the crew. Your main source of income might have been from drug smuggling, but you were actually a decent fisherman. Mabel had been skeptical when you ran up to her telling her Tommy offered you a job. She kind of thought you just knew how the equipment worked, that you only did enough fishing to not raise any red flags. After your first run with the guys though she learned that you were actually very good at your job.

“I appreciate that,” you said, giving Tommy a grateful smile. “And we’ll be back,” you threw a straw wrapper at Nunes. “We just,” you turned your head and looked into Mabel’s eyes. She had her head resting on your shoulder and tilted it up so she could meet your gaze without moving. “Want to see the world first.”

Mabel leaned up, capturing your lips in a quick kiss. She quickly pulled away and went back to resting her head on your shoulder. She glanced across the table as you continued to talk to Tommy and the others, seeing Charlie swirling his beer around, his eyes completely focused on the movement. He glanced up when he felt Mabel’s eyes on him and gave her a soft smile.

Things were slightly awkward with Charlie when you and Mabel first started dating. Mabel knew he was still getting over the relationship but that didn’t stop him from trying to help you or her. Charlie was actually the one that called his dad and had him come down to the police station and be your lawyer. Mabel had been freaking out, she had no idea what to do but Charlie didn’t hesitate to step in and help the best way he could. He also vouched for you, telling Tommy you’d make a great edition to the crew. Charlie even admitted to Mabel a few months after the two of you started dating that he was wrong about you. He originally only saw you as trouble that would drag Mabel back into the world she had been desperate to escape but you ended up being exactly what she needed.

“When do you guys leave?” Costa asked, bringing Mabel back to the current conversation.

“Tomorrow morning,” you answered, smiling at Mabel.

“Bright and early,” Mabel mumbled, cuddling into your side. She felt more than heard your laughter. The two of you would be leaving in the morning but it was actually going to be closer to late morning, not right at sunrise, still earlier than Mabel usually preferred to be waking up, the things she did for you.

“Have they told you the name yet?” Charlie asked, joining in on the conversation finally.

Mabel flicked you a glare, making you try and hide your laughter by drinking more of your beer. “No,” she grumbled. The others all broke out into a laugh, making Mabel glare at all of them.

You kept your promise and only made Mabel stay at the party for a few hours. She was never going to admit it to you, but you were right it had been fun. She was glad to get to see the guys and have one last celebration before having to leave for your trip. That didn’t mean she wasn’t happy to finally leave and get a few hours of sleep. When the two of you left, the guys were still around the table, ordering more drinks.

The two of you fell into bed as soon as you got back to her apartment and slept until your alarms went off. Mabel helped you grab the bags and pack them into the car. She did a quick check of her place since it would be a while before she would be back, she was forcing Charlie to come by and check on the place at least once a week while the two of you were gone. Once she was satisfied and confirmed she had everything she needed she hopped into the passenger seat.

You smiled, taking Mabel’s hand as soon as she was in the car. Mabel silently chuckled, shaking her head, you were practically vibrating in your seat. You didn’t drive as crazily as her, but you were at the harbor before she knew it. You were out of the car and opening the door for her before she even had her seatbelt off.

The two of you walked hand in hand, passing all the other boats as you led Mabel to yours. Finally, the two of you came to your sailboat, you quickly let go of Mabel’s hand to turn around and raise your arms, gesturing with a wide smile at your sailboat. Mabel giggled, shaking her head at you. She had seen the boat plenty of times, but you still showed it off as if she was seeing it for the first time.

“Damn, she’s beautiful,” Charlie said, coming up beside Mabel.

You didn’t say anything, just nodded excitedly. You ran up to Mabel, taking her bag in your hand before taking off to board the ship. Mabel took the opportunity to hand Charlie the keys to her car. She couldn’t exactly bring her car on the boat and the two of you would be gone for a while, so she said Charlie was free to use her vehicle as long as he took care of it and checked on her apartment.

“If anything happens to my car,” Mabel said, pointing at Charlie. “I will kill you.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted her. She tilted her head, glaring at him. He quickly cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter. “She will be in perfect condition when you return.”

Mabel narrowed her eyes. “Good,” she smiled.

“Have fun,” Charlie whispered, pulling Mabel into a hug. “I expect lots of pictures.”

“Of course,” Mabel chuckled.

“Call whenever you get the chance.”

“Thank you,” Mabel pulled back from the hug, looking Charlie in the eyes. “For everything.”

Charlie shrugged, waving her off. “It was nothing.”

Mabel rolled her eyes; Charlie made it really difficult to give him compliments. They finished their goodbyes then Charlie ran off to meet up with Tommy. Mabel stared up at the boat, waiting for you to finish whatever you were doing, you didn’t want her stepping onto the boat until you revealed the name you came up with, the name you had been keeping secret from Mabel since you got the damn thing.

There was a part of her that couldn’t believe this was real, that this was her life now. After the charges were dropped and you were free and clear and completely healed from your wounds you finally followed your dreams and bought a sailboat. You used the bag of money that somehow managed to survive everything and you somehow managed to hold onto. You used it to buy a fixer upper sailboat and in your free time while Mabel was at work or school you worked on it tirelessly to make it into your dream boat. With the money you had left over, which was still a couple hundred grand you gave to the guys, telling them to split it amongst themselves or do whatever, saying it was a small gesture for helping save your life.

Now, you were about to set sail on your first real trip. You had taken it out a few times to make sure everything worked properly, and you wouldn’t sink before attempting a long voyage. Mabel had been out with you almost every time you took her out on the water. You gave her lessons in sailing, made her study how the boat worked and what to do. You could sail it for the most part on your own, but it was pretty big, and you’d need Mabel’s help on a few things. She was nervous about the idea at first, she had never attempted sailing before, but you knew your stuff and helped her pick up things fairly easily, you even let her sail on her own for a bit, while you stood nearby just in case something went wrong.

“Are you ready?” you shouted, holding your arms out wide.

Mabel nodded, watching as you ran across the deck to rip off the tarp you had covering the name of the boat. You had a name picked out as soon as you purchased the thing, probably knew what you’d name it before you had ever even met Mabel. For some reason you insisted on keeping it a secret from her though. She thinks it started off as a joke and after realizing how much it annoyed her not knowing you decided to just keep it a secret until your trip.

You ripped off the tarp revealing the Odessey underneath it. “Are you serious?” Mabel asked, smiling, and shaking her head at you. She couldn’t say she was surprised; it was your favorite book after all.

“I thought about Penelope,” you admitted, helping Mabel onto the boat. “And Odysseus.” You looked around the boat, admiring her beauty and all the hard work you put into her. “But The Odyssey just felt right.”

Mabel smiled as she quickly pulled you into a kiss. “We won’t have the same journey as Odysseus, right?” she abruptly pulled away from you.

“I hope not?” you shrugged. “I still think it would be cool to face a monster,” you mumbled. “No matter!” you smiled widely, stepping back from Mabel. “I have us covered.” Mabel raised an eyebrow as you slapped your pockets looking for something. “For you,” you smiled nervously when you finally found what you were looking for.

Mabel tilted her head at you holding out what appeared to be a little jewelry box. She tried to ignore the slight shake in her hands as she reached for the box. She gave you a shy smile as she flipped open the box, revealing a matching trident necklace to yours.

“I know it’s not really your thing,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck as your eyes found the deck very interesting. “But-”

Mabele grabbed you by the shirt, pulling you in for a kiss. “I love it,” she whispered against your lips.

You smiled as Mabel turned around, moving her hair out of the way so you could put the necklace on her. She looked down seeing the little trident now dangling there then looked up to see nearly the same trident hanging around your neck. You had yours most of your life but you somehow managed to find one for her that was in the same style, the only difference was yours was silver while hers was gold.

“You don’t actually believe these will protect us, right?” Mabel asked, though she had a feeling she’d know what you’d say.

“All I’m saying is I haven’t died yet,” you said, raising your hands as if that was a reasonable defense.

Mabel opened her mouth to argue but she wasn’t sure what she’d say. You survived being shot and tossed into the ocean, somehow surviving for hours until Charlie and the crew found you. Then Mabel and the guys arrived right before you were about to be executed. You fought a guy underwater and won, you helped take out the others on the boat, and then once you shot a gas can, blowing up your boss and the entire boat, and still somehow survived without any major injuries. Mabel hated herself for thinking it but maybe the sea god really was on your side, even if your hero was a dude he hated.

You got behind the wheel of the boat and began to pull out of port. Mabel wrapped her arms around your waist, ducking her head as you moved your arm to have it around her while still holding onto the wheel. “Onward to Florida,” she said, looking up at you.

“Then to Greece,” you smiled, pulling her in for a quick kiss before focusing on the ocean ahead.

Mabel smiled, resting her head on your shoulder as she stared at the horizon in front of her. The two of you had to sail down to Florida first then after a couple days of refueling and re-supplying there you’d be able to head off across the Atlantic, finally living out your dream of sailing to Greece. You and Mabel had many trips planned, the intention was to sail around the world like you always dreamed of and to travel like Mabel dreamed of. There were more convenient places to sail to first besides Greece, but Mabel knew your dream was for your first destination to be Greece.

The trip down to Florida would take almost two weeks and then crossing the Atlantic would take almost a month. You planned to spend a couple months in Greece, sightseeing and sailing to a few of the nearby islands. From there the two of you would plan your next trip. Mabel had no idea where the two of you would end up, but she was excited to go on the journey with you.

#mabel (finestkind)#mabel finestkind #mabel x reader #mabel x fem!reader #mabel x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #finestkind 2023 #luck runs out

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insanely-lovely-and-random · 1 month

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Alrightyy saw Challengers for numero uno tonight and these are some thoughts/things that really got me the second time round!

*Thess are just my opinions the film can be read however anyone else wants

Okay so hear me out.. Tashi is such a dom, Art is such a sub and Patrick is such a switch and oooh it got me how at the beginning it felt like he was Arts dom, then he finds this girl he thinks is fantastic and maybe he thinks she could be the glue to bring him and Art and her all together BUT then it totally fricken backfires and instead he loses both. Art the little puppy he is starts wagging his tail in Zendayas direction and next thing ya know he's got a new owner and Patricks a thing of the past much to his palable distress. I mean christ boyos living in his car and starving, boys a mess since his lost his dom and sub poor boyo, so now various things I noticed some of which I feel back up my argument haha

Gosh theres so many little moments, Patricks thing for Art seems so obvious yet Art seems totally clueless.

1) Patrick is defos bi, not just because he just so is but also cause he matches with a guy on his dating app during his swiping.

2) The doubles match they play in the past? Gosh they're all over eachother! And Pats clearly in charge of that relationship and Art seems totally cool with that (for then anyways..)

3) When him and Art are watching Tashis game at the vert beginning Patrick grabs Arts leg in exhilaration. I mean he always seems to be touching or in the space of his boy for christs sake.

4) When Tashi mentions the fact Arts going to Stamford Patrick noticeably makes a face, you could say its because shes paying attention to Art instead of him or that hes upset because shes going to college instead of going profesh BUT I really didnt read it that way. To me it looked like he was upset Art was going to college, they've been together for years after all and now their splitting up, poor boyo.

5) When Zendaya asks if theres anything going on between then, Art laughs and says no BUT Patrick??? Science and he looks down, hell he wishes there was summat.

6) He taught Art to jerk off. Fucking hell.

7) There kiss man, all three of then and then just Art and Pat, just soo much chemistry.

8) When he reveals he slwpt with Zendaya to Art, and Arts smile drops. I think he's heartbroke at him sleeping with the girl he likes but I also see it as pain at being left out. These two people he's entwined with and now he's outside looking in. I also think If Patrick had seen that reaction he'd have seen a looot sooner that his relationship with Tashi might backfire greatly.

9) Patrick vsiting Stamford, first person he goes to see, his girlfriend maybe..? NOPE hes too busy chasing Art around the tennis court 😭

10) There's a ton of hot moments in this film. And the hottest? To me? That bloody stool grab with his foot. He wants Art close, he always bloody does! And the churros christ! And once again showing Art who's top so to speak, eating his churro, and telling him hes proud of his snakey behaviour. And that it makes his relationship with Zendaya hotter (I bloody bet it does) He never ever seems to show jealousy about Arts feelings for Zendaya, he points out thay he doesn't see him as competition to her not long after and I BET his doesn't. Cause I think he'd love it if Art was with him and Zendaya.

11) My God this bit gets be cause it gets echoed later. Him and Zendaya are making out and this girl who he's with and cares about is just talking bout his tennis game. And tbf what does he say?? "Weren't you gonna tell me bout Art" hells bells could you be more obvious?? And then the fight, he asks her if she's talking about tennis and her reply "I'm always talking about tennis" and I mention this cause it's gonna be relevant later.

12) The injury happens and everyone loses something. Zendaya has lost her career and ability to play tennis to her full potential. Art loses his best friend and Poor pathetic Patrick lost his bestfriend(and secret love) and his actual girlfriend all in one day!

From here on I cant guarantee my numbered points are in timeline order as the timline stated getting more out of sequence🤣

13) Zendaya and Art in the diner and after hearing Art and Pat dont talk no more saying she's a homewrecker after all. And what does Art say?? Zip. Nada. No denial just silence.

14) Okay lets talk that sauna scene. It was gloriously tragic. Patrick is clearly unaware why Art is THAT hostile towards him. I mean thinking of it from his point of view he'd have more reason to be angry considering the snakey girlfriend behaviour. But he never is angry at Art, not once no matter what he did. Of course we then discover Art is SO pissed cause he knows about Atlanta. Christ I bet pur stupid idiot boy Patrick thinks hes just being cleverly smug with that "when we were teenagers" line but idiot boyo your rubbing salt in the wounds 😭

15) still about the sauna, the naked trying to be top dog like old times but no no no, not anymore. Arts not his to be in charge of anymore. And the camera shows Art as higher while Patrick slouches nearby. Patrick asks him when he's so mad but doesn't get an answer. This scene was tragic to me, Patrick just seems hurt by Arts attitude. Art points out that they're no longer peers and I love this because thats the difference between the Zendaya/boys relationship and Arts and Pats. Pat may have been the dom so to speak with Art but he still saw them as peers. Zendaya doesn't. Thats the main difference in their relationships. Respect.

16) One of my fave damn parts of dialogue in the movie. (I really can't remember exact phrasing but this is how I rememeber it) Art is so sus of Pat, Pat asks him if he misses it, Art says he doesnt. And when Pat says he wasn't talking about tennis, Art says "Your always talking to me about tennis" and oof the punch to my gut that was. And it seemed to Patricks too! His face, this poor boy has twice been talking to the people he cares about, abou their relationship and they just say their talking about tennis, he cant catch a break😭

17) Pats reaction to Zendaya asking him to throw the game, is he offended for himself? Nopeee he's mad that she'd do that to Art. He says something along the lines of fucking him was one thing but to have Arts victory be a lie?? Gross, too far, too much of a betrayal.

18) For the third time, having just fucked Zendaya in the car and she just immediately brings up him throwing the match, like crimeny man this boy is probs sick of this game getting in the way of his relationships haha

19) Ooh that match point is glorious glorious cinema my friends. Patrick is so interesting in this whole match. Him deliberating on if he's gonna tell Art? So juicy and the way he did was fucking hilarious. That unspoken signal? Beauty.

20) Arts reaction? Wow oh wowww. The lad went through the five fricken stages of grief! The denial "fuck off!" the rage, throwing his racket, the bargaining, looking at Zendaya as if to say its not true (when she has no fucking clue what just happened). The depression, those sad sweaty tears 🥲 and then? That gorgeous smile, that acceptance. I think he felt catharsis, his marraige was clearly dysfunctional at this point and maybe knowing she cheated, knowing she'd threatened to leave if he lost, maybe that helped him let go of it. Ripped off the bandage, turned off life support, finally shake the pedestal he'd put his wife on( he compared her to jesus for christs sake). He made it through to the otherside and Patrick was there waiting for him with open arms ()iterally lol)

21) When Pat sees Arts smile? His own blossoms, clearly in relief and exaltation. I truly think he told him not to throw his game but to spur Art on. To finally unlock his potential. And to get the old Art he knew back and it bloody worked. That final back and forth, the pure energy, those sexual grunts all building up to a crescendo of a climax. Hooo boy

22) That goddamn brilliant leap in the air. Art is freed and flying, and Patrick doesn't hesitate he flings his racket to the floor because the thing that mattered to him most was never tennis. And he catches his boy with arms wide and then that embrace. They have finally come back together. It was beautiful. What does losing the match matter to Pat when he finally has his arms all over Art again just like he did in the beginning. We have come full circle.

Hahaha this is purely my own read into the movie and obvs mostly about the Patrick character and how I saw his actions. Now a few little bonus notes I noticed.

Nearly everything the boys eat/drink seems phallic, hotdogs, bananas, churros, even those drink bottles and cigarettes. Boyos are obsessed!

Zendaya on the rock at the beach was very little mermaid. Also in that scene when she said she wouldn't wanna get between em. Art said they didn't love together but Pat says "It's an open relationship" hecks you too obvious boy.

This movies so chock full of foreshadowing too, the story about Cat who got injured a week later. Patrick at Tashis party saying she'd have deals and a foundation which she does but via her relationship with Art instead just really cool script tbh

(Will probs add more when I remember em/see it for third time cause I am planning on that🤣🤣)

#challengers #challengers spoilers #challengers 2024 #challengers movie #movie list #zendaya #josh o'connor #mike faist #bisexual #the bi energy is strong #film #it's so long and such nonsense I just got a brain firing on cylinders for this film lmao

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ftrcountry · 7 months

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The One With The Test

I just want to say rip to a one of a kind actor, Matthew Perry. I still can't believe it :( May he finally rest in peace.

Summary: I watched Fools Rush In Today and this sparked the idea for this fic. I hope you enjoy!

It was New Year's Eve in New York City. People were out partying and hanging out with their family and friends. Snow was slowly falling down in the cold crisp air. This was yet another New Years eve party without a date. You weren't particularly upset as you grown used to this. You were currently standing outside on the balcony watching the snowflakes fall all around. "somebody kiss me at midnight!" You heard Chandler go around asking each one of your friends in the apartment. You let out a small laugh. Oh sweet Chandler. You haven't told no one but you were starting to develop feelings for your best friend. You were just afraid to say anything in fear it might ruin the relationship the two of you have. You bit your lip, an idea popping into your mind. You had a lot to drink tonight so you had more courage than usual. You were going to catch Chandler off guard and kiss him at midnight.

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Everyone was gathered around the tv counting down from ten. 10 9 Rachel was with Ross. Phoebe with Mike. 8 7 Monica with Richard Joey with one of his flings. 6 5 You took a deep breath as you walked up to Chandler. 4 3 You grabbed a fist full of Chandler's shirt. 2 1 Cheers erupted, people clapped at the start of the New Year as you pulled Chandler close and pressed your lips to his. Chandler tensed for a moment before you felt his lips kissing you back. His hand fell to your waist. "You wanted someone to kiss you at midnight." You whispered breathlessly as you pulled apart from him. You were flustered as Chandler pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. "You have no idea how long I wanted this." Chandler finally spoke, giving you one of his charming smiles.

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After the party, you ended up at Chandler and Joey's. Both you and Chandler were a little more than tipsy. After a hot, passionate round of the best sex you ever had, you were cuddled up to Chandler's side. "Wow." was the only words to escape your and Chandler's mouth.

---

Three Months Later Since that night on New Year's, you and Chandler decided to make it official. Everything was wonderful and you were so happy until three months later you were sitting on the bathroom tiled floor holding a positive pregnancy test. You've never been this scared in your life. You knew this would freak Chandler out and run him off. This would most likely be the end of the relationship and you might be a single mom. Before you could think about the future, there was a knock on the bathroom. "Y|N, you okay?" It was Chandler. With a shaky breath, you stood up with the positive pregnancy test. With trembling hands, you opened the door revealing Chandler. Concern was written on his face as you were in the bathroom for quite a while. His eyes flickered down to the test in your hands. His eyes widen and he jumped back. "Y|N. Please don't tell me that-" He stopped speaking. A tear slipped down your face as you nodded. You couldn't look at him. "I used a condom. Lot's of them." "Well, one didn't work." "But that's its job! It's whole purpose in life is... to work!!" Chandler was freaking out at this point. He ran his hand through his hair, pacing back and worth. He went into the kitchen got a glass of water and chugged it down. You started playing with the test in your hands out of nervousness. "I'm keeping the baby" You stammered. Chandler's eyes flew up to yours. "What?" He questioned. He was not ready to be a father. You knew he was expecting the other options that you were going to do. Keeping the baby was not one of them. He looked upset and this was where the relationship would end. You dropped the test on the counter, tears falling down your face. "Goodbye Chandler." You whispered before running out of the apartment.

-----

Rain droplets fell into the night in New York City. You were currently at Monica's, sitting on the couch with a leg pulled up to your chest. Monica, Rachel and Phoebe were all sitting around trying to comfort you. It's been a little over twenty four hours since you and Chandler had the falling out regarding the baby. "I'm sure it's a simple misunderstanding. You guys are having a baby! Chandler would never leave you alone to deal with this. He's probably just scared." Monica said, rubbing your back. "You should've seen the look on his face. It was full of fear, concern and he was just upset. He didn't have words." You cried, wiping your eyes with a tissue. Before anyone could say anything, the door opened and Chandler walked in. You looked down at your hands in your lap. He had one hand in his pocket and the other scratching the back of his neck. Monica, Phoebe and Rachel got the queue and grabbed their things and left. "Hey." Chandler spoke softly, walking over. "Hi." You sniffled. Chandler came around and sat on the coffee table right in front of you. "I'm sorry Y|N. I panicked and didn't have the words to comfort you and to be there when you needed me. This is big news." Chandler spoke up. "If you don't want to be in the baby's life, that's fine. I can do this on my own." At this point you still couldn't look at Chandler. You felt sick to your stomach, whether that was morning sickness or your nerves you weren't sure. "Just wait a minute. Look at me, Y|N." Chandler spoke, taking your hands in his. You finally looked up into his eyes. He was staring with so much adoration in his eyes at you. "This afternoon, I couldn't decide between a Texas burger and a tuna melt, but my life made sense, you know? And now I know exactly want I want, and my life doesn't make any sense. And I was doing fine this afternoon. I was doing great. That was me. It was me then. And now I'm with you and I don't know what happened between the tuna melt and the Texas burger but I WANT this with you Y|N. I never thought about my future before until we happened. I want this with our baby." By the time Chandler finished his speech, you had tears rolling down your face. Chandler slid over to the couch right next to you and pulled you close. You buried your face into his chest as he rubbed your back, kissing the top of your head. "Everything is going to be okay, Y|N. I love you so much and I already love this baby."

#chandler bing #friends #chandler bing x reader #monica geller #rachel green #phoebe buffay #joey tribbiani #ross geller

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ladykailitha · 26 days

Text

Icarus Part 9

Hello and welcome back to this wonderful fic! Like I've said before having a set schedule for each story got hard and I've resorted to posting on vibes alone.

This week's vibes are all over the place because of the pain in my elbow. It's getting better but it's taking every ounce of self-control and self-preservation I have not write as many words a day as I can to make up for lost time and slowly work my way back up to my old schedule so I don't re-injure it.

But as I've said, if you want to see a specific work more often, drop me an ask and I'll see what I can do.

Here we have Eddie being a sweetheart and Steve and his friends being dorks.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

****

NDAs were such a large part of Steve’s life he couldn’t remember a time he didn’t have them. For everything.

Even producers had to sign them before they could even breathe in the direction of The Fallen in the recording studio.

It was an exhausting but necessary part of his life. Just like the locked room in his apartment.

Shane and Spence had done an amazing job with Steve’s little notebook of song material. And shocker, only two of them were love songs. Most of the rest of the songs were about trying to survive in a world you had to hide.

He knew that a lot of critics would tell them to lose the masks if it bothered them so much, but at this point Steve didn’t care. They were working on their third album in three years and he was fucking tired.

“Again, from the top,” the producer said into the com. “Abbadon you got a little pitchy on the second line. Watch it. Astraeus, you’re coming in too early. It’s duh-ba-ba-dun and then you come in. You’re coming in on the first ba.”

Steve and Shane nodded and they began again.

Steve’s brain thought it was going to melt out of his ears. He had a test for his certification after today’s session in the studio and he was sure all the information would have leaked out by then.

But apparently Steve’s brain went on autopilot taking the test, and not only did he pass, he passed with full marks.

Spence clapped Steve shoulder. “Hey, man if this whole rockstar gig ever falls apart, you should come be an EMT with me.”

Steve grinned back. That wasn’t a bad idea actually. With his lifeguard training and his affinity for thinking well under pressure, it really was the ideal job.

“I might just take you up on that.”

They broke up for the day and as Steve was putting away his guitar his phone rang.

“Hey, Eds,” he greeted.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie replied. “How did your test go?”

“I aced it!” Steve said, bouncing on the tips of his toes in excitement.

“What?” Eddie cried. “Baby, that’s so amazing! We’ll definitely go out tonight and celebrate. But that’s not the reason I’m calling.”

“Oh?” Steve asked.

“How far are you guys into the album?” Eddie asked, hesitantly.

Steve frowned for a moment. He looked over at Spence and Hopper. They had all had a really rough session today and it had become almost grueling in a way that the other two albums never felt.

“Not as far as we’d like,” Steve admitted. If anyone knew what they were going through it was Eddie.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Eddie commiserated. “Would it be better to continue at it or take break touring?”

Steve scratched his cheek thoughtfully. It would be nice to actually take time with the album and not push it out as quickly as possible.

“A break for sure,” Steve murmured. “We’re on our third album in three years, and even though we just got back from a tour, it was less exhausting than being in the studio right now.”

Eddie was silent for a moment. “Have you thought about changing the studio you’re working in? Sometimes a change of scenery can help.”

“I guess we could try,” Steve muttered. “I just didn’t think we had that kind of pull with the record label yet. I’ll call Robin later and see what she can do.”

Eddie hummed in agreement. “So the reason I was asking, babe, is that they have given us a choice of two sets of dates. One that would start at the beginning of the new year and one that would start next summer. And since we’re taking you with us, our management is going to coordinate with yours.”

“Oh.”

Steve wasn’t sure which he would prefer, if he was being honest. “Can I talk to my boys and get back to you on that?”

“Sure thing, Stevie,” Eddie said fondly. “You can tell all about what you guys decided when we meet up for drinks tonight, how does that sound?”

Steve let out a little sigh of relief. “Yeah, that sounds great, Eds. Text me the details.”

“You’ve got it!” Eddie said and then they both said their goodbyes and hang up.

More work, Steve thought mournfully. He didn’t want more work. He was tired and miserable and he should have been happy. The record was liking the album so far, they were about to go on tour with the biggest metal band in the world, he was dating Eddie. Why wasn’t he happy?

He put his head in his hands and forced himself to breathe. He knew that a lot of what he was feeling was being forced to wait when he didn’t want to.

That even if he was out as Abbadon, he couldn’t be out with Eddie. Both of their labels would have literal bitch fits. They could be out to their friends, but as far as the media went, that was off limits. Being bisexual or gay was better now, but it could still tank their careers if they came out with actual same sex partners. Steve’s career especially, new as it was.

Steve let out a low shuddering breath. This whole masked identities shit was tough. He didn’t know how those other bands could handle it. Maybe the difference was that their families knew. He honestly didn’t know.

But he had chosen to walk down this road. When they first started playing and getting turned away by how they looked, they chose to not change themselves, but to become someone else. And it worked and he really couldn’t argue with the results.

Steve loved his job. He loved that he got be in a band with his best friends and that his platonic soulmate was their manager. He loved getting out there on stage and singing his heart out. But it was hard sometimes.

He pulled out his phone and called Robin. “Hey, what are the label’s requirement on getting this album done? Like does it have to be at this studio with this producer?”

“One sec,” Robin said, pulling it up on her computer. She scanned the document complete with searching for key words. “Doesn’t look like it. Why? What’s up?”

“You know how we’ve hit a wall in the studio?” Steve asked around chewing on his thumb.

She scoffed. Of course she knew. “And you’re thinking a change of venue might help or at the very least a new producer?”

“Yeah...” Steve said. “Eddie suggested it, but I wasn’t sure if we had that kind of clout with the record label.”

Robin was quiet on the line, but Steve could feel the cogs in her head turn. “I’ll get on it.”

“Thanks,” he said, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Did Eddie’s label send over the tour dates?”

“Let’s see...” she hummed. “Yup! I’m reading through them... and I’m guessing you to talk with everyone before making a final decision?”

“Right in one,” Steve said. “Preferably with whether or not we get someone else in to produce.”

“You’ve got it, babe,” she said. “Does this have a deadline?”

“Eddie said he would like to know by tonight,” he said, “but I can tell him we’re still working things out and that’s we’ll get back to him.”

“That would be ideal, yes.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “I’ll still talk to the boys and at least get a feel for what they’re thinking even if we can’t shift producers or studio.”

“Sounds good,” Robin said. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I learn anything.”

He hung up and pulled up the group chat and messaged his friends to meet at his place. He had stuff he wanted to talk with them regarding upcoming tour dates.

Simon and Shane texted back immediately. Spence had left them on read for about fifteen minutes before responding with a question about how long they would be.

And then the ribbing began.

-Oohh...you with that girl?- Shane

-He totally is!!- Simon

-Pics or it didn’t happen- Steve

-Pics!- Simon

-Yeah, man, is she cute?- Shane

-Why do you care, Shane? You’re gay- Spence

-Because like a flower I can appreciate the feminine form, even if I don’t want to fuck it- Shane

Pic comes in of Spence on his couch with a gorgeous dark-skinned woman with soulful eyes and long black hair.

-Meet Nadia

-Lucky guy!- Simon

-That’s quite the flower :P- Shane

-Yeahhh...I’m sorry, man, as much as I would like to let you stay with your lady love, we really need to talk. Business. :(

-I love my job. I love my job. I love my job. I love my job. -Spence

-lol! You keep telling yourself that and maybe one day I’ll believe you- Shane

-GASP! Spence doesn’t love us! :’(- Simon

-Damn it. Fine I love you all- Spence

-Simon uses sad emoji against Spence, it’s super effective! (pokeball emoji)- Steve

-Meet at my place as soon as you can- Steve

There was the usual chorus of affirmative responses and Steve set down his phone.

He looked up at the ceiling as he huffed out a sigh. His friends were on the way, Robin was trying to fix the problem with them hitting a brick wall making their album, and Eddie was supportive.

It helped that Spence was dating now, too. They could commiserate about their love lives.

Simon hated that while he could get girls as Asmodeus but not as himself he swore off dating until he found someone who liked him for him and not just because he was a rock god.

Shane just liked having fun. Wherever that took him. Usually gay bars with lots of booze and dancing.

They weren’t “rich and famous” enough for the wild parties and shit. At least not yet. They were getting a lot traction with their second major album though so that was probably going to change fast.

Steve just glad that he would have Eddie and Robin holding his hand though this.

He looked over at the contract on his table and sighed. Like Spence, he really did love his job. And he knew that there were hundreds of bands wishing to be in his shoes.

He could do this.

He was, after all Abbadon, lead singer of The Fallen and he knew how to do this shit.

****

Part 10 Part 11

Tag List:

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach

@val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch

@bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian

@thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners

@thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade

@cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar au

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wardenparker · 2 months

Text

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 9

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 17.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Surprises, vomiting, anxiety, spectacularly bad decision making, talking of children/pregnancy. Morning sex, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, consensual choking, light dom/sub play, rough sex. Summary: Your 30th birthday is not at all what you expected. Not at at all. Notes: Beloved darlings, please forgive any errors I might have missed. Ya girl has had another busy week, but at least the sickness has lifted!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

It’s been a perfect, magical day in Marcus’s opinion. Waking up with you and spending the entire day together hasn’t tamed the desire to be with you, it’s only fanned that desire. Now he gets to watch you get ready for the party, stopping by his apartment to pick up a suit, you had both decided that he would change here at the inn with you.

“So, is this place actually a pub or did my mother book something swanky and just lie through her teeth?” You ask, eyes gliding down his frame as you slip into your least worn little black dress for the party. It’s the one you always think is just a little too festive or too vintage, and it always gets swapped out for something more reasonable. Marcus had insisted you wear it when he heard you say ‘too’ anything.

He smirks slightly and debates on whether or not to tell you. “You have to be surprised, but yes.” He chuckles. “I think Round Robin counts as a pub.”

“It is not Round Robin.” It gets a laugh out of you, though, making you snort inelegantly as you struggle to zip your dress. “Their food doesn’t meet Dad’s approval. He’d never okay it.”

“Then it’s a good thing that we are actually going to Statesman.” He admits with a grin, moving over to zip up the back of your dress for you and kissing your shoulder when he’s done.

“Statesman…” In the second it takes you to search your memory for why that name sounds familiar, you light up. “Like The Statesman Club? I’ve always wanted to try that place!”

“Good.” He grins at you and picks up your necklace to help you put it on. “We will try all the fancy whiskeys we want.”

“Well now I just feel positively spoiled.” Partially from the choice of location, but also Marcus being such a gentleman.

“It is your birthday.” He reminds you, sliding the chain around your neck. “You should be spoiled.”

“And when it’s your birthday, you’ll be spoiled too,” you promise him, grinning at his reflection in the mirror.

“We can cross that bridge later.” His hands rest on your shoulders gently. “Tonight is about you.”

"Are you still okay with me telling everyone?" If he's not then you'll keep your soulmate status to yourself tonight, or for however long he wants to keep that particular fact private.

“Of course I am.” He stares at you in the mirror, unable to believe what a lucky bastard he is. “You never need to worry about that.”

"I just thought I should check." You beam at him, turning around in his arms to wrap your own around his neck and kiss him. "Seemed polite to me."

“Shout it from the rooftop and splash it in the Post.” He urges you. “I will happily agree and brag to everyone who asks.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you seriously consider doing just that but figure somebody at The Post will have a field day writing their own little editorial about it when it becomes public knowledge. "I love you, too."

“I love you.” He promises and bites his lip. “Do you want your birthday present now? Or at the party?”

"You didn't have to get me anything." There's no chance he would have listened to you if you had protested beforehand, but you still do. Just having him is gift enough.

He scoffs and lifts a brow, waiting for your real answer.

The burn in your cheeks is enough, and you grin again, unrepentantly. "Is there enough time to do it now?"

“Of course there is.” He promises and pulls out the gift he had put in his jacket pocket. It might be too much too soon, but he couldn’t resist.

The small jewelry box all tied up in ribbon in his hand is unmistakable, but you tilt your head slightly and look up at him curiously. "Really?" A book maybe, or flowers, or even something a little nerdy and sweet – all of those things you would have accepted easily. But jewelry is a very big gesture for a relationship that is so new.

“You said you also jump in quickly and I— well, it’s what I’m thinking.” Marcus hopes you don’t hate it.

You take the little box from him carefully and untie the carefully done ivory ribbon. The hinge of the box is tight, like it's barely been used, and when it snaps open in your fingers you gasp softly at the shining, shimmering ring inside. An eternity ring of sparkling heart-shaped stones set in white gold reflects the light in your room beautifully. "Marcus?"

“It’s a promise ring.” It seems like a childish thing at first, but he wanted you to know how serious he is. “The prelude for what is to come.”

And just like that, your heart swells for him all over again, and the surety that you made the right choice is ingrained in you. "I'll never take it off."

“If it fits.” He jokes, taking the box from you and plucking the ring out of its velvety crevice. “This is my promise to you, my soulmate.” He whispers as he takes your hand. “One day I will marry you. We will build a life together of mutual respect and love. We will be happy and I will always cherish you.”

"Am I allowed to promise you the same thing?" You watch in awe as the band slips easily onto your finger and you flex your fingers to see if it will shake free. When it doesn't, you beam at him all over again. "To promise to love and cherish you and be your partner while we build this relationship?"

“Absolutely.” He smiles softly and leans in to press his lips to yours gently. “Happy birthday, hummingbird.”

"We should go." Even whispering against his lips, you feel giddy and giggly in the moment. "Before I drag you back into bed and make you even more promises."

“Promises, promises.” He teases. “That is for tonight when we are both a little tipsy, very handsy, and more than a little in love with the idea of being together.”

The drive out to The Statesman Club goes easily and quickly, with Agent Bailey following behind you all the way. From the amount of cars in the parking lot it's obvious that your mother had Marcus bring you to the party after everyone had arrived – or if not then there are a huge amount of people coming tonight. "Seems like an awful lot of fuss," you hum, slipping your hand into Marcus's when he opens your door.

“You’re worth the fuss.” He reminds you, helping you out of the car and he can’t help but admire you. “I forgot to tell you that you look stunning.”

"That's just because I'm happy," you insist, tugging him toward the front of the building. "And because you look absolutely stunning yourself, so I'm just reflecting it back at you."

He chuckles, knowing that he could argue that but it’s your birthday and he can’t argue with the birthday girl. “Remember, you can’t butter me up anymore.” He jokes. “My bag is already at your place; I’m going home with you.”

"What if I'm just telling the truth?" It's like walking on Cloud 9 as you go hand-in-hand with him up to the front door. There's a desk inside with a woman in all black, and she smiles to see you coming – clearly expecting you but too professional to do more than smile.

Marcus gives his name as if he were the one setting the reservation, but they know where to guide you. “Good evening.” She moves from behind the desk to come out beside you. “My name is Ginger and I will be escorting you inside.”

"Thank you, Ginger." It's all very dramatic, you think, but you still follow the woman around a corner and past the main dining room, up a flight of stairs that is dimly lit to put focus on decades and decades of Statesman ads that ends in a set of double doors. This must be their private function room, because the moment she pushes open the doors, all hell breaks loose.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!” Is screamed at you in various pitches and volumes, making you jump slightly even if you had been anticipating it. Marcus laughs, drawing you into the circus of a room as your friends and family press close.

“This is what not overdoing it looks like, huh Mom?” You’re laughing, though, and hug her first out of everybody in the room. You know how impossible it is for her to get to do anything personal already so it’s doubly amazing that she not only put this together but managed to attend.

“Of course it is.” She hugs you fiercely and tears up slightly as she remembers the day you slipped into the world. “It’s small compared to the inauguration party.”

“Which inauguration party?” There were three official ones and then plenty of other unofficial, and you smirk at her even when you pull back. “I can’t believe this place let you book in. It must be crawling with Secret Service.”

“Just a few.” She snorts and shrugs. “I’m the President. It’s time I stop letting the office run my life.”

“Well, thank you.” That resolve won’t last because it can’t, but you’re glad that it is here for tonight.

Your father is next to swoop in for a hug, cooing over his baby being all grown up, and you groan playfully because he gets like this every single time one of you has a birthday. You, Alex, and June all get fussed over equally and it’s actually kind of sweet. Tonight, though, you reach back and take your soulmate’s hand. “You guys remember Marcus?” Of course they do, but you’re still going to be polite about it.

“Sir. Ma’am.” Marcus would offer his hand, but you are currently holding it. “Nice to see you again.”

"Very nice to see you again, Marcus." Having dispensed with Agent Pike except for formalities, the president smiles. "And very punctual. I like that."

“Timing was important tonight.” He agrees, squeezing your hand gently. “The birthday girl needed to be here for the party to really begin.”

"Then let's get this party started." The phrase sounds just as odd and stilted coming out of her mouth as she thought it would, but that doesn't matter. "Make sure you say hi to everyone, Birdie. And try whatever you want to drink. But I think you'll like both cocktails."

Marcus smiles and nods toward the private bar for the party, a fit cowboy with a mustache behind the counter with a toothy smile and a name tag with ‘Jack’ on it. “Shall we go get a drink before you mingle?”

"Absolutely." Whatever your parents have picked out is always good, and you want nothing more than to get the night started.

“What do you want to have?” Marcus asks as he reads the small, personalized cocktail menu that is being served exclusively tonight in addition to the regular drinks.

"The Sour Red sounds good." Cranberry and cherry in a whiskey sour sounds like a great way to start the night.

"It sounds great." A voice from beside you huffs, and you squeal with delight to see your best friend appear out of nowhere next to you. Sydney grins and envelops you into a gigantic hug, as Marcus smirks proudly behind you.

“You look amazing!” The soft, flowing maternity dress is the first of its kind you’ve seen her wear and it looks gorgeous on her, making her look like a work of art. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” She insists, shaking her head at you. “Juan said he’s going to treat you to lunch when he comes back, and he’s so sorry.”

“Absolute sap of a man,” you huff, laughing affectionately. Juan really does treat you like a little sister sometimes and it’s very sweet. “He doesn’t have to do that. But…if he really wants to…” you glance back at Marcus with a giddy smile. “Why don’t we plan a double date?”

“That sounds good.” Marcus nods. “What do you think, Sydney?” He’s willing to do whatever you want and having a night with the other couple would be nice.

“Oh, one hundred percent.” She’s already nodding, clutching her ginger ale in one hand and grinning to see the two of you together like this. “That will be awesome.”

“I’ll order the drinks so you ladies can talk?” Marcus orders, squeezing your hand when you nod and moving up to the bartender.

"I don't know if I said it enough, but you did the amazingly last night. The wedding was perfect." You hug her again, always mindful of your growing goddaughter between you. "I owe you."

“It was all thanks to you.” She reminds you with a soft hug. “Looks like you had a good evening after the wedding party left.”

"Maybe." The meager protest has your cheeks on fire immediately, and you bury your face in your hands. "He's...god, Syd, he's absolutely incredible."

“Really?” She lights up, happy that you are so enthralled with your soulmate. “So you had a really good night?”

"I need you to promise me that you're going to react in the most normal way you've ever reacted to anything in your life," you murmur, intentionally lowering your voice and glancing around furtively. "Most boring reaction ever. Promise?"

“Boring – absolutely.” She nods eagerly, aware you’re about to bust unless you spill whatever secret has you positively glowing. “He’s the best you’ve ever had? Hung like a horse?” She guesses playfully.

"Haven't actually had sex yet, but yes to the second." The smirk that breaks over your face is unapologetic, but you clear your throat, and intentionally reach out to hold your best friend's hand with the ring Marcus gifted you a mere hour ago glinting in the club's lighting. "Most normal and boring you've ever been," you remind her quietly.

Her frown when she feels something makes her look down and then her eyes bug out wide, making her look like a cartoon character for a brief moment. The smallest squeak comes out before she buttons up her lip and her entire body seems to vibrate in energy as her gaze darts back up to you.

"It's a promise ring." As quietly as you can when Sydney is practically buzzing out of control, you're still grinning from ear to ear. "I told you he's incredible."

“I can’t believe— okay, I can.” She huffs quietly and as discreetly as she can, she’s looking at the ring. “Honey, it’s beautiful.” She whispers softly, melting and giving Marcus Pike all the brownie points for romance.

"I don't know when he had time to get it," you admit, trying not to bring too much attention to the piece of jewelry and end up having to explain it to a whole room full of people. "We were together all day."

“He must have bought it the day he went golfing with Michael.” Sydney guessed with small, dreamy sigh. “They were talking about Michael’s buying a wedding day gift for Joyce. He was planning on jewelry.”

“That must have been it.” It’s even dreamier, then, in your mind. Because that truly was the very beginning of things.

“He’s got good taste.” She hums in approval. “This is the real deal.”

"It's the first time in my life that I've really felt like I'm on the same page as my partner," you gush to her, right before Marcus comes over with your drinks.

“One Sour Red for you.” Marcus hands you the drink. “And I ordered the Sweet Delight for me so we can also try it.” He has no problem sharing drinks with you.

The second cocktail on the specialties list was something like a cross between a sweet tea and a mint julep, and since you had fully intended on trying both, he seems to have read your mind. "Perfect." Him, the whole day, tonight, all of it.

“Great.” He holds up the Sweet Delight in a toast. “Happy birthday, hummingbird.” He smiles. “May your thirties be the beginning of the greatest adventures of your life.”

"I have a feeling they will be." You hold up your Sour Red and Sydney adds her ginger ale to the coast, making the three of you a very happy trio.

“Now, I don’t want to monopolize your night.” Marcus insists after taking a drink. “I can hold your purse, but you need to talk to people and if you want me to keep Sydney company, I’m good with that.”

"I'm going to use having to find you as an excuse to get out of saying hello when I start to burn out." It looks like your mother has assembled a few dozen people here tonight and you know you're going to need to take a break from all the chit chat at least a couple of times. "Thank you, love."

“Absolutely.” He smiles at you in reassurance. “Just lift your glass and I’ll come rescue you.”

“Okay.” Leaning up, you leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth and whisper an “I love you” before you scoot away.

Marcus watches you walk away with the look of a man completely besotted with his soulmate. “I love you too.” He murmurs after you.

“That didn’t take long at all.” Sydney grins, sipping her soda like she’s won the lottery.

“Too quick?” He glances back at your best friend and wonders if she worries about you jumping in too fast with him despite being your soulmate.

“Not for her.” She chuckles quietly. “Hell, even Juan and I knew within about two days that he was going to come back East with me after we met. It’s just…it’s nice to see someone moving her speed with her. Supporting her at light speed, ya know?”

“I’m not going to hurt her.” He promises Syd with a solemn vow.

“Oh, I know you’re not.” Her smile turns determined and icy. “Because if you do? Juan knows exactly how to make sure no one ever finds your body. And I think you value life too much to risk the wrath of her best friend and her siblings. Don’t underestimate little Junie.”

Marcus doesn’t scoff, nor does he chuckle and brush it off. He takes a sip of his drink and looks at your best friend squarely. “I won’t, and I never piss off the people who cook food.” He tells her. “They have ingenious ways for disposing of a body.”

“She’s been through a lot of shitty relationships.” Sydney confides. She’s glad to see Marcus taking this talk seriously. Sam had laughed and waved her off. “Listen to her, treat her well, and buy her flowers. That girl loves getting flowers.”

“What are her favorites?” He asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you want out of this relationship.

“Camellias, roses, gerber daisies…” Sydney grins. “I’ll text you a list.”

“Please do.” Marcus can do roses anytime, but he wants to give flowers that let you know that he’s just thinking about you. Ones that put a smile on your face. “And her favorite bath soaps and scents.”

“I’ll have a list of favorites and least favorites ready for you tomorrow,” she promises. “But I have a big one for you, first.”

“What’s that?” He knows Sydney likes him, thinks that he will be good for you, so it’s best that he stay on her good side.

"I've never seen her prouder to be out with a partner than she was with you at that State dinner," Sydney tells him honestly. "She gets skittish about the spotlight, but she collected every single paper that had a picture of the two of you. It's..." she smiles, actually, and her eyes find you in the crowd of family and friends around the room. "It's a kind of confidence that is new for her, but I think it's great."

Marcus follows her gaze and his own face softens and he takes on a slightly sappy smile. “I only want to support her and prop her up.” He promises your best friend earnestly. “Whatever she wants to do.”

"She has the career she wants. And now the right partner." Syd flashes a beaming grin. "Next up is the wedding and kids, Pike. I hope you're ready for a deluge of family fun."

“I’ve always wanted kids.” He admits quietly, pushing one hand into a pocket. Taking another sip and his eyes follow you around the room. “Don’t mind a wedding, but I’m more concerned about the life we build rather than the wedding we have.”

"She says she doesn't care about a wedding. That it's the marriage that counts. And she does mean it." More than anything, Sydney needs Marcus to know that this isn't any shallowness on your part, it's something she's observed. "But I see the way she moons over every single bride that comes through the inn. She wants someone to make a fuss over her without her having to ask for it. It's why she's been sighing over this birthday party like it's unnecessary but has been talking about it nonstop. Because she deserves to feel special, but she feels guilty asking for it."

“I want her to have exactly what she wants.” Marcus smiles at the idea. “The fairytale. The happily ever after.”

Nudging Marcus with her elbow, Sydney's cup of happiness is positively overflowing for you in this moment. "I have a good feeling about this."

“I hope so. Because I’m taking her to meet my folks in a few weeks.” He tells her with a grin.

Syd’s jaw drops on a disbelieving laugh. “You got her to take time off work?”

“Is that some kind of minor miracle?” He asks with a slightly proud smirk if it is. “I asked if she wanted to come and she agreed.”

“There’s nothing minor about it.” She cackles with absolute glee, knowing Juan will be just as thrilled as she is. “She hasn’t taken a vacation day in seven years. Not even for campaign events. You’ve just advised sainthood.”

“Jesus.” He whistles quietly and has a renewed admiration for your drive. “Then I’ll make sure that she relaxes and soaks up the sun while we are gone.” He grins. “Texas is the perfect place for it.”

“Perfect.” Syd grins, and holds up her glass to toast him. “Take care of our girl, Marcus. I know you will.”

“Of course I will.” Marcus watches as you discreetly lift your empty glass. “Op,” he grins back at her and lifts his own glass. “Duty calls.”

It's just a little later, while Marcus is deep into conversation with your father about something or other that you didn't quite catch, you're slowly sipping your second drink when the nearby door opens to admit a new arrival.

Sam Chase walks into the pub, straightening his jacket and smiling a bright smile at anyone who turns his way. Looking over the crowd and finding you as he scans and lifting a hand in a wave before moving towards you.

It's a surprise to see him, even if you did say that you wanted to stay friends, but you walk toward him with square shoulders and sure steps. More than ever, you know you made the right decision, and you're mature enough not to say a thing about it and just let things move forward. "Sam." When he moves forward to hug you, you let him just like you would let any other friend. "What a surprise. Are you feeling better?"

"I am." He wouldn't miss tonight for the world, not when he realized what he needed to do. He accepts the hug and squeezes you gently to him, admiring your perfume. He's missed that smell. "Happy birthday, Birdie." He uses your nickname so rarely, preferring your name, but tonight is about showing growth.

"Thank you." You're glad to not see a gift in his hands. It's almost a reprieve because you had feared he might do something overly intimate as a gesture if he did actually come. "There's some fun cocktails but the bar is open, and lots of food being passed around. I think cake is happening in just a little bit."

"That's good." He pulls back and smiles at you. "It's good to see you, I've missed talking to you."

"It's good to see you, too." Unfortunately you can't say you've missed him as much as he seems to have missed you, but the last few weeks have been so important for you. "I'm glad you came." At least that is true.

"I know you are making the rounds, so I will get a drink." Sam knows that he has to show that he is more accepting of your way of doing things and he takes your hand and squeezes it gently. "I will get a drink and then talk to you later?"

"That sounds like a good plan," you nod, motioning toward the bar. "I know you're not a whiskey guy, but they do have some nice wines stocked tonight. And champagne. Mom insisted."

"I'll see you soon." He promises, sure that the champagne is meant for the toasting of your birthday after the cake. You will be thrilled to drink it because of another celebration as well.

Alex and David are nearby and you gravitate toward them naturally, glad for some supportive faces in the sea of comfortable and uncomfortable acquaintances. Your mother had really gone all-out with the guest list.

Despite his own conversation, Marcus has kept an eye on you, frowning slightly when he sees Sam arrive. He’s not jealous, but he knows that it would be uncomfortable to you since you had broken up.

"Well that looked fun," your brother grumbles, putting an arm around your shoulders lazily when you pace over to him and his boyfriend. "Mm," you roll your eyes discreetly. "So fun. It's my own fault for saying I wanted to stay friends. I just thought...it's a very adult thing to do. And he didn't do anything wrong, really."

“He did everything wrong.” Alex snorts, rolling his eyes at you. “You just were so busy making it work you couldn’t see that.”

"You guys could have said something earlier, ya know." Still, you shrug and take a sip of your drink. "Not that it matters now."

“You were happy…ish.” Alex arches a brow at you. “Tell me you would have listened.” He challenges, knowing how stubborn you are.

"Listen to you?" Rolling your eyes dramatically for show, you wave a hand dismissively. "Of course not. Maybe David, but not you."

Both men laugh and David winks at you. “That’s my girl.” He teases.

"Everything will be fine." You're definitely reassuring yourself, not them, but that's okay. "Eat. Drink. Be merry. That's the name of the game tonight."

“Of course it is.” Alex leans in and presses his lips to your cheek. “Happy birthday sis.” He hums. “You look happy with your soulmate.”

“As happy as you are with yours.” For everything that Alex and David have gone through together, you know the light at the end of their tunnel is going to be so incredibly bright and wonderful. There isn’t a second of doubt in your mind. “He, um…he’s taking me to Texas in a couple of weeks. To meet his family.”

“Really?” Alex is surprised but he’s quickly grinning as he looks around to find Marcus watching you for a moment. Checking in on you from across the room. “Well slap my ass and call me a cowboy.”

"I'll leave that to David," you reply, snorting at the image. "But yes. Really. And I'm excited, so don't ruin it."

“You better wear a cowboy hat when you ride him.” Alex chuckles quietly and winks at you. “They say everything’s bigger in Texas.”

"I swear to god." Groaning with the ire that only a sister can truly feel, you stick your tongue out at your brother and make a face. "I'm walking away now, but you're ridiculous."

“You know I love you!” He cups one hand around his mouth to call out after you, laughing while his soulmate rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath about sibling relationships.

"Sweetheart," your mother grabs you in passing, seeing that you're headed for Marcus and not wanting to delay you too long. "Cake soon?"

"Sure, Mom." Pausing long enough to squeeze her hand, you nod to indicate you're willing to just go with the flow. The night will last however long it lasts and you're grateful for every second you get to spend with your friends. Thankfully, it seems like cake cutting won't be the very end of the night.

“How is my pretty party girl?” Marcus asks as you draw closer, pulling you to his side and swapping his full drink with your empty one. “You should try this Statesman Blackberry Reserve.” He urges you. “It’s probably the smoothest whiskey I’ve ever had in my life.”

"You trying to get me drunk, Pike?" You tease, accepting the glass and trying a sip – which earns a happy moan from you. "You're already coming home with me. You have stuff at my place."

“But you’re cute when you’re relaxed.” He jokes, smirking slightly considering that you’ve already had a conversation about drunk sex and somnophilia so you are both on the same page about what’s acceptable.

"You're always cute." Relaxed is a good word. You aren't drunk at all. Not even tipsy. But you are definitely relaxed. "Mom's going to have the cake brought out soon. Brace yourself for a deeply embarrassing speech of some kind."

Laughing quietly, he nods. “Of course. Would it not be a family birthday party if there wasn’t an embarrassing speech?”

"In this family?" You snort, barely managing to smother the sound as your mother's voice comes over a microphone so that the whole room can hear her. "Never. But that's my cue."

“Go knock them dead, hummingbird.” He whispers in encouragement and takes your drink from your hand so you can walk up beside her. It’s your night, your time to shine.

As Sydney has pointed out, the spotlight is not necessarily where you thrive. You do step up next to your mother, though, and wave awkwardly with a dopey smile on your face as she talks. The predicted speech is just as embarrassing as you thought it would be, but it’s easier to smile knowing Marcus is out there watching just a few feet away.

Now is the time. Sam watches as you demure to the crowd and duck your head in embarrassment as your mother finishes up your happy birthday speech. He straightens his tie and reaches into his pocket to pull out your gift before he edges towards the front of the room where you and your mother are standing.

Honestly if you had noticed, you might have said something. Or you might have at least looked at him questioningly. But you’re too busy avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes while people applaud a speech about you to realize that Sam has walked right up to where you and your mother are standing.

His entire relationship with you, he had watched you secretly moon over ‘grand gestures’. Sniffling during Hallmark moves or rom coms, smiling like a crazy woman when a proposal happens at your inn. This will be perfect. Your mother arches a brow when he asks for the microphone, but she hands it over anyway. “Good evening everyone, Birdie…” he begins, having carefully written out and rehearsed this speech several times. Preparing for it just as studiously as he would have a political debate.

“Sam…?” Anxiety rises like bile in the back of your throat, almost making you choke on the confusion. What in the hell?

Marcus frowns at the way that Sam turns and kneels in front of you. A collective gasp coming from the crowd pierces his heart and it’s compounded by the way you cover your mouth. Looking just like a scene from a romantic film. His gut churns and confusion and doubt makes the blood start pounding in his ears.

“Get up!” As soon as you can gather your own thoughts to get beyond shock and utter horror, you lurch forward to grab Sam and yank him up off his one stupid knee. “What the hell are you doing?” You hiss, well aware that all eyes are on you but having rocketed past giving a shit out of pure anger.

“I’m making up for my lack of spontaneity, giving you the grand gesture.” Sam smiles proudly and opens the box to show you the elaborate diamond ring that he had bought for you. “I love you, and I want to show you that I am here. You are more important than anything else.”

“Don’t do this.” Even if your voice is low, the shaking of your head is universal, and the few gasps over the opening of the jewelry box are minimally muffled when you reach out and snap the little box closed again immediately. “We broke up. Walk away and return the ring.” The urge to cry and flee is almost overwhelming but you have to make him stop.

“We had a fight, a foolish one.” Sam tells you beseechingly. “One I take complete blame for. But we are so good together. Don’t throw it away because I was too blinded by my pride.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” you tell him flatly, although you do feel bad that you clearly didn’t articulate well enough that the relationship is over and has been for two weeks now. “Please just walk away? I’m not taking you back. Tonight or ever, do you understand?” Even with your heart in your stomach, lurching there like a stone in acid, you can’t bring yourself to be cruel. You’re just desperate to be clear and get it through his head.

Sam frowns and looks around at the people who have started to go from excited to embarrassed for him. “Why?” He asks quietly. “This is what we talked about. What you wanted to plan for? Now you say no?”

“Plans changed. Maybe I changed, I don’t know.” You didn’t. And you know you didn’t. But it seems kinder to say that than to point out that your eyes are opened to how imbalanced your relationship was. “I found my person, Sam. I’m sorry that it isn’t you, but please don’t make this worse than it already is.”

“You’re really going to say no?” Sam looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “In front of all these people?” The microphone has been forgotten at his side, the conversation just between the two of you and he glances over to see Marcus Pike walking away in the crowd.

“I don’t even understand why you thought it was okay to ask.” It’s completely ruined the night rather than just being embarrassing, but one thing is obvious: Sam has turned out to be one of those men who won’t back down at the very worst of times. “No. Absolutely not. I’m with someone else and I love him. End of story.” Like the punctuation that ends a sentence, you hold up your hand to show him the ring Marcus put there just hours ago. “You should leave, Sam.”

He feels like he’s going to be sick. Unable to breathe in that second where a ring is produced and he knows if he doesn’t escape, find air, he might have a heart attack or something. It’s happening again. This time it’s even worse than before because it’s his soulmate. Marcus turns and pushes through the crowd. Hauling ass for the nearest exit as discreetly as he can while everyone else watches the romantic gesture ahead of them. Unable to hear anything but the tattoo of his heart beating out of his chest as he disappears out of the bar.

He doesn’t hear the next round of gasps inside as your birthday has turned into a farce. He doesn’t see Sam rage or crumble. He doesn’t stand and bear witness to you declaring your love for your soulmate in front of dozens of people. All he knows is that he has to get away, but he’s barely at the bottom of the stairs when you go barreling after him. “Marcus!” Thank god June saw him moving blindly through the crowd, she had pointed you in the right direction. “Marcus!”

It’s still crisp and cool when the sun goes down, hitting the doors and gasping like a drowning man when the frosty air hits him and after two gulps, he’s lurching for the bushes. He’s not so drunk he’s puking, he’s so emotional he can’t keep down the drinks and appetizers curdling on his stomach.

“Marcus, wait!” You have no idea what set of doors this is, but you saw him go through it, so you go too, almost twisting your ankle in the heels you’re wearing in the process. “Oh my god.” The second you see him, you’re moving again, reaching for his bent frame and trying to soothe him somehow. The best you can think of is cooing his name and rubbing your hand over his broad back gently.

Agent Bailey is hot on your heels, bursting through the door seconds later and on high alert. “I’m fine—” Marcus grunts, twisting away from you as he continues to empty his stomach. “’m fine.” He coughs and retches one more time before he can catch his breath. “Go back— I—I—” he pants out.

“You’re not fine.” In the three seconds you can think straight, you turn around to find Agent Bailey a few feet away. “Can you find us some water?” You ask her, not sure what’s caused Marcus to be so sick but sure that he’s going to feel worse if he can’t rinse his mouth.

It’s obvious that she’s uncomfortable leaving you, but after a second, she’s nodding and stepping away while speaking into her earpiece.

“It’s okay, baby…” Whether or not that’s true is yet to be determined, but Marcus is obviously in distress and you’re just trying to soothe him as best you can. “Was it something you drank? Or—or ate?” Or was it my ex-boyfriend ruining the entire fucking night for literally everyone?

Marcus closes his eyes, swallowing down another wave of bile and shakes his head. “No— I—” he can’t even articulate the rambling thoughts in his head right now. He feels like he’s lost again and yet you are standing in front of him. Are you here to give him the ring back?

“It’s okay, don’t talk until you’re ready.” While you still have one hand moving on his back, you just try to keep calm and hopefully help him calm down in the process. “Agent Bailey’s finding you some water and we can sit out here for as long as you need, okay?”

“Why—” he swallows and closes his eyes. “Why are you out here?” His voice is steadier, gaining control over his emotions again. “Your party is inside.”

"You are out here." The question makes no sense to you and you're probably looking at him like he has three heads, but at least that's an honest reaction. "Fuck the party. You're more important."

“No, I’m not.” Marcus opens his eyes, looking up at the stars and he has to know. “Did you say yes?”

A single beat of confusion bleeds away to absolutely seething disbelief and your hand stops moving on his back even though you don't step away. "How can you even think I—" And all at once it melts away as recognition dawns and the despair on his face becomes clear. Teresa. Teresa is why he's asking. Why he's afraid and why he's so anxious that he's throwing up in the bushes behind the building. "Marcus, no. Of course not. I didn't even let him ask the damn question. He's a self-centered moron who didn't take being broken up with well, and more importantly there is the fact that I love you."

“You were with him for a year.” Marcus reminds you, wanting so badly to believe you and yet it’s still just beyond his grasp.

"Lots of people are in relationships for longer than they should be," you reason, trying to keep his eyes even with the heartbreak that is obvious in them. "I love you, Marcus Pike. You're my soulmate, and I would trade every single second that I spent with Sam in a heartbeat if it meant getting to change all those memories to ones that include you."

“I’m sorry.” The apology is automatic, closing his eyes again and biting his lip. “This is— I shouldn’t have come out here. I shouldn’t have left your party.”

"You needed air, and you needed to clear your head." If you turn things around and put yourself in his shoes? You'd be losing it in the bushes, too. Thankfully, that is when Agent Bailey appears with a sealed bottle of water and she hands it off to you silently. "I'm sorry I ever said I wanted to stay friends with that man. Hopefully the fact that Secret Service escorted him off the grounds will get it through his head." Gently, though, you tip your head at Marcus and offer him a smile. "If not, I'm pretty sure that showing him your promise ring and loudly declaring how much I love you to about sixty people has probably done it."

“You did?” Marcus frowns slightly, confused as to when you managed to do that before rushing after him.

"I did." You nod slightly, one hand seeking his cheek to try to offer some kind of comforting touch. "And then I realized you weren't standing next to Sydney anymore, and I bolted after you."

“I—" he leans into the touch more than he realizes. “I can’t believe you did that.” He huffs softly.

"You said I could shout it from the rooftops." The reminder comes with a soft smile, as you see Marcus finally start to calm down a little and grapple with reality. "So I did."

“You have to be pretty pissed off at me.” He rationalizes. “All that talk and I’m puking my guts out when someone proposes to you on your birthday. In front of all your friends and family.”

"Baby, if one of your exes had shown up to your party and proposed, I assure you I also would have lost my shit. If not my dinner." Holding up the water bottle, you don't step away from him for a second. "We can stay out here as long as you need to, we can go back in, or we can go home. Whatever you need."

“You need to go back in.” Marcus tells you quietly. “You can’t just leave. All of those people are here for you.”

"I'm not leaving you." In the long run or the short, that sentence is the same.

“I’m not saying you leave me.” He looks at you again and reaches for the hand that isn’t on his back. “Let’s go back inside.”

"We'll sit and sip some water, and if your stomach is still turning we don't have to eat anything else." There is a more than minor chance that people will come up to you both for the rest of the night to want to talk about your soulmate status, but that can't be avoided.

He sighs softly. “You know why I was throwing up.” He challenges softly. “I was having a moment of extreme anxiety.”

"That doesn't mean you'll want to eat anything else, or that your stomach isn't still unsettled." Thankfully he wasn't panicked enough to drop your clutch, so he still has it in one hand and you take it from him carefully. "Here. I have mints and Tums stashed in here. Do you want one, the other, or both?"

He frowns slightly, unused to being fussed over unless it was his mother. “Both.” He decides. “I think.”

"We can do that." Mint Tums and Altoids are produced from your purse without further ceremony, and you wait until he steadies himself and chews his mints before you open your arms to offer him a hug.

He stares at you for a moment before he accepts the hug and pulls you close. “Are you okay, hummingbird?”

"I'm pissed at that idiot for upsetting you, but I'm okay." If he had said you should just go home, you would have gone with him in a heartbeat. Going back into that party sounds daunting at the very least. "What a fucking idiot. I'm just grateful I managed to catch you before you got too far."

“I just needed some air.” Marcus doesn’t know if he would have left, he hadn’t really been thinking— just reacting.

"If you get overwhelmed or anxious again, do you promise to tell me?" He takes your hand and a step or two toward the door at your side, but that doesn't mean he's totally ready to go in.

“I just—” he knows he owes you an explanation. “It felt like history was repeating itself. This time I was getting a front row seat.” He frowns slightly and looks down at the ring on your finger. “And the only thing that I could think of was how much worse it was because it was my soulmate.”

"You're absolutely entitled to have an anxious reaction to what just happened." With his hand in yours, you give it a squeeze and soothe your other hand over his arm. "Is there something I can do to reassure you? Or is this something that's just going to take time to work through?"

“It was just a flash in the pan thing.” Marcus assures you. “But I’ll talk to my therapist about it. So it doesn’t work into something between us.”

"Okay." He's working on himself, and honestly that might be one of the sexiest things about him. For now, though, you squeeze his hand again and head back into the building. "But if there is something I can do, or if I do something that I don't realize makes you anxious, will you tell me? I never want to make our time together stressful or triggering."

“I promise I will let you know.” He is thankful you understand why he freaked out, instead of just assuming he didn’t trust you. “I’m sorry that your birthday was…interrupted.”

"That is absolutely not your fault." It isn't. At all. And you would hate for him to feel that any of the blame is on his shoulders when it lies squarely with Sam. "Just...people are going to have questions. I did flash the ring, so we're going to have a lot of curiosity."

“I’m assuming this wasn’t the way you wanted to announce your soulmate status?” He asks wryly. “Why did Sam think he could win you over by proposing?”

"I think he thought that if he went for the grand gesture, I would just crumble." You sigh as you walk together, climbing the stairs slowly. "If not for you, I might have. I might have settled, instead of realizing that real love is something much more spectacular. Something worth holding out for."

“I’m glad you didn’t settle.” Marcus admits, looking over at you. “That wouldn’t be fair to you. Forget about me, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” At the top of the stairs you kiss his cheek and hold his hand a little tighter. “Now that I’ve met you, I could never forget about you.”

It’s a little surreal to be a priority, making Marcus flush a little more than he probably would, given that he had just doubted you and been proven spectacularly wrong. He’ll definitely call his therapist on Monday.

“Are you ready?” The doors are right in front of you, but you still check in with him first. “If you’re not, it’s okay. I’ll say good night and we’ll go home. Not questions asked.”

“No, I’m not going to ruin the rest of your night.” He shakes his head. “Let’s get a fresh drink.”

Marcus's stubbornness isn't something you want to start an argument about, but after tonight you're definitely going to take tomorrow very easy. "It's not the night any of us had planned, that's for damn sure."

“I would hope not.” He snorts and his hand squeezes yours again, now feeling guilty about leaving you while you dealt with Sam. “I’m sorry for not being there for you.”

"You don't need to be, but I appreciate that. He took all of us off guard." With a confirming nod from Marcus, you push the door to the event hall open and come face to face with a room full of guests who are all a flutter. Your mother still has the microphone in her hand but it seems to be off, and she makes her way toward you immediately with a deep frown etched in her features.

“Birdie.” She is almost sighing in relief when she spots you again. “You ran off, almost losing your detail.” She scolds quietly before she softens. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

"I needed some air." The gentle lie covers the fact that you actually went running after Marcus, but no one can blame you for having a big reaction to what happened. "That was insane."

The president gives a very unpresidential snort. “You think?” She huffs. “I cannot believe that man thought proposing after you broke up was a good idea. I mean, I know he had mentioned something when you were still together, but-“ Realizing who she is saying this in front of, she snaps her jaw closed and sends Marcus a polite smile. “Thank you for being with her.”

"It's not exactly how I was going to tell you about the promise ring," you admit, leaning in to Marcus's side when he offers your mother an agreeing nod. As though to say 'of course' without letting her know that it was actually you who was there for him.

“You seem overjoyed to wear it.” She observes, smiling slightly at the way you are leaning into the man beside you. Drawing comfort and offering it at the same time.

"I am." Without hesitation, and with great pride, in fact. "And I apologize in advance, but I'm going to miss a family dinner in a few weeks. Marcus is bringing me to Texas to meet his family."

“Really?” Her eyes widen slightly and shift over to Marcus as she reappraises him through a new lens. This has just change from potential to reality. “Well.” She smiles. “I am sure that they will love you.”

“We’ll make sure all the plans are approved by Agent Bailey, but…” Glancing up at Marcus beside you, your stomach flips and your hearts pounds. As off kilter as tonight has gone, he’s still standing here beside you. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t take your detail out to Texas.” Your mother considers, looking at Marcus to see what he thinks. “After all, you will be traveling with a federal agent.” She taps the microphone. “Would be bring your weapon and credential when you fly?” She asks him. Marcus nods immediately. “I always bring them.” He explains. “In case I get called out for a case. I don’t have to fly back to D.C.”

“We’ll be near the Dallas field office anyway,” you offer, having cruised around Marcus’s hometown on Google maps with him over a phone call when he was in London and noting the office as you went.

Your mother glances over at Agent Bailey and within seconds, the agent is joining the three of you. “What do you think, Agent Bailey?” She asks, wanting her professional opinion before she makes her decision.

“I would feel more comfortable if it was me, Ma’am.” Agent Bailey shifts in place, as if apologizing to you with her body language. “I’ll station at the field office and be on call. It’s a middle ground, if you will.”

“Birdie?” Your mother glances over at you to see what you think. “How does that sound?”

“That’s fine with me as long as long as it’s okay with Marcus.” You nod, appreciating your agent’s candor. “I trust Agent Bailey more than some strangers.”

“Whatever is needed for Birdie’s safety.” Marcus agrees. “Although, there’s plenty of room for you at the compound.” He tells Agent Bailey. “There’s no need for you to stay in Dallas. Please. Come stay with us.”

“We’ll coordinate with the Dallas office and make arrangements official.” Agent Bailey assures your small group. “Now…I believe there is a cake to be cut, ma’am?”

“Oh shit.” Marcus’s eyes widen when he realizes that you haven’t even had your cake. “Yeah, sweetheart, you need to have your birthday cake.”

“We got a little distracted from the point of the night, I think.” Still placing the blame for that squarely on one person’s shoulders, you offer your mother a smile anyway. “What do you say we get this party back on track?”

“Are you sure?” She glances back and forth between you and Marcus. “There will be a lot of questions.”

“I know there will be.” And you swallow, wondering if it will overwhelm Marcus and make him second guess choosing you. “But I would rather get ahead of the rumor mill.”

“Then perhaps you should announce your soulmate status.” She offers quietly. “People heard you talk about finding happiness, but they don’t know why you’ve moved on so quickly.”

“It shouldn’t matter,” you remind her, just as quietly but feeling a bit childish. That’s what freedom of affection is about. Your choice. “But I will anyway. Because I’m proud of him.”

“What you decide to do is up to you.” She agrees. “I should have had security stop Congressman Chase at the door.”

“Hindsight, Mom.” The best you can do is shrug. “I shouldn’t have said I wanted to stay friends. It’s done now.”

“Yes…” she huffs slightly, knowing that her opinion of the congressman just dropped considerably after his display tonight.

“Why don’t you give me that,” you motion to the microphone in her hand. “And I’ll talk…and you get the cake?”

“That is your decision, Birdie.” She hands you the microphone and Marcus frowns. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to do anything.”

“I have to say something.” Taking the microphone from her, you offer Marcus a lopsided smile before you click on the power button. “Are you ready for this?”

“Whenever you are.” It’s still a theory in his mind, not tangible. You don’t have to declare this—him— it’s enough that you want to be with him.

“I love you.” It’s just a soft hum, but you squeeze his hand before you click the microphone on and raise it to your mouth. “I hope everyone enjoyed the floor show,” you joke, bringing people’s attention back to the front of the room.

Marcus would have let go of your hand, to give you the spotlight alone, but you don’t let go. Making him give a soft smile as everyone looks at you and consequentially, him.

"I didn't think it was going to be necessary to make an announcement out of this, but clearly the fact didn't get through some people's heads." Still trying for the joke, you take a look around the room. Family, friends, co-workers and family friends all surround you with attentive expressions. "It's been a little over a month now, since I met Marcus Pike." Squeezing his hand gently, you smile at the man beside you and exhale nervously. Stage fright be damned. He is more important than nerves. "And it gave me a lot to think about. How happy I was with the current state of my life and my relationship, or how I imaged my future. It became fairly clear to me that I didn't want to envision any future for myself that didn't have Marcus playing a starring role. Which makes sense..." Breathe. You can do it. Just breathe. "Considering he's my soulmate."

Marcus gives a small wave and a somewhat lopsided grin that he is completely unaware of how charming it is. Listening to the murmurs and gasps of surprise as he knows that he’s under increased scrutiny.

"I know I've always been outspoken about freedom of affection." There are more murmurs – agreement from your loved ones. "And this is what I'm choosing. I am choosing to love my soulmate, and to start building a future with him. Apparently that was a difficult reality for my ex-boyfriend to swallow, but I hope you'll all join me in having a slice of birthday cake and celebrating love and happiness until they kick us out of this place."

Marcus could not have said it better himself, so he doesn’t speak. He just lifts your joined hands and kisses the back of yours gently.

Clicking off the microphone again, you hand it off to one of the uniformed wait staff and turn around to find a rolling table with a sizeable two-tier cake on it. Your father is there with a smile on his face and the knife ready for you to pick up. One ceremonial cut into the cake gets a cheer from the crowd and then it's Alex's voice that starts everyone singing Happy Birthday just as loudly as possible.

Marcus is happy that the celebration has turned back towards you and not the proposal. Singing along with the chorus of the song, he grins when you duck your head slightly in embarrassment.

"Thank god that's over," you huff with a laugh, as the waiter rolls the cake away to slice it properly and people start to mill about again instead of just staring at you. Or worse, singing at you. There's a dab of frosting on your finger and you suck it into your mouth with curiosity before perking up immediately. "Mm, cream cheese frosting!"

“Cream cheese frosting is your favorite?” He asks curiously, smiling at your obvious delight.

"Cake is my favorite." The grin on your face doesn't even have a hint of irony to it. "But if you made me choose? Red velvet with cream cheese frosting is pretty much the top of the list."

“As it should be.” Marcus snorts and shoots you a grin. “But, have you ever had a chilled, key lime cake with cream cheese frosting on a hot Texas day?”

"Please tell me that's something your family does," you groan happily. "Because that sounds amazing."

“My aunt makes one every time I come home.” He promises. “I’ve already gotten the text from her asking if I would want her to make one. I always say yes, but she still asks.”

"Your aunt is now at the very top of my favorite people list." The grin on your face comes with burning cheeks, and you lean into Marcus's side with a sigh. "After you, of course."

“Until you taste my mom’s strawberry daiquiri pie.” He teases, leaning in and kissing your nose.

"Are we going to eat our way through this visit? Because I am completely ready for that." The small reprieve you've been given from the curiosity of your friends and family has apparently ended, and the first waiter with a tray of plates of cake comes out and Malachi saunters up to grab a slice right after you.

“You’ll work it off.” He promises with a grin at the concierge as he smirks with the cake in his hand. “Malachi, how are you this evening?” He asks with a slight chuckle. “A little drama filled, right?”

“More than a little.” Malachi deftly balances a small dessert plan with a glass of champagne in one hand, but his other reaches out to Marcus. “I guess we’ll be seeing you more around the inn?”

Marcus shakes the man’s hand, sensing that despite his aloof mannerisms, he cares deeply about you and the inn. “I hope that’s alright?”

"If she's happy, I'm happy." The younger man chuckles fondly. "Everybody wants their boss in a good mood, right?"

“Absolutely.” Marcus agrees with a grin. “I will try to stay out of your way and keep her in a good mood, what do you say?”

"Sounds like a very good plan." Malachi's eyes spell mischief, just like always, but he cares about you far too much to pretend he isn't genuinely over the moon for you to have finally found the right person to be with.

You huff playfully and Marcus turns his grin towards you. “I have to promise not to distract you from work too much.” He reminds you. “You have an inn to run.”

"Mal says he's happy now," you tease." But he's going to have to run the place for me while we're in Texas. That'll teach him."

“A lover’s getaway already?” His brow shoots up and his lips curl in the same direction. “And here I was thinking that you were taking this slow.”

"Family visit." Though it's technically a correction, it's only a small one. If anything, meeting your soulmate's family is even more important than just a little getaway. "We'll go over everything and I know you'll be just fine. But...yes. A getaway."

“Good.” Malachi sniffs. “You deserve to go somewhere other than Maryland.”

There are other people milling around, wanting to give their best wishes or simply curious to get a closer look at Marcus, and Malachi slips back off into the crowd with a wink and a smile. If this is the rest of the party, you reflect with a glance up at Marcus as you fork up a first bite of cake, that won't be so bad at all.

There are so many people who care about you. Some are just curious and he’s sure that there will be gossip reported on the night, but most everyone who comes up to you genuinely cares. He smiles and shakes hands. Listening to how they know you and saves the information for the next time he sees them. Never leaving your side until he needs to refresh your drink.

By the time the end of the night arrives, you're so grateful to slip away. The fact that you and Marcus have planned a lazy day for tomorrow is deeply necessary. Switching to nonalcoholic drinks after the toast with your cake means neither of you is drunk but you're definitely still tangled around each other after loading the trunk of Marcus's car with various boxes and bags (even though you insisted on no gifts). Good nights are said and Agent Bailey climbs into her car to follow you back to the inn as you and Marcus sigh at finally being alone again in his car.

“I don’t know if that’s the best possible outcome for your birthday, or the worst.” Marcus chuckles, reaching for your hand once he buckled his seatbelt. “Opinions, comments, concerns?”

"Aside from the bit in the middle that I would prefer to never think about again?" You glance up at him beside you and offer him a smile. "Everything else was perfect."

“He was desperate.” Marcus squeezes your hand. “I know why. You are amazing and he’s lost you.” He wonders what he would have done if you had chosen him, if it had been him in Sam’s shoes. He’s let everyone else go, but it’s different now. You are his soulmate.

“Nobody ever treated me like I was ‘amazing’ ,” you tell him honestly, sitting back in your seat when he starts his car up. “Or maybe that’s part of what being a soulmate is. A shared definition of how to treat someone well.”

He doesn’t like the idea that no one has treated you like you deserve, frowning slightly. “Well, the moment I don’t, you just correct me.”

“Same goes for you, you know.” Your hand works its way into his over the gear shift to stay tangled in him even while he drives.

“I don’t think you will be a problem, sweetheart.” He smiles as he glances over at you and then back at the road to the rearview mirror. “Agent Bailey staying again? Or is someone else taking over?”

"Agent Sisson should be at the inn when we get there." His grace and understanding in regards to your security detail is deeply appreciated. You really can't say how much. "It was nice of you to offer for her to stay on the compound when we go see your parents."

“There’s always people coming and going, family and friends. It will make her feel better and maybe she will enjoy herself too.” Marcus rationalizes. “There’s plenty of room. No need for a boring hotel.”

"It will be a nice change," you agree. The darkened streets of Washington DC are lit to blazing with artificial light but it's still fairly quiet for a Saturday night. "I feel bad that there aren't more places for her to hang out at my apartment."

“I would offer my apartment, the second bedroom is my office and across the entire living room from my bedroom.” Marcus chuckles.

"We'll have to split the difference sometimes. Use both places." Tilting your head, you flash him a cheeky grin as he drives. "Until we start building, of course."

“Honestly, whatever is easier for you.” Marcus isn’t about to sleep without you if he can manage it. “I do not mind your apartment at all.”

"We'll see what works best for us. I'm sure there will be days when it will be easier for you to be closer to the office or days when I need to be close to the inn just in case." His flexibility is such a boon, and you squeeze his hand gently. "As long as I get to sleep next to you, we'll make it work."

“That was my thoughts exactly.” Marcus chuckles quietly, amazed at how the two of you just fit together. He had always heard of it, been envious of it on a subconscious level, but now he’s basking in this newfound joy.

"I hope you already told your parents you're bringing me," you laugh softly. "Because I told a lot of people tonight."

“I’m sure there will be something about in a gossip column tomorrow.” He has accepted that, has no issue with it as long as he gets to have you. It’s a requirement of it, to be public. He’s got nothing to hide anyway. He’s used to it from his own childhood. “I’ve told them.” He promises.

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me what your Dad does.” It’s an open question but a good one, especially where it keeps your mind from idling on the fact that at this time last night, Marcus was fingering you in your bathtub and promising to do more tonight.

His brow shoots up and he almost laughs, but you are asking the question seriously. “Oh, he’s retired now.” Marcus promises, grinning slightly.

“Oh?” That’s surprising, though you’re not sure why. Maybe just because you hadn’t been expecting it. “Is he much older than your mother? Or…I don’t know…military? They retire early sometimes, don’t they?”

He does chuckle now and he stops at the red light. “Birdie, my dad is Matthew Pike.” He wonders if you might not have heard of him during his active years in the MLB. “Nicknamed Stryker for the number of strikeouts he would average throwing a game.”

The silence in the car is deafening for the few seconds it takes your mind to catch up with what he’s saying and for your jaw to come up off the floor, but when you can finally think again the first thing out of your mouth is: “No fucking way!”

Marcus belly laughs this time, squeezing your hand and glancing over at you before the light changes and he starts to drive again. “Fucking way.” He promises.

“Wait…” Rolling back through all of the assorted baseball facts in your mind, you somehow manage to come up with just a few Matthew Pike tidbits and get excited all over again. “So you’re not originally from Texas then!” You exclaim, fully shifting into fan girl mode. “He was playing for the Cardinals when you were born, wasn’t he?”

“Cardinals and then he was with Montreal, the Yankees, then Texas.” Marcus nods, grinning at the sheer happiness in your voice.

“I always thought it would have been so cool to live all over like that when I was a kid.” At the time it had never occurred to you that things like having Sydney come with you would have been impossible, it just sounded neat. “That’s the absolute coolest bomb you ever could have dropped on me and I’m so jealous.”

Marcus laughs. “Well, after dad retired, he bought the land out in Texas – no, he already started buying it during his time with Texas – and we made it the ‘Pike compound’.” He snorts. “Kind of like the Kennedy Compound, but not on Cape Cod.”

“There is no room for a family compound in Philly.” The very idea of it makes you laugh, and you grin at him. “Well now I extra can’t wait to meet your parents.”

“Oh….its tradition, by the way.” Marcus tosses you a smirk. “We play at least one game of baseball when we are home.”

“No fucking way.” This time there is awe in your voice and your eyes are wide with giddy excitement. “You have the absolute coolest family, you know that, right?”

“You say that now.” He snorts, rolling his eyes. “You’ve never heard the trash talking the Pike family doles out when playing sports.”

“Don’t care,” you tell him with confidence. “It’s still awesome. Your family is awesome.”

“I think so.” He agrees, happy that his family tradition doesn’t seem weird or lame to you. It had started as a way for the cousins and brothers and sisters to play baseball with the famous MLB star and turned into a tradition that everyone could enjoy, even if they were watching from the seats.

“It’s going to be a blast.” The absolute confidence in your voice won’t hear of anything different. Texas is going to be a fantastic trip.

“They are going to love you.” He promises with a small laugh. “Expect a million questions though.”

“I’m fine with that,” you promise him steadily. “As long as your dad doesn’t mind me fangirling just a tiny bit.”

He smirks. “There’s been a change in his retirement, by the way.” He tells you. “He’s been signed to be the pitching coach for the Rangers. So you can pick his brain.”

“Ok, so fangirling a lot.” Both of you laugh, enjoying the easiness and eagerness of it.

“At least you know you won’t be roped into awkward conversations. You just mention something about baseball and it will become a family topic quick.” Marcus warns.

“Got it.” You hum. He takes the exit for Alexandria and you look over at his profile. “Speaking of which? You’re now invited to family dinners.”

“I am?” Marcus lifts a brow in surprise. “When did that happen?”

“Right before we left the party.” A bit of your lip comes with hoping he doesn’t feel intimidated by where those dinners are. “Mom said there’s no pressure, but you’re welcome.”

“I would be honored to attended….when I can.” Even though it’s an extreme honor, he still had commitments to his job that sometimes cannot be shifted. “I will promise that I’ll come to as many as I can.”

“Work always comes first.” Everyone in your family can understand and agree to that, which is something that helps you breathe more deeply. “David has a standing invitation, too. But his boss has him working Friday nights right now.”

“That’s not fun.” Marcus sends you a small smile. “I better brush up on my small talk.”

“Brush up on American history.” That’s your best advice, but you’re ecstatic he even wants to think about it. “The more obscure the better. When we run out of things to talk about, Mom starts quizzing us on the weird stuff.”

“Play online Jeopardy trivia.” Marcus snorts. “Got it.”

“You’ll knock ‘em dead, baby,” you hum with a laugh.

“You laugh, but mom love Jeopardy.” He huffs playfully. “She wanted to go on the celebrity edition when dad was invited. She was pissed that he turned it down.”

“Our mothers will have at least one thing to bond over, then.” The idea is sweet, actually, and you grin. “If we ever lose them, we’ll find them yelling answers at Jeopardy together.”

“I will be very intrigued to find out how they like each other.” Marcus admits as he turns into the driveway for the inn. “I think we will be in trouble.”

“Maybe.” It makes you smile, though, and you breathe a sigh of relief to be home again. “But I think it will be a good kind of trouble.”

The plans for the super special birthday sex had been unanimously voted against once you were back at the inn. Marcus wouldn’t have said a word, but you were the one to broach the subject and admitted that you just wanted to fall asleep in his arms, emotionally drained from the tumultuous events of the evening. He feels guilty, he really does, but he had also been relieved, although stirring now with you still asleep is a moment he can treasure.

Yesterday you had been the one to watch him fondly, tracing the sunlight on his features and letting you savor the sight of him beside you. The morning after your birthday is the opposite. Marcus watches you dream as the sun rises higher overhead. If you knew, you might be slightly embarrassed about the spot of drool on your pillow, but as it is you’re having dreams far too wonderful to care.

You sleep with your mouth open and it’s cute. Marcus smiles as he brushes his fingers over your skin gently, listening to soft sigh that comes from you as you curl further into him.

In your dreams, he’s already curled around you. Which probably accounts for the soft moan you breathe deep inside your sleep.

“Sweetheart?” Marcus nuzzles his nose against your cheek and smiles when your brow furrows gently.

The sound of his voice in the waking world pulls you out of it, and even though you hum softly in protest of waking up, you shift to snuggle closer to him in bed.

He hums softly, running his hand up and down your back. “You can still sleep, I just want to know if I can touch you.”

“Mmmmm.” Stretching like a contented kitten, you manage to crack one eye open and smile at him sleepily. “I wanna be awake for that, though.”

“You could always wake up to it.” He chuckles and leans in to steal a kiss.

The warm blanket of his affection is far more powerful than the comforter covering both of you, and you’re simultaneously annoyed that he’ll have to strip you out of your nightgown and lazily eager to see if he just doesn’t bother. Moaning softly against his lips, you shift ever closer. “I’m yours.”

You are his. His heart stutters and he hums against your lips. Moving the kiss down your jaw, he shuffles his hips down to start sliding down under the sheets.

There’s a surreal quality to it, like you’re still dreaming even when you know you aren’t. But the morning glow settling over everything is so much better than your dreams had been. It’s like you’re floating on a cloud, and the only thing anchoring you to the ground or any kind of reality is just Marcus.

Your nightgown is between you, but he doesn’t view it as hinderance. Too busy nuzzling you through it as he kisses down your chest and pulls down the collar of the gown over one breast.

The bowing arch of your back into his touch is so natural that you barely notice that you’re chasing his mouth rather than his hands. It’s just your body singing insistently for more when he’s barely getting started.

You respond so easily to him, your warm skin heating up even more as he mouths and kisses the skin around your breast until he finally latches on to your nipple lazily, grabbing against your sweet smelling skin. Your breathy sigh is pitched up, and the leisurely curl of your arms around his shoulders holds him in close to you to encourage him to explore any and all parts of you. Sensitive nipples have always been a boon as far as arousal goes, but Marcus’s magic tongue is nothing to discount.

Listening to your sweet sighs is something he can do forever. Licking and sucking gently, combined with the a sometimes sharp nip of his teeth, builds a tension that vibrates beneath the surface of your body.

Your fingers comb through his hair as you drift on a cloud that keeps you somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Every atom in your body is fully aware and aroused but the sweet dream of this morning makes it still feel like a dream. Holding him close to your chest as he explores to his heart’s content has you squeezing your thighs together already, the buzzing arousal feeling thick and sticky at the apex of your thighs.

"So sweet, perfect." Marcus praises softly between suckles. His hands sliding under your gown to stroke your hip. "You taste perfect, my love."

The happy buzz vibrating right under your skin makes you giggle at that as you squirm underneath him. “And you haven’t even tasted the best part yet.”

“Hmmmm, I’m going to get there.” Marcus promises. “This isn’t a race. I could spend alllll day discovering your body with my tongue and hands before I even use my cock.”

A moan of agreement parts your lips and you end up grinning as he mouths at your skin, nipping and licking everywhere he pleases. “The flea market will still be there next weekend.”

“Maybe we should get out of bed then.” He pauses, head under the sheet and waits for you to squirm. “Right? We can’t miss the flea market.”

“Are you serious?” He’s probably not, but you still lift the sheet to look him in the eyes. If he actually wants to stop, then of course you will. But you have a feel he’s just being a tease again.

He smirks, and looks up at you innocently while sticking his tongue out to trace around your areola. "What do you think?" He hums.

“I’m not going to pressuring you into anything,” you qualify, although he basically has you whining. “But I am gonna have to take care of myself in the shower if you want to stop.”

"That would be a horrible precedent to set in our first weekend together." Marcus flicks his tongue over your aching nipple and then hums when you gasp out as his teeth scrap over it. "Don't you think? We've already postponed this too many times."

It’s almost too much to bear, the way he teases with words and touches and kisses all at once, but you manage to huff at him. “If I drown you when you get down there, it’s only because I’ve been thinking about this every waking second for weeks.”

“Worth it.” He promises with a grin. “It had been so hard not to jerk off thinking about you while I was in London. Especially knowing you were all soft, wet and sweet smelling from your baths with me.”

“Do you know how many times I almost got myself off in those damn baths?” Your soft groan is almost agonized. “I should have. Just moaned into the phone and let you know how badly I want you.”

“Fuck.” His cock twitches against the bed, trapped there as he continues to work his way down. “I wouldn’t have minded.” He admits. “Listening to your orgasm and imagining how you look.” He bites his lip. “You look gorgeous.”

“Would’ve been worth it.” He kisses further down your torso and you hum in approval. “Can’t wait to see how wrecked you look when you cum in me.”

“I had a screening while I was in London.” Marcus admits quietly. “After Vanessa broke up with me. I always do after a relationship ends. Just in case.”

“I do too.” A little bit of a sheepish laugh follows. “Turns out it’s really easy to get good healthcare when your Mom is President.”

Marcus chuckles against your belly button before kissing it. “I bet.” He hums. “No one needs a leaked doctor office visit where the First Princess has an STI.”

“I only like that nickname because it came from the night with you,” you confess, fingers running through his short fair fondly. “I hope you know that.”

“So how about I just call you Princess?” Marcus’s voice drops about two octaves and he smirks at you wickedly.

“As long as I’m your princess.” Although, your sigh immediately gives away what that tone in his voice fires to you.

“Is there any other kind of Princess you would be?” He sends you a wink as he trails his tongue over your hip.

“Not anymore.” Your head falls back on your pillow in relief at that fact, and you fling off the sheet to get to watch him. “Not now that I have you.”

Pleasure races down his spine and he shuffles slightly lower. “I am yours.”

“Glad we—” The moan that cuts off your thought when you feel Marcus’s breath at the apex of your open thighs is deep and curls up from your toes. “Agree.”

He chuckles and doesn’t hesitate to use his fingers to spread your lips apart and he coos as he gets the first good look at your weeping sex. “So pretty.” He praises before he decides the best way to taste you is to slowly drag his tongue along your soaked slit.

“Oh fuck.” Even when you were expecting it, the delicate touch has your eyelids fluttering shut and your chest heaving. Your curse sounds like the most beautiful praise to his ears, moaning at that and the silky, tangy taste of your cunt. Letting his tongue slowly flick along your folds and go where the natural curves of your lips take him. “Never going out again,” you vow, letting a breathy whine vibrate on your tongue.

Marcus chuckles into your folds, keeping pressure on the most sensitive parts of you as he explores. He’s meticulous. Once he’s set himself to the task of learning you, absolutely nothing can or will possibly drag him away. The more you squirm, the firmer his hold becomes. But the more you pant and moan and coo his name into the morning light? Marcus is eager.

The sheet being pulled away allows him to watch you. Enjoying the way you writhe and squirm under his touch. Humming against your skin as you whimper his name prettily.

There's no possible explanation beyond Marcus having a three-foot-long tongue, because the way he feels like he's everywhere at once is the most beautiful kind of overwhelming. There's a solid chance he's just been licking into you and sucking at your clit for hours from how boneless you are, but the first tightening of the knotted arousal at the bottom of your spine heralding the first orgasm of the day reminds you just how quickly he's actually gotten here. You only feel like you've been on this cloud of ecstasy for forever.

Marcus feels your thighs starts to tense around his head. Tightening his grip of your hips as he continues to overwhelm you gently.

“Baby—” Breathless gasps begin to take over as your whole body seems to tighten in response to the mounting pleasure. “I’m so—fuck, I’m so close—”

He doesn’t dare pull away, not wanting to give you a seconds break from the flick of his tongue. Groaning into you and coaxing you to cum for him.

Marcus’s name is a chant on your lips as you fall apart, tipping off the peak of the mountain of pleasure and swan diving down into the swimming ecstasy that Marcus is drawing out of you with lips and teeth and hands.

Your breathless cry of his name is followed by the most gorgeous sight he’s ever seen. Your back arches, eyes closed, one hand tangled into his hair and the other gripping the sheets. It’s beautiful and erotic, a pure work of live art that is priceless to him.

For a few seconds after it’s like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, and then you sink back into the mattress with a sigh. You still have one hand in his hair and it rubs gently, begging him to climb up your body so you can kiss him.

It takes a few minutes, Marcus liking to be thorough when he is working a woman down from her high. Kissing the swollen skin gently before his mouth starts a slow journey back up to yours. By the time he gets up to your lips you’re practically whining for that kiss, happily letting him sink down on top of you when he gets there. His body covers yours perfect, fitting into every grove like he was made for you – because he was. His lips molding to yours in a soft yet sensuous kiss that consumes both of you in the growing morning light.

The valley between your thighs is the perfect place for him to rest, and you cradle him against your body as easily as if you were welcoming him home. What they say about intimacy between soulmates seems to be abundantly clear to you in this moment — it really is the deepest feeling of connection you’ve ever had.

Marcus revels in the feel, sliding his tongue against yours and he pushes his arms under yours to hold you close. It’s almost lazy, the way you sink against each other, but Marcus’s cock trapped between your bodies isn’t going to let either of you get distracted from the wonderful the track that you’re on.

His knuckles brush your cheek and when he finally pulls away, he’s grinning at you. “Good morning.”

"Cheeky," you hum at him, although you're grinning too. "Making me cum that hard and then acting all cute and innocent."

“That was hard?” He tilts his head and smirks slightly, teasing you. “I thought that was a good place to start.”

"Marcus Reid Pike." Eyeing him with a skeptical huff, you ruffle his hair again and end up laughing. "I'm all for that. Just give me a second to recover."

He laughs, coming back down to smother you in affectionate kisses to hear you squeal. “No recovery time!” He commands playfully.

"Such a demanding lover!" You faux-scold, laughing and clinging to him as you squeal and squirm in his arms. Marcus laughs like an evil villain and rocks his hips, grinding his cock against your mound.

"Fuck." It earns him a whimper from your lips, your whole body lighting up all over again at the contact.The playfulness ebbs away and is replaced by a moment of silent desire passing through both of you. Leaning in again, his lips press against yours once more. When you shift this time, your feet are flat on the bed and your knees end up bracketing his hips, encouraging him closer and letting him rest in the cradle of your thighs.

“Ready for more?” He hums, ducking his head to kiss your pulse. “I thought my little Hummingbird needed to recover?”

"I have reconsidered," you inform him, with the air of someone making a very serious and important political decision. "And instead insist on more."

“Ahhhh.” He pops his head up and makes a very loft expression appear on his own face as his hips tilt back and the head of his cock catches on your slick entrance. “A wise choice.” He rasps out, pushing forward to start breaking you open. “Princess.”

Your own noise is best described as a whine, somewhere in between a sharp gasp and a plaintive begging for as much as he's willing to give you. Your legs find their way up higher on his hips to invite him to bury himself in your heat, and even though you were just kissing him seconds ago, you swear he's managed to find a way to loom over you with the perfect expression of desire on his face.

You are exquisite, perfect. Marcus can’t even find enough words to describe how the moment he slides into you wraps around his heart and imprints into his soul. The same soul that is fused with yours. He’s always heard that you feel so much deeper with your soulmate and he’s happy to learn that it’s true.

For a few long seconds, the two of you are content to adjust to each other. No sharp, awkward movements. No wiggling or shifting. The angle is already perfect and Marcus is fully seated inside your body without a single moment of hesitation or difficulty. There’s just a feeling of coming home that you’re basking in until he starts to move.

Starting slow is the only way to do this. Not because he’s afraid of hurting you, but because he doesn’t want to leave you. Feeling like he just stay buried inside your honeyed walls and be perfectly content. The first time he draws his hips back, a low groan falls from his lips. Your real name following that.

There are octaves of difference in your responses. Where Marcus’s groan comes from somewhere deep in his soul, your high whine of pleasure is its own ethereal sound. Once those sounds break free, it seems like a release cord has been pulled — and every pleasurable sound, pure of encouragement, and moan of praise is sure to come tumbling out after it.

It’s never been like this. Never reached into his body and tugged at his soul like this. He should feel guilty but he can’t. Not when every slow thrust is met with an eagerness that shows your own enthusiasm.

Each thrust from Marcus comes with a lift or a roll of your hips, meeting him at the center of the movement to create an exquisite rhythm between the two of you. It's the ebb and flow of the ocean between your bodies as the pace increases and the warmth of the sun heats your skin even further.

It’s beautiful, but he can tell that it’s not enough. Your fingernails dig into his skin, only to release a second later as if you are afraid of marking him. Your body asking for more than the gentle lovemaking. “Let me-“ Marcus kisses you again. “Do you want to try a different position?”

With his cock buried to the hilt inside you like it is, he could probably suggest murder and you'd agree with breathless enthusiasm. "Anything," you nod emphatically and soothe the light fingernail marks you accidentally left on his shoulder.

“Let me know if you don’t like something, Princess.” Marcus murmurs seriously. “This is about both of us.”

"I promise." Right now all you care about is that he doesn't leave the heat of your little cocoon for too long, but you're willing to try just about anything once.

Marcus pulls back and he tries to shift without pulling out of you. Almost succeeding, but smirking slightly when you whimper as his cock falls out. Pushing his legs under your hips, he lifts your left leg onto his shoulder and shimmy’s closer.

There's no thrusting in this position, but as Marcus slides inside you again he leans back the intensity of just grinding against each other makes you moan out and reach to grip Marcus's ankle by your head. He loves how deep he feels, how your walls simply flutter around him. “So good baby.” Marcus groans. “How does it feel?”

"So good baby." Echoing him with a whimper, the hand of yours that isn't clinging to him is somewhere between fisting the sheets and exploring your own body while his hips grind into yours. "You like watching me writhe, gorgeous?"

“Yes.” The word falls like a prayer from his lips, breathless as he watches you. His heart galloping like he’s running a marathon and he can only hope that it’s half as good for you.

"You wanna see me touch myself?" The angle is perfect for it. For him to watch you on your back as he rolls his hips against yours and makes both of you shudder in response. Your free hand squeezes mercilessly at one of your tits, pawing it and twisting the nipple with enough force to make you moan sharply.

“Show me what you like.” Marcus growls out the order, his cock pulsing violently inside your walls as his body responds to the idea.

Anchoring yourself to him was like clinging to life when he first slid inside you in this position, but now you can take your hand away and put it to much better use rubbing decisive, tight circles around your clit to give Marcus a gorgeous show of you indulging in your own body at the same time he fucks you.

His eyes keep roaming. Taking in your hand squeezing and manipulating your breast, the tight circles you rub around your clit. All finding it to be the sexiest thing he’s ever seen as his cock grinds into you. The end of the shaft the only part of it he can see.

Watching Marcus practically salivate over the sight of you is worth not being able to kiss him in this position. Every time he lifts his hips his cock scrubs against your g-spot and your back arches just a little bit more, rocketing you straight toward the second orgasm of the morning.

“That how you like it baby?” Marcus groans when you clench down around him, providing the perfect pressure. “What else do you like? Tell me. Want to give it to you.”

“Want you to — oh fuck — fucking wreck me.” What started out as beautiful, slow, sensual lovemaking has quickly picked up speed and intensity. Like something inside the two of you just released out of nowhere. “Claim me.”

“Fuck” Marcus growls from the very pit of his stomach and he manages to push to his knees by folding them under and looming over you. “You want it rough?”

Simply knowing the man is broad doesn’t do justice to the way he looms over you now. There is power in his strength and yet a deep confidence that he would never, never hurt you. You know Marcus can be gentle and sensual — but you also want to see what it’s like when he’s rough. “Absolutely.”

Your leg is up on his shoulder so when he lunges forward, it’s pressed back to your body. Trapped between the two of you and pinning your hand so you can’t move it from your clit. His hand slaps the side of your thigh sharply and he replaces the hand on your tit with his own, the next thrust more of a sharp snap of his hips.

Permission seems to be all he needed, having no issue taking charge or throwing some power into his thrusts. It pushes you up the bed and has you moaning out all over again. If you had neighbors, they would definitely be complaining. Instead, you just make a mental note to get an extra treat for your agents in apology for how much of this they’re going to start hearing.

“Tell me what else you want.” He demands through gritted teeth and he slides one hand up to rest on the hollow of your throat. He doesn’t squeeze. “This?”

The whimper he earns from you with that suggestion is almost pitiable, but having one of your favorite things to watch in porn that you've never tried before just offered to you – it makes you impossibly wetter and that impending orgasm come even closer. "I – fuck – please?" You beg, knowing you sound pitiful but not caring in the least.

“Hold onto my hand Princess.” Marcus orders roughly. “Squeeze twice quickly if you need me to stop.” He knows that it’s hard to talk sometimes and he wants you to be safe. If this is the kind of experience you want sometimes, you will need to discuss safe words and other safety precautions. Later.

It's possibly the most obedient you've ever been in your life and you put your hand over his wrist and squeeze it twice quickly to show him that you understand. "Like that. I love you, baby."

“I love you too.” He grunts, snapping his hips forward as he squeezes your windpipe for the first time. It’s not hard, but it’s firm enough to cut your air intake in half.

If he was worried even for a second that this might be going out on a limb or that you agreed to it just because you thought it would please him, that worry slides away instantly. As soon as he squeezes, your eyes rolls back in pleasure and your cunt squeezes his cock tight, flooding him with another rush of arousal.

“Holy shit, holy shit. You like that?” He groans, squeezing a little harder. “Yeah you do.” He hisses. “Open your mouth for me, Princess.”

You really fucking do like it, and the instinct for obedience it seems to ingrain in you has you opening your mouth immediately.

It’s a testament to his core training that he can take his other hand off the bed. Holding himself up as he presses his thumb to your tongue and hooks your jaw open even more as he continues to pound into you. “Suck.” He growls.

It might be the single sexiest thing you've ever seen. The way he practically blocks out the sun with the bulk of him and narrows down your entire world to only him feels incredible. Just swirling your tongue around his thumb and sucking it deeper into your mouth has you all the way to the edge of pleasure; but it's when Marcus growls again that you completely lose control, cumming so hard you feel like the world has gone white at the edges.

His blood pressure shoots through the roof and he’s pretty sure that you’ve just soaked the bed underneath you in the most intense orgasm he’s ever witnessed. Panting out your name as he continues to rock into you at an unhinged pace to intensify the pleasure.

If you could you’d beg him to join you. Moan praise and encouragements and tell him with complete honesty how incredibly well he’s fucking you. But being at his mercy like this means your best option is putting all your focus into lavishing the digit in your mouth in attention and bearing down on his cock in earnest any time he’s inside you.

“Fuck baby, fuck baby.” Marcus can’t keep up the growling when he feels like shouting at how hard you are squeezing him. “Gonna cum, gonna – fuck, fill up that little pussy.” He hisses, his hips stutter for a few thrusts before he is burying himself deep.

You practically have to catch him when he falls over the edge after you, just making sure that he doesn’t collapse in such a way that your heads knock together or he accidentally puts too much weight toward the one side of the bed you’ve ended up closer to. You let go of his wrist when his grip on your throat loosens, letting him slump into your body and wrapping that arm around his shoulders to hold him close as he rides out his orgasm.

It’s the most intense feeling Marcus has ever felt in his life. Bigger than any rush of adrenaline or dose of serotonin. For one heart stopping moment, he’s almost afraid that he’s had a heart attack. Body shaking with pleasure as he pours himself into you completely. It’s as if your bodies, as well as your souls, merge.

You dust soft kisses on his cheeks and along his jaw, reveling in the feeling of being completely full of him while he catches his breath.

“How are you feeling?” When he can think, Marcus pulls back to start checking in with you. His hand softening in its touch and he caresses your throat gently. He hadn’t been too rough, but he likes to make a fuss, especially when sex takes a turn like it did this morning.

“Fantastic.” You admit with only a hint of sheepishness in the way you smile at him and your hands caress his back and shoulders. “You?”

“Amazing.” He assures you softly. “Anything you didn’t quite like? Wanted more of?”

“I didn’t want to stop in the middle and ask how you felt about biting or scratching,” you admit. It feels silly to say since he paused to check in with you about getting rough, but you’re being honest. “And…I think we should talk about safe words?”

“We should.” Marcus agrees. “Expectations and needs are important to address as well.”

“I didn’t anticipate rough morning sex the first time,” you giggle, brushing sweat-matted hair from his forehead. “My mistake.”

“That was okay, right?” His soft brown eyes turned worried as he wonders if he overstepped for the first time you were together.

“Baby.” The worry on his face has you reaching for his immediately and pressing kisses to his lips. “It was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life.”

“Okay.” He sighs in relief. “I just didn’t want to overstep our first time.”

“Not at all.” A kiss on the bridge of his nose punctuates the promise. “As long as you enjoyed it, too. Sex should be about both of our pleasure.”

“I enjoyed myself.” Marcus admits with an embarrassed grin. “I enjoy getting a little rougher or darker depending on how my partner feels about it.”

“It’s not an every time thing,” you agree, enjoying the way Marcus almost blushes over admitting his pleasure, “but when you’re in the mood it’s so much fun.”

“I can completely agree.” He hums as he shifts to move off of you.

“Do you still want to go to the flea market today?” You’re up for anything. As long as you get to spend the day with him, everything is golden.

“What do you want?” He asks softly, cupping your cheek. “Your birthday was emotional and I just want to give you a day to enjoy.”

"I just want you. As cheesy as that sounds." Reaching up to peck a kiss on his lips, you shift off the bed along with him despite still-wobbly legs. "Let's take a shower and head to the flea market just like we planned. If something else strikes our fancy then we'll switch gears when we think of it?"

“That sounds like a perfect day to me.” Marcus quickly follows you, holding onto your waist as you go into the bathroom. “Shower together?”

"Absolutely." Naked Marcus is rapidly becoming one of your favorite versions of him, and you fully plan on pampering him in the shower in thanks for fucking you senseless. Seems like a fair trade in your mind.

He hums in approval and moves towards the shower stall to turn on the water while you take care of your after sex business. “Do I need to leave for you to use the bathroom?” He asks, aware that it might not be something you like to do— peeing in front of a partner.

"Not on my account." While some girls might be squeamish about that, you're not one of them. "If you can be inside me, you can stand to be in the room while I pee. That's my feeling, anyway."

“Sound logic to me.” He can’t argue with it. “Especially since one day I’ll be in a delivery room as you give birth to our children.”

"And you need to be okay with bodily functions way before that day comes." Hearing him be on the same page as you is both an enormous relief and absolutely thrilling at the same time and you flash him a grin. "Can I...tell you about the dream I had last night? Without you thinking I'm an absolute crazy person?"

“You can tell me anything, always.” He promises, returning your grin easily and reaching for the towels that are neatly folded on a shelf. “I want us to share anything and everything. For us to be more than just soulmates. Friends too.”

"To be fair, we were friends for a whole month before anything happened," you remind him. The shower is already starting to steam the bathroom mirror but you instinctively wash your hands after you finish on the toilet. "We were f-w-y. Friends with yearning."

“Lots of yearning.” Marcus can agree and he opens the door to let you step into the shower. “Tell me about your dream, Princess.”

"It was about us." Stepping under the hot water with him right behind you, you sigh and lean back under the hot spray. "We had..." A small laugh escapes you and you shake your head. "We had four kids, a big, beautiful Golden Retriever, and we were living in a beautiful little house that looked like a converted barn. It was the most beautiful little domestic vision and I almost didn't want to wake up, except I knew that you were there for real right next to me."

“Four kids, huh?” He grins as he wraps his arms around you and slides his hands up to cup your breasts. “These will be off limits for a long time then.”

"Your fault for telling me twins run in your family," you huff at him, though you arch into his touch immediately. "It got in my subconscious."

“I kind of like the idea of four.” He admits, whispering into your ear. “Two for each of us to corral.” He jokes. “We’ll need a big bed for Sunday morning snuggles when they are young.”

"California king and great big blankets for them to cuddle under." The image is a sweet one, and it conjures up lazy morning and plenty of giggling kiddos in your mind. "And the dog, to cap it all off. Because you know the dog will corral them and be their favourite playmate."

“Absolutely.” Marcus agrees, chuckling himself. “And shedding everywhere, getting muddy with them. Shrieking when he flings water all over them after a bath.”

You both laugh as you start to wash up, reaching for soap and for washcloths and maneuvering around each other in the shower that was definitely not built for two. "So thank you for a beautiful dream and a beautiful wake up."

“It was absolutely my pleasure.” Marcus puffs proudly. “Every single second of it.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle

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brbsoulnomming · 8 months

Text

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 21

-----

He doesn't tell Steve.

There hasn't been a chance to tell Steve, he reasons with himself.

Steve comes back with Robin and Dustin, and has somehow also acquired Lucas and Max. Not long after, Nancy comes by with Mike and El.

He does actually try to hide with Steve in the kitchen while Steve puts together some kind of chicken noodle casserole, but apparently the check in tonight includes how talking with his uncle went, so Eddie has to be too actively involved with it to get a chance to get Steve alone.

By the time everyone's gone, Eddie's exhausted, and he needs to lean on both Robin and Steve to make his way back upstairs.

They've only just made it when the doorbell rings.

Steve groans. "What do those little shits want now?"

Robin laughs at him. "They're your children, Steve," she teases, wrapping an arm around Eddie's waist in preparation for Steve peeling off from them.

Eddie bumps her hip with his, shooting a little grin at her. "You're on shithead wrangling duty tonight," he informs Steve as he and Robin continue on to the bedroom.

"I'm always on shithead wrangling duty," Steve grumbles to himself, but he does head back downstairs.

Eddie assumes one of the party forgot something, and doesn't really think too much of it as he drops down onto the bed, watching Robin start adjusting the pillows.

Or at least, he doesn't think too much of it until he hears Steve call up the stairs.

"Hey, babe? Have you seen Munson hanging around the kids recently?"

Robin freezes, looking at him wide eyed, and Eddie's pretty sure he's holding himself just as still.

Not one of the hoard.

"Stay here," Robin whispers, like Eddie had any intention of doing otherwise.

"Did we join the neighborhood watch or something?" Robin yells back as she heads out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Eddie waits, trying not to vibrate out of his own skin.

Jesus Christ, he's so fucking tired of hiding and waiting.

Fortunately, it's only a few minutes later that Steve and Robin come back, and they look… unhappy, but not terribly panicked.

"It was Jason Carver and the only two lackeys he's got left," Robin says.

Eddie breathes out, relaxing just a little. Not ideal, but better than the police.

"One of them saw your uncle driving away from here with Dustin," Robin continues. "They asked about you, but I think they were just fishing."

"Great," Eddie mutters, flopping back dramatically on the bed. "Should've called me the freak, make it sound like you're on their side."

Steve snorts. "I don't want them to think we're on their side."

Which is sweet, but - "It doesn't matter what they think, Stevie, I'd still know you guys were on my side no matter what you said."

"Aw, Eddie," Robin says, and Eddie looks up at her just in time to see her plop down on the bed next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He tips his head away, trying to hide his flush.

"It's not that," Steve says. "If they think we're on their side, it opens us up to having them come around more. They'll loop us into things, sure, which wouldn't have been bad for knowing their next moves, but they'll expect things from us. It's a bad idea when you're hiding here. Plus…"

He trails off, considering, and he's quiet until Robin makes a little hum of encouragement.

"I think Jason's too far gone," he says finally. "But Andy and Eric? They're not as convinced. If I treat this like it's stupid, like there's nothing here and they're wasting my time, like it's boring, they might start to reconsider sticking with Jason on this."

Oh.

"King Steve, huh?" Eddie asks quietly.

Steve shrugs one shoulder, a little too careless. "It's not like I don't still know how to navigate all of that. It just doesn't matter anymore. Everything it means, it's just… pointless."

Eddie looks over at Robin, to find her looking just as contemplative as he feels. Robin looks back at him, and yeah, he's pretty sure she's thinking the same thing he is.

They scoot apart at the exact same time.

"Come here," Robin says, as Eddie reaches out and makes grabby hands at him.

Steve looks between them, giving a little crooked smile, then he kicks off his shoes and climbs up onto the bed, settling in the middle of the two of them.

Robin pillows her head on Steve's chest, and Eddie squishes in so he can rest his own head on Steve's shoulder. Eventually, they'll have to get up and get ready for bed, reconfigure themselves into their usual sleeping arrangement, but for now?

For now, this is perfect.

—

Eddie's surprised to find he feels good when he wakes up, despite overdoing it the day before.

Knowing that his uncle is safe, that he isn't out there worrying over Eddie - or hating him - is like a massive weight off his chest, makes it a little easier to breathe.

He lets the good mood carry him through getting up and helping make breakfast, refusing to let himself get bogged down in everything he hasn't worked out yet.

Robin is completely on board, it seems, and she and Eddie make a nuisance of themselves while Steve tries to resist getting caught up with them.

A losing battle, when both Eddie and Robin are so determined to distract him. It means some of their pancakes burn while Steve throws chocolate chips at them and they have a competition over whether Robin or Eddie can catch the most of them in their mouths, but it makes Steve laugh and Robin shriek happily whenever she gets a few in a row, so it's worth it.

Eddie likes a little charcoal taste with his breakfast food, anyway, and syrup covers almost anything.

Literally.

Both he and Robin have syrup in their hair, though Robin's is way more obvious, and she bitches at him as she wolfs down her pancakes before heading upstairs to shower.

It's just him and Steve, then, sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table, half eaten pancakes still on their plates, and Eddie feels too good to want to mess this up with any kind of talking.

"She's just trying to get out of helping clean up," Steve grumbles, but he's still smiling, and the morning sun lights him up all golden and gorgeous.

"Wishing you thought of that first, huh, pretty boy?" Eddie teases, all wide smiles and the same reckless thrill he'd gotten hot wiring the camper for Steve to drive.

Steve's smile doesn't slip, his expression doesn't go pinched, but because Eddie's so close to him - because he keeps being close to him, keeps greedily memorizing everything he can about him, his soulmate - he sees the way something shutters in his eyes.

Shit.

Did he push too far, this time? Eddie pulls back, falling hard into straight teasing and away from playful flirting. "Ah, I see His Majesty does not favor being compared to a fair maiden, my mistake. Perhaps he'll forgive-"

Steve is shaking his head, though, cutting him off with, "That's not it."

Eddie raises one eyebrow, a silent invitation to continue.

"It's just - it's always an insult. Like come on, pretty boy, let's see what you've got or wow, it's a good thing you're so pretty, Steve. I know you don't mean it like that, I do, but it's not a compliment when people usually say it, you know?"

Oh.

"I wouldn't know," Eddie says, mostly to buy himself some time to figure out how to really respond to that. "Pretty's not usually something people call me, insult or otherwise."

Now Steve's expression goes pinched, brows drawn down like he's personally offended, and whoops, nope, he can't let Steve go off on that tangent.

"No pretty boy, then," Eddie says hurriedly. "You don't like it, I won't say it."

Steve blinks at him, a little thrown. "…just like that?"

"Just like that," Eddie agrees. "Steve - you don't owe me an explanation about anything, you know that, right? I'll listen if you want to give me one, and it'll probably help me understand, but if I do something that you don't like, you can just tell me, and I'll stop."

Steve considers that for a moment. "I like - this," he says, gesturing between them. "I didn't want you to think I wanted you to stop all of it."

Both of Eddie's eyebrows shoot up this time. Yeah, he kind of figured Steve liked the banter and teasing thing they have going on, or else he wouldn't have continued it, but he didn't expect Steve to flat out acknowledge it.

"All of this is just me being my obnoxious self," Eddie points out, because he can't just leave well enough alone.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah," he says simply. "I like that."

Oh god, Eddie can feel his cheeks heat up, and he ducks his head and hides behind his hair so he doesn't have to look at Steve.

Forget the demobats, his stupid soulmate is going to be the death of him.

"There's plenty of other words besides pretty, anyway," he says, once he's reasonably sure he can nail playful teasing again without sounding flustered. "I'm just going to take this as a challenge to find them."

"Please don't," Steve says dryly, but Eddie can see how hard he's fighting not to smile, and he knows he has him.

"Whatever you say, beautiful," Eddie replies, batting his eyelashes at him.

Steve's ears go a little pink, and oh, that's still just as nice as the first time Eddie saw it. It only makes him latch onto his dumb plan even harder.

"Shut up." Steve shoves him.

"No," Eddie replies, so fucking delighted he can't help but grin all wide and gleaming. "My soulmate's so fucking beautiful it makes me want to weep, look at you."

The pink on Steve's ears deepens, and he gives Eddie a look that is probably supposed to be venomous, but his eyes are gleaming with affection and it only makes him more attractive.

And this is - everything that Eddie's ever wanted, everything that he thinks he could actually have if he asked. After the butterflies, he's more than pretty sure that Steve wants Eddie the same way that Eddie wants him, and more than that - he thinks Steve is brave enough to go for it, even with how messy and complicated things might be.

It's just that Eddie isn't.

He knows he has to stop this, knows he needs to pull back and stop fucking flirting, because it feels like this is it, this is the thing that's leading them both to something else, and god, he can't do something else.

But he can't seem to make himself stop.

Not when Steve keeps looking at him, and Eddie is starting to be able to read him well enough to recognize what these looks mean. He knows that with the way the glint in Steve's eyes has sharpened and the corner of his mouth half turned up, he's thinking of something that Eddie'd probably brushed past and thought he'd successfully deflected. He knows that Steve's about to open his mouth and prove that nope, he still remembers that and he isn't letting that go and -

"Do you mind being called pretty?" Steve asks.

Fuck.

"No," Eddie's saying before his brain catches up with him. "I mean, like I said, wouldn't know. But no, I don't mind it. In theory."

Steve twists a little, upper body turning so he can look at him headlong instead of from the side, planting his hand on the ground for balance - so close to Eddie that if he leaned just a little, he could brush Steve's arm. Steve's other arm is resting on his propped up knee, loose and relaxed. It's stupid, how effective that is, how it opens Steve up to him and creates a little barrier from the rest of the world with his body, like Eddie's got all of Steve's attention now and he's shutting out the rest of the world.

"You are really pretty, Eds," Steve says.

It should sound smooth and practiced. Eddie tries to remind himself that it's a fucking line, that Steve's probably said it to dozens of girls, but when Steve says it now it comes out a little breathy and quiet and so fucking earnest that Eddie's throat closes up.

"I'm sorry that everyone's been too stupid to notice it, or not brave enough to tell you." It sounds just as genuine, and fuck, the way Steve is looking at him. "I'm more sorry that I used to be one of them."

Eddie swallows. "But you're not now?"

"I'm not now," Steve agrees.

Is he closer? Eddie's pretty sure he's leaned in closer, and the hand Steve's got on his knee twitches like he's thinking about reaching in to touch Eddie - maybe Eddie's own knee, maybe he's going to cup his chin and hold him steady as he -

The doorbell rings.

"Fuck," Eddie swears.

Steve's eyes dart toward the stairs, like he's considering going to get Robin out of the shower to answer the door with him again, then he exhales sharply and shakes his head.

"Hide," Steve says.

"Where?" Eddie asks, his heart still pounding, though for an entirely different reason now.

"Anywhere. No, wait, not the kitchen, just - don't tell me where, just go, somewhere I can't see you," Steve replies.

Eddie pushes himself up, darting down the hall to the double doors that have always been closed, and ducks inside them. It's an office, the smell of old leather and dust heavy in the air. He considers leaving the door open a crack so he can hear, but he doesn't want to be too obvious, so instead he just presses himself up against the wood when it's closed so he can try to hear through it.

It's muffled, but he can just pick up the sound of Steve opening the door, an indistinct conversation, and then footsteps down the hall.

"How do you take it?" he can hear Steve asking from the kitchen.

"Just cream, thanks," one voice says, followed by a second saying, "Cream and two sugars."

There's the sound of dishes clanking around.

"Thanks for letting me know," Steve says. "Like I said, I haven't been out of the house yet this morning. Had kind of a late night with my soulmate - she's up in the shower now."

"Do you have any idea who might have done this?" the first voice asks, and Eddie recognizes it now - Chief Powell.

Shit.

"I don't want to put blame on anyone without evidence," Steve says, his voice a little reluctant like yeah, he does have an idea - giving them something to press him for.

The other voice, the one Eddie's guessing is Callahan, immediately jumps on it. "But you do have an idea?"

Steve sighs. "Jason Carver was here last night. I think he's pissed at me for talking in the town meeting, and he kept insisting that I must have been, like, hypnotized into Eddie Munson's cult or something."

"…but you haven't, right?" Callahan asks.

Steve snorts, and Eddie can just picture the bitchy look that he's making. "Come on, really? Eddie Munson leading a cult? The guy failed Zoology because he felt bad dissecting frogs."

That's not completely why, but Eddie can still feel his cheeks heating up. He hadn't known Steve remembered that.

"Look, I feel for him, but Carver wants someone to blame, and it kind of seems like he doesn't care who that is." Steve's voice dips a little lower. "I knew Patrick and Chrissy, you know? Patrick was a good guy, a great basketball player, and Chrissy was nice to everyone. They deserve better, they deserve real justice. I just think Carver should keep his nose out of it and leave the investigating up to the actual professionals."

"Hear, hear," Callahan says, sounding pleased.

It must have not been a lie, but Eddie's pretty sure Callahan and Powell aren't the professionals Steve means.

"Did the neighbors say they saw anyone?" Steve asks.

"Not last night, but they did mention you have quite a few people coming and going," Powell says. "You know who they might mean?"

Steve hums thoughtfully. "Robin Buckley, my soulmate, she's here most days. Nancy Wheeler and her brother are over a lot. Jon Byers, he's visiting from California, and he usually comes with his friend Argyle and his little brother and sister. Lucas Sinclair, he's on the basketball team? And his soulmate Max. Then there's Dustin Henderson, I still babysit him sometimes when his mom's working late. I think it makes her feel better, you know, with everything going on."

"Checks out," Callahan says. "So, are you thinking you want to press charges if we find out it was Carver?"

Steve's quiet for a moment. "No," he says finally. "I meant what I said about feeling for him. Just, maybe talk to his parents? Before he goes too far and does something stupid he can't go back from."

"Good man," Callahan says. "Thanks for the coffee, this is way better than the crap we get at the station."

"Let me make you a thermos to go," Steve offers.

There's more clanking, then the sound of footsteps walking away - though only one pair.

"You don't happen to know where Eddie Munson might be, do you?" Powell asks.

Eddie holds his breath, suddenly and ridiculously afraid that if he even breathes too loud, Powell will know.

"Honestly, I have no idea where he is right now," Steve says.

Powell hums. "If you do see him…"

"Yeah, sure, I'll tell him you're looking for him," Steve says.

"And tell him he's not our top suspect anymore," Powell adds. "We just want to ask him a few questions."

"Sure," Steve says again.

There's a long silence.

"We'll talk to the Carvers," Powell promises, and then Eddie can hear footsteps receding.

The front door closes, locks, but Eddie still waits until he hears clanging in the kitchen again before he steps out.

He finds Steve setting a pair of cups in the dishwasher, a new pot of coffee percolating in the maker.

"Hey," Eddie says.

Steve closes the dishwasher, looking up at him. "You hear any of that?"

"Some," Eddie admits. "What did Carver do?"

Steve breathes out, forearms braced against the kitchen island as he leans forward. "Keyed up my car, smashed my tail lights in. Spray painted a little message on the driveway."

Fuck.

Eddie has to get moving, way too full of nervous energy, so he makes his way over to the cabinet to take out another mug. "What did it say?"

"Does it matter?" Steve asks, sounding tired.

Eddie slams the cabinet door shut. "What did it say."

Steve's quiet, and when Eddie turns around, he finds him looking at him far too closely.

"What?" Eddie demands.

"Eddie," Steve says, pushing himself up to come stand next to him.

Despite himself, Eddie finds some of the tension bleeding out of him. "What?" he asks, softer this time.

"You're my soulmate. Okay? You're my soulmate. It could have said anything, and I wouldn't care. He could do it again, with something else, and I'll be pissed, but I won't regret having you here."

Eddie closes his eyes, rocking back to lean against the kitchen counter. "Stop knowing what I'm upset about before I do," he mutters.

Steve huffs out a little laugh. "No."

"What does it say?" Eddie asks again.

"Traitor," Steve replies.

Eddie snorts.

"Yeah," Steve says.

They're quiet for a moment, and Eddie listens to the sound of the coffee hissing.

"I'm going to turn myself in," Eddie says after a while.

"What? No."

Eddie opens his eyes. "Come on, Steve. If I don't - do you really think Carver is going to stop now? What if he decides just to break in here, huh? What if I can't hide quick enough next time?"

Steve jaw sets, and Eddie can tell he isn't happy about it, but he can't seem to think of a good counter argument. "Then I'm going with you."

Eddie grimaces, but yeah, he'd been expecting that, and he pulls out his trump card. "Only if Robin agrees."

Unfortunately, Robin agrees.

He frowns at her in utter betrayal while Steve gets El to put Hopper on the walkie and gives him a rundown of what happened.

Robin shrugs at him. "You should know by now that Steve's never going to let himself be sidelined when someone he cares about decides to throw themselves off the bench."

"You two and your sports metaphors," Eddie grumbles, but he has to admit - at least to himself - that she's right.

If they tried to stop Steve, he'd probably find a way to come anyway.

Hopper agrees to meet with Murray again today, then come over tomorrow to make a plan for the actual going to the police station part, and Eddie trudges upstairs to call his uncle at the hotel.

Uncle Wayne doesn't like it, Eddie can tell, but like Steve, he can't think of an argument good enough to beat Eddie's, so he just agrees to meet them here tomorrow, too, and makes Eddie promise not to do anything until they all agree on a plan.

Eddie really wishes that he could just get this over with, now that he's decided he's going to do it, but unfortunately, they all have a point.

So he just takes his own shower, gets the syrup out of his hair as best as he can, and tries not to be pissy about more fucking waiting.

When he gets out of the bathroom - Steve's sitting on the bed, clearly waiting for him.

"Hi," Steve says. "Can we talk?"

Shit.

Eddie swallows. "Now?"

"I don't want to keep waiting, man, especially not if we're doing this tomorrow," Steve says.

And yeah, okay, Eddie can't really protest that, so he just nods, sitting on the bed next to Steve.

"It's just - I'm really, really into you," Steve says, his voice soft and low and his eyes warm and earnest. "And it kind of seems like you're into me, too."

Fuck.

Steve huffs out a soft little laugh, running his fingers through his hair. "I mean, maybe I'm wrong, and I have no idea how to tell if a guy's interested in me like I usually can with girls - I'm kind of still new at the guys part - but I thought, you know. What if I'm right, what if I'm missing out on something great? And I figured even if I went for it and I was wrong, you'd be good about it. You wouldn't like, punch me or anything."

"Steve," Eddie breathes out, touched by the sentiment despite the fact that he can already feel his heart breaking over what he knows he's going to have to do. "That's a lot of trust in me there."

"I trust you," Steve says, like it's that easy, no hesitation. "Plus, you know, I'm your soulmate, so you're stuck with me no matter what."

He sounds confident, and if Eddie didn't know him so well, he's not sure he could hear the little hitch in his voice, or see the hint of fear in his eyes.

"You're my soulmate," he agrees, rushing to get that out before anything else. "I'm not going anywhere, no matter what."

Steve shoots a tiny relieved smile at him, leaning in so their shoulders press together. They sit like that for a few moments, silence resting between them - it's warm and cozy despite the tension, like melted marshmallow being stretched longer and longer.

"But?" Steve asks after a bit.

Eddie swallows, running a hand over his face to try to buy him some time while he figures out how to say this without either lying or hurting them both even more.

"You're not wrong," he says finally. "I am into you. Steve, I - I love having you as my soulmate. I wouldn't want it to be anyone else. I'm happy with you, okay? I am."

Steve nods, though his expression has shut down a little, and Eddie can't quite read what's in his eyes anymore.

"But…" Steve prompts again.

Eddie closes his eyes, taking the coward's way out so he doesn't have to look at Steve while he says it. "But I don't think I could handle sharing if we were romantic soulmates."

There's silence again, and Eddie can hear Steve pull in a ragged breath and let it out.

"Okay," Steve says after a while.

Eddie opens his eyes. "Okay?"

Steve frowns at him. "What am I supposed to say?"

"I don't know," Eddie admits. "You could be a little bit of a dick about it? Tell me I don't know what I'm missing, that I could be having the full Steve Harrington experience here? Yell at me for breaking your heart?"

Steve snorts. "There's no full Steve Harrington experience."

Eddie gasps, mock affronted. "There is, didn't you listen to the gossip? I would be most aggrieved if I didn't get it."

Steve rolls his eyes, shoving him. Then, "My heart'll live. You are, shockingly, not the first person who's had to shoot me down like this."

Eddie thinks of Nancy Wheeler, feels his stomach clench a little at being on the same level as that whole mess. "Sorry," he says quietly.

"I mean, I'm not going to pretend like it doesn't suck, but I'm happy with you, too, okay? I want you as my soulmate, no matter what."

Eddie groans. "What did I tell you about saying stuff like that to me?"

Steve gives him a little smile. "I'm still not going to stop."

It's quiet again, not quite like the comfortable silences Eddie'd gotten used to with Steve, but something close.

"So. Boys, huh?" he asks after a while. "Who'd have thought that'd be something Steve Harrington was into."

Steve fixes him with a look. "Boys, huh?" he mimics. "Who'd have thought that'd be something Eddie Munson was into?"

Eddie shrugs one shoulder, conceding. Eddie'd worked very hard to be the freak, to be the type of metal-loving, Satan-worshiping, drug-dealing scary guy that people were afraid would steal their daughter or girlfriend or sister away. Granted, most of it hadn't actually been work, but it still wasn't really who he was.

"Mostly boys," he says, if only to actually say it outloud, to let himself be purposefully vulnerable with Steve even though they both already know. "There's been a few girls-" He tries hard not to think about Chrissy Cunningham's sweet smile and bright laugh. "-but mostly boys."

"Opposite for me," Steve says quietly. "Mostly girls, but - yeah, a few boys."

Eddie's eyebrows shoot up. "A few boys? Steve, are you telling me I'm not the first boy you've had eyes for?"

"Shut up," Steve says, shoving Eddie away when he makes grabby hands at him. "You're the first boy I ever wanted to be my soulmate, but yeah, all right, not my first crush."

Eddie lets himself feel all soft and gooey for a moment before he goes back to hassling Steve to tell him who.

"Ugh, fine," Steve groans. "But you can't tell anyone."

"Cross my heart," he promises.

"Jonathan," Steve mutters.

Eddie's forehead crinkles. "Byers?" He takes the silence as agreement, and grins at him. "What, get a little too into being up close and personal with him when you guys had that fight?"

Steve groans. "No. Believe it or not, I've experienced too much getting knocked around to get off on it, thanks. No, it was after, when we were fighting the demogorgon. Jonathan grabbed my hand to pull me away, and I just kind of instinctively grabbed it back, and then we were holding hands and I just - it was nice. I thought about it later, and realized I really liked holding his hand."

And that, well. Realizing that you like boys because it was really nice when a boy held your hand in the middle of fighting a monster is so Steve that it makes his heart ache, that it kind of makes him want to say fuck it and kiss him.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks instead, wiggling his eyebrows. "Whose hand holding is better, then, me or Byers?"

Steve's expression doesn't change, but his eyes shutter - Eddie can see it now even more than he could when he called him pretty boy, can see the flicker of pain there before he just shuts himself down.

"Oh," Eddie says quietly. "Should I not?"

There's a moment where Steve considers that.

"No," he says after a while. "That was okay. But I think we might have to put a pause on too heavy innuendo, or too many jokes about me wanting you. Just for a little bit."

"Yeah," Eddie mutters, feeling his heart crack a little more. "I can do that." He pulls his legs up, arms wrapped around them. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault, man," Steve says.

Eddie rests his chin on his knees, ignoring the slight sting from the tug of his stitched together skin. "Kind of feels like it is, a little," he admits. "I mean, Robin's okay with sharing."

Or at least, he assumes she is. He knows there's no way Steve would confess romantic feelings for him if Robin didn't know about it or wasn't on board.

"That's different," Steve says.

And - yeah, true. Robin's got another soulmate waiting for her, too, and maybe that makes it easier to share a romantic soulmate.

Steve looks a little troubled, though, and he leans just a little to bump their shoulders together. "I don't - I don't expect you to be Robin, you know that, right? Platonic or romantic, it's different."

Eddie snorts. "Well, yeah, I'd hope things would be a little different if we were - you know." It's half teasing and half serious, and he considers for a moment before adding, "I know you don't expect that."

Steve nods, and Eddie can hear him breathing out, feel a slow release of tension. There's quiet for a little longer, then Steve says, almost haltingly, "I don't… think romantic relationships mean more than platonic. I used to, but, uh. Almost everyone who's ever really meant anything to me has been platonic. Once I got out of high school, and with the Upside Down stuff, I just… I don't know. But Robin and you and the kids - you're the most important people in my life. You always will be."

He doesn't know what to say to that. It touches too closely on what's been pulling him into the party and pushing him away from it this whole time - he doesn't really know how to let people see the real him, not after so long of keeping up his walls to protect himself.

Or he guesses - he doesn't know what to do now that there are people who've seen the real him, and who still want to keep him. Eddie's only ever had Uncle Wayne like that, and he doesn't know how to be important to people, how to be more than just a band member or a dungeon master.

He's terrified of messing it up.

"I'll keep that in mind," he says finally, which seems to be enough for Steve, who bumps his shoulder and then pushes himself up, heading out to go join Robin.

It wasn't a lie, obviously, so Eddie believes that Steve doesn't think romantic soulmates mean more than platonic ones. The thing is - does Eddie believe that romantic soulmates mean more?

And it's.

Yeah.

He does.

Which means he guesses there's more he has to think about.

Eddie: well at least Steve and I are totally on the same page now, now all I have to do is turn myself into the police and reevaluate my opinions on platonic and romantic soulmates, sounds good

-----

Part 22

Steve: wow I am 2 for 2 on confessing to my soulmates and getting gently shot down, platonic for life it is

Tag list (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie fic #steddie soulmate au #platonic soulmates stobin

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agent-cupcake · 4 months

Text

Flashbang

Chapter 5 - Turn the Lights Off

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

Pairing: OPLA Buggy x f!Reader

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

Word Count: 9.6k

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

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

xxx

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Pippa.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, he just stared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now or never, right?

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stunted development.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

“I-I um…”

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

“Oh, a compass!” you said.

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

“It tells you directions.”

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

“Um… Kind of.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think so.”

“Okay, so what direction are we going?”

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

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

“How?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you I don’t know!”

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Er, yes, Captain Buggy,” Newt said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to hurry, sorry.”

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

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

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

“Captain Buggy?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

“No, sir. I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s the fun in that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Buggy snorted in amusement. “I figured.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why did you stop?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a good thing,” Buggy said.

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

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

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

“How?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I got the night shift.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Marty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Any dizzy spells? Fainting?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

“Pads to put in your underwear.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”

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

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

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

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

“When was your last cycle?”

“Why does that matter?”

“It’s a matter of your health.”

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

“So he stopped it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like it?”

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

“You think you do?”

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

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

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

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

You sniffled. “You think so?”

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

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

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

“Yes?”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed nervously, tugging your bandana down.

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

“What kind of sea beast?”

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

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

“I damn near lost my arm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

That did not bode well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Captain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dead.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir,” you said.

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

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

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estrellami-1 · 1 year

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Soft Touch Baby

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Eddie’s POV | Song | ao3

After that discussion, Steve notices that Robin touches him more. It’s great, more than great, his soul feels like it’s settling more in his body.

What isn’t great is it seems like Eddie’s figured out the same thing, and thinks it applies to him, too. While he’s not wrong, not in any sense of the word, Steve has enough to do just to not squirm when they’re near each other, let alone touching.

This is probably what Robin means when she rolls her eyes with a shit-eating grin and murmurs, “Gay panic?”

Too bad for her Steve knows her, so he just leans back and whispers, “Bi panic, and no.”

She snorts and responds, “Eddie panic, then,” and curse her, because he knows that she knows that he doesn’t have a response.

“Shut up,” he mutters, face turning red, and she cackles as she pats his shoulder.

“Coke, anyone?” She asks, standing, holding up both her hands when everyone starts yelling. “Whoa, whoa,” she said. “One person here. Two hands. Steve, Eddie, help.”

It’s not a request, like she knows they’ll drop everything to help her, and… they do. Eddie jumps up with his usual enthusiasm. Steve stands slower, glaring at Robin until she turns the look back on him.

“I hate you,” he mutters on the way to the kitchen, and she just laughs.

“Love you too, dingus.”

Eddie’s already got his head in the fridge by the time they get to the kitchen. “Steve, another beer?”

Steve hums. “Think I’ll do a Coke instead.”

“Of course, my liege,” he says, spinning around on one knee to offer the bottle to Steve. Steve holds in a snort.

“Thanks. You’re welcome to a beer if you want it.”

Eddie makes a face. “Probably shouldn’t, I’m gonna have to drive home after this. You got Sprite anywhere in this big fancy kitchen of yours?”

“If it’s not in that cabinet, you’re out of luck. You’re welcome to stay the night, if you do decide on the beer.” Robin gives him an appraising look, and he lifts his chin back at her. He’s not completely hopeless.

Eddie looks at him in a way he doesn’t exactly want to think about yet but will definitely think about later. Like tonight. “I might,” he says softly, devoid of his usual chaotic energy.

Steve inclines his head. “Just let me know. Or I could drive you home.“

Eddie narrows his eyes. Steve’s brain chooses this moment to realize Robin is no longer in the kitchen, that they’re alone, that Eddie is closer than he has any right to be, that Steve isn’t backing away. That Steve doesn’t want to back away. “You, Steve Harrington, are something else.”

Steve’s brain chooses to take that as a compliment and make him blush. He doesn’t say anything, breaks eye contact but doesn’t back away. Finally, his brain thinks of something. “There are many different kinds of armor.”

Eddie stills for a moment, stares at Steve, then nods. “It’s usually the loneliest thing of all, huh?”

Steve huffs a dry laugh in agreement, watching as Eddie moves away, back to the fridge to grab a bottle. “Think I will have that beer after all, if the couch offer is still open.”

“No,” Steve says without thinking, only realizing how it sounds when Eddie starts to shut down. “No, wait, sorry, I meant not the couch, I wouldn’t make you sleep there, I have…” he waves a hand around, “spare rooms. Beds.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, opening up again. Steve’s brain chooses to compare him to a flower, which, could his brain be any gayer in this moment?

“Oi, Thing One and Thing Two,” Robin calls, and Steve realizes when Eddie starts and backs up that they were really close to each other. Steve looks away, glancing back briefly, before moving to grab a Coke for Dustin.

“Hold your horses,” Steve calls back, but the moment’s broken and he’s not brave enough to try to fix it.

Pt 3

#muse said more than two parts so here’s this ig #if this turns into a slow burn I’ll end myself #I don’t do slow burn #I like fast #this is not fast so far #but I have IDEAS #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #soft touch baby #I hope y’all like this honestly #star posts about things she knows nothing about

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badbatchposts · 26 days

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Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Chapter 12

While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags/content warnings: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use

Chapters posted 1-2x weekly!

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11

Chapter 12 summary: The Batch make a plan for infiltrating the villa.

Hunter glanced up at Dara’s dozing form curled on top of the Marauder and shook his head. The sun was just peeking over the horizon as he and Echo returned from their surveillance shift, and he could hear the chattering of the planet’s small woodland creatures all waking up at once. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know why Dara was sleeping outside. If it had been one of his squad, whose quirks were innumerable and often incomprehensible, he wouldn’t even bother to find out. As it was, he couldn’t be sure of the right approach to take with this temporary member about whom they knew so little.

Entering the ship to find the others wide awake, he thought maybe they’d have a better idea. “Any clue why Dara slept on top of the ship last night?” the Sergeant asked.

Tech and Wrecker looked pointedly at Crosshair. “She did not seem very pleased when they returned from town,” Tech observed.

Hunter crossed his arms. “What did you do now?” The sniper only shrugged, a smirk lurking dangerously at the corners of his mouth.

Wrecker elbowed him and grinned mischievously. “Hey! Be nice to her. Dinner was so good last night I think I might ask her to marry me.”

Crosshair’s expression quickly turned to a scowl. “The mission went fine. We got the intel. It’s not my fault if she wants to sleep on the roof.”

“Maybe she’s just sick of us,” Echo speculated. “Sounds like she spends a lot of time alone. It’s probably an adjustment to be cramped up in the Marauder with five men day in and day out.”

“Can’t say I blame her,” Hunter muttered.

Tech looked at Crosshair curiously. “How did Dara do, by the way?”

The sniper met his gaze with shared understanding. His brother may not have been as hostile as he was, but he was smart enough to know that something was off with her. “A little too well.”

For once there was no bickering on the subject, only a thoughtful silence from the group of clones before Hunter sighed heavily. “We’ll keep a close eye on her tonight. Wrecker, go wake her up so we can make a plan.”

Wrecker popped out of the hatch and returned a short time later, followed by Dara, who was blinking blearily. She seemed out of it as she undertook the painstaking ritual of preparing her tea. Not for the first time, Crosshair’s eyes were drawn to her hands: the patient tap of her fingers against the pouch as she tipped the herb into her mug; the way she fiddled with the metal straw, arranging it just so; the curve of her grasp as she poured the water. He watched her mouth as she took her first sip, noticing the bags under her eyes and the way she rubbed, absentmindedly, at the purple and reddish blotch he’d left on her neck.

“Sleep well?” he taunted.

She pursed her lips and passed the beverage along to Hunter. Finding the Sergeant also watching attentively for her answer, she shrugged.

“Was looking at the stars for a bit before bed and fell asleep by accident. Wasn’t too comfortable but I’ve slept on worse.”

Wrecker laughed heartily. “Us too. Remember that time with the leeches on Nal Hutta?”

“Don’t remind me,” Echo shuddered. “I still have nightmares about it.”

“Fortunately, I do not believe there are any leeches on this planet. Although it does appear that Dara may have been bitten by a large insect overnight,” Tech observed. Crosshair looked at him closely, finding a hint of amusement in his eyes; Tech could miss a lot of subtlety, but he certainly wasn’t naïve. He knew that what he was looking at on Dara’s neck wasn’t an insect bite.

And everybody thought Crosshair was the shit-stirrer.

By the way Dara’s jaw tightened nearly imperceptibly, she hadn’t missed his brother’s tease. “Got hit by a branch walking home in the dark, actually,” she countered, daring him to call her out on the lie.

Hunter turned a thoughtful gaze to her. “Are you alright? You seem…”

“I’m just a little concerned about the mission,” Dara interrupted, eagerly redirecting the conversation. “Something the director of the lab said last night made me think that Prium is developing a project for the Empire. And if that’s the case, the security protocols might be tougher to break through than we expected.”

“Not for us,” Wrecker asserted confidently.

“Hmm. We’ll keep it in mind,” Hunter mused. “Right. Let’s share intel and start making a plan.”

Dara gave them a rundown of what she had gleaned from her conversations in the market and the bar. In turn, the others reported their discoveries from the past day and night of surveillance, which had revealed plenty about the villa’s security protocols, the guards’ schedules and paths of their rounds, and possible entry points.

However, as Dara had voiced, breaking in wouldn’t be without its complications. “Unfortunately, it appears that I will be unable to replicate our trick for disabling the proximity sensors and outside cameras from our last job,” Tech admitted. “The security systems here cannot be accessed remotely. I will need to do so from the control room inside of the villa.”

“What are our chances of sneaking in undetected while those systems are still active?” Hunter mused.

“Very low,” Tech replied matter-of-factly.

Wrecker cracked his knuckles with enthusiasm. “So we rush the guards, stun them all, and break in by force!” he proclaimed.

Echo placed a stern hand on his largest brother’s shoulder. “Hate to burst your bubble, but if we do that and they send for reinforcements from town, we could wind up having a lot of trouble getting out of there. Not to mention how much harder it will be for Tech and I to break into the lab if they initiate a security lockdown. And if the Empire’s really invested in this guy’s work, we can’t rule out that we might draw Imperial attention before we can get off planet.”

A smile twitched at the corners of Dara’s still-weary mouth. “Tech, could you load everything you need to override their security systems on a datapad so that somebody else can just plug in and run it? Then only one person would have to make it in, get to the control room, and the others can sneak through an accessible entry point.”

Tech blinked owlishly behind his goggles. “Of course.”

Hunter furrowed his brow suspiciously. “Are you suggesting one of us poses as a guard to get in there? I thought you said all the guards are locals—we won’t be able to slip past, the others will know we’re not one of them.”

Dara shrugged. “All the guards and other villa workers are locals. But Raab said that a lot of the scientists at the lab come from off-world.”

Wrecker grinned. “Tech sure could pose as a scientist.”

In response, Dara dug into her pack, pulling out a white lab coat and a key card. “He could, but I don’t think this will fit him. Sorry.”

Crosshair’s eyes glittered almost admiringly before he remembered to scowl. “Now how did you manage to steal those, burk’yc?”

She glared back at him. “Some of us were actually doing our jobs last night. Obviously you weren’t paying very close attention.”

He leaned forward. “Is that what you were doing? Could’ve fooled me. Maybe I was too busy keeping an eye out for your sorry shebs during your pathetic flirting.”

“Whose keycard is that?” Tech interrupted. His nose was buried in his datapad, no doubt already preparing the programs necessary to dismantle the villa’s security.

Dara gave Crosshair one more angry squint before looking away. “Raab’s. I’ll say I work for him and that he sent me to get something important. I get in, get the rest of you in undetected, and then we rendezvous at the lab and take it from there.”

Everyone looked towards Hunter, waiting for his approval. Finally, the Sergeant nodded. “Okay. Let’s get to work.”

Tag List: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon

#the bad batch #star wars #bad batch #clone force 99 #clone wars fanfiction #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb fanfiction #sw tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfic

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giggly-squiggily · 8 months

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Hey hey heyyyyyy

Can i request lee oikawa and lers iwa, mattsun, and makki? Fnfjdjs

Heyo! I'm really sorry anon, but I could not for the life of me find a way to fit Mattsun and Maki into this. I honestly can't remember much of anyone in that team besides Iwa and Oikawa these days. I need to rewatch Haikyuu hehe.

Still! I hope you like it! :D

CW: Swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @rachi-roo

The second the door shut, Oikawa was scrambling for freedom.

“Get over here you son of a-” Iwa’s words were cut off by the squeal of terror Oikawa let loose when he was grabbed from behind, arms around his waist as he was yanked back into the couch. “You thought you could pull what you did today and get away with it?”

“Iwa! Iwa wahahhahahhait!”

~~~8 or so hours earlier~~~

Oikawa was bored.

The one day off he finally lets himself have, and Iwa has to go to class! He wouldn’t even skip!

“I can’t just skip class, Toru. What’s gonna happen when I really do need to skip?”

“You’re gonna go anyway cause you’re too stubborn to acknowledge illness.”

“Watch it…I’ll be home tonight. Just- entertain yourself until then. Take a nap, watch a movie, go on a jog- find something to do.”

Oikawa could really have done any of those things, but they weren’t nearly as fun without Iwa!

‘Come home?’ He texted an hour into the day, knowing how silly he was being but not caring one bit.

‘Later. Class is starting soon- love you, bye.’ Iwa’s text came back.

Oikawa rolled his eyes as he let his phone flop against his chest, groaning dramatically. He texted too much- usually Iwa would humor his back and forth for at least a few seconds. He was starting to learn his ways.

“Class is starting soon my butt.” Oikawa glared at the phone, switching to his socials soon after. Some scrolling here, some liking posts there- he left what he felt was a hilarious comment under Mattsun’s recent sunset photo, but gave up when Mattsun replied with a simple “???”. How tiresome.

He was about to call up Maki to see if he was available when a video came into his feed- one that made him stop and stare.

“Is it recording? Great! Hi, my name is Hinata Shoyo- and this is what I like to call: Tickle me Kageyama!” In the video the redhead turned to his friend, jumping on him and attacking his ribs with reckless abandon. Kageyama practically squawked, flailing in his chair while swearing every bad word he knew at him. Soon though- he was laughing up a storm, pig snorts mixing with endless bouts of laughter.

“Don’t swear so much, Shoyo’s sister might be watching!” He didn’t recognize the voice behind the camera, but he sounded very amused. A taller guy with a close shaved head waved at the camera before jumping in, further driving Kageyama up the wall. “Get ‘em, Tanaka! Hehehe!”

The video ended not long after that, the replay button taunting Oikawa like a flashing light. His body was tingling all over. God I wish that was me…

Panicked, he tossed his phone into the nearest pillow, shaking his head. No, no- don’t start feeling like that right now! Iwa’s not gonna be home for another decade! And even when he did get home…

When he got home…

A new idea came to mind, and Oikawa snickered in glee as he grabbed his phone, pulling up the texts…

~~~4 hours ago~~~

It was agony waiting until Iwa’s first class was over, but he knew his boyfriend wouldn’t be on his phone during class. He waited until he knew class was over before beginning his attack.

The first thing was simple. A picture of a heart, sparkly and pink. Eventually the text said ‘read’ but nothing appeared after. Oikawa could picture Iwa’s confused face as he looked upon the picture.

A moment later, he sent a gif of a shower of hearts, followed by ‘Does this make you think of anything?’

Bubbles. Then: ‘You’re having a heart attack?’

It took everything in Oikawa not to send a rolling eye emoji.

‘I’m thinking of how much I love you~’ He texted, followed by three pink heart emojis. He waited- then.

‘Stop it.’ Iwa wrote.

‘Why?’

‘You know why.”

‘Iwa-chan~’

‘I’m on campus!’

‘And you told me to find something entertaining to do. <3”

‘Find something else.’

‘Can I find the words to say how much I adore you? How hot are you when you take things so seriously and finish what you start? How are you so strong- both physically and mentally? How I love just how in the zone you are when you’re doing something you love?’ It was devious and awful and terrible but Oikawa was kicking his feet like a school girl picturing how red Iwa must be looking right now. He could easily picture the others on campus looking at him wondering: “What’s got him so flustered?”

‘Toru…’

‘Yes, my sweet prince?’

‘Final warning.’ This was it! ‘Stop it or I’ll make you stop.’

Oikawa considered. Then he grinned. ‘Hey- guess what? I love you, Hajime.’ He wrote before sending it to Iwa. He waited, and waited, and waited…

‘You’re done for.’ And that was that.

Oikawa cackled, tossing his phone into the couch as he did a little jig. Laughing like a child, he sent a few heart emojis and a kissy face before turning off his phone, knowing seeing the time would make the anticipation worse.

All he had to do now was wait.

~~~Present time~~~

“You know- if you really want me to tickle you, you could have just asked.” Iwa growled in his ear, sitting on the back of his hips as he creeped his fingers up Oikawa’s shirt, scratching along warm skin. “No need to fluster me in front of my freaking adviser!”

“Whihihihiihihy whehehehre you on the phoohoohohone with yohoohohur advihihihisor? Aheahhahhahaha, Iehehehhehhewa!” Oikawa giggled out, pressing his arms against his sides as he tried to block him out. It didn’t work.

“He came up to me during your little game, shitty-kawa! I had to make up some dumb excuse that I doubt he believed!” He moved his fingers higher up, wiggling them along his ribs. “Let’s see- I think it’s only fair I make you as red as you made me today.”

“Iihihiihihiwa, aheahhahahhahhahahaha! Pffft- gehahahahahhaha, pleahhahhahahhase!” Oikawa cried, kicking his feet against the cushions. “It tiihihihiihihihckles!”

“No way, does it really?” Iwa asked, tapping along his upper ribs, just before his armpits. “Anything you want to say?”

“Mhmhmmhmmhmhhehehehehehe! HEheheheehehehehehehehe!” Oikawa willed the giggles down, daring a look back at Iwa’s face. “Dohohohoho your wohohohorst!”

Iwa tsked. Then he dug his hands into Oikawa’s armpits.

“AHHEHAHHAHHAH!” The setter squealed, thrashing about beneath him as he laughed himself hoarse. “OHOHOHOOHKAY OOHOOHHOKAY I’M SAHAHHHAHARRY! IIHIHIHIHM SHAAHHAHAHRRY!”

“Promise?” Iwa asked.

“PRHOOHOHOHOOHMISE!”

“Hm….okay.” The tickles came to an end, leaving Oikawa gasping for breath with his head pressed into the cushions. Iwa hummed before swatting him gently, climbing off his back and scooping him up. In a matter of minutes, they were cuddling on the couch. “You’re a shit.”

“Yohohoohu love me.” Oikawa pointed out, giggling when his side was poked.

“Shush.”

“Nope.” Oikawa looked up at him, eyes kind. “And I’m not sorry for what I said! I mean every word.” Iwa tried to glare, but his face grew rosey and the undeniable love in his eyes glinted. “Though I suppose texting you during school wasn’t wise.”

“No, it wasn’t. But…I don’t mind.” Iwa mumbled, silencing Oikawa with a kiss. “But if you do that again, next time I’m not having mercy.”

“We’ll see.”

Thanks for reading!

#haikyuu!!#tickle #tickle fic #oikawa tooru #hajime iwaizumi #iwakawa #fluff #tw: swearing #I had fun with this one akljrjkeajkrekjr #I do kinda know Mattsun thanks to Rey #but I don't know him well enough to make a fic of him without a prompt #I hope that makes sense!#sorry I could only provide ler!Iwa #but at least we got some lee!oikawa! :D #I hope you like it!

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pleasurebuttonwrites · 1 year

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Hung the Moon (Chapter 8)

Chapter 7 | Masterlist | Chapter 9

Summary: Time to be a superhero.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content: Language (cursing, misogyny). Violence. Not too gory, but mentions of blood.

Word count: 2.8K

A/N: It's been so long and I got so antsy about posting this I didn't proofread and revise quite as much as I usually do. If there are typos and such - I'm sorry!

Tags: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ajeff855 @bnamta @unspokenmoon @milkymoon2483 @valkyrieace @theimpalasdoctorin221b @hopefulfangirl24 @bucksgoat @rmoonstoner @foreverinwanderlust @am-3-thyst @bullet-prooflove @trashboat-the-raccoon @daisies-yellow

~~~

The last remnants of dusk fade from the sky when you and Marc pull up to the fifth and final warehouse belonging to your boss that you know about. You and Marc had been running all over New York City since the moment you landed checking the other four. Each time you had shown up to one, finding no sign of your sister — no sign of anyone, half of them completely empty — your stomach had sunk just a little lower. As Marc puts the car in park outside the last one, with it’s windows pitch dark, the stillness tangible, your stomach falls through the ground.

You can’t look at Marc. If you do you’ll say something you’ll regret. He says something to you that you barely hear. Something about how he’ll find her. That he’s not giving up.

As you did for the others, you get out of the car and check it out. The feeling of dread rises in you, that you’re wasting time you don’t have. But you have to be sure she’s not here. That there’s nothing that might lead you to her.

The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you walk the perimeter. The warehouse is small in comparison to the ones you searched earlier. The few windows that are at ground level are blacked out. You can’t tell if anyone is in there or if it’s empty.

A gust of wind bites at your cheek, but it’s damn near warm compared to the ice in your veins.

Just as you turn the corner at the back of the warehouse, a door — not ten feet from you — bursts open. You pull yourself back and crash into Marc who was following behind you. He grips your hip to steady the both of you.

Before you have the chance to say anything to Marc, a man starts talking.

“Man, I need a drink,” he says. You peek around the corner and see two men walking away toward a truck parked on the opposite end of the parking lot. “You coming to the bar? Rusty says they’re all down there.”

“I can’t,” the other man says. “I have watch duty for that little bitch tonight.”

“I dunno what you’re complaining about. She’s fucking hot. Especially with that gag in her mouth.”

“'Cept we’re not allowed to touch her. At least for another 24 hours. Kinda hoping that cunt of a sister doesn’t come through so the boss’ll let us do what we want with her.”

Marc lunges forward and you have to restrain him with two hands on his chest. You shake your head at him and motion toward the way you came. You both quietly retreat and then run back to the car.

—

Marc follows expertly behind them. But even so, each time they make a turn and you lose sight of the truck for those few seconds, the panic rises in your throat.

By the time the truck pulls up to its destination: another warehouse farther outside of the city, the moon has made its ascent into the sky. Clouds partially obscure the glow, and the street lamp that surreptitiously flickers on and off lends hardly enough light to see by. The man in the passenger seat climbs down from the truck and is illuminated as he crosses the headlights. He has an ugly sneer to his mouth and you want to rip him apart with your bare hands.

The truck drives on and the man trots up a set of concrete steps up to a door near the loading dock. He raps his fist against the metal, and a minute later another man opens the door for him.

In perfect synchronization, you and Marc get out of the car at the same time.

“You’re staying here.” He says it casually, but it sounds like an order.

“The hell I am.” And you mean it, too. Nothing could stop you from going in there. Not even Marc Spector.

He fixes you with a stare. In it is his own special blend of exasperation and stubbornness.

You try to reason with him anyway. “I can get her out while you deal with the guards.”

He shoots a quick glance at the side mirror — you’d have missed it had you not been watching him so closely. He rolls his eyes at whatever he’s seen.

“Who was that?” you ask. “What did he say?”

He sighs. “He says to let you.”

You consider which “he” that could have been. “Was that Jake?” You cringe at the hopefulness in your voice.

Instead of answering, Marc says, “If something happens to you-”

“My sister’s in there, terrified. She needs to see a familiar face. And I can handle myself.”

“You’re going in there no matter what, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

He rolls his eyes heavenward, but relents. In a stern voice he says, “Alright, but you need to follow my lead, got that? Let’s find a way in.”

—

On the opposite side of the building from the loading dock, you and Marc sneak along the shadows. So far you’ve not encountered anyone guarding the outside, but you have no way of knowing what’s inside. There’s no guarantee that your sister is inside either. You don’t even want to think about what you’d do if she’s not. But neither do you want to think about what it’s going to be like to see her tied up and hurting.

You’re busy torturing yourself with these thoughts when Marc stops short. You realize why when you see the door, partially covered by overgrown weeds, next to you. Marc tries the handle. It’s locked but it’s nearly rusted through. He applies some force and it breaks off. The door swings inward with a soft squeak.

Inside is pitch dark. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. You can sort of make out a stairwell to your left, and another door to your right.

With light footsteps, Marc approaches the interior door and slowly pulls on it. It’s nearly off its hinges and it scrapes against the floor. He lifts it from the floor and sets it open enough for you both to slip through it.

The warehouse isn’t huge — it’s one large main room — but only half of it is being used. The overhead lights are off on your end, giving you a convenient cover of darkness. There are rows and rows of metal standalone shelves next to you, long left unused, gathering dust and trash. At the far end, four men sit around a folding game table playing a loud, drunken game of cards. But the center of the room is what captures your attention.

Two men — their backs to you — flank someone seated in a chair. You can’t see her face, but you know it’s her. You found her. You actually found her. Your whole body buzzes, and you almost feel relief if it weren’t for the six heavily armed men in your way. Distantly, you notice she’s dyed her hair since you’d last seen her.

“You stay here,” Marc whispers to you as he scans the room. His eyes flick to the offices on the second level that overlook the warehouse floor.

You almost argue with him when he amends, “Just wait here until I give the signal. Then you can go free her.”

“What’s the signal?”

“You’ll know it. Here.” He pulls out a hefty folding knife from his pocket and hands it over to you. “You’ll need this.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“I can’t attack from this side. It’ll draw fire toward your sister. I have to find another angle.” Then he slips back through the door.

You duck down behind a shelf to wait. The men at the table are animated and loud, though you can’t make out what they’re saying with their voices echoing off the high ceilings. The men guarding your sister look bored, constantly shifting their feet and turning their heads to glance around the room. The man on her right finds something to do, however, when he turns toward your sister and leans against her shoulder, crotch first. You recognize him as the man that you followed here. It takes all of your willpower to stay put as Marc instructed and not run at him and sink the knife you’re holding into his neck.

You grit your teeth and wonder what’s taking Marc so long. Every second that ticks by makes you more nervous about Marc’s plan. A feeling that you shouldn’t have trusted him creeps over you. But that could be just your nerves talking.

One moment the card table is bursting with laughter, the next all is chaos as the glass windows from the offices nearly just above shatter and a man — dressed head to toe in a white costume, his cape flared into a crescent — soars down among the shards of glass. During his descent, he uses both hands to fling two blades towards your sister’s guards. They find their marks in the men’s faces just as they were raising their guns. Their bodies teeter for a moment and then fall to the floor.

You watch as Marc lands, one hand on the ground to steady him. When he rises, you get a better look at his costume, the criss-crossing wraps that resemble a mummy, the crescent in the center of his chest and the glowing eyes underneath his hood. It surprises you since you had expected a different costume - the one you’d seen Jake wear. Apparently there was more than one.

The men at the table seem to get over their shock at his arrival. They stand and open fire on Marc who doesn’t even seem to notice the bullets striking his suit as he stalks toward them.

You have to assume that this was the signal. In any case, there’s no one to stop you from approaching your sister. You run to her. She’s thrashing in the chair, her arms and legs tugging on the ropes binding her. As you get closer you faintly hear screams trying to break free from her throat in between blasts of gunfire.

You step around the body of the guard who just moments before you’d wanted to kill. The blade is still lodged into his face and you notice it’s in the shape of a crescent. It’s kind of disturbing - you hadn’t pegged Marc for the type to have coordinating accessories.

Your sister is thrashing so violently that she doesn’t even register when you step in front of her. When you reach out to steady her, she flinches under your touch and then she sees you. She narrows her eyes and as soon as you pull the gag free of her mouth she yells with a hoarse, raspy voice, “YOU BITCH!”

You nearly put the gag back in her mouth. Your hands even lift it about an inch before you discard it to the floor. When you consider what you might have expected her to say, you realize that each time you pictured rescuing her, she was unconscious during it. But you can’t say you’re surprised with her reaction.

You ignore her, since you don’t want to get into it with her. Not here, not now. You kneel and get started cutting the ropes around her ankles. But she’s not done.

“What the hell did you get me into?” Her voice is raw and you can barely hear her over the cacophony happening behind you. She continues ranting but you tune her out and focus on getting her free. Despite the sharpness of the knife, you still really have to saw to clear all the rope.

By the time you get to her wrists, she seems to have mostly tired herself out. She seems to finally become aware of her surroundings because she asks, “Who the fuck is that guy?”

You turn to follow her gaze. Moon Knight, now in the black and white costume you’d first seen, is fighting the one remaining thug — the other three lay lifeless on the ground. Just as Jake is about to strike him down, the costume changes again. It’s all white, except unlike before, this is an actual suit. Like a three piece suit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you hear him yell. “You can’t just kill everyone!”

It sounds like Steven to you.

The costume morphs into the mummy-looking one. “He’s right. We need to keep someone alive to give Foswell a message.”

The black and white costume resurfaces. “Shit. You’re right,” Jake says.

The costume switches briefly back to the three piece suit as Steven says, “That’s not what I meant.” And then it’s back to Jake.

You turn back to your sister and resume working on the rope. “He’s helping me rescue you,” you tell her. That doesn’t feel like it totally covers it, but it’s the best explanation you can give in the moment.

“God, Greg’s probably freaking. Worried sick about me.”

Your temper flares at the mention of her husband. In a distinctly unkind voice you say, “I love you, but you are the stupidest person I know.”

You cut the last of the rope free and reach to help her stand but she recoils from you. Her mouth is hanging open in indignation. “Excuse me?” she demands.

“Greg isn’t worried sick. He knows exactly where you are. He doesn’t give a fuck.”

“You’ve always been so jealous of me, you can’t stand it, can you? Why do you always say these bad things about Greg?”

“I’m not doing this with you right now. Do you want to get out of here, or should I leave you here?”

You’d never really leave her, but you need to get her moving. She scoffs and tries to stand up on her own, but her legs are weak and she grasps at your arms as she sinks back into the chair. You help her up and she leans heavily on you.

You check in with the boys to see Jake holding a knife to the neck of the lone survivor. In a chilling tone you’d never heard him use before he’s speaking to him. You catch the last part. “-never see you again. She’s done. You got that?”

Jake flings him to the floor and bends down to slash at one of his ankles, slicing through his Achilles tendon. The man screams, and Jake turns and sees you and your sister watching him. The mask over his face disappears and he looks as though he’s about to say something. But the man on the ground, holding his ankle as blood pours out of the gash, shouts at your sister. “It’s no great loss, you know. You were getting a little old for your husband anyway.”

Jake balls his hand into a fist. He’s mid-swing when you stop him. “Jake!” He freezes. “Let’s just go.”

He lingers for a moment, and then relents. He comes to you as you struggle to walk with your sister. He offers to carry her, but she responds with, “Who the fuck are you?”

You head to the door by the loading docks as it’s closer to where you parked. It’s slow going, and you curse her stubbornness, but you allow her this autonomy of body. You’ll help her with every step.

You emerge out into the cool night air. You struggle getting your sister down the steps but somehow you manage without accepting Jake’s offers of help.

As you’re walking to the car, Marc suddenly fronts and the costume changes to his. “Does this mean…?” He gestures at his outfit.

You’re confused until you realize he’s not talking to you.

Jake fronts again. “No, it’s just a temporary loan. I’m still the only one on the hook with Khonshu.”

Steven fronts. “We’re going to fix that though, right? Although,” he tugs on the sleeves of his jacket with gloved hands, “I still look fit, don’t I?” You run an appreciative eye up and down his form.

It’s as your eyes are coming back up that Jake fronts again and you get a good look at just how tight his costume is. You bump your shoulder against him. “I didn’t know you all came with outfits.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” he tells you, but he’s smiling.

“Too late.”

It’s a nice moment. You’ve really missed Jake, and you want nothing more than to talk with him about everything that’s happened. You want to believe that there’s still a chance for you two.

Then your sister opens her big mouth, cranes her neck to look at Jake, and says, “Are you fucking my sister?”

~~~

Chapter 7 | Masterlist | Chapter 9

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x female!reader #jake lockley x you #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x female!reader #steven grant x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector x female!reader #marc spector x fem!reader #marc spector x you

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ashwithapen · 10 months

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poem #8

(this one is a long one and comes with a list of TWs, so the actual poem is below the cut. this one is also a lot more prose-poetry/slam poetry-esque than my other stuff :thumbsup:)

TW for school shootings, trans genocide/transphobia, abortion (mentioned), police brutality (mentioned), suicide (mentioned).

the thing about TikTok written 4 april 2023

y’know, i only opened this app because i saw a clip somewhere of one of my favourite bands. the singer made a joke in Scotland last night, and surely someone had to have posted a better-quality video on TikTok.

it was the first thing i saw when the app loaded, because they just know me so well. i watched it and saved it so that i can watch it again as a distraction or something later. but then i made the mistake of scrolling.

the next thing i saw was a 5-minute video about how people my age and younger were screaming for their lives just across the pond outside of government buildings. they are desperate not to be killed in their classrooms, desperate to live through this semester, desperate to be heard, but the suit-wearing rulers shuffled through their 1000-person sea, one foot at a time like it was dark and they couldn’t see the people my age and younger lining the walls, holding their signs, screaming for change. i watch it, and i have to keep scrolling.

some video about all the shit you can buy for just 8 USD from a gas station in Japan. i don’t watch the whole thing; i keep scrolling.

someone with a cool haircut is sitting on the floor of their bedroom, crying. the sound playing is saying something from a show i haven’t watched about a storybook fox who is sick and tired of living in a hole. they are crying, the tags say that they are trans, and they are crying. their bio says they are just 14, that’s three whole years younger than i am and something in me surges because that is my sibling whose name i don’t know and that i may never get to because the threat of genocide has them, 14, crying on their bedroom floor. not tonight, i think in silence. i do not want to cry tonight. and so i keep scrolling.

and the next video is an indie artist who didn’t exist a year and a half ago, but even so, their new single that when viral drops in a few nights so i follow their page and i hold my breath: should i scroll again? i do, i don’t learn.

and there’s a joke i don’t get with the loudest fucking noise i’ve ever heard. it makes no sense, i scroll again.

oh look, a 9-year-old girl who got shot when she went back to pull the fire alarm so her classmates would know to run. run. run. her face is the centrepiece, her smile from an earlier date something i need to learn to shake off by tonight. i can’t even imagine what being her might have been like. i scroll again.

a cover of a song, sung atop guitar chords; another joke that the comments don’t explain to me either; another reminder of the imposing genocide; abortion bans are being enforced; they’re using force against unarmed protesters again; a poem spoken to me by a person named Lee; more tour clips to distract me; some statistics about teen suicide rates rising in the States; and one of those checkpoints that tells you that it’s time for a break. stand up, stretch, get some water. the song playing low in the background is one i’ve heard maybe a hundred times by now, but i do as i’m instructed, and i take a deep breath.

my curtains are open and i can see through my window. i remember the song i started writing the other day about how people like me seldom live long enough to see their hair turn grey. i remember how i couldn’t finish it off because something salty and wet rubbed the ink off my page and i closed my book and i pretended that i wasn’t upset, like how, in an hour from now, when dinner is served hot in front of me and they ask me “how has your day been?” i will pretend my phone is not heavy in my pocket and that the kids' shouting isn’t plaguing me and that trans people aren’t losing their right to exist and be free and that a girl half my age wasn’t shot because she got unlucky one day.

and i regret opening TikTok every time that i do because i always fail to miss all those kids i heard dance on here. instead, i get singers on stages and artists who speak and kids who know how to barricade doors with desks and bookshelves and how to defend themselves with their trendy metal water bottles, and news about the latest legislation passed that ensures that more kids will be forcefully born into a cyclical mess where they don’t get to grow up without routine checks as to whether they can tell apart a juice box pop and a gunshot.

and there are not enough words to tell you all the things i have heard scrolling through TikTok, where the mothers are gentle with their children until they go to sleep, because then they take off their soft tones and don their broken voices, screaming out in hopes that their kids won’t have to.

it has to be a phenomenon: the ability you need to grow by my age if you want to use an app as unsuspecting as the sound of a clock, TikTok. if you cannot master empathy and apathy and the way in which you must be able to switch between one and the other at the littlest flick of your wrist because what’s funny one minute must always precede the latest tragedy, death giving way to a joke and a smirk from a pretty girl in a skirt whose page a month ago was all about ways you can help in Ukraine, but clearly, she has become a master of this miracle.

and at the end of it all, when it has been hours of hearing about Neo-nazis and the generalised patriarchy and the right or wrong ways to raise bread yeast, i think three things:

one: a simmering roll of “wow”. both my empathy and apathy have been expended, and now, i have nothing left to give.

two: i am never coming back here again, like a hotel where they promise a rest, a break, a chance to get away from your day-to-day stress. one star.

three: oh look, my band said something funny again, and god, i could use a distraction.

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hellfirehaley · 2 years

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Strange Love Chapter Five

Word count: 5675

Song used: We Don't Need Another Hero by Tina Turner, Seek and Destroy by Metallica, Sunshine of Your Life by Cream and I Was Made For Loving You by KISS.

Synopsis: you get bored on a Tuesday night and remember the offer made to you by your new best friend Eddie Munson to come see him and his friends perform at the Hideout. You go and meet some unlikely friends as well as a hell of an impression on your new best friend.

Shoutout to my beta reader @mvnsoneddie86 for being amazing and making sure I should like a person of a sound body and mind when I write these damn things.

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/hellfirehaley/691398370697281537?source=share

AN: I definitely wrote this chapter all in one go and edited it later. It just poured out of me when I got to this chapter. Hopefully it keeps up when I get to the next chapter. I'm also starting to work on a secondary AU series about a witch so if anyone is interested in that, keep your eyes peeled. I'm shooting for a September or October date with updates of this still coming too. Can anyone find the movie reference I put in the end of the chapter? PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKE THE STORY AND WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST

You hated Tuesdays, more than Mondays because Mondays at least had an excuse for sucking so much. Tuesday nights were the worst because Robin and Ali were busy with band AND debate so you found yourself here. You had already walked Norm, had your own mini dance party throughout the house, listened to music at an obscenely loud level while making some progress in your copy of The Talisman but not even Sir King could keep your attention span tonight. You tried to zone out on whatever was on TV but watching Dan Rather blather on about whatever bullshit Reagan had gotten us into this time. By the time the intro the Who’s The Boss came on, signaling 8 0’clock, you had almost passed out on the couch. You couldn’t do this anymore; you had to do SOMETHING. But then you thought back to your conversation last Tuesday

“Hey, what are your plans on Tuesday?” Eddie asked with his hands in his pockets.

“Uhhh…might watch A Team if I get bored otherwise nothing.” you say.

“Cool. Do you wanna come to the Hideout that night? We’re playing a gig and we’re gonna debut a new song,” Eddie said, lighting up.

“Yeah? Alright I’m in,” you say smirking. Eddie pumped his fist in the air in excitement.

“Fuck yeah. You’re gonna have a blast. We usually start playing around 9:30 or 10 depending on the night.” Eddie said.

I mean, that was a good idea; try to go support your new friend’s band, But would he want me there? What if I make it awkward? What if I’m misreading this entire situation? But on the other hand, he DID literally invite me to his show three weeks ago so it would be rude not to go at this point. Plus it would be really cool to see Eddie in his element.

Before you realize it, you’re choosing what to wear with your outfit options sprawled out on your bed. You finally decided on a Metallica shirt, a black mini skirt with some fishnets and your heeled boots. You tied a flannel around your waist in case it got cold. You went to the bathroom, fixing your hair and putting on some heavier eyeliner and eyeshadow. You touched up your mascara, put on some red lipstick and double checked your look before adding all your metal rings and a couple of necklaces, layering them expertly. You double check on Norm’s food and grab your keys, wallet and small purse before heading out the door, locking it behind you.

The drive from your house to the venue took a little while and you were thankful for that so you had time to calm your nerves. You let the sounds of whatever was on the radio play out to the point you found yourself singing along to it as you drove along.

“So, what do we do with our lives? We leave only a mark Will our story shine like a light or end in the dark? Give it all or nothing … We don't need another hero. We don't need to know the way home. All we want is life beyond Thunderdome … All the children say ``We don't need another hero (we don't need another hero) We don't need to know the way home, ooh All we want is life beyond Thunderdome.”

It turned to a new song as you got closer, nerves returning the closer you got. It almost felt like an adrenaline rush like right when you’re at the peak of a roller coaster, waiting for the plummet. You hadn’t felt like this before about someone so you were unfamiliar with the sensation. You pull up to the Hideout and your heart starts pounding when you see Eddie’s van parked in the back outside the venue. You were excited to see him but would he be happy to see you? You honestly didn’t care though. You were here to support your friend at his request. You parked in the front, taking a minute to double check your makeup and hair before getting out of the car. It was just after 9 o’clock and so there weren't many people out yet. Your boots clicked along the gravel parking lot and you were thankful for a moment of serenity. It was a perfect autumn evening so you stood at the entry for a minute, digging through your purse for a cigarette. You popped the end into your mouth, lighting it til cherried and exhaling. You were enjoying your moment of solitude as the door guy walked up to you. He was a pretty big dude covered in tattoos and a leather vest but something about him seemed familiar.

“Evening Miss, mind if I check your ID real quick?” the bouncer asked nicely. You nodded, fishing out your driver’s license.

“I’m here for the band playing tonight,” you say, handing him your ID.

“L/N? I thought you looked familiar. Are you Meg and Hank’s kid?” the bouncer asked looking from you to your ID

“Yep, that’s me.” you answer smiling.

“Well shit look at you! All grown up! Never thought I’d see the day of a second generation of L/Ns at the Hideout.” the bouncer said, handing you back your ID.

“Yep. I turn 18 next month so it feels weird.” you admit.

“Well we’ll take care of you. I’m Charles but everyone calls me Charlie. Your dad and I were high school buddies.” Charlie says. As soon as he said his name, you remembered him at family functions (birthday parties, graduation, backyard parties).

“Oh my god Charlie!” you say exhaling your puff, “I haven;t seen you since Leo graduated. How’s life?” you ask, smiling.

“Everything’s good; wife’s happy so can’t complain. So you’re here to see Corroded Coffin.” Charlie asks.

“Yeah I’m friends with Eddie Munson so I figured that I would come see his band perform.” you say

“He’s a good kid.” Charlie says as you nod in agreement. You talked for a little while longer before you put out your cigarettes and headed in with Charlie in tow. The bar was just as you remembered: smelling like beer and urine, black and red covering every surface, loud rock blasting throughout the bar. You got to the bar and sat down at one of the stools. There were maybe 4 or 5 people already here, mostly older dudes looking like a motorcycle gang.

“What can I get for you sweetie?” a female voice asked. You turned to see a red headed woman in her 30s looking at you as she polished a pint glass.

“Oh um…” you start

“She can have whatever she wants, Sherri. Her dad is Hank L/N” Charlie says proudly as he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“Oh! You’re the famous Y/N” Sherri asks as you nod, “Well it’s nice to meet you darling. I’ve heard tons about you over the years from your dad, Charlie here and your uncle Dave. You’re the photographer right?”

“Yeah that’s me.” you say smiling.

“Well darlin’ it’s nice to meet you. Let me fix you something special,” Sherri said smiling as she grabbed two or three liquor bottles from behind the bar.

“So what brings you here ?” Sherri asked

“She’s here to see Corroded Coffin. Says she’s friends with Eddie Munson.” Charlie says.

“Oh you’re friends with the Munson boy? Good. I know he has a tough time with those so I’m glad to see someone support them,” Sherri says, juicing a lime into the drink.

“Yeah Eddie isn’t what everyone says he is and I think that’s why we’re friends” you say smiling.

“Well good he’s a good kid.” Sherri said, putting the drink in front of you.

“Thank you” you say handing over a 5 dollar bill.

“So how’s Meg holding up? Haven’t seen her in a spell.” Sherri asked, taking the money and getting your change. You put the remaining singles in her tip jar.

“She’s hanging in there. Been throwing herself into work and still finding time to micromanage my social life,” you say, taking a drink of your cocktail. It tasted like oranges and peaches with a little kick and it was delicious.

“Oh yeah that sounds like Meg. You’re a senior this year?” Sherri asked as you nodded. “No way. I remember when Dave used to bring you in here for Shirley Temples and some pool on Sundays. You were 12?”

“Something like that.” you say smiling at the memory. Uncle Dave was the only man who you could implicitly trust who hasn’t let you down. You were always close with your uncle because he would have the coolest music and was down to do whatever you wanted to do: go see whatever movie was cool at the time, roller blading, numerous hours at the arcade playing skee ball, going shopping, getting ice cream, going on a drive and just listening to music. You started working at his record store at age 14, helping restock albums and do inventory but now you can run the store by yourself and just get to hang out with your favorite person.

“Well sweetie I’m proud of you and the woman you’ve become.” Sherri said, grabbing your hand in hers and squeezing.

“Thank you Sherri. I really appreciate that.” you say, squeezing back.

“Of course honey,” Sherri said smiling as she removed her hand and got back to work. You sat there for a few minutes sipping your cocktail just watching people. It had been years since you had been to the Hideout but you had never been during the night time so it felt like more of an adult experience. Somehow it felt like you had never left. Absolutely nothing had changed, like it was stuck in time.

Before you realized it, you started to hear some loud noises coming from the stage. You looked over and saw four familiar men on the stage setting up. You watched as they set up, talking the entire time. They would occasionally shove each other or flip one the bird. It was a whole new thing to see Eddie around his friends after you’ve spent so much time with each other. He was more warm, more charismatic (if that was possible), more in his element. He was almost beaming. You kept watching as he and the rest of the guy tuned up and mic checked. You were already sucked in and you didn’t care. It took a few more minutes (and finishing your drink) before you heard a powerful guitar chord play out.

“What’s going on Hideout!” a familiar voice yelled into the mic. You smiled looking up to see Eddie in front of the mic in tight blue jeans, black boots and a black tee shirt under his denim vest. The patrons cheered and clapped.

“We are Corroded Coffin and we’re gonna play you guys some battle cries if you don’t mind.” He smiled before going to Gareth and whispered something before the first song started up. You sat there and listened deeply to each song. The songs were fast and loud but the lyrics were deep: about being an outsider in a cookie-cutter city, about “dancing with the devil” “taking a trip on the dark side”, about the shitty demons they dealt with, about the dire need to escape this small town. Your favorite was about being alone without being lonely. You were out of your bar seat at this point dancing by the bar since you were too shy to get any closer. You were headhanging along at a certain point. When they started their last song, you knew it immediately. So this was the cover Eddie was so excited about last weekend: He was covering Metallica’s Seek and Destroy. You had heard this song a few weeks back during one of your smoke sessions.

If Eddie Munson was already at a 10 on stage playing his own songs; he went to a 15 when playing Metallica. Hair going everywhere despite being slightly soaked from the heat of the lights and playing his heart out. He looked like a true rockstar. You found yourself moving and grooving to every second, eyes fixed on Eddie, not wanting to miss a second.

“Our brains are on fire with the feeling to kill And it will not go away until our dreams are fulfilled

There is only one thing on our minds: Don't try running away 'cause you're the one we will find. Running, on our way, hiding You will pay dying One thousand deaths Running, on our way, hiding You will pay dying One thousand deaths

Searching

Seek and destroy

Searching

Seek and destroy

Searching

Seek and destroy

Searching

Seek and destroy”

When the last chord was struck, the bar patrons yelled and clapped loudly.

“Thank you! We are Corroded Coffin. Good night Hawkins!” the bar continued to applaud as they put their instruments down. You waited a moment to let them catch their breath. You wanted to go up and say so many things but felt like your body was Jello. It was like you forgot how to walk and it was all Eddie. You breathed out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you turned to Sherri.

“Can I have a shot of tequila please?” you ask

“Oh? Need a little liquid courage Y/N?” Sherri asked, grabbing the bottle and two shot glasses.

“Oh yeah, please and thank you,” you sigh, putting a few singles on the bar.

“You’re gonna be fine love. Just go up and say hi, tell him what you thought of the show,” Sherri encouraged sweetly, passing you a lime on a napkin and a salt shaker. You licked the spot between your thumb and pointer finger, pouring some salt there. You clink glasses, lick the salt and shoot your shot. It burned like a motherfucker but the lime helped ease the burn.

“Wish me luck,” you say, getting up and starting your walk to the stage. You get close and smile, seeing them all amped up on adrenaline and playfully shoving each other. Boys… you think to yourself as you stand by the stage for a moment not wanting to interrupt.

“Hey stranger” you say coyly, as they all stop and turn to see you standing there. Eddie’s eyes light up the second he sees you there. He just couldn’t believe that you were actually there. You really showed up and kept your word, a rarity in the world of Eddie Munson. He took in your look and almost had a heart attack. You looked like you fit right into his world perfectly.

“Holy shit you’re here. What did you think?” Eddie asked as the shock wore off, hopping off the stage to get down to your level, overwhelmed with the urge to hug you.

“It was amazing. You guys really did great. I was constantly moving throughout the set either dancing or headbanging. And you,” you say shoving his shoulder “you fucking killed it up there during your Metallica cover.”

“Oh thank you fair maiden.” Eddie said bowing a bit before turning to his bandmates. “Boys this is Y/N. Y/N this is Gareth:” pointing to the shorter curled one “Jeff” to the tallest one “and Grant” the remaining member with jet black hair and shocked expression on his face.

“Hi. It’s so nice to meet you all. I’ve heard a lot about you,” you say waving with a smile.

“Nice to meet you too Y//N” Grant said

“So you’re the infamous Y/N” Gareth said, looking between you and Eddie.

“Infamous? I don’t know about all that” you say waving it off.

“Yeah the infamous Y/N that Eddie won’t shut up about how cool you are or how you listen to metal, you take photos and that you’re really pre–”

“Okay thank you Gareth!” Eddie cut him off. You giggled at the interaction.

“So how about a drink boys?” you offer. They all agree, making their way off the stage. You walked up to the bar, Eddie not far behind you while you waited for the other members to join. Sherri was pouring for another customer so you had to wait.

“I’m really really happy that you showed up Y/N” Eddie said in your ear, hand on your back as you face the bar. You turn towards him, seeing his brown eyes fixed on you.

“I’m really happy I showed up too Eddie. It’s amazing to see you in your element with the people who make you happiest.” you say back.

“Hey kids. Great show tonight Eddie,” Sherri complimented when she got back to you.

“Thanks Sherri” Eddie said, smiling at the comment.

“Can I buy a round for the band? Same as last time” You ask, pulling out a 10.

“Sure sweetie.” Sherri said getting 5 shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

“So honestly: what did you think of Seek and Destroy?” Eddie asked, still standing on your left as the band filled in beside you with Gareth on your right, Grant behind him and Jeff behind you.

“It was perfect honestly. I could tell you guys worked your asses off on it and it paid off.” you praise.

“You boys are getting better” Sherri agreed, putting the lime slices on the bar next to the shots. You slide the 10 to her with a wink. You dispense the shots, licking the same spot on your hand as earlier, pouring salt into the spot and grabbing your lie before turning to face them.

“To the one step closer to the Garden” Gareth said, raising his glass.

“To fight another day” Grant said, doing the same.

“To the best friends I’ve ever had”” Jeff said

“To Corroded Coffin’s success” you say, putting your glass in, looking at Eddie, who was smiling.

“To a great night with the greatest people” Eddie finished, clinking glasses as everyone shot their drink down, some immediately grabbing a lime to sooth the burn while Grant let out a holler.

“Alright, with that, we’re gonna go since Gareth is still on curfew from last time we stayed out too late,” Jeff teased, elbowing Gareth in the ribs.

“No way man, that was definitely your fault for making it sound like a war zone when I specifically said to be quiet and stealthy.” Gareth defended.

“Anyway it was really nice to meet you Y/N and thanks for coming out.” Jeff said, shaking your hand.

“Yeah and thanks for the shot!” Grant said laughing.

“You’re welcome! And it was really nice to meet you all as well.” you say.

“Catch you tomorrow Eddie!” they yell as they started to walk towards the back entrance.

“You really liked the show?” Eddie asked, pulling out a bar stool for you, which you accept.

“Yes it was amazing Eddie. You’re a great songwriter and my favorite was your song about the concept of being alone without the feeling of loneliness. It’s something not a lot of people can understand; let alone put it into song,” you say. Eddie’s heart swelled hearing you talk about his music with such tenderness and care.

“I just can’t believe you’re here. Like you actually showed up and you look hot by the way,” Eddie complimented. Your cheeks flared up more than normal and you smiled.

“Not so bad yourself Munson. You should wear those jeans more often” you note, the tequila taking over your brain to mouth control. Oh my god what am I even saying?

“I’ll do that just for you Princess.” he said, putting his hand back on the small of your back. Your heart beats faster at the notion and the new nickname.

“Are you really that surprised I showed up? I did promise you I’d show up and I’m not one to break promises Edward.” you say using his legal name.

“Yeah I tend to forget that people are able to keep them considering my track record with them” Eddie said, heading elsewhere for a moment in his head.

“Let’s go outside. I think you could use some fresh air,” you state, getting up after a moment of silence.

“Yeah that sounds great.” Eddie said following you as you scooted your chair in, grabbed your purse and started towards the door. You saw Sherri shoot you a double thumbs up on your way out. You smile and blush at the gesture. You go out the doors and see Charlie talking to one of the regulars in the same spot you were in earlier. You pulled out a cigarette, putting it perfectly between your red lips before digging for your lighter. Before you can find it, you hear Eddie flick his lighter. You look up and smirk, leaning in for him to light it for you. You inhale and exhale, taking in the moment. You take a drag before offering it to Eddie, who happily accepts. You stare up at the full moon and think about all those legends you used to hear as a kid: it was made of stinky cheese, it had aliens, it was ruled by a goddess. That was your favorite variation: you imagined a beautiful, free goddess who relished in her powerful rock.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Eddie asked, seeing you deep in thought. You didn’t know how long you had been standing there but it felt amazing to be in the moonlight.

“The moon. It looks amazing tonight and the moon rays feel so calming. Like I just wanna dance in them ya know?” you say, taking the cigarette before going to a part that was drenched in the moonlight and start twirling to whatever song what in your head. Eddie watched you spin and twirl and dance like you were being freed by the moon. He was seeing you in a whole new light without you holding up any barriers or shutting down a topic. Your flannel spun out like a red and black skirt around you with each turn. The smoke from the cigarette made a gray aura around you and you looked like a dark ethereal witch and he was under your spell. A few minutes passed before you rejoined him, your walk much more clumsy and irregular as you stopped in front of him, stamping out your now dead cigarette.

“How much did you drink?” Eddie asked, seeing you sway a bit even standing. You giggle at the question, feeling a lot more drunk after your performance.

“Three.” you say, a slight slur developing as you lifted three fingers to show. It took a lot of strength for Eddie not to laugh at your answer.

“That’s not what I asked but thank you for counting. Is that 3 shots? 3 mixed drinks?” Eddie said with a laugh before his voice got serious.

“Two shots and a Sex on the Beach,” you announce proudly.

“Yeah that checks out. Come on let’s go to my van before we really start attracting a show” Eddie says, putting his hand on your back again, this time tighter to steady you.

“Okay. BYE CHARLIE I LOVE YOU” you holler in Eddie’s ear as you frantically wave to the door man, who chuckled and waved back yelling “Bye kiddo! Take good care of my girl Munson!”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Eddie groaned under his breath.

“Say what?” you ask him, looking at him innocently.

“To take care of you,” he says, “Not that I wouldn’t but it feels like everywhere I go with you, I’ve got someone in my ear saying that. First Harrington last week, now the door guy…”

“Whoa…whoa…what did Steve say?” you say interested.

“He said you’re fragile and you got hurt by some shithead last year. He asked me if you were another notch on my bedpost and how it’s his job to protect you. You’re not by the way. You’re something else entirely. I know I don’t want you hurt in any sense of the word and I will do everything in my power to not hurt you.” Eddie vowed. You almost wanted to cry. Steve told him about your breakup, not exact details but he told Eddie you went through something and you were pissed he was taking such a prehistoric He Man She Woman mentality to it. You needed to know more.

“What else was said Eds? When did this happen?” you ask, using a calm tone.

“Family Video. He said he thinks of you like a little sister and asked what my intentions were. That’s all” Eddie said. You wanted to facepalm. No wonder Eddie was acting differently. Because of everything after that Steve conversation.

“I dated Steve’s friend Rob from the basketball team. We were steady for a year, he was my first…everything. I mean he looked like everything I could want but the issue is I wasn’t: Misty Norwood was. I found out at last year’s Halloween party when I caught them in a shack together out back. I broke it off then as well as his hand, almost broke my hand too had it not been for Steve. He found me by the bonfire because he and Nancy got into the fight. We became friends that night,” you recall, thinking back to that weird night.

“You said you were by the bonfire that night. Were you a witch by chance?” Eddie asks, letting go of you to open the back of his van and getting in, blankets already on the floor that weren't covered by his instruments or an amp.

“Yeah I was. How did you–”

“I was the vampire on the other side of the fire.” Eddie said, grabbing his baggie of weed. Holy shit. It was him. It was him who checked your hand that night after you hit Rob in the nose. It was him who had given you a free joint to unwind from all the trauma.

“How long did you know that was me?” you ask, taken aback.

“Tonight. It was the fishnet tights with the moon tattoo” Eddie pointing to the crescent moon on your ankle. You nod smiling.

“Well I guess I should thank you for that night now that I know who the knight in shining leather is.” you say getting in the van and closing the door behind you, finding a seat in front of one of the amps.

“It’s really nothing, Princess. He should just be glad you got him before I did because no man should ever make a pretty girl feel worthless or like garbage. You are awesome and I’m glad to be your friend,” Eddie said proudly as he ground up some weed between his fingers.

“I feel the same way about you Eds, especially the pretty girl part”” you say laughing at the end as he made a face.

“Hey!” he said, looking for something soft to throw at you.

“No no don’t do it!” you say laughing as you cower up.

“Okay fine but it’s just because I have precious goods in my lap.” he said getting back on task. The sounds of cicadas filled the air, the occasional croak of a frog would sound off as well in the symphony of cricket chirps. You heard the flick of his lighter again and looked over at him, smiling. He was really so perfect and you knew any girl who would actually swoop him up would be treated properly but you hoped they would understand him and all his weird hobbies and interests. He handed you the joint and leaned up to the driver’s side, putting the key in and turning it where the music started playing, light Metallica playing in the background. You were beginning to long for those moments with Eddie: listening to metal, sharing a joint while being close to him. It was like the only moments of peace you would get throughout the week. You passed the joint back and forth for a while, talking about your paper for O’Donnell’s class before you looked down and realized the time was 12:47. Shit you had been here for like two hours in the van.

“Do you wanna smoke another?” Eddie offered

“Yes but no. I’ve gotta start heading home before too much later. We do have school tomorrow morning,” you say.

“Oh yes, our daily prison sentence you mean. I’ll drive you,” Eddie says, putting everything away.

“Very funny Eddie. I have to have my car so I’ll see you tomorrow,” you try but Eddie catches your wrist.

“Uh no. I don’t think so. A. You had 3 drinks and can’t walk a straight line to save your line right now. B. IF you get pulled over, you’re fucked because Powell and Callahan are in charge now since Hopper is dead.” Eddie says.

“Okay fine but how am I getting to school tomorrow morning? My mom will lose it if I tell her I left my car at the Hideout.” you ramble.

“I’ll come pick you up in the morning. We can get breakfast, go to school like normal and then I’ll take you to your car like nothing happened” Eddie said plainly. You thought about it for a minute and then nodded.

“But you have to tell Charlie because I know he’ll take care of my car.” you say handing him the keys. Eddie takes them and tells you to get in the front seat before he disappears out the back van door. You climb up to the passenger seat and note his leather jacket in the seat and put it on to warm yourself up while you play with the radio for a few minutes before settling on a rock station playing Sunshine of Your Love by Cream. You start playing air guitar and singing along, getting into it as Eddie opens the door, looking at you jamming out to a classic rock song in HIS jacket he noted. He got in the car and joined in, starting the car and backing out as the song ended and turned to another song.

“So how do you take your coffee? You know for the morning so I can have it ready and shit?”

“Cream; two sugars.” you say smiling, “Has anyone ever told you you’re really pretty?”he cackled at your statement.

“You’re drunk Y/N”

“Yes but I’m also being serious. You’re pretty with your curls, your nice jaw and bone structure, your nice brown eyes, your interesting way of going about things. You’re pretty,” you concluded. Before Eddie could respond, you turned up the radio at the sound of KISS’ opening intro and immediately whistled along. Eddie had heard the song before but was now interested in the Y/N cover.

“Tonight, I want to give it all to you In the darkness, there's so much I want to do And tonight, I want to lay it at your feet 'Cause girl, I was made for you And girl, you were made for me”

He was familiar with the song but was drawn into your voice and your dancing. He felt like you were singing to you and ONLY him.

“I was made for lovin' you, baby; You were made for lovin' me And I can't get enough of you, baby Can you get enough of me?”

It took everything in Eddie not to pull over and kiss you. You were fucking perfect in this moment: singing along to rock ballads while playing the air guitar. He almost had to wonder if you really were made for loving him.

“Tonight, I want to see it in your eyes. Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild. Tonight, we're gonna make it all come true 'Cause girl, you were made for me And girl, I was made for you.”

At this point, Eddie was bewitched by you. You were in your own world singing along to your song and dancing in your seat, hair going everywhere as you moved your head singing along so on the last few choruses, Eddie joined in harmonizing with you.

By the time the song ended, Eddie knew he had a thing for his new best friend: that she was made for loving him and he was made for loving her. The song turned to a Led Zeppelin song that you sang for the rest of the car ride to your house. He pulled up slowly to make sure not to wake the neighbors.

“We have arrived at your castle Princess.” Eddie said, putting the car in park.

“Thanks again for tonight Eddie. I really did have a blast tonight seeing you and meeting your friends,” you say smiling.

“You’re welcome, I’m so glad you came out and had a great time. I’ll be here at 7:30 okay?” Eddie asked as you dug for your key.

“Okay 7:30” you repeat, opening the car door.

“I’m honking my horn and coming in if you’re not ready” he warns

“Yeah okay sure Eds. Good night,” you say as you close the door and walk/stumble up to the door,, get your key in and unlock it, turning to see Eddie waiting on you and waving him goodbye as you close and lock the door. You pet Norm and let him out to the backyard to pee while you take off your boots and flannel. You notice you still have Eddie’s leather jacket and it smells just like him (cigarettes, weed, whatever cologne he uses). You let Norm in a few minutes later and you both head up to bed, turning off the lights as you go. You change out of your concert outfit into a soft shirt and shorts before wiping off your makeup. Once done, you finally lay down and smile to yourself, thinking about how Eddie called you princess, said nothing about you in his jacket and how you would be arriving at school together in front of everyone.

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