#this chapter is gonna be over 10k words.

[wacky-nameless-inventor-24]

WIP Wednesday #16

Can't You Tell stuff lets goooo

“I’m sorry,” he whispered through the tears, his voice high-pitched and shaky. 

Fenton’s hand was on his knee. “No, no you don’t have to apologize for this-” 

Gyro cut him off. “No. I’m sorry Fenton, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for- for everything.” 

“Gyro…” 

It was all spilling out, and it was all Gyro could do to make it even comprehensible. He still had his face buried in his hands, still had tears running down his face. “I’m sorry for treating you horribly this morning, I’m sorry for storming off last night, I’m sorry for blaming you for all of this.” He had to get this all off his chest, at least. “I’m sorry for yelling at you and for always overreacting and that I was so awful to you about sharing a room and that I always end up hurting you and I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” 

There was silence throughout the room, occasionally broken by Gyro’s soft hiccuping sobs. At last, the inventor heard Fenton sigh. 

“You don’t have to apologize for this,” he repeated quietly. “And I forgive you. For all of it. It hurt- but I understand where you were coming from. I know that this has been a lot for you.” 

“I still- I still shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Gyro swallowed, wiping his face so he could finally look up at Fenton. “I’m sorry for that.” 

“I forgive you,” Fenton smiled at him. 

The inventor blinked, both in surprise and to clear the tears from his eyes. “Why?”

[edwinisms]

literally I have not written this much in the span of a couple weeks since like. mid high school. so around 7-8 years ago. what has this show done to me

[everything-is-as-it-was]

1621 words today!! that's the most I've done in one day since like 2 weeks :) hoping to get back to 1500 consistently again but baby steps i suppose

[gentil-minou]

Gosh I need to edit this more before I actually start posting but I'm just so excited so here's a preview of my wangxian OUAT au, featuring wwx as emma, lwj as regina, and ayuan as henry (though are veering far away from both canon in both cases so no need to be familiar with the show to enjoy)

----

The doorbell rings.

He blinks once, then twice. Wei Wuxian isn’t normally one to get visitors, especially at this time of night. He tries to remember if there’s a no-candle policy in his lease his landlord might nag him about when the doorbell rings again.

He scrambles to his feet and stumbles to the door, already preparing an apology for something he probably didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to do and another apology in case he did know. He opens the door and sees….nothing.

Until he hears a quiet cough and looks down to see a little boy.

At first, he thinks maybe he’s a trick-or-treater who got a bit lost, but Wei Wuxian’s building is secured with a key and callbox entry. Plus, although he’s been wandering streets alone since forever, he’s pretty sure a kid this young would have a chaperone with him. He looks behind the kid and doesn’t see anyone else there.

But instead of asking something sensible like where his chaperone may be or even if the kid’s lost, he blurts, “How did you get in?”

The boy tilts his head and replies, “The front door. It wasn’t locked, I just walked in.”

So much for secured entry. But that doesn’t really answer why there is a human child at his door at nearly midnight. There’s definitely a law somewhere that says that’s illegal, probably.

The kid, who can’t be more than ten years old and really should have learned about stranger danger by now, beams up at him, as if technical breaking and entering is something to be proud of. Which, okay, maybe Wei Wuxian is kind of impressed by that.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” the boy asks, his smile so sweet and unassuming that before Wei Wuxian even realizes it, he’s turned to the side and let the boy in.

The kid is wearing a blue puffy coat and carrying a white backpack that has homemade floppy ears made of felt that make it look like a bunny. They bounce up and down as the boy walks inside and slips his shoes off. Wei Wuxian very maturely resists the urge to tug on those floppy bunny ears, though only just.

Shoes off, his socks patterned with fluffy white clouds, the boy turns back around to look up at Wei Wuxian. His entire face beams up at him as if he were a sunflower facing the sun, which wow what an ego-boost. He’s got dimples, little baby dimples that are very cute and look very pinchable but that doesn’t matter because there is a baby in his house! And okay he’s at least ten years old but regardless why is there a whole entire child in his apartment? What is one supposed to do when some random kid shows up at their doorstep and invites themselves in?

“Oh shit uh, wait not shit,” Wei Wuxian stammers. “Shit, sorry. Um. A drink, you want a drink?”

Ask the random child if they want something to drink, apparently. Perfect.

The kid nods, still giving him that doe-eyed look. Wei Wuxian doesn’t have much by way of child-friendly beverage options, but he wasn’t exactly expecting something like this tonight. He settles on milk that looks like it hasn't gone too bad yet. Besides, expired milk builds immunity and character in children, that's how it works, right? He pours a glass for the kid, making sure to give him the cleanest one even though there’s a tiny crack on the surface.

He guides the kid over to the coffee table and hands him the milk. The kid takes the glass and sinks onto the deflated beanbag while Wei Wuxian perches on the edge of the couch. He grabs a can of beer from the six-pack still on the floor beside the table and takes a sip. Wait, is that allowed? Can he drink alcohol in front of children?

The kid doesn’t seem to care. He takes a tentative sip of his milk and makes a very polite face that fails to mask his disgust, before putting the glass down on the table next to the forgotten cupcake. Fair, it’s nice to see him asserting boundaries and all that.

"Okay," Wei Wuxian says, amused despite the situation. "Who are you and why are you in my house at—" he checks his phone for the time"—five minutes to midnight on a Friday night?"

The kid doesn't answer right away. His eyes are still focused on the cupcake, but in a way he probably thinks is sneaky. Wei Wuxian tilts his head to get a better look and sure enough, there’s a furrow between his eyebrows like the kid is trying really hard to ask a difficult question. After a minute, it becomes clear he hasn’t worked out a nice enough way to ask, but it’s a good thing Wei Wuxian knows enough about being a hungry child to recognize one.

He nudges the cupcake over to him and says, "Help yourself." Immediately, the kid grabs the cupcake with all the care in the world, like it’s a priceless artifact and promptly devours it. Wei Wuxian can’t help but smile as he eats. Suddenly the cheap cupcake feels like an excellent choice.

When the kid finishes licking the last bits of frosting and crumbs off his fingers, he sits politely with his hands in his lap and looks longingly toward the kitchen. He’s still too nice to ask forthright, but Wei Wuxian knows better and he isn't a monster.

Wei Wuxian gets up and opens one of the cabinets to look for something that’s probably child-appropriate, pulling out a bag of his least spicy chips. Chips are made of potatoes which are vegetables which means it’s probably not that bad for kids. Either way, the kid takes the bag gratefully and eats the chips with relish, even though they’re definitely way too spicy for someone his age.

“Alright, alright. You’ve been fed. Now tell me, who are you?” he asks again, though he can’t stop the tiniest bit of fondness from creeping into his tone. It’s just that everything this kid does is so cute! He can’t help himself!

The kid stops eating and tries to speak, but what comes out instead are the quietest little coughs Wei Wuxian’s ever heard. He’s been eating these spicy snacks and slowly turning as red as they are, but he’s so polite he hasn’t said a thing about them.

All at once, Wei Wuxian realizes he likes this kid, despite knowing practically nothing about him. It’s strange. He hates the kids the customers at his job will bring sometimes, especially when their parents just let them loose like it's a daycare and not a coffee shop. Wei Wuxian isn’t mean or anything, it’s just that wrangling kids is way above his pay grade. He didn’t even get along with other kids when he was a kid. All the other foster kids stood clear of him pretty much as soon as the social worker told his foster parents he was known for being “emotionally dysregulated” and labeling him a problem child.

But this kid is different from all the others, even though Wei Wuxian can’t quite put his finger on what’s so special about him. He seems like the kind of kid who would politely ask for steamed oat milk and say thank you, then ask his parents to let him give Wei Wuxian the tip. When he finishes, he’d probably throw his trash out without anyone asking and call goodbye to him one last time before he leaves. Even just imagining it makes Wei Wuxian feel wistful for something he’s never really wanted before.

It doesn’t help that this kid’s got what must be the fluffiest hair he's ever seen, and those dimples! It takes all of Wei Wuxian’s self-control to keep himself from pinching those chubby cheeks.

He doesn’t quite succeed and leans forward anyway to ruffle the kid's hair. "Ask for water, you silly,” he says, already standing and heading back to the kitchen.

When he hands him the glass, the kid just looks up at Wei Wuxian with his big, bright brown eyes filled with wonder. He’s looking at Wei Wuxian like he has the answer to everything. Wei Wuxian doesn't, but it's nice to feel like someone thinks he knows what he's doing.

The kid drinks half the glass before clearing his throat and finally answering Wei Wuxian’s question. “I’m Sizhui, but you can call me A-Yuan. Or even Little Radish, if you want! You called me that before.” He says it all in one breath, practically vibrating with energy by the end.

Wei Wuxian pauses in the middle of taking a sip of his beer. He’s not sure why he would ever call anyone a radish, and he’s pretty sure he’s never met this kid before. Does A-Yuan have mistaken him for someone else? Could this kid have some weird memory loss, except one where he gains fake memories instead of losing them? It’s definitely not the strangest thing about this whole situation.

Like all problems Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how to deal with, he decides to ignore that for now and asks, “Okay, A-Yuan then, why are you here?”

“Because,” A-Yuan starts, leaning forward and looking at Wei Wuxian with all the seriousness someone pre-puberty could possibly possess. “I need your help.”

“…Okay…” Wei Wuxian replies. The world must truly be fucked if someone is coming to him for help. He hasn’t had a vegetable in a week, unless pizza actually does count. “What do you need help with?”

He’s expecting the kid to say something normal like “my homework” or “getting to the train station”, you know, normal things a kid would ask a stranger to help him with.

He’s not expecting A-Yuan to respond gravely, “To save the world and everyone we love.”

Wei Wuxian blinks, speechless. A-Yuan doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to speak as he lifts his backpack onto his lap and rummages through its contents. “My family’s in trouble, our family. Everyone we know is, and you’re the only one who can fix it. Look here, see, I’ve got this book, it’s all written here. There’s a curse that’s affecting everyone and we need to break it.”

He plops the book down on the coffee table. It’s not at all what Wei Wuxian expects. It’s hand-bound, with a simple red fabric cover that’s blank except for the title that’s written in Chinese calligraphy. It’s written entirely in Chinese, in fact, completely by hand with the same impeccable calligraphy. Inside are what appear to be a bunch of stories or folktales. There are beautiful gongbi illustrations on every other page, inked in bright colors with an incredible level of detail.

Wei Wuxian can’t help but be impressed. The book is something he would expect to see at a museum or in a period drama, not on his coffee table with its chipped surface and water stains.  

A-Yuan flips to a picture of a man with long hair dressed in black and red robes. He’s playing a flute as shadows dance and twist around his frame. Then tendrils lift high into the sky and block out the sun. He’s standing on a pile of human bones, to really sell the whole villain energy this guy’s got.

A-Yuan points at the guy. “That’s you, you see?”

Wei Wuxian does not see, he’s pretty sure he would have noticed if his body was covered in shadows. Also, he would need way more conditioner for that length of hair.

The kid continues, interpreting Wei Wuxian’s stunned silence as something else entirely. “You’re the only one who can help them, who can save us all.” A-Yuan thrusts the scroll out to Wei Wuxian, who’s too floored to do much more than take it from him. “So, I’m here to bring you back.”

Wei Wuxian has to admit, the guy in the picture does look pretty badass. But it’s still just a drawing, and there’s little to suggest this looks anything like him at all.

He glances up. A-Yuan smile is so bright and excited that Wei Wuxian wishes he could feel his excitement too. The guy in the picture does look super cool, like someone he’d want to dress up as when he was A-Yuan’s age.

But all he feels is concern and confusion. Before, he was actually starting to enjoy spending time with this kid, but something is wrong, though it’s not what A-Yuan thinks. There’s a random kid in his apartment late at night, making up stories. And whether he likes it or not, Wei Wuxian is the adult here. He has to remember that.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he says, and the smile slowly drops from A-Yuan’s face and Wei Wuxian feels like the absolute worst person on the planet for doing that to him. “But I don’t know what this is, or who you are. I want to help, you’ve just gotta give me some actual answers. Where are your parents? Do they know where you are?”

A-Yuan looks down and mumbles, “I was so sure you’d remember if you saw this, if you held it.” He tightens the hands on his knees into fists and looks up at him with a startling conviction. “But that doesn’t matter. I know it, I know who you are. You’re Wei Wuxian. This is you. And you’re the only person who can save us.”

Wei Wuxian rubs his temples and contemplates chugging the remainder of his beer. He holds it in his hand, wishing he’d gotten another pack. “Look, I don’t know how you know my name, maybe you saw it on some mail outside or something, but—"

"You're my dad!” A-Yuan hastily interrupts. “That’s why, that’s how I know!"

Wei Wuxian drops the can. There's a splash of something spilling all over the carpet and he should probably make sure it’s not too bad. He's too busy trying to figure out how he could have a ten-year-old at twenty-five when he was definitely still a virgin at fifteen.

The initial shock slips away, leaving him only more confused. He raises an eyebrow at A-Yuan, willing him to explain.

"Not my real dad," A-Yuan says, rolling his eyes like somehow Wei Wuxian is the one claiming something impossible. "But you're my dad in every way that counts."

Wei Wuxian wishes he hadn't dropped his drink. He'd really like to take a sip of it now. And several more, maybe the rest of the cans, too.

This day needs to end. He should have stayed home and drank his way to oblivion, so he’d have been too far gone to answer the door in the first place.

TBC

[nerevarswritingstuff]

Me @ myself: You will not write past 8k words this chapter do you fucking understand me--

Also me @ myself: What I can't hear you

[quaranmine]

.....i think im gonna have to rewrite part of chapter 11

[quil12]

I just wanted to post on my tumblr too that I updated this fic - it's the first part of a two part finale and my plan is to have that second part up on the 29th (a week after today), so, if you're interested at all in souyo childhood best friends AU, now's a good time to read it!

[thompsborn]

me: *hits 2k words on homeward bound chp 16*

me: omg so much progress! i only have—

me: *checks my chapter word count goal and sees that it’s set at 10.5k words*

me, eye twitching: 8.5k more words. easy. no worries.

[universalsatan]

who cares if there’s a midterm for it next week. what if i wrote twin peaks gay fanfiction during my 400 level biochem lecture tomorrow morning

[orcelito]

OK. Can't report any more progress made on the chapter bc I got caught up reading a fic lmaoooooo

Oh well. There's always tomorrow.

[br1ghtestlight]

incredible that ive already written 15k words for a fanfiction nobody will ever read and that i might not even post anywhere. and im only 4 chapters in

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter fifteen ⭐︎ I thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, a lot of fluff, alcohol consumption, clingy!reader, drunk!reader

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve gets to know a side of you, you have never shown him before, and he takes the final step towards realization.

Word count: 10k+

Author’s note: SO @hellfire--cult and I have been waiting for this chapter (and especially for the next one). I'm so happy that we're finally here, and as always I'm giving a special shoutout to my lovely Roe, who not only helped with ideas but also wrote the whole last paragraph, the drive home and all the fluff at Steve's house. Give her all the love she deserves ♡ ilysm roe thank youuuu

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Red, white and blue colors flash before your eyes, everywhere you look as you walk through the grocery store with Max. You can’t even bear to look at the holiday themed snacks and decorations on the shelves. All week, people have been preparing for a holiday, you used to love, now it’s nothing but a reminder of what you lost – of what Max lost. 

You avoided going to Big Buy’s all week, for this exact reason. 

But now you were the one who offered to go inside, when Eddie was the one who wanted to get the pre-drinks, you don’t even know why you did it, maybe it was to get away from Dustin’s and Lucas’s banter, or maybe you just wanted to prepare yourself for something much bigger. 

The Fun Fair takes place this year, just as it did, last year. And you friends wanted to celebrate the Fourth of July there. You don’t mind, you really don’t, but every place you turn today, reminds you of a dear friend you lost. 

Max walks beside you quietly. She looks around with heavy eyes and tension in her shoulders, she’s fidgeting with the bracelet that Lucas gifted to her, and keeps her eyes on the ground. 

You didn’t say anything yet, not wanting to trigger any more sadness. You’re surprised that she even offered to go inside with you, she could’ve waited and stayed with the guys, but she didn’t. 

“This day sucks.” 

These are the first words she spoke out loud, ever since you stepped inside the store.

“Yeah,” you mumble, quietly, not knowing what to say, because all you can think about is Billy, and how he died on this exact day, one year ago, when you were still so unaware of the dark truth that lied beneath this town, when you thought that it was the fire that killed him and not one of Vecna’s creatures. 

You weren’t even there, but thinking about it makes you sick and angry. You can’t even imagine what Max must’ve felt like that night. Or what she is feeling now. 

When you stop in the drink aisle, you look around for the beer Eddie asked for, but instead your eyes fall on the one brand that Billy always used to buy. Sometimes he’d bring a six pack over and leave some cans in your fridge for some other time, you are pretty sure that there are still two leftover cans hidden behind all the other drinks in your fridge. 

A sigh falls from your lips, “yeah, it does.” 

She glances at you, sadness settling into her features, when she sees the way your eyes fill with grief. 

“Billy would roll his eyes at us, right now,” she mumbles, trying to crack a joke. 

A small chuckle escapes you, and you turn to look at her with a weak smile on your face, “yes, he would.” 

She purses her lips as she looks at the beer, “are you gonna let me drink tonight?” 

You scrunch your nose, and shake your head, “are you crazy?” You scoff, as you step forward and reach for the beers, Eddie asked for, and the ones Billy would have gotten for himself. “How about you turn twenty one first, and then I’ll let you drink.” 

Max laughs at you and rolls her eyes. 

“You’re not even twenty one, and you’re drinking – oh! And buying the beers with a fake ID probably!” 

“Shush,” you wave your hand at her when an employee walks past you, giving you both a weird look. 

“I’m very close to twenty one,” you whisper. 

“You’re not even twenty yet–”

“I’m turning twenty, this year. Now stop arguing with me, and get yourself a coke or something.”

Max groans at you, “fine,” she murmurs as she follows you, “why are you even getting any drinks now when you can buy some at the Fair?”

“I’m pretty sure that Eddie doesn’t want to buy any of those overpriced drinks that taste like absolute shit.” 

She snorts, “he shouldn’t even be drinking, he’s driving.” 

“Don’t worry, he’ll walk you all home if he gets drunk.” 

Her jaw drops, and annoyance flashes in her eyes, “are you serious–”

You laugh at the look on her face, shaking your head at her, “I’m just kidding, when does Eddie ever get drunk?” You chuckle, “he’ll have one beer tops, no more, he’ll sober up till then, and if not then uh… Steve will drive you home.”

“Okay,” she sighs, as the momentarily amusement leaves her face again, and the sadness begins to sink back in, making you much more aware of your own. 

“Hey, Max?” 

She turns back to you, and raises her eyebrows in question. 

“If you feel overwhelmed at some point, you can find me and we can leave, at any time, okay?” 

She smiles a little and nods her head. 

“Okay,” she whispers, “same goes for you, if you want to leave, I’ll go with you.” 

“Okay,” you smile at her, “now let’s go pay for these and get out of here,” you mumble as you gesture to the beer in your hands. 

You feel relief rushing through you once you are out of the busy store again. The golden evening sun hits your skin, still blessing it with warmth, the air around you smells like summer, like fresh cut grass, hot pavement and honeysuckle. The wind kisses your skin and blows through your hair, it’s warm yet refreshing, it feels nice. 

“Did you buy that for me?” Dustin grins at you, pointing at the beers when you get into the passenger seat. 

Eddie glares at him through the rearview mirror. 

“Very funny, Dusty Bun.”

Lucas laughs at the nickname, nudging his shoulder against Dustin’s, “Dusty Bun,” he cackles, wiggling his brows. 

“Shut up, dude.” 

“You kids are too young to even think about trying beer,” you glare at the three teens in the back, most specifically at Lucas, who’s had some before. 

His smile falls a little, and he clears his throat, “that was one time.”

“Yeah, it better stay that way,” you point at him. 

Max snorts at the glare on your face. 

“Yes, mom.”

Eddie and Dustin chuckle. 

Your jaw drops, and you furrow your brows at the teen who is squished between Max and Dustin. 

“You act like a mom sometimes!” Lucas raises his hands up in surrender, shrugging at you. 

“No, I don’t!” 

“Yeah, you do, you’re mama bear,” Eddie snorts, making Dustin laugh louder. 

“Yeah, you’re not fooling us with your grumpy act.” 

You squint your eyes at the curly head, who is grinning happily at you. 

“Just accept it, Sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, “you’re the mom of the group.”

“No, I only joined this group a few months back, there has to be a different mom–”

“Oh no, we only had single dad Steve,” Lucas giggles, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “but we got a mom and a dad now, so…” 

The smug look on his face, and the teasing in his eyes, isn’t exactly hard to miss. You know exactly what he is going at, what he has been going at for the past few months now. 

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if he somehow knows about your feelings for Steve, if he always knew about them, or if he is simply just teasing and still in the dark about everything. 

You are good at hiding your feelings, you always have been, no one ever found out about your feelings for Steve unless you wanted them to, but if there is someone who you wouldn’t underestimate, then it’s definitely Lucas, he is too smart for his own good, sometimes.

Eddie snorts beside you, mumbling, “mommy and daddy.” 

You elbow him, into his side, earning a groan from him. 

“That wasn’t very nice!” Eddie grumbles as he shoots you a glare, and presses his hand against his stomach. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Edward.” 

He squints his eyes at you. 

“Who is Eddie then?” Dustin asks. 

“He’s the cool uncle,” Lucas shrugs. 

“Damn right, now stop yapping,” Eddie mumbles as he takes a look over his shoulder, “are you ready to throw up Hot Dogs after going on the roller coaster?” 

All three of them groan in disgust, scrunching up their faces, making him laugh. 

You shake your head at him when he starts laughing. 

“You’re such a menace.” 

Eddie only chuckles at you, he starts the car and turns up the music, and he rolls down the windows before he speeds out of the parking lot. 

You embrace the moments of peace before the chaos of the fair hits you, screaming children, crowds of people, and the overwhelming smell of food on every corner are something you are not looking forward to despite the hollowness in your stomach. You couldn’t get anything down the past few days, you nearly threw up this morning when you walked into the diner with Eddie, and the smell of Bacon hit you. 

The wind weaves through your hair as Eddie drives down the main road. 

The sound of music distracts you from your sad thoughts. 

The thought of him, filling your heart with life and your soul with hope.

He grounds you in your worst moments, and he doesn’t even know it.

-

The fairground is alive with music and screaming children, the sound of the roller coasters moving, conversations and laughter from every corner. The dazzling lights are a stark contrast against the dark sky, the smell of food wafts through the air. 

Robin and Vickie are standing next to Steve, giggling about something as they sip on their mixed beers. He is looking around, trying to catch sight of you, but you are nowhere to be found, and he is beginning to worry. 

Max and El had dragged you away for a roller coaster ride, but that was over an hour ago, and he hasn’t seen you ever since. 

Max had warned him before, when she reminded him of what this day means to you, of what happened a year back, of what and who you had lost. 

Steve doesn’t know how you deal with grief, how you feel on these kinds of days, there are too many of them in your life. He doesn’t know how you cope, he wishes that he could be there for you and give you a shoulder to lean on – but you aren’t very good at showing your true feelings or emotions, he only saw a glimpse of the truth that you hide behind those high walls you built around yourself and he doubts that you would come to him for comfort. 

A dreadful feeling is gnawing in his chest the more time passes without you being seen. 

“Hey Dingus, we’re going on the Ferris Wheel,” Robin nudges his shoulder, grinning at him. 

He blinks, tearing his eyes away from the crowds, he nods at his best friend. 

“Sure, have fun.” 

Robin furrows her brows as she takes in the sight of his frown, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he murmurs and plasters a smile on his face, “go and have fun with your girl.” 

She hesitates, her smile becoming weaker now, “you should go find Eddie or Dustin.”

“Yeah, I will, in a second.” 

“Your feet are not glued to the ground are they?” Vickie asks, chuckling. 

“Yeah, you’ve been stuck in this spot for like thirty minutes now!” Robin exclaims as she points her ringed finger at him, eyeing the way he is leaning against the wall with tension in his body. 

Steve chuckles, and brings his hand up to the side of his face, cupping his cheek for a moment, “I’m just looking out for the kids.”

Robin snorts, though she gives him a suspicious look. 

“Ah, but they’re not around,” she says, tilting her head as she gestures to all the strangers that surround the field, instead of the teens. 

“I told them I’d be here if they needed anything,” he shrugs and waves his hand at her, “now go and have your kiss on the top of the Ferris Wheel.” 

Robin slaps his shoulder, her cheeks taking on a deep red color, as Vickie giggles behind her. 

He chuckles at her, wiggling his brows and smirking at his best friend. 

Robin rolls her eyes and turns away from him, she offers her hand out to the redhead, who reaches for it, though with a blush on her cheeks and a shy smile on her lips. 

“See you later, Dingus,” Robin waves at Steve, not giving him the chance to respond before she drags her girl away and pushes through the crowds with her. 

Steve’s eyes follow them until he can no longer see them as they get lost in the midst of the chaos. Laughing children run around, chasing each other, a group of teenage boys carrying drinks they shouldn’t be allowed to buy, two young women walk past him, giggling amongst themselves as they eye him with interest in their eyes, Steve pays no mind to them, not even bothering to spare them a look despite the very obvious glances he is getting, even as they had already passed him. 

His eyes follow a different sight and his ears perk up at the sound of giggles that sound like yours, his lips twitch at the sound and his heart flutters wildly in his chest. 

He pushes himself off the tree he is leaning against and turns to look around. Steve’s hazel eyes soften the moment he finally sees you. 

You are standing in a circle with Eddie and his bandmates who all keep pestering you over something. Eddie leans closer to you and pinches your cheek, while Gareth jumps around you like some hyper puppy, his curls bouncing and his face flickering with amusement when you keep waving your hand at him. 

Steve smiles at the giggle that falls from your lips when Eddie swats your hand away after you ruffle his curls. 

He watches the way your lips move as you stare at him with a smug look on your face, saying something to him that makes him clutch his chest and gasp dramatically. 

Steve shakes his head as the metalhead lunges at you and you squeal in surprise before you turn around and run off with a giggle, bolting into the crowd with Eddie and Gareth hot on your heels, while Jeff and Grant follow the three of you slowly, shaking their heads in amusement.

Surprise lingers inside of him, Steve had never seen you so playful before, he had never witnessed you letting loose and having genuine fun. You are always on guard, always hiding away behind your brooding act that is slowly becoming less and less visible. 

Something has changed, something in your behavior has shifted in the past few weeks. You seem happier, you seem to smile more, you seem to be kinder to the people around you. 

Your walls are still up, but the foundation has begun to crumble, just like his did. 

You let him see a glimpse of something he never thought was even there, he saw your vulnerable side and your soft one, he saw how lovingly you treated your baby niece, he saw how sweet and gentle you could be – he saw the real you and it only made him weaker than ever before. 

There was always a part of him that left him feeling weak whenever he was with you – it wasn’t a bad kind of weak, but it was one that scared him. 

It doesn’t scare him anymore. 

He embraces the weakness now. 

Something, someone crashes into his chest, making him stumble back from the force, when he looks down, he finds you staring up at him, with your arms now wrapped around his waist and a softened look in your eyes as a smile rests on your lips. The dazzling, colorful lights from the rollercoaster and the ferris wheel only brighten the color of your eyes, making him get lost in them so easily. 

He feels your arms around his torso, and your hands on his back, your chest is now pressed against his and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that the look in your eyes is a dreamy one as they look into his. 

The warmth in his chest blooms, the smile on his lips grows bigger, something in his stomach flutters when you stand on your tippy toes and remind him of the height difference between the two of you. 

“Hi Stevie,” you say softly. 

He would be lying if he said, he isn’t caught off guard by the tone in your voice and the look in your eyes, by your arms that are wrapped around him and your body that is pressed against his, so tightly and intimately, despite all the eyes that could see. 

“Hi Blondie,” he smiles as he slowly wraps his arms around you and acts on his feelings, when he brings you closer. 

The smell of your perfume is intoxicating and it does nothing to weaken the fluttering in his stomach. You smell like the cotton candy that you had shared with Max earlier and the beer you probably had been drinking all night, which is surprising, considering how much you despise the bitter taste of beer. 

“I missed you.” 

His eyes widen in surprise, and his eyebrows shoot up, the fluttering in his stomach now growing even stronger than before. 

You woke up in each other's arms this morning, you even sat at the kitchen table and drank your morning coffee together before you left to meet up with Eddie. 

But you missed him. 

You missed him, like he missed you.

Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or maybe not – he hopes not. 

“Yeah?” He whispers. 

You nod, your eyes flicker to his lips, before they move back up, to meet his. 

“I missed you too, Blondie.”

He nearly crumbles when your smile grows even bigger and a blush creeps up on your face, a breathy, small giggle falls from your lips. And then, you surprise him once again, when you bury your face in his chest and hug him tightly. 

His heart rate picks up and his breathing becomes heavy from all the emotions inside of him. 

He certainly never met this side of you before,and he never even knew that you could become much softer than what he had already seen of you. 

Without looking around to make sure that you are away from prying eyes, he wraps his arms tighter around you, and hugs you in a way he wanted to all night. 

Confusion, adoration and happiness floods through him, all at once. 

Here he thought that this day would bring out some darkness in you, that you would hide in a corner and try to drink away your sorrows but instead the alcohol in your system brought something else out in you. 

As Steve holds you in the middle of the fairground and you slide your palm over his chest, resting your hand above the place where his heart beats strongly, he feels himself falling into your embrace, losing all his vision of the people and the things before him, losing all the sounds around him, no longer feeling the ground beneath his feet – all he sees is you, all he hears is the beating of his own heart, all he feels is you, only you. 

And as though, it didn’t hit him hard enough already, you place your chin on his chest and you tilt your head up to look at him, giving him a sweet smile, “kissy?” You ask, puckering your lips. 

He could melt into a puddle, right then and there. 

Despite not wanting to, he lets his eyes roam the space around you, making sure that none of your friends are watching, before he leans in to place a kiss on your lips – one that is way too quick for your liking, the pout that follows your puckered lips makes his heart burst. 

You look at him with literal puppy eyes, glinting with a pleading look. 

He almost doesn’t recognize you – you are not the Blondie that he saw a few hours back, but he is not complaining in the slightest, he really likes this side of you. 

Cupping your cheeks, he rests his large palms against your skin, his fingertips getting lost in your hair as he leans down to kiss you again, smacking his lips against yours, he delivers a loud kiss, one that makes you giggle when he pulls away again and looks down at you with a lazy smile on his face. 

“How much did you drink?” Steve asks, chuckling when you keep staring at him with a big smile. 

“Just a little bit,” you slur, and raise your hand to show him as you furrow your brows and hold your thumb and pointer finger into an L shape, “so much.” 

He laughs as he tucks your hair behind your ears, “alright.”

“I want something else now.” 

“What, more alcohol?” Steve asks, raising his brows. 

You shake your head, scrunching up your nose in a way that makes him smile as he looks at you adoringly.

“No, I think I had too much already.”

“Yeah, I think so too, honey,” he murmurs, the nickname rolling off his tongue easily, almost normal, “you don’t feel sick, do you?” 

“No, just thirsty.” 

“Alright, let’s get you something to drink then,” he says, unable to stop smiling, when you look at him this way. He moves his hands away from your face and he reaches for your hand, sliding his palm against your own, he entwines his fingers with yours, and you welcome his action, happily. 

Steve isn’t drunk, he didn’t have a single sip of alcohol this evening, not a single drag of Argyle’s joint and yet, he feels as though he is under the influence of something strong, his mind is in a haze, that careless and freeing feeling lingers in his chest, happiness and giddiness rushes through him and he feels as though he is floating with you. 

He can’t even find it in himself to care if anyone sees him with you like this – smiling at each other, hugging and kissing one another, holding hands, and acting like a couple. He knows your friends are here, but Steve just doesn’t give a damn – not even when Heidi walks past him with her friends and they all look at you weirdly. 

He hears the hushed whispers, he sees the squinted eyes as they look you up and down and their eyes fall on your entwined fingers. He pays no mind to the way they look at him, but irritation sparks at him when they keep staring at you. He can see the judgment, and the jealousy, it’s so obvious. 

Steve holds back the eyeroll and he grasps your hand tighter as he begins to drag you away from the prying eyes and the whispers of envy. He would rather kiss you and flip them off but he cannot risk this, he can’t risk you two getting caught. Rumors would circulate, words would get twisted and it would only be a matter of time until all your friends would find out. 

And he isn’t ready to get caught, he isn’t ready to lose this, to lose you. 

He glances down at you, seeing the smile that didn’t leave your face just yet. You are unaware to all the eyes on you, to the looks you were given, you are still holding onto his hand as tight as before, stepping closer to him when a group of boys rush past you. 

You turn to him and raise your head to glance at him, shooting him a sweet smile as you squeeze his hand, causing his heart to flutter and his smile to reappear. 

You are so cute like this. 

He pulls you closer and shields you from anyone who brushes past you as you walk through the crowd together, getting lost in the chaotic field, where the music is louder and the people are too. 

Steve looks around, trying to catch sight of the teens or Eddie and his bandmates but he only sees the town people that he couldn’t care less about while you follow him like some lost puppy, clinging to his side and looking up with big eyes, every few seconds or so. 

You both get in line at the drink stall, your hands are still joined, fingers entwined and arms still pressed together. You stumble into him, prompting him to hold you a little tighter. 

“I’m sorry,” you slur as you reach your free hand up to grab his arm. 

“It’s fine,” he chuckles at you, adoring you a little more and more as the seconds pass. 

You are drunk – not tipsy, not slightly drunk, no, you are genuinely and definitely drunk. And as he stands here with you, eying you closely and watching the way you keep looking up at him with your widened pupils and your lazy smiles, he realizes that he had never actually witnessed you being drunk – high and tipsy? Sure. But never drunk. 

“Why’d you drink so much, Blondie?” 

“I didn’t even drink that much,” you shrug, “I’m just not used to drinking that beer.”

Steve raises his brows, knowing how much you despise the taste of regular beer. You only drink it when it’s mixed with something. 

“What kind of beer?” 

You furrow your eyebrows, your eyes flash with confusion, you seemingly can’t remember the name of it. 

You look down and your eyes widen when you find a discarded can on the grass, you point your finger at it, “that one.”

Steve’s eyes follow your gaze and the direction your finger is pointing at, he raises his eyebrows again. 

“You don’t even like beer that much,” he mumbles and turns back to you. 

“Billy did,” you shrug. 

Oh. 

His features relax again and his shoulders slump a little, realization flickers in his eyes. 

You didn’t drink for fun, you were trying to forget about the sadness and the grief that must’ve lingered all day. 

He is surprised that the alcohol didn’t have a negative effect on you. Drinking while feeling sad can worsen those emotions, the alcohol can transform them into a darker sadness or even into anger and despair. 

But you seem fine, happy even. 

If only he knew that he is the reason for it. 

“The fireworks are about to start,” you say, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

He blinks. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods. 

“Do you want to watch them with me?” 

His heart skips a beat at the softness in your voice, at the hopeful look in your eyes and the sweet smile on your lips. 

Of course he does. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, nodding. “I’d love to.”

Your eyes crinkle as you beam at him, stealing his breath away with simple reactions like these. 

Steve is not even sure if anyone had ever looked at him this way, no one has ever even made him feel this way, no one had ever stolen his breath away just from simply looking at him the way you do now. 

You take him by surprise when you stand on your tippy toes and lean closer to him to place a kiss on his cheek, leaving him a blushing mess. 

Your giggle sounds like music to his ears, your touch drives him crazy as you squeeze yourself against him and lay your head on his chest as your arms come around his torso again. 

He could fall to his knees right here, right now. 

Is this the real you? 

Is this the side you’ve been hiding from the world? 

Is this the way you would have always been with him, had you not experienced so much loss and pain? 

Steve wraps his arms around you, unable to hold back from showing and giving you the affection that you are blessing him with in this moment, even when the anxiety of getting caught still lingers. 

He cups your cheeks and leans closer to your ear, “where do you wanna watch the fireworks?” 

“Maybe the woods? Or the big field?” You ask as you look at him with big eyes, “so we can be away from all these annoying people?”

He laughs when you gesture to the loud fairground visitors.

The lights that flicker around you kiss your beautiful face and your skin that he wants to feel on his at any time, your lips that always look so inviting, you look so delicate, so soft, so gorgeous, you look like someone that could ruin his life and right in this moment, he doesn’t even mind it, he would let you. 

It hits him, in this second, it hits him just how bad he’s got it for you. 

Steve Harrington is down bad. 

Down bad to a point in which he almost calls you ‘my girl’ when he is about to order your drink, he catches himself just in time but he can’t hide the blush that creeps up on his face. 

You don’t seem to notice though, you swing your joined hands back and forth and look around with a contentment in your relaxed features. 

He hands you the ice cold pepsi after placing the ten dollar bill on the small desk, telling the teen behind the counter to keep the change. 

“That was nice of you,” you say as you both start walking away from the drink stall and from the crowds.

“What, letting him keep the change?” 

You nod and let go of his hand to open your can. 

“Poor guy has to work on a holiday, he should get a good tip,” Steve shrugs, already missing the feeling of your hand in his, he raises his arm and wraps it around your shoulder instead, pulling you closer against him. 

Your lips twitch at that, a smile forms on your face. 

“Still, that was nice of you, you’re a nice guy,” you giggle. 

“Well, I gotta make up for all the times I wasn’t a nice guy.”

You don’t say anything to that, you can’t. Steve doesn’t even blame you, you witnessed him in his worst moments, you were his target, more than once. 

You shot back at him but your words weren’t hurtful, your insults and your jabs were never personal. You got under his skin, but not in the way he got under yours. 

He truly wasn’t a nice guy to you and that might be one of his biggest regrets. He was mean, awful even and now as he looks at you, at the cute frown on your face as you pop the can, at the way you take a sip of your favorite drink and smile afterwards, he can’t understand how he could ever treat you so unkindly, how he didn’t see you before.  

You might’ve been rough, snarky and unapproachable but there was never denying of how beautiful you are, how beautiful you have always been. 

How come he never asked you out? 

He might’ve never seen this side of you before and he only ever knew one side of you, but your snarkiness wouldn’t have kept King Steve away from you, if anything, your little act should’ve made him more intrigued. 

And now he can’t help but wonder what things would have been like had he not treated you the way he did, had he asked you out and fought for a chance with you. 

Could’ve things been different then? 

Would you have fallen in love with him? 

Would you have prevented the heartbreak that Nancy had cursed him with two years ago? 

The pain from his last relationship no longer matters to Steve, not since you, but this question still lingers. 

“This spot is perfect.”

You pull him out of the past and back into the presence with a tug on his hand. 

Steve looks around, you are no longer surrounded by people, instead it’s the trees that are around you and him, you’re at the edge of the forest, not far enough to drown at the music and the chatter but quiet enough to hear your voice clearer now, it’s much darker out here but he can still see you well enough. 

You close your eyes and drink your pepsi, completely unaware of his unwavering glances. A sigh leaves your lips and you place the now half full can on the ground before you step closer to him and reach for his hand again, taking a look at the watch around his wrist, you squint your eyes and lean down closer, “it’s about to start any minute.” 

He smiles at you, nodding his head slowly, “yeah.”

Steve feels the urge to pull you tight against him, to hold you and kiss you like he never did before. 

You look up and meet his eyes when you notice his staring, a smile appears on your lips, “what?” You ask with a soft giggle. 

He shakes his head and shrugs, “nothing.”

You bite your lip and he wants nothing more than to grab your face and kiss you breathless. 

You raise your eyebrows at him and stare back at him, stumbling over air as you try to take a step closer to him, making you both chuckle at your drunken clumsiness, your hand falls against his body, while he grabs your waist, steadying you on your own feet, “whoa, easy tiger.” 

You giggle at the nickname, making his own smile widen. 

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” 

You don’t even deny it, in fact, you don’t even answer the question as you keep staring up at him, keeping your hands against his chest as your eyes flicker from the spitcurl that hangs over his forehead, his eyes and his lips. 

Steve’s stomach flutters just the way his heart does, his skin tingles beneath from your touches, the look in your eyes makes him want to kiss you even more. 

“You’re feeling okay though, right?” He whispers as he slowly brings his hand up to the side of your face and he cups your cheek. 

“Yeah, I’m okay now,” you nod, leaning into his touch, “I-I just… I miss him.”

Steve might never understand the friendship you had with Billy, he only knew the ugly sides of him but you knew more, you saw deeper, you were his friend – something Steve didn’t even know Billy had, he was sure the guy didn’t even know what the term ‘friendship’ even meant. 

“And that’s okay, Blondie,” he says, giving you a sad smile, “it’s okay to miss people and to grieve for them.”

Tears well up in your eyes and your lips curl downwards. 

Steve didn’t mean for this to happen, he didn’t mean to make you cry. 

“Hey,” he whispers, pulling you closer as he catches the first tear with his thumb, “it’s okay, honey.”

You sniffle and roll your eyes at yourself, “he would punch me in the face for crying,” you joke.

Steve can’t help but laugh. 

“And he’d make fun of me for being with you, he would like–” you pause and lean in to peck his lips, “he would smack my head if I did that in front of him!” You say with a giggle, despite the tears that still keep falling.

His cheeks heat up at the kiss, the need for more growing strong in his chest. 

“He really didn’t like me, huh?”

“Not one fucking bit, Stevie,” you chuckle sadly. 

Steve wonders how things would be if he was still here, would this thing between you even work out? 

Would Billy keep you away from him?

“But nothing could take me away from you, he’d just have to suck it up,” you whisper as you peck his lips again, shutting down the worries in his head. 

He almost feels his pulse in his throat as his heart beats faster, your words doing little to calm the beating of his heart. 

“Oh?” Is the only thing he can say as all the other words freeze in his brain. 

You nod as you look into his eyes deeply, refusing to break eye contact. He notices the way your chest starts moving faster as your breathing gets heavier, he sees the way your smile transforms into a nervous frown and your throat bobs as you try to come up with words. 

His breath hitches in his throat when you whisper his name shakily. 

“I–”

Whatever you were about to say gets lost in the wind as the loud explosion in the sky cuts you off and tears your attention away from him. The colors pop in the sky, illuminating the darkened space around you both.

You tilt your head to watch the lights that reflect in your eyes, the smile you wore before makes its way back into your pretty face, the tension in your body disappears and you relax into him again. 

But while your drunken mind gets distracted by all of this so easily, Steve only really sees you. He doesn’t look up just yet, he lets himself admire you for a moment. 

Your eyes light up as they meet his for a brief second, flashing with awe. 

His heart could jump out of his chest from how hard it’s beating, his knees could give out any moment now. 

“Look!” You beam at him as you point your finger at the blue colors. 

His gaze follows yours but it returns to your face so quickly, something about you pulls him in, a magnet, a string, a strong connection – he can’t identify it yet, but he feels like his whole being yearns for you and not just sexually. 

He wants to keep doing this, he wants to keep holding your hand, he wants to keep hugging you, he wants to keep spending time with you like this, he wants to stand under the night sky with you, and he especially wants to do this. 

“Hey,” he whispers as he cups your cheeks with both hands, pulling your attention back to him. 

You greet him with an adoring smile, “hi,” you whisper.

Steve caresses your cheek, he is starting to lean in closer, fading out the colors that flash in his peripheral vision, before his lips can even touch yours, you throw your arms around his neck and beat him to it, pressing your lips against his over and over again before you move on to both of his cheeks and even the tip of his nose as you start showering him in kisses, catching him off guard completely. 

Steve giggles in surprise, his cheeks match the colors that lighten up the sky as they glow red. 

And then, you finally pull him into a longer kiss. 

You close your eyes and he does too, your lips start moving slowly, passionately. You rest your hands on his neck and steal his breath away by deepening the kiss as you slip your tongue into his mouth and let him have a taste of your sweetness, the cotton candy and the pepsi still linger on your lips. 

Your noses bump into each other and you break the kiss with a giggle, giving him a sweet smile before you lean back in again, kissing and continuing to steal his breath away, not knowing what you have just done to his poor heart, how much life, how much hope you have filled it with. 

A smile, a giggle, a simple kiss with you is all it takes for all the defense around him to crumble into dust. 

Something he thought he lost seeps back into his heart, something he thought that stayed in the past and to never be touched again blooms in him. 

Everything inside of him screams in joy, his stomach doing somersaults, his skin prickling from the excitement, his lips tugging into a smile even through the kiss that he deepens more and more. 

This kiss is different from all the other ones you have shared before, this one means something, this one won’t lead to you tearing each other’s clothes off. No, this is just a kiss. 

A kiss that means everything. 

A kiss that changes everything. 

You stole his breath completely and made it your own, you stole his heart, his soul, his whole being. 

And the noise of the fireworks, the sparks igniting from them, match those in Steve's heart. Just exploding, bursting, burning him from inside out.

And he embraces the feeling fully.

He wants more of this, more of you. 

He wants to cross a line, he wants you in a whole new way and he is no longer ashamed to admit it to himself. 

It feels like forever as you stand there beneath the sparkling sky, kissing and staying in each other’s embrace as you both savor every second of this moment, only pulling away to catch your breaths before you lean back in for more. 

The fireworks stop, but only those in the sky. 

Your lips are still moving with each other, your tongues still mingling together, whines and whimpers fall from you – tonight, they don’t fill him with lust and need, no, tonight they fill him with adoration. 

Your arms tighten around his neck, your nose is flush against his as you refuse to break the kiss but the lack of air makes it impossible and it forces you away from him, though you don’t pull away too far, only enough to catch your breath.

Steve leans his forehead against yours, slowly opening his eyes to look into yours, his heart flutters yet again when he sees how wide your eyes are, how they flicker with deep emotions. 

Unable to hold back, he leans in to peck your puffy lips one more time. 

“Steve,” you whisper as your hands begin to slip from his shoulders to his chest. 

“Yes?”

“Can I be with you tonight?”

He furrows his brows at your question, he wants you to be with him tonight, he wants you with him every night. 

“Of course, Blondie.”

You smile at him though it’s a weak one and it makes him frown. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, scrunching your nose. 

“Are you feeling sick?” He asks, tilting your head up. 

You shake your head again, “just really tired.”

Your words are still slurred, the alcohol still deep in your system. 

“Let’s go home then.”

“Do you want to go?” You ask, looking at him with a cute frown on your face as you tilt your head to the side, “I-I can still wait if you want to stay here longer.”

Steve smiles at you, shaking his head, “no, I want to go home with you.”

The smile on your lips replaces the frown. 

He brushes his thumb against your bottom lip and stares at you adoringly. 

“Come on, we should tell Eddie.” 

You pick up your discarded drink before you slide your fingers through his, intertwining your fingers with his again. 

“Let’s go,” he whispers, squeezing your hand. 

You follow him without a single word, walking beside him quietly as you make your way out of the woods and back into the fair where the lights are bright and he can see you better now. 

It’s still just as crowded as it was before and just as loud. 

Steve keeps you close, glancing at you, he notices the squinted eyes and how displeased you look by all the noises and the people around you. 

He holds your hand tighter, giving it another reassuring squeeze. 

“I can’t wait to go to sleep,” you mumble, taking the last few sips of your soda before you throw it into the trashcan you pass by. You wrap your free hand around his bicep and squish your cheek against it.

Steve’s smile widens, his eyes glint with nothing but fondness. 

“There you are!” 

Steve turns to find Eddie walking towards you both, throwing his hands up with a worried look on his face that slowly begins to disappear when he realizes that you have been with him all this time, though his eyebrows pull together when he sees your entwined hands and the closeness between you. 

Steve expects you to run away from him and into your best friend’s arms, but you don’t, you stick to his side. 

“Hi Eddie!” You mumble lazily as a smile appears on your face. 

You all halt in your tracks once you meet in the middle. 

“Hey sweets, are you okay?” He asks, eying you up and down one more time. 

“Peachy!”

“Where have you been?” 

Steve clears his throat, “we watched the fireworks from the woods and now I’m gonna take this one home, she’s tired.”

Eddie squints his eyes at him, giving a once over now – the way he has been doing it for some time now, like he is suspicious of his actions, like he wants to figure him out so he can protect you from him and irritates Steve. 

“I can take her home,” Eddie shrugs. 

“No!” You protest, clinging to Steve’s arm, you hold him tighter not wanting to be pulled away from him. 

Steve chuckles softly, he looks down at you adoringly. 

“Don’t worry, Eddie. I’ll take her home to sleep, maybe shove some coffee down her throat, see if that helps. I am sensing I’m having a hungover Blondie tomorrow.” 

Eddie raises one eyebrow at him, he crosses his arms over his chest, defensively. And Steve notices it from the corner of his eye, causing the smile to leave his face as a frown etches into his features instead. 

“I’m not doing anything if that's what you’re fucking thinking, Munson.” 

Eddie raises his hands up in surrender, “sorry, can’t blame me for caring.”

That… Stings. 

That actually hurts his feelings. 

He may not be as close to Eddie as you are to him, but Eddie knows him well enough to know that he would never do anything like this. 

“You really think I’m that disgusting?” Steve asks, not bothering to hide the hurt in his voice. 

Eddie sighs. 

Of course he doesn’t. 

He is just protective of his best friend, of her feelings. 

Neither of you notice the way you keep looking between them, completely lost and confused. 

“I don’t know what kind of deal you both have, Steve, but I’m allowed to care. I would’ve given her the same look if the roles were reversed.” 

“She’s not like that,” Steve argues instantly. 

Eddie sighs again, uncrossing his arms, he drops them to his side as he takes a look at the sky with a long sigh. 

“I know she’s not, I know you’re not. Just… take care of her…”

Steve is still hurt by Eddie’s reaction, by the accusing look in his eyes, like Steve would do anything to hurt you. 

He knows that it might only be because you are his best friend, because he feels protective of you, because he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you – but to know that he was worried about you while you were with him makes him feel sick. 

Steve would never do anything to hurt someone, let alone you. 

“Can we go now?” You ask, looking up at him with big eyes. 

A weak smile appears on his face as he looks down at you, “yeah, we can go.”

Steve doesn’t notice the way Eddie’s squinted eyes linger on him, the way he looks down at your hands, watching as Steve pulls you closer despite you being glued to his side already. 

He can’t help but sigh when he sees the way you look at him, the dreaminess and the love is so evident and it worries him, your feelings for Steve worry him because he fears that he will break your heart, that he will rip it out of your chest. 

Eddie is so focused on his worries, he doesn’t even see the way Steve looks at you. 

“I’m gonna call you tomorrow, Eds.”

Eddie smiles at you, “yeah, alright.” 

Steve nods at Eddie, only giving him a small smile as he starts pulling you away. 

“Bye man,” Steve mumbles as he brushes past him. 

“Bye Eddie!” 

“Yeah, sleep well, sweets.” Eddie smiles, waving at you. 

Walking away from the fairground and leaving behind the crowds of people and your best friend feels like a relief to Steve. He can’t move past the glances the metalhead gave to him, the worried looks he spared you as though you were in some kind of danger with him. 

He can’t confront him, he can’t talk to him about it and tell him how wrong he is though, he would give away his feelings and he can’t do that. 

You walk beside him quietly, not a single word falls from your lips, you just keep holding his hand, looking up at him every once in a while until you make it to his car. 

Steve opens the door for you, begrudgingly letting go of you so you can get inside, he helps you buckle in your seatbelt, a surprised chuckle falls from his lips when you use the opportunity to kiss his cheek and he can’t even help himself but do the same to you, smacking his lips against your cheek to give you a loud smooch, one that makes you giggle. 

He can see the tiredness in your eyes, the way you slowly blink and how you sink deeper into the car seat as you yawn. 

“Let's get you into bed, honey.”

Steve keeps the music on low during the drive home, you keep dozing off as your head keeps falling to the side but every time you open your eyes again, you look at him and you keep your eyes on him, making him blush beneath your softened gaze. 

And then, you make his heart swell and his chest vibrate when you place your hand on his thigh and smile at him sweetly. 

Everything about you drives him crazy today. 

Every glance, every touch, every word, every kiss. 

You have brought something out in him, something that was buried deep inside, hidden and locked away but you have found the key, you unlocked it, you brought something back that he thought was impossible to ever resurface again and you made it yours, you made him yours, all yours. 

And now, he wants to give you everything. 

He wants to take care of you, he wants to shower you with affection, he wants to be the one for you. 

You’re making things complicated but in the most amazing of ways, in the most beautiful of twists that he couldn’t believe would happen again for him. Your small glances are enough to turn a flame in his entire body, your hand on his thigh as he parks at his home enough to send butterflies in his stomach, butterflies that he swore died when Nancy broke his heart.

Your touch is enough to make him tremble and make his knees buckle, when he helps you out of his car, both of you laugh as you almost fall right on your ass, even with his help. He is happy. He is content. He is extremely giddy when he is with you, as if he were fourteen all over again.

Even when you are not like this, when you are not this bubbly uncaring self, he still enjoys his time with you. He enjoys the accidental snorts that make him laugh as you swat him to try to stop him from laughing. The happy delighted moans you give when you try his cooking. The out of nowhere conversations in the mornings that you two now share together. 

He likes it when you put on that strong wall, it makes you look cute, it makes him want to break it down. He loves the small banter, the pretend fights when you two are with the whole group, the way you pinch his side when you walk past him when no one is looking. He adores it.

When he finally manages to get you inside, he immediately urges you into the kitchen, making you drink water, not pepsi, despite your pouts and your teary eyes which almost make him become a puddle on the floor. He also gives you a leftover chicken sandwich he had in his fridge so you would eat something to absorb the alcohol.

“Eat at least half of that.” He commands and you just grumble something, cutely so, underneath your breath as you take a bite. He knew you probably didn’t eat anything at the fair, a possible reason for your drunkenness.

“I’ll eat… if you give me a kiss.” And just like that you pucker your lips his way and his heart can barely handle it. He licks his lips before leaning towards you and placing them on yours in a soft peck, a quick one. You smile before taking the first bite, and when you swallow it seems as if it turns on the hunger in your belly because you devour that sandwich in seconds.

He hopes you keep it down your stomach for the whole night and that it helps you feel okay in the morning. He wonders how you will act tomorrow, if you’ll remember all of this, if you’ll remember how much you kissed him, how you made him feel. He should tell you… He should…

But what if it’s the alcohol doing its thing?

“Okay, let’s go to bed.” And doing so turns out to be a challenge because as soon as you finish your food and water, your eyelids start to drop. Getting you off the stool and dragging you upstairs is easy but keeping you sitting up as he tries to change you into his clothes, that is another issue.

“I don’t wanna…” You mumble as you throw yourself back down onto the mattress, chest bare. He would have gotten riled up, if it weren’t for the fact he felt domestic, fluttery, and his chuckles came out easily out of his lips when looking at you.

“You have to, it’s just the shirt, come on.” His voice is soft as he talks to you, making you raise yourself up again, sitting in front of him and raising your arms up for him to slide his shirt on you. As soon as it’s on, you bounce back and get comfortable in his pillow with a contented sigh. He smiles at you as he takes off his shirt and starts unbuckling his belt in order to get comfortable. His own tiredness is starting to take a toll on his body.

He doesn’t notice that you had turned your head to look at him again, and a wolf whistle is heard in the room, making him turn to look at you. You have a cheeky smile on your face and he feels himself blushing slightly as he laughs, taking his pants off next, leaving him in boxers only. 

“As if you haven’t seen it before.” He says and it only makes you whistle again as he saunters over with a shake of his head, a smile still plastered on his lips.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t adore it everytime,” you whisper. 

And that makes the smile drop, but in shock. Your words went deep, soothing over wounds that had been created long ago, and he doesn’t mean his scars. He has to clear his throat in order to walk towards the bed and get inside right next to you, only for you to immediately crawl on top of him, laying your chin on his chest, looking at him.

It holds so much adoration for some reason, a sparkle that makes Steve’s stomach turn, hope that rose in his throat like vomit, ready to come out, overwhelming him. You are looking at him as if he hung the stars for you, as if he were your only person in the entire world. 

And he knows he is looking down at you in the exact same way.

“What now?”

“You’re just so pretty… It’s stupid how pretty you are.” He chuckles, making his chest rumble and for you to bounce up and down with it. 

You pout but it’s followed by a smile, “it’s true, you are.”

“I’m not told that very often Blondie.” He honestly replies and that makes you raise your head up and look down at him with determination in your eyes. “Wh–”

He can’t even finish his question because your lips start going crazy on his face, but softly, caring, taking extra time on following the lines of moles he has on his jaw. He is startled, shocked, for no one ever did this to him, not even his own mother. No one ever showered him with affection, with kisses. 

And as though that wasn’t sweet and surprising enough, you nuzzle your nose against his, giggling when a big smile appears on his face. 

You are cute. You are so fucking cute. 

It is an overwhelming feeling, one that almost makes him feel like crying. 

Your lips pressed on the tip of his nose as you pulled away, a proud smile on your face, and he wonders what is going through your mind right now. If it it’s all true, fuck, he wants it all to be true. He needs it to be true. He needs and desires that you are doing all of this intentionally to him, despite the alcohol. 

“There, now you know.” 

You really are beautiful, so beautiful. He feels drunk on you, seeing you, feeling you… his hand rises up, not able to contain himself as it runs through the back of your head and pulls you down to his lips, letting him give you a deep kiss. A kiss that made the fireworks he saw earlier explode inside his room again. 

You follow his lips with a hum, and he doesn’t want to pull away. He needs it all. He needs you. Not in the way he has been having you the past month. Not at all, not even close.

He lets you pull away, and his hand caresses your cheek, pulling your head down to rest on his chest again as your legs intertwine with his underneath the sheets. He wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating. If it bangs your head from how hard he feels his chest being hit with it. 

“Sleep Blondie.” He wishes anything but that, but he needs the silence, the time alone.

“Hmm… night Stevie…” And he knows your eyes are closed, that you mumble that with the last bit of strength you had. His eyes remain on the ceiling as his mind starts working, gears going round and round, going overtime.

He had been running from the definition of the feeling, even if he knew it was there, even if he accepted everything else that came with it. He kept running and running, and now he had hit a wall.

So it’s time to stop and turn around to face you.

Steve Harrington decides to stop running as he looks down at you and his lips press at the top of your head while his arms hold you tighter. You whine in your sleep, yet your cheek nuzzles even more into his chest. 

He can’t deny you anymore. Not when you look like this in his arms. Not when you peppered his face with kisses he never received. Not when he saw you in a vulnerable moment of yours. Not when he gets to see you moan in pleasure because of him. Not when he gets to see you have fun with everyone else. Not when you saved his life, going headfirst for him. Not when you already send smiles his way that make his heart stop.

And if you wake up tomorrow with a headache, he will be waiting for you with coffee in hand, an advil, and some food, ready to help you. To take care of you. He will let you lay in his bed all the time you need, all in order to make you feel better.

Because Steve Harrington started feeling again.

He likes you. He terribly and adoringly likes you… and he is afraid because–

It’s nowhere near little. Not at all.

“Can’t believe I fell for you, Blondie.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + fifteen

authors note: next chapter will be a lot heavier, because we see shit play out. italicized dialogue indicates that spanish is being spoken.

ya'll better not come for me after this one either, okay! 😭

just know the plot is plotting, ya'll

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: fluff, angst, roman being a dick to anyone other than his wife, and violence

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 10k

The newly opened doors of intimacy have awakened a previously dormant part of Solana.

Something she previously thought impossible to access, permanently damaged as a result of her trauma.

But, she was wrong. 

So, so wrong.

Roman is everything she never allowed herself to dream about having, let alone actually hoped to have in real life.

Caring, considerate, gentle, patient.

Their first time together is something she’ll never forget and always cherish. But, it’s the times afterwards, sporadic over the past two days since the consummation, that have almost meant something more.

A testament to her comfort and trust in him.

Of her love for him.

Sitting in bed, in between his legs, leaning into his strong body with nothing but the thin 600 thread count sheets covering them, Solana sketches, no particular drawing in mind, just whatever is felt in that moment. And what’s felt is the image and scenery of the water, of the beauty that is Isla Mujeres. Her mom was right. There’s nothing like it.

“I think—I think I want to come back here sooner rather than later.” Solana finds herself partially wondering aloud but also wanting to pick her husband’s brain. “I know you probably won’t be able to come, and that’s okay. Maybe…maybe Bayley can come with me?” It’s both a suggestion and a question. 

Roman makes a sound against her, his lips lingering along her temple, long fingers moving gently against the side of her breast under the sheets. “Whatever you want, I’ll make happen. Bayley will go with you.”

Solana chews on her bottom lip, shading a palm tree. “But, what if she has plans?”

“She will. Plans to go with you.”

A small smile falls on her face. “How do you know she’ll just agree with you?” Solana has an idea of what he’s going to say, and she’s correct. 

“People do what I tell them to do, and if they don’t, they face the consequences. And no one wants that, so they just do it.” 

She doesn’t doubt that one bit. Because no matter how sweet and caring he is to her, that’s where it stops. With her.

Because to anyone and everyone else, he’s Roman Reigns, ruthless, brutal leader of the Bloodline.

And she’s accepted that. Accepted that he has to juggle two different hats.

She’s just happy she gets the best of him.

“I Facetime’d Naomi today and got to see Dulce.” As much fun as she’s having, as healing as this trip has been for her, she misses her sweet puppy deeply. “Guess who’s taken to her?”

Roman chuckles, looking back with a bit of shock. “Jimmy?”

Solana nods, grinning as she remembers overhearing Jimmy ask about where ‘fluff fluff’ is. “Naomi says he’s even got her sleeping in the bed with them.”

“Well, she damn sure ain’t doing that with us.” His voice takes on an authoritative tone. Not that she’s in disagreement. Dulce is too small for that. Roman would literally smother her. “Our bed is occupied.” He ghosts his lips over the shell of her earlobe. “Gonna be real busy when we get back home….”

Solana tries instead to focus on the drawing at hand versus that familiar feeling pooling in her stomach. 

Continuing with the topic in the hopes of settling that feeling, she shares, “I want to do something nice for Naomi and Bayley when we get back. They’ve—they’ve been so nice to me.”

It’s something she’s been thinking about ever since the beautiful birthday messages she’s received. Having never really had many friends, to be able to land such solid, loyal people like them is something she doesn’t take lightly. She doesn’t know quite yet how she wants to show her appreciation, but she’s determined to come up with something.

An idea crossing her mind, Solana suggests, “maybe they both can come stay here with me for a week?”

His mouth moves back to the side of her face. “Mmmhmm.”

“Like…..like a girls trip.” Solana has never experienced one of those and just the thought of having one with the two of them has pre-excitement already forming.

Roman sighs, clearly distracted by his lips exploring her face. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Turning her head to the side to look up at him, small smile on her face, Solana asks, “are you listening to me?”

Roman hums against her skin. “I’m always listening to you, Solana.” Her eyes flutter as his fingers shift and move under the generous swell of her breast. “Probably the only person that’s the case for…..” His mouth moves to her cheek. “But, it’s hard to focus with you naked like this…..”

The pencil in her hand naturally drops against the sketchbook, her head lolling backwards, lips pressing together. “Roman….” 

This is such a new experience. She’s never desired to be touched or craved such intimacy until Roman. Even with her trauma, there’s a pull that seems to have been unleashed with the consummation of her marriage.

An urge that has her thighs pressing together, something Roman most definitely takes note of. Eyes darkening with lust and something else, he asks, voice almost hoarse, “are you sore?”

She is, but not nearly as sore as she was after their first time. And certainly not to the point where she wants to decline.

“No,” is the answer she settles on, Roman’s lips on hers in a matter of seconds. She shifts her body so she’s straddling him, the feeling of him hard and warm between her legs making her moan in his mouth. Roman easily switches positions so she’s on her back, him hovering over her. 

He breaks the kiss, asking once more, “you sure?”

Solana licks her lips, forever thankful for his constant efforts to receive her consent. “Yes.”

His eyes burn with need. “Could be inside you like this all day….” He brings his hand to the back of her thigh, lifting her leg and opening her up more as he gradually descends into her slick warmth. “And definitely all night….”

Solana would be lying if she said she didn’t feel somewhat of the same way.

________

She wakes up with a growing familiar ache between her legs, soft sheets against her nude body, and her husband pressed against her, his arm draped over her, holding her close to him.

But, he’s not sleeping. She can feel his mouth hovering over her shoulder. Her smile grows a bit as she thinks about their last lovemaking session, so passionate and fulfilling. Another round of him giving her pleasure she didn’t think possible.

However, it’s when she glances at the clock and sees the time, her eyes widen a bit from the shock. “Roman, it’s almost 2 o’clock….”

He’s never been more uninterested. “And?” Lips traveling the length of her arm, he murmurs against her smooth skin. “You’d never leave this bed if it was up to me….”

His statement, half joking, half serious, makes her smile, but it also helps her realize she has to be a bit more outspoken about what she wants.

Holding the sheet against her chest, she rolls onto her back, informing, “I want to go out to the marketplace today.”

He scowls. “Around people?” 

“Yes, people.” She giggles, moving her hand to his face, beard tickling her palm. “We only have two more days here. I want to bring back gifts for Naomi, Bayley, and your cousins”

It’s the mention of the twins that makes him roll his eyes as he falls back into the mattress. “You always trying to take care of the homeless.”

Solana giggles, hovering over him, hand on his chest. “That’s so mean, Roman. They’re not homeless.”

“Then why the hell are they always at our house?”

She shakes her head, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “I’m gonna go get ready.” 

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t prevent her from leaving the bed and doing just that.

And in less than two hours, both showered, fed, and dressed, they’re out of the house and on their way to the market.

Adolfo López Mateos is the municipal market and offers a trove of items for Solana to pick from. Countless authentic options for her to bring back home as gifts but also as souvenirs for herself, reminders of this wonderful place that will forever hold such beautiful memories for her.

A place that also leaves her feeling so connected to her maternal side. 

To her mother.

Roman serves as the quiet, always surveying husband who remains by her side the whole time as she goes from stall to stall. He serves as her personal shopping assistant as well, holding the growing number of bags for her purchases.

But, he handles it exceptionally well, never once complaining. Granted, she is mindful of the fact that the crowded market and all of the fellow shoppers and merchants seem to well exceed his tolerance for people in general.

So, she does make note to try to wrap it up sooner rather than later.

She’d never want to take advantage of his kindness and generosity.

Solana is at a stall looking at fabric when stiffening beside her drags her attention to her husband as well as what’s caused him to tense. 

A child.

A little girl. Around 8 or 9. She has dark hair that’s down and unruly, the light breeze in the market causing it to splash against her tanned face, hazel eyes landed directly on Roman. Her hand is outreached, a flower in hand. 

Solana recognizes it rather quickly. She steps forward, asking in Spanish, “is that for him?”

The little girl looks over and nods, directing her gaze back on Roman. Solana does the same, small smile on her face as she informs. “She’s giving it to you.” 

His expression is unchanged as he asks. “Why?”

Solana giggles. “It’s an Alstroemeria. They represent friendship.”

“This random ass kid wants to be my friend?”

Solana rolls her eyes. “She’s being friendly.” Seeing Roman has no intentions on further acknowledging this child, she gently shoves him. “Please?” The ‘for me?’ doesn’t need to be asked as Roman sighs loudly and accepts the flower followed up with a muttered ‘thanks.’

Pleased, the little girl beams, suddenly motioning both Roman and Solana to follow her.

Curious, Solana asks, “you want us to come?” 

She nods excitedly, pointing a few stalls down to where flowers bloom. Solana asks, “That’s where you got these from? You want us to see the rest?”

Another nod, and Solana finds herself following the child, Roman begrudgingly on the heel of her, committed to his not allowing her to explore a stretch of land or sea on this trip without him being right there next to her.

Even if it means forced socialization. 

Solana allows the child to guide them to the stall that’s filled with the most beautiful, intricate flowers she’s ever seen, some of which she recognizes from conversations with her mom.

“Look how beautiful…..” Her eyes land on the powder pink ones, a brief realization setting in as she asks the little girl, “are these sword lily’s?” 

Again, the child offers only a nonverbal acknowledgement via a head nod, and Solana starts to wonder if her silence is by choice or limitation. Either one, she can kind of relate to. 

Turning to Roman, Solana explains to him, “these are sword lilly’s. They represent sympathy and memories.” Memories…Solana has plenty of those. The good, to some extent, starting to outweigh the bad.

He looks more uninterested than the actual tone of his voice. “Do all Mexican flowers have some sort of meaning?”

“Some. Not all.” She answers, fingers gliding over the petals. “And it’s not always flowers native to Mexico, just flowers that we have meaning attributions for. Culturally.”

“You are correct.” A voice enters the conversation, Solana watching a woman step out back from behind the stall. Her hair is a deep onyx, thick and wavy, her skin lightly kissed by the sun that also highlights the beauty of her eyes. Fine lines give away that she has some years under her belt, but it’s hard to tell just how many. She switches languages, “You don’t speak Spanish like a tourist.”

Solana realizes she must have overheard her asking the girls about the flowers. “My—my mother was a Native.”

“She taught you well.” Her smile grows, warm and friendly, familiar in a weird sort of way. “What is your name, child?”

“Solana.” She gestures towards Roman who’s still looking just as uninterested as he’s been in any other type of social interaction outside of Solana. “This is my husband, Roman.”

“I figured.” She motions to Roman’s closeness to her, the way he stays almost hovering, protecting and caring but still pretty close. “He’s very protective of you.

Solana nods. She has no idea. “What is your name?”

“Paloma,” she introduces, removing one of her work gloves to shake Solana’s hand. The younger woman is slightly grateful that Paloma doesn’t try to greet Roman in the same manner. She’d surely get her feelings hurt. “What brings you here?

Again, a gesture to Roman with her thumb. “He surprised me for my birthday.”

Paloma makes a sound and smiles wryly. “Ahh, so it’s only others he’s unfriendly with.”

“He….he’s very quiet.” An ironic choice of words considering just who is saying them, but it’s the best word to come to mind to describe Roman without being mean. He is technically quiet, but the fact that it’s because he, in his own words, hates people isn’t necessarily something that needs to be shared. “Do you really grow all of these?”

“I do.” The proud smile on her face makes Solana smile just as warmly. “I own a nursery about twenty minutes out of here. A family business that my mother and her mother and her mother started generations ago.”

“That’s so beautiful.”

“It was….” The use of past tense causes Solana’s smile to dim a bit. She can sense there’s a story there, a story that no doubt holds some level of pain. Paloma shakes her head, gesturing to the flowers. “Were you wanting to buy any?”

“Uhhhh….” The technical answer is no. Solana would have probably stopped to admire the beautiful flowers, maybe tried to identify one or two, but it would not have gone beyond that. It’s the little girl who Solana realizes is behind the stand, poorly sneaking glances at Roman, who called them over. “Yes, I—”

“She brought you over, didn’t she?” 

“Yes.” Solana lowers her voice, asking as gently as she can. “Does she speak?”

“Yes, but she prefers not to. Very shy. Parents fight a lot. I don’t think she really gets a lot of space to talk.” And the frown is back. Solana can definitely understand that. “Do you two have plans tonight?”

“Uhhhh.” Solana turns to Roman, asking, “did you have anything else planned for us this evening?”

“If she’s trying to get us to do something around other people, yes. I’ll find something.”

Solana rolls her eyes, lightly scolding in her soft voice, “Roman, that’s not nice.”

“Solana, I’m pretty sure we had this conversation already. I don’t like people. I hate people. You’re the only one I like.”

Solana decides to win him over later versus now as she turns to Paloma with a friendly expression that contrasts her husband’s scowl. Something tells her he already knows she’s about to sign them up for something that forces him to be around people. 

“We’re free this evening. Why do you ask?”

________

“Tell me again why we’re meeting this random ass old woman for dinner?”

Solana is only seconds away from applying her lip gloss when Roman’s question deters her from her task, creating a new one in its place. Capping it, she walks out the bathroom, leaning against the doorway. “Her name is Paloma, and she’s really sweet, and she invited us.”

Turns out, Paloma owns one of the restaurants in town Solana remembers stumbling across when she was perusing other places to visit while on their trip. It’s just a crazy coincidence that Solana ended up running into her and receiving a personal invite to dine there for dinner this evening. 

And it’s an offer she didn’t want to turn down. 

“Are you sure she didn’t just invite you?”

Curious, she asks the question she’s almost certain she already knows the answer to. “Would you let me go by myself?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly.” Walking over to Roman, Solana glides her hands up his chest, locking them behind his neck. “It’s just a dinner. We won’t even be there that long. Then…tomorrow, it’s just the two of us.”

“It could be the two of us tonight too….”

His fingers dance across the small of her back as she bites back a smile. “Roman, it’s been the two of us this entire trip already, basically….”

“You know I could never get enough of you…” He gently squeezes the sides of her stomach, sliding into reluctant acquiescence. “But, you know I can’t say no to you either so….”

She smiles and leans up and presses a kiss against his cheek, murmuring, “thank you.” Taking a bit of a mile with the inch she’s been given, she implores, “can you….try to be a little more friendly? For me?”

Roman looks at her like she just asked him to let her go alone. “Solana….”

“Just for tonight.”

“Do they even speak English?” She gives him a look that’s just another form of ‘for me?’ He tilts his head back and scratches his beard. “I’ll try not to maim or kill anybody. That’s the best you’re getting from me, baby.”

“Thank you.” She kisses him again, turning for the bathroom when he pulls her back to face him, and right away, she recognizes that look. “Roman….”

He ignores her, both casually and suggestively complimenting, “I like this dress.” It’s combined with him slowly moving one of the hands on her waist down the length of her dress until he can slip his hand underneath.

“T–thank you…” She swallows, struggling to stay focused. “We’re—we’re gonna be late.”

“Too bad.” He moves his hand between her legs, gradually sliding up her thighs. “Should have thought about that before you put this on.” He kisses her temple, asking in a low voice, “do you want me to stop?” At the same time, his hand pauses on her skin.

The logical answer is yes, but the carnal answer is the complete opposite. And desire seems to overpower logic in this round. “N–no.”

It’s the perfect answer for her husband whose full lips form into a smirk as he removes his hand to guide her towards the bed as he lays her on her back. Solana half expects him to move on top of her, but he instead moves to his knees and tugs her toward the edge of the bed.

The anticipation of what pleasure is to come makes her lick her lips, prematurely moaning his name, “Roman…”

His brown eyes flick up to her, desire and lust dancing away in his irises. 

Yeah, they’re most definitely going to be late.

________

The night goes as expected, Solana enjoying herself, and Roman enjoying that his wife is enjoying herself despite the fact that being surrounded by a bunch of fucking strangers who speak mostly in Spanish has him subtly checking the time on his watch more often than not.

The desire to pick up the language grows exponentially. Roman dislikes being out of the loop in any sort of capacity.

Solana translates for the most part, granted it’s mostly things he doesn’t really care too much about. Paloma asking what he thought about the food, requests to join in the dancing—that’s a hell no—and other pleasantries that violate his religion of Anti-Peopleology. 

Except his wife, of course.

And to be fair, they’re able to share their dinner together without many interruptions, conversation staying between the two of them, which he appreciates. He’d appreciate it more if no one was there to interrupt, but alas, Solana having a smile on her face almost the whole night makes it all worth it.

She seems exceptionally taken with the little random ass girl from the market whose name he doesn’t bother to remember. Something with an A, he’d guess. She also seems just as interested in Solana, which he doesn’t entirely not understand. She’s relatively mute with the exception of a couple of words and sentences.

It reminds him of Solana and how nonverbal she was at the beginning of the marriage. And something tells him the girl also reminds her of herself. Which makes the pull between the two make more sense than maybe he’d like to admit.

But, his inner dialogue is interrupted as the old lady approaches the table where he sits alone as Solana dances with the child, both of them smiling and laughing. 

“You’re not the social one of the two of you, are you?” She asks what he considers both a stupid and ironic question. Typically, Solana isn’t this social either. But this….this place….it seems to bring out a different side of her.

A happier side of her.

Roman only casts the old woman a bored glance. “This is her world. Not mine.”

The woman chuckles, and to Roman’s chagrin, sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Yes, I suppose this is very different from the Bloodline.”

Her statement doesn’t surprise him, doesn’t take him off guard, and that’s because Roman isn’t stupid. He would never allow some practical stranger to invite his wife for dinner at a restaurant she owns without researching her. 

Paloma Aguilar. 70. Widowed. One child who seemingly disappeared without a trace over twenty years ago. Her late husband, Ricardo, was a man who at one point entered the world of the cartel and smuggling, but it was short lived as he passed away from a heart attack at the age of 45. His brother, however, Tomas, is still actively involved, but Paloma couldn’t be farther removed.

From his research, Roman could see she truly prefers to live her life away from the in-laws business, preferring her restaurant and gardening, the polar opposite of the high-paced crime life. 

But, it would be ludicrous for her to not be aware of him and who he is, regardless of her preference to stay separate from that life.

Curious, though he already knows the answer, he asks, “when did you realize who I was?”

She smiles, “soon enough.” The lack of specificity annoys him even more than he already is. “Probably around the time you found out who I am.”

Interested to see how she’ll respond, he asks, “and just who are you?”

Her smile is small and sad. “Just an old woman living out the rest of her days in solitude.” Roman has experienced enough loss to be able to recognize when someone else has also had the misfortune of losing someone. It’s evident in her tone. 

Still, that doesn't diminish his disinterest in this conversation.

She also looks over at his dancing wife, casually commenting, “I suppose it’s true that opposites attract.”

Eager to stir this woman away, Roman responds with all the casualness. “I’m not Solana. You could be 90, and I’d still snap your fucking neck if you presented any kind of threat to my wife.”

It’s uncalled for. He knows this. A misplaced threat against an elderly woman, sure. But, it’ll hopefully be enough to get her to leave him the fuck alone. 

She smiles, partially surprising him. “Oh, I don’t doubt it, young man.” Her grin dims a bit. “I would never judge a man for protecting the woman he loves.”

Roman tenses, effectively managing to keep his reaction to her statement to himself.

Love

What the fuck is that even?

He knows…..familial love. But….romantic love? 

That’s….that’s such an unfamiliar concept. Something not even in his repertoire. 

He can’t deny that he likes Solana. A lot. Cares for her deeply, and recognizes that he needs her in his life. Needs her light in what is otherwise dark and dreary.

But…..

To say that he loves her….that’s too much. That’s too strong.

Too dangerous.

Love is weakness.

And Roman can’t afford to be weak. He won’t. Not for anything or anyone. 

Not even Solana.

But, of course, this old ass woman just has to twist the knife even deeper as she stands up to leave. “You two will make great parents.” Roman is an expert at hiding reactions to what’s being said to him, but this one takes some effort. A lot, if he’s being honest. “Your protectiveness. Her nurturance.”

With that, she finally leaves him be, but not without a million and one thoughts floating through his mind, all of them now revolving around two things he’s never considered for himself.

Love and children.

________

As the night comes to an end, Solana pulls Aurora, the sweet little girl who’s taken a liking to her and a crush on Roman, to the side. 

“I have something for you.”

Aurora’s eyes light up with all the excitement of a child eager to receive an unexpected present.

Solana hands over the beautiful journal she picked up in the market earlier that day. Originally a gift for herself, but now something that she wants to pass on to the little girl who reminds her so much of herself. 

Aurora’s mouth drops open with surprise as she accepts the leather journal. Solana smiles and explains, “When I was a little girl, I didn’t talk a lot either. But, my mom always told me that when I couldn’t speak, I could always write.” She frowns a bit, instructing. “And that’s what I did. I wrote until I found my voice. The same way you can.”

Aurora looks up with teary eyes and surprises Solana by attacking her with a big hug. Solana easily settles in the embrace, holding and hugging the little girl in a way that every child should be comforted.

Aurora pulls back and offers a simple, “thank you!”

Solana blinks back some tears. “You’re very welcome.” Her smile shifts into something teasing but also hopeful, “now I expect to see you when I come back to visit, okay?”

Aurora nods happily as she gives Solana one more hug before running over to an older woman who Solana would guess is her mother.

“She’ll never forget that, you know.” 

Turning to the source of the voice, Solana’s smile grows. “I hope not.”

Paoma chuckles and moves closer, repeating the same words. “I have something for you too.”

She pulls out a cloth jewelry bag and takes Solana’s hand, placing the bag in it. “Open it.”

Confused but curious, Solana does just that and gasps almost immediately at the beautiful gold necklace she recognizes instantly. “A Cruz de Caravaca.”

Paloma looks pleased by Solana’s knowledge and asks a follow up question. “How much do you know about these?”

Swallowing the emotion, she recalls the information taught to her so long ago. “They—they ward off evil and bring protection.” There’s an almost bitter tone that enters her voice. “My mother had one….” It’s the most Solana can bring herself to say, because her mother wore one almost religiously. And it did nothing to protect her from the evil of her father.

Or the knife that viciously tore and sliced through her body, violently ending her life. 

Paloma nods, complementing, “whoever taught you our ways taught you well.” 

Emotion burning the back of the throat, “it was my mom. She—she died when I was young.” Murdered. She was murdered, but acknowledging that feels too much, is too much. Regardless of how her life ended, it all means the same.

That she’s not here anymore.

Paloma’s expression is solemn as she lifts her right arm, turning it inward, revealing her tattoos. Two Hummingbirds. “Many years ago, I lost my daughter. And shortly after, my husband. I—I didn’t really know how to go on after that. She was my only child, and he was the only man I ever loved.” Her smile is emotional. “But then I remember that love never dies, it transcends into another form. They’re not here in the way I want them to be, but they’re still here. And every so often when I’m in my garden, I see Hummingbirds, and I feel better because I know they’re still with me. Watching over me.” 

Solana wipes at her eyes as Paloma places a comforting hand on her arm. “And so is your mother.”

It’s hard to verbalize what she’s feeling in this moment. Paloma’s words provide her with a type of comfort that feels almost motherly, an ironic feeling considering the nature of the conversation.

“Thank you.” It’s such a simple thing that doesn’t feel strong enough for how much Solana appreciates such comforting words of support. 

“You have a good heart. A kind soul. But, be careful child.” She takes Solana’s hands in her own. “My….my daughter was like you. Loving and giving. But too trusting, and it cost her her life. Betrayal and darkness can come from where you least expect it.” 

Paloma’s words confuse her. The warning aspect of it. What…what exactly does that mean?

“Stick with that husband of yours….” Paloma adds, smile gradually returning. “He is protective of you the way my husband used to be with me.” 

That ebbs away some of her confusion regarding the ominous warning, as Solana suddenly asks, almost tentatively. “Could I….could I come back and see you too?”

Paloma chuckles, and Solana almost swears she sees emotion brewing behind the woman’s wise gaze as she pulls her in for a hug.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t, child….”

________

He’s not entirely surprised to find her in the kitchen, but that doesn’t necessarily make her presence in the kitchen any less concerning. Especially when she’s supposed to be on bedrest.

Roman comes up behind her, smiling when she jumps a bit as he hugs her. Years later, some things remain the same. 

Solana turns around, a warm smile on her pretty face. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” Not necessarily. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to find it in him to be sorry for touching his wife.“Hi.”

“Hi.” She giggles as he kisses her. 

Eyes shutting a bit as he relishes in the feeling he’s craved dearly for the past few weeks. “I missed you all.”

“We missed you too,” she murmurs, moving her hands up his chest. “You look tired.”

He’s a bit jet lagged, but it’s nothing he won’t bounce back from in a couple of days. That’s the least of his concern, anyway. Roman moves his hand to her stomach, big and swollen, pressing against his abs. “You should be resting.”

Solana rolls her eyes and calmly counters, “not with how active this one is.” She moves his hand around, probably trying to find a spot where he can feel the movement. “He’s definitely your son.”

He counters, “even more reason to be resting.” 

She shakes her head, changing the subject a bit as she softly shares, “they’ll be happy to see you. I didn’t tell them you were coming home early.”

His eyes light up a bit as he asks, “where are they?”

Solana chuckles. “You already know.”

Roman makes a sound and nods, murmuring with a final kiss to her temple, “I’ll be back.” 

He walks out of the kitchen and into the hall, moving to the back of the house.

Two separate rooms, directly across from one another, each providing a variety of different activities and spaces. Most completely opposite one another. Expected, given their staunchly different personalities.

There’s no active decision regarding which room he walks in first, no specific desire to see or interact with one over the other. He just so happens to venture left vs right. 

And sure enough, as predicted, she sits at the table, so small but perfect for her. She’s focused on the paper in front of her and crayon in her hand. So focused to the point where she misses his entrance, doesn’t overhear his footsteps until he’s only a few feet away from her.

But when she does, big brown eyes landing on him, eyes that are exact replicas of her mothers, the crayon is dropped and the smile is out. She jumps up from the seat and runs over to him, Roman leaning down just in time to catch her hug, an instant ease washing over him, deeper than what’s allotted even with his wife.

This is something different, something deeper, something he still doesn’t quite know or believe he deserves to feel. But nevertheless, it’s present, it’s felt, and it’s wonderful.

When she pulls away, he finds himself pushing back some of her curls, light and fluffy, framing her face that’s the perfect combination of himself and Solana. “I missed you…” Her smile grows as he asks, eyes narrowed a bit. “Were you a good girl for your mom while I was gone?” She nods excitedly and reaches for his hand, Roman standing as she guides him over to the table where she was drawing. Roman crouches back down as she shares her artwork, an in-progress photo of the ocean, most likely scenery she’s memorized from one of their many trips to Isla Mujeres. “Is this what you’re working on?” Again, another nod as she points between the drawing and him. He points to himself. “Is this gonna be for me?”

Instead of the expected no, she answers in her voice, so soft and light. “I’m sorry it wasn’t done in time….”

A small smile grows on his face. She’s very much unlike her sister, of very few words. So much so that Roman insisted he and Solana discuss her quietness with the pediatrician to make sure nothing was wrong. And of course, nothing was. It’s just that she inherited quite literally Solana’s entire disposition. Quiet with a great big heart that seems too pure for this world.

And, unfortunately, a tendency to apologize when unnecessary.

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.” His praise seems to bring back her smile as he kisses her forehead. “Fa'afetai tele.”

She matches his smile, surprising him yet again with more spoken words vs non verbals. “E le afaina.” 

Standing back up, he informs, “I’m gonna go see your sister. Can you go help mom finish cooking dinner?” He knows Solana is almost done, if not already, but Roman also knows that personality and disposition weren’t the only things inherited. So were passions and interests, hence the drawing.

And cooking, judging by the way her eyes light up as she dashes out the room to play assistant.

Roman chuckles and walks out, hitting the switch as he moves across the hall, once again unsurprised by what he finds. She’s going at it with the freestanding punching bag, kicks that are pretty impressive considering her age. Her face is scrunched up in determination, the same face as her sisters yet so different. 

Where one is soft and quiet, the other is loud and bold. One is timid, the other adventurous. One is Solana, but this one….she’s her father’s daughter, through and through. Bold and fearless. 

“Don’t forget to point your toes.”

His deep voice breaks through her concentration as she whips her head to the side, a reaction similar to her twin sister. A huge smile breaks through that impressive focus.

“Daddy!”

Again, he moves to one knee to catch her for a hug, tight and heartwarming. She pulls back almost immediately, asking with all the excitement. “Did you see me?”

“I sure did.” He comments on what’s more than obvious. “you’ve been practicing.”

She nods with just as much excitement. “Aunt Bayley and Aunt Naomi said I’m really good!”

“You are.” He wouldn’t lie to her. She is. But, he also knows it’s because this is her passion. Where her sister finds joy in art and books, she gets that joy from movement, from fighting, her gravitation towards martial arts happening at such a young age. 

“I’m gonna be better than you!” He chuckles. At not even a fraction of his age, she already is. And it has nothing to do with her natural fighting abilities. 

“We’ll see.”

“I am!” She affirms, so determined and focused. “I’m gonna wear the ula fala and be Tribal Chief just like you, daddy!”

Roman does his best to keep that small ounce of concern hidden and tucked away. Young. She’s too young to know just what she’s asking for, the weight that comes with what he does, the truth about what and who he is.

It’s been the decision of both himself and Solana to shield the girls from it. The truth of it all. For now. As long as they can, at least. But the girls aren’t dumb either, they know he holds a high rank, one of the highest, in his family.

And his spitfire of a daughter seems determined to do the exact same.

“Cousin Jamar was saying I can’t cause I’m a girl, but I told him he’s just a stupid boy and I’m way smarter anyway.”

Roman’s eyes narrow slightly as asks the question he already knows the answer to. “And you hit him too, didn’t you?”

Even when he has to be away from home, Solana makes sure to keep him informed of all happenings with the girls, especially this one who’s already gotten in trouble a couple of times at school for her mouth.

And fist.

Her eyes drop as she pouts slightly, murmuring, “he made me mad….” His temper. She definitely has inherited that too. “No one talks about me, you, mommy, sissy or my new baby brother, or I’ll punch them in their face.”

This is the part where Roman struggles, where he tries his best to tap into that part of him that feels so unfamiliar. Because his initial response is that she did nothing wrong, that she’s doing exactly what she’s entitled to.

Protecting her family and standing up for what she believes is right. 

“It’s important to know when to fight, and it’s a lot harder not to sometimes.” That’s the best he can come up with in the moment to not necessarily let her know he doesn’t see much of an issue with her behavior. “I’ll teach you.”

Her eyes light up with excitement. “I get to train with you?” A request she’s had for at least the past two years, Roman pushing it off and allowing Bayley and Naomi to help her because his level of training is far too intense for her young age.

But

That doesn’t mean he can’t modify his approach a bit. 

“Yes!” She jumps up and down, hugging him, another small smile on Roman’s face. Some kids like to play dolls, like his other daughter, but this one….this one lives for a good fight.

And speaking of, the calmer of the two of them coming running into the room, Roman turning just in time as she smiles and tugs on his shirt, motioning for them to follow her.

“Is dinner ready?” Learning to understand her even with the absence of speech has come second nature for all of them. 

She nods, as the other one breaks the hug with Roman, asking her twin with all the excitement and competitiveness. “Wanna race?”

Roman already knows the answer, watching as his more quiet child is suddenly waiting for her sister to count them off. Seconds later, the two of them rush out the room on a trajectory that’ll lead to Solana who will no doubt chastise them for running in the house.

But they come back, giggling together as they stand in the doorway, hitting him with both a question and a demand. 

“Daddy, are you coming?”

“Daddy, wake up!”

Roman shoots up from the bed, hulking shoulders moving up and down in sync with his heavy breathing. Movement to the side of him shows him Solana shifting in her sleep, a peaceful expression on his face.

It’s the exact opposite of how he feels. 

Moving his hand through his silky, wavy locks, Roman takes the blanket off of him and carefully moves out the bed, prioritizing not disturbing his wife. 

He blows out a breath and walks out the double doors that bring him to the patio, his big body settling down on one of the chaise lounges.

It’s only then he asks himself the burning question at the back of his mind.

What the fuck was that?

Roman doesn’t really dream a lot, and when he does, they’re more along the lines or nightmares.

Night terrors when he was younger.

But this……he doesn’t even know what the fuck that was.

Children.

Roman has never really seen himself as a father, never allowed himself to think about it because it’s never really been a desire. He’s always known that he would have to create an heir to carry on his legacy, but that’s a thing of duty. Not desire.

So why the fuck is he dreaming about having not one but several children with Solana?

Solana….

Her oath a few weeks back of giving him an heir returns to the front of his mind. It makes him wonder all of sudden what her view on children is. Does she want children? Without inside knowledge of her trauma, one would think that’s an obvious thing. She would have never married him, never agreed to the arrangement when the sole purpose of the union was to create a child if she didn’t, in fact, want a child. 

But, Roman knows her, knows her trauma. Knows that she was forced into this.

Which makes him incapable of shooting down the possibility that maybe she doesn’t even want children?

And then he thinks about her tonight, thinks about the permanent smile on her face as she interacted with that little girl, the way she interacted with several of the children present who came up to her.

She looked….she looked happy. 

Content.

And of course, the now haunting words of the old woman who Solana also seems to have heavily gravitated towards: 

“You two will make great parents.”

Thinking about and being completely honest with himself, he sees it for Solana. Could….could see her as a mother.

But seeing himself as a father….that’s something he can’t answer. Can’t understand, really. 

The same way he can’t understand why there’s a small part of him that’s upset he woke up.

Upset that the dream didn’t last just a little bit longer. 

Upset that he’s now thinking heavily about what the old lady predicted.

Himself and Solana as parents. 

Fuck.

First the love comment, now this?

Damn that old woman.

________

Something is off with Roman.

Solana has noticed it ever since the night of the dinner at Paloma’s restaurant. She figured it was maybe because Roman really can only withstand so much social interaction. Chalked it up to him needing the night to sleep it off.

But, it was there the next day and the day after that and even as their trip in Isla Mujeres came to an end. 

On the jet ride back home, he’s quiet, working diligently on his work laptop. She tries her best not to think too much of it, because it’s not like he’s ignoring her. He still talks to her, still interacts with her, still touches her, but it’s just….off.

There’s like this….this distance that she can’t understand.

A distance that hurts. 

It’s why she stands in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to not get too into her head over her dress. It’s probably the most risqué thing she’s ever worn, more skin showing than she would prefer to be exposed. But, a small part of her hopes it will catch Roman’s attention.

Hopes it can progress the touches into something more.

Because along with his distant behavior, there’s been a lack of intimacy between them. And that’s especially hard for her to not think too much about. Because, to her, it was going well. She….she enjoys being with him in that way. Being that close to him.

She thought he did too.

Roman suddenly knocks on the bathroom door, asking, “you almost—damn.” Him stopping himself puts a smile on her face. 

Solana chews on her bottom lip, asking, “do–do you like it?” She then motions to her chest that’s heavily exposed. “I know it’s—it’s a lot.”

Roman moves closer to her, eyes raking over her slowly, hand moving to the back of her, under her dress, cupping her ass. “You sure you don’t want to stay in tonight?” A small smile starts to form on her face at his suggestive tone. “The two of us…naked.”

Her stomach flutters with excitement. This is the first time in days that he’s expressed any desire to be with her in that way, and now she’s beyond grateful that she pushed past her insecurity and put on the dress. Because it’s brought out that side of him that she’s been missing.

The side that makes her feel like he wants her.

A hand on his chest, she murmurs, “when we get back.”

Because while she also has a desire to be intimate with him, she’s also excited to see their friends.

Naomi, Bayley, and the twins inviting her (and naturally, Roman) out to a VIP lounge to have a belated birthday celebration since she wasn’t available to do anything with them for her actual birthday. She’s excited to see them, to be around her friends. 

“Are you….” Solana doesn't know where exactly it comes from, the bravery and confidence to ask what she’s about to, but it seems to leave her mouth before she can really think too much about it. “Are you okay?”

His gaze takes a curious tone. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, suddenly nervous about how to word it right. “I don’t know. You’ve just seemed….kinda off the past couple days.” He swallows, and she sees something flash in his eyes, something he shoves away. Something she’s now just as curious about. “Is–”

“I’m fine,” he answers. For some reason, she has a hard time believing that. “Adjusting to being back has just been irritating. I’ve never taken a vacation before, so shit has just been an annoying adjustment.”

Solana nods, believing there could be some truth to that. She doesn’t doubt it’s been an adjustment for him. But, there’s also this nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that there’s something else he’s not telling her.

“O-okay.” Something tells her this conversation will need to be revisited, just not right now. Not when it’s clear he has no desire to express whatever is really bothering him.

Roman dips his head and kisses her cheek. “Let’s get out of here. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can be inside you.” She giggles, gasping as he slaps her ass. 

“Roman!”

________

The lounge is beautiful. Reminiscent of an upscale club, minus the packed bodies and loud music. It’s clearly geared toward upscale clientele, and the second level of the lounge has been rented out, space cleared for their small party.

Something she greatly appreciates. Both for herself and Roman. Her husband already sacrificed so much of his preference to be isolated from others vs surrounded by people on their trip. 

The group separates naturally, Roman and the twins with Solana sitting near Bayley and Naomi, the two women nearly bursting at the seams with a ton of questions/statements.

“How was it?”

“We already know it was nice considering we barely heard from you.”

“Dulce mama was out here living her best life.”

“You got a lil tan too!”

“We want to know everything.”

Solana giggles, shrugging. “It was really nice.”

Bayley scoffs, “just nice? Girl, you gotta give us more than that.”

Solana opens her mouth, pausing a bit. “I mean….we spent a lot of time together.” Her eyes fall over to Roman who’s surprisingly engaging in conversation with Jimmy and Jey. Solo, as well. His presence surprised her. 

She didn’t know he was coming. Not to mention, she didn’t think he’d want to be present for anything that’s not required when it comes to her.

“And?”

Solana knows they’re not intentionally asking about sex, but their questions are unintentionally pointing her to share just that. And for some reason, most likely the trust and bond she’s formed with them, she’s not opposed.

That doesn’t stop the maddening blush from forming on her cheeks as she shares, “we—well, we finally, umm—”

Loud gasps interrupt her, Naomi being the one to ask the infamous question, “Solana, did ya’ll….” Solana chews on her bottom lip, nodding softly.

Bayley and Naomi have to cover their mouths to hold in the screams that would no doubt draw all of the wrong attention.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!” Bayley exclaims, suddenly asking with all the protectiveness, “he was good to you, right? Didn’t pressure you—”

“No. No. Never.” That’s probably the easiest thing to answer. Solana doesn’t know how to properly express how good Roman was to her. Has been to her. “He was—it was perfect.”

Naomi smirks, playfully nudging Solana’s shoulder. “We told you it was great with the right person.” They couldn’t have been more right. “So….was it just once or—”

Bayley scoffs. “We cannot be asking her all these intimate details!” Only to then casually ask, “so like how big is his dick really?”

Naomi falls out laughing while Solana’s eyes widen at the graphic nature of Bayley’s question. 

“So you can ask about his dick size, but I can’t ask about how many times they’ve done it?”

Bayley protests, sipping some of her Vodka as she counters, “my question is for science.”

“Bullshit!” 

Solana shakes her head, giggling as she coyly answers, “we…it’s been a couple times.”

Naomi smirks. “Okay, girl, I see you. Ya’ll went to Mexico and got freaky.” Solana takes a sip of her bottled water, more than certain her cheeks are a red, hot mess. “Seriously though….I’m happy for you. With what you’ve been through, you deserve to have a happy, healthy, sex life. Every woman does.”

“She’s right.” Bayley agrees, and Solana finds the emotions brewing again. 

Never did she think it was possible, that she could have just that. A healthy sex life. Just how she never imagined she would end up with someone as amazing as Roman. Yet both of those things are exactly what have happened, and she’s never been happier. 

“Wait, does this mean we’re gonna be godmothers soon?” Bayley asks an otherwise normal question that has Solana still in her seat. 

Naomi chimes, “I mean, she’s not allowed to be on birth control, and I know Roman had to have broken his condom only rule since they’re married so….”

Solana has a hard time saying anything, has a hard time not thinking about something that should have been considered the moment that barrier was broken.

Roman and Solana have consummated their marriage.

They’ve had sex. 

Several times.

Unprotected sex.

They are actively having unprotected sex.

Naomi is right in that not once did Roman bring up protection. 

It has her wondering now if he didn’t bring it up because, in his mind, they’re now working on creating an heir?

But, she dispels that theory pretty quickly, remembering how determined he was to help her not feel any pressure regarding them conceiving a child. He’s never seemed too concerned with that part of their marriage deal.

Unless….

Unless it was because they weren’t sexually active, but now that they are….

Suddenly, another conversation with Roman regarding just what the plan is for that is on the agenda.

Along with whatever it is that’s bothering him that he won’t open up about. 

Bayley and Naomi must pick up on her change and mood, switching the conversation to something regarding some mess that kicked off at the Warehouse between Nia and some person named Mia. Solana does her best to follow along when she feels her phone vibrate in her bag. 

Pulling it out, she unlocks her phone and opens up messages, specifically the unopened thread from an unsaved number.

Unknown: Did you really think you would get away with fucking us over?

Unknown: You were warned.

Unknown: What happens next is on you.

The phone drops out of Solana’s hand the minute she’s done reading the text. She can barely breathe, barely process what’s happening as her head snaps up, eyes frantically searching for the one person who’s now been kicked to the front of her mind.

Roman

She spots him, expression unreadable as he sips on a beer, speaking to Solo.

Solana jumps up from the sofa, ignoring Naomi and Bayley asking what’s wrong. She kicks her heels off and makes a beeline straight for him, uncaring about the bodies she has to squeeze between, the few individuals who she actually shoves out of her way. Something at any other time she wouldn’t dare consider doing. But this isn’t any other time, this is life or death.

Literally.

“Roman!”

His eyes snap with hers seconds before she successfully makes her way over to him. Her heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest. She can barely breathe, and she’s certain that she’s trembling, but none of that stops her from rushing out, “we have to get out of here!”

His hands move to her face, cupping it, taking note of her frantic state as he asks with all of the protectiveness. “What’s wrong?”

Eyes watering, she opens her mouth. “I—”

That’s as far as it goes, the most and only thing that she’s able to express because before she’s cut off. Roman’s gaze lifts above her and the last thing she sees is the slight widening of his eyes as he shoves her to the side of him with so much force that she slams against the ground, her head bouncing off the carpeted floor.

But, that’s not what catches her attention. Not the shock of him pushing her so harshly, putting his hands on her in a way she would have never thought possible. No, that’s not an issue at all, because the sound that only seems to have registered upon her fall is what has her attention snatched and fixated.

A single sound that she hasn’t heard in years.

A gunshot. 

And then chaos.

There’s shouts, there’s screams, there’s people running around in a mass panic, but a single voice cuts through all of that: clear, loud, furious. “Get her out of here now!”

Roman.

And it’s the sound of his voice that makes Solana snap her head to the side, eager to lay eyes on him in the midst of this chaos.

But, it’s when she does that everything changes, the world stops and time stands still.

“No.” She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move, can’t function because all she can focus on is the sight of Roman’s men with a perimeter around him, guns lifted and aimed, ready to fire off at a moment's notice. “Roman!” She tries to climb up off the floor, tries to get to him, to see him, to touch him. 

Solana is unable to look away from the sight of him holding onto his shoulder, face grimaced in pain, blood seeping through his long fingers.

But before can get to him, before she can actually touch him, another voice calls out, “cover me!” And she’s suddenly off the floor, body pressed against a stranger, the interaction causing her to try to jerk away. 

Partially because of the contact, mostly because she needs to get to Roman.

“We gotta get you out of here!” Solo’s voice, harsh and determined, makes her realize he’s the strange body that she also now realizes is trying to get her the hell out of dodge. “Now!”

And it’s right then and there that another gunshot rings out, followed by several more.

Solana’s panic nearly triples as she tries to push him away, tears burning her eyes, “no! I’m not leaving him!” Solana beats her fist against Solo as he continues to drag her, Solana begging, “don’t make me leave him!” The tears are spilling over, the last glimpse of Roman showing Jimmy and Jey rushing over in his direction. “Please!” Solana continues to cry out his name, fighting a losing battle against Solo who is successful in ushering her out of the emergency exit located in the back. 

Once outside, he has to keep dragging her down the fire escape staircase, because she doesn’t stop trying to push him away and doesn't stop from trying to get back to Roman. Solana can’t stop replaying the nightmare that has just become a reality. 

She has no idea where Naomi is. Where Bayley is. Only able to see the twins and Roman before she was ripped away from the scene.

Roman….

He pushed her to protect her.

Moved her out the line of fire and took the bullet intended for her.

He’s been shot because of her.

He’s been hurt because of her.

And it’s all her fault.

[gentil-minou]

how do this chapters keep getting longerrrrr

[queers-gambit]

Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant

( a 303-page novel by Anne Taylor )

prompt: behind closed doors, many families have secret turmoil. you experience your boyfriend's with him one fateful Christmas. or how Carmy finally made the decision to get away.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 10.4k+

note: highly recommend the book. also let author write out her stress and trauma please, this was GOING TO get deleted but 10k is a lot of effort so please be kind in what you say.

warnings: spoilers, cursing, toxic family, small hurt and comfort, loving someone despite toxic situations beyond anyone's control, Lord's name in vain, a little of what happens after THAT scene, reader nicknamed Peach.

⚠️ season two, episode six spoilers

"What're you readin', Peach?"

You looked up through the lens of your glasses, smiling at your questioning boyfriend as his bare feet slapped the polished floors of the hotel suite you sought refuge in. You greeted with a soft tease, "Good morning to you, too, sunshine."

"Yeah, yeah. You're right, sorry, hi," he smirked, bending down to kiss your lips in greeting. "Been up long?"

"No, no, just about a chapter or so," you lied, not wanting him to know you've been up for hours out of sheer anxiety. "I made us some coffee, too."

"My perfect girl," he smirked, bending to kiss you again. "Want a refill?"

"I'm okay, thank you." It was quiet for a moment before you heard Carmy fucking around in the kitchen, trying to focus on the novel in your lap, but being most unsuccessful. "Don't forget about tonight," you called in reminder, wondering how to broach the subject before just ripping the Bandaid off.

"What's tonight, again?"

"Carmy."

"I'm kidding," he chuckled, exiting the kitchen to take a seat on the couch at your feet, bringing them onto his lap. "I know, we're gonna go over at, like, 2..."

You nodded absently, seeing the distant look in his eye. "Are you sure it's okay for me to come?" You wondered, nudging him with your foot.

"Hmm?" Carmy looked at you in confusion. "Peach, you've been before, why would it be weird now?"

"I don't know, I wasn't a girlfriend all those times I attended."

"Oh, you're a girlfriend this year? Hmm... To who?"

Your eyes rolled as you pinched him; loving the easy smile on his lips. "Not funny, I'm just trying to be sensitive to all parties," you pouted.

"I know," he allotted, taking a mouthful of coffee before setting his mug down. He started rubbing your feet and ankles, admitting, "I'm a little nervous, I guess..."

"I know."

"It's nice that you'll be there," he nodded, sighing. "They all still give me shit for going away."

"I know, and it's not fair to you," you assured, "you don't deserve that kinda treatment. Say the word, Bear, and we'll skip it."

"Too late now," he wiped his tired eyes. "I need a smoke, Peach."

"I'm gonna hop a shower."

"I'll be in," he smirked, standing with his coffee after gently lifting your feet from his lap. You watched him move for the balcony sans a shirt and frowned when your mind repeated the passage you had just read. Quickly, you opened your book again and read what made your heart so very heavy:

"'You think we're a family,' said Cody, turning back. 'You think we're some jolly, situation-comedy family when we're in particles, torn apart all over the place, and our mother was a witch.'"

The similarities were eery. You saw Carmy light up through the glass door of your rented hotel suite, knowing his family was falling apart and he was powerless to it all; they all were. Carmy, his siblings, any loved ones... You tossed the book on the table, stood, and moved for the balcony.

Carmy leaned on the railing, glancing over shoulder as your arms slithered around his middle. With a kiss to his bare shoulder, you whispered, "I love you, Cream. So much."

He took a long, steadying breath, but replied with full sincerity, "I know, and I love you, too, Peach. So much."

Yeah, that's right, bitches. You were Peaches and Cream. Did it get cuter than that? Didn't think so!

Another kiss to his shoulder and you promised, "I'll be with you the whole time."

"I know."

"You're not alone."

"I know," he sighed. "I just... I know what we're walking into."

"We'll get through it - whatever happens. C'mon, come get a shower with me. It'll save water and shit."

However, you probably used about twice as much because as obvious romp in the glass-stall started. When clean, you both got out, dried off, did your hair, then your make-up; then both getting dressed and ready for one helluva holiday.

On the way, you stopped to pick up flowers for Carmy's mother, Donna, keeping hold of the homemade peach cobbler you had prepared. The whole drive, Carmy kept a possessive hand on your thigh; his nerves showing through as he nervously tapped a rhythm to your flesh. You reminded him to breathe, but he couldn't focus long enough to keep himself regulated.

You tried distracting him with conversation, but nothing stuck for too long. You tried letting a hand thread into his curls, but it didn't soothe him like it usually did.

Arriving, you and Carmy just sat in your car for a long moment. You didn't rush him, you did't speak, you just held his hand with one hand as the other extended to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck; and waited for his move. "All right," he cleared his throat, throwing his cigarette butt out the window before rolling it up and cutting the engine. "You ready?"

"We got this," you assured softly.

"There you are," Carmy smirked, hands catching your waist as you tried to pass through the hall, "thought you ran outa here already."

"We're just warming up," you purred, his chest to your back; your arms crossed to hold onto his engorged biceps. You grinned as your foreheads met for a fleeting moment of peace.

"I'm really happy you're here," he whispered.

"Me, too."

"Love you, Peach."

"Love you, Cream," you sang, making him chuckle a little.

"You know, some of the guys thought you and I finally getting together is all some big cover story."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm," he hummed, snuggling into your embrace as you both found a secular moment of seclusion to get in a much-needed recharge. "Say you're actually dating some hunky Italian model dude."

You hissed between your teeth, "So, so close, but he's actually French."

Carmy chuckled, then took a sobering breath and glanced over his shoulder. "Should get back. I found Mikey and Nat - they were on the front stoop, smoking."

"Good," you mused, turning in his embrace. "Gimme a kiss, please, then you can go," you pouted.

He looked up, then at you with mocking confusion, "But there's no mistletoe."

"I wanna kiss."

He snickered at your pouting, fat lip, leaning in to find your lips with his. There was a brief moment outside of time, space, and reality; and it was when you and Carmy kissed. God, was he a good kisser, albeit a bit wet, but still a damn-good kisser; and you relished every moment of it. His taste was like an intoxication. His hands hot. Smell prickled your sinuses delightfully. Body firm, love warm.

"Ewww," Fak gagged when he saw you two, "get a room, nobody wants to see that! Ugh! God!" He shuffled past you.

"Fak," you snipped, watching him pause.

"Sorry, Peach," he sighed, leaning in to peck your cheek. "You look beautiful as ever."

You hummed, patted his cheek, and then took Carmy's hand to enter the kitchen after Fak where Donna worked frantically. "Hi, Mama, Dee!" You greeted cheerfully, Carmy's hand already sweating.

"Oh! Hi, my baby, Peaches! Oh, good, good, good, you made it!" Donna rushed over to kiss your cheeks, hands held out to not get grease or sauce or fish on you. "You look so beautiful!" She gasped, "Oh, honey, you look - wow! Stunning! Just stunning!"

"Oh, you just like flattering me," you teased, feeling Carmy's hand tighten. "Something smells so fucking amazing - oh, this is going to be a dinner for the books, huh?"

"Who's flattering who now?" She laughed.

"It's not flattery when it's completely true," you laid on thick, hoping the compliments bulked up to fluff her ego enough to save the family from an inevitable breakdown later.

"Did you bring your cobbler?" She asked with glee.

"Of course," you beamed, "I couldn't come here without one, that'd just be criminal!" Donna laughed with you, and you thought now was a good time to ask, "Can I help with anything?"

"What? Oh! No, no, no, honey, Peaches, no, no, no, I just want you to get a drink and go talk - go mingle! It's the holidays!"

You looked at Carmy as she went back to cooking, flabbergasted as to what you could say. "I'm gonna stay, you go - sit," He whispered with pinched brows and nodding his head, rubbing your waist. "Go 'head, baby, it's okay."

"I could peel - "

"It's alright, Peach," he chuckled, pecking your lips. "Go." His lips moved to your ear, "I want you good and drunk by tonight so we can have really dirty sex later, huh?"

"Deal," you purred. "But I can sit over there - "

"Peach."

You glanced at Donna, then at Carmy, whispering, "I just want to help."

"I know, Peach. Not right now though, okay?"

"She likes me, though." He nodded in agreement, looking ready to cave. "Stop trying to get outta this, Carmy, and just accept it," you smirked. "I'm gonna get some wine and be back."

He hummed as you kissed him in parting, and when you exited, missed the way Donna smirked at Carmy, "Can't leave a room without a kiss? Didn't think you'd ever be so possessive, Carmy, honey."

"I'm not, she likes it," he eased. "Here, let me get that," he freed her hands, trying not to snap when she picked up her wine immediately after. Carmen got to work doing what his mother barked at him, but then the Faks came in, and you returned, and then Mikey arrived - it all turning into an overcrowded shit-show.

"Where's the cake!?" Donna worried.

"It's defrosting, Ma," Carmen answered.

"Ma, why don't you let him help you?" Mikey sneered. "It's, like, all he fucking does, he'd be great."

"What was that? Was that, like, a shot?" Carmy snapped.

"Baby, don't, c'mon," you tried, reaching for his waist to curl your fingers so he felt your long nails. Not too hard, just enough to assure him you had ahold of him.

But Carmen couldn't let it go, even when his mother tired to diffuse the siblings. He snarled at his older brother, "I'm the guy that does food. You're the guy that what? Y-Y-You, uh, start a hundred different businesses and have zero follow-through."

"Carmy, don't," you tried, but it was lost to the sea of voices all talking at once.

But his brother was antagonizing, his mother deflecting, and he snapped, "This is why - This is why I didn't wanna come home, why I didn't wanna bring Peaches home to you all."

You remained silent when his mother snapped, "Oh, fuck you!"

"What the fuck!? What!?"

"Why the fuck would you say that?" Donna snarled.

"It's fuckin' Christmas," Mikey tacked on. They both over lapped one another, and Carmy felt backed into a corner.

"Not in front of my girl, man, fuck," Carmy had snipped at them.

"Say the fuckin' words!"

Carmy paused, then answered, "I love you, guys."

His mother was pleased and kissed his cheek, going back to cooking as Mikey kissed Carm's head. He looked over at you, mutely taking your outstretched hand to give a squeeze for each count to five; regulate his breathing, and then nodding in assurance he was okay. He went back to doing whatever his mother directed. Before he could slip away, you leaned into his ear, whispering, "I'm gonna step out."

"Good," he nodded, glancing back at his mom - but Donna was distracted. "I'll find you soon," he promised, pecking your lips before you exited the kitchen.

"Hey! Hey, Peach!"

"Hi, Mikey," you smiled, looking up at him when you paused outside the kitchen.

"Listen, uh... I just, uh... Look, I know I put you in a weird position," he sighed, hand to the back of his neck.

"How so?"

"By callin' you... Textin' you..."

"You want to check on Carmy," you sighed, "and you're as good as my real brother, so, I don't mind."

"It feels wrong since, you know, y'all are together now or somethin'."

"Mikey," you eased, "I was your guys' friend first, then I was family, and then I was Carmy's girlfriend. If you need your friend or your sister, I'm here, but if you need Carmy's girlfriend, I'll have to tell him. Get it?"

He chuckled, "I knew you'd understand."

"All too well," you eased.

"He doin' all right...?"

"He will be. He's just," you took a pause to sigh, "really tired and stressed. He works really hard, Mikey... Like really, really hard. Like you wouldn't believe."

"Nah, I know, Peaches, I know."

"Might be nice for him to hear that sometimes."

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!"

You apologized and had to leave Michelle when you heard Carmen's elevated voice, excusing yourself to look around the corner and spot your boyfriend in some heated argument with his brother and his brothers best friend, who they called Cousin, Richie Jerimovich. You were about to step in when you froze, hearing the argument without the guys realizing you were standing there.

"Seriously?" Mikey laughed. "You seriously think you're gonna keep a girl like Peach? Man, we all know this is some bullshit fling, but seeing Claire Bear - Man Alive!"

"That doesn't even make sense!" Carmy snapped.

"Oh, c'moonnnn, Carmy," Richie groaned, "look, I love her, I do, but we all know there ain't no way Peach is, like, girlfriend material. She's still sowing her wild oats, you know, just, fuckin' around and shit!"

"Fuck did you say!?" Carmy snarled, lunging for Richie but being caught by Fak's faster hands. "Huh!? The fuck did you just say!? Callin' my girl a slut? Fuck are you on about - "

"No, I ain't say - "

"Better watch your fucking mouth," Carm growled, "and learn to respect our relationship 'cause neither of us are goin' anywhere. Peach is here to stay - like it or not - and she's here to stay with me!"

"But you had such the crush on Claire - "

"I had a crush on Peach, too!"

"But Claire - "

"Nothing about Claire, Jesus, fuck! I don't need y'all fucking meddling! Peach and i are good, fuck you doin' set me up with some other chick!? I don't want nobody else - I got the girl of my fuckin' dreams, fuck you guys doin' tryna ruin that!?"

"We're just tryna help you, man, talk you up, man! Fuck! Don't gotta sound so ungrateful - "

"You don't need to! You don't need to talk me up to anybody, you fuckin' idiots! I have Peach! I don't need you to talk me up because I'm good, okay? I'm good. I got Peach, I'm committed to her, so don't try to talk me up to anyone for any fucking reason - good intentions or not!"

"Y'all aren't even serious!" Mikey laughed loudly. "C'mon! Peach isn't a relationship kinda girl, ain't no way you're thinkin' y'all are gonna last or be some, like, serious thing. You're just bored! But we're telling you, man, Carmy, you don't gotta be anymore, 'cause Claire Bear is - "

"Not my fucking girl!" Carm snapped, temper loosening. "Fuck off! Ain't got nothing decent to say - then just shut the fuck up!"

They called Steven in and you panicked for a millisecond before evening your stride to look like you just arrived. "Hey," you smiled to the lads, "what's all the yelling about? Jesus Christ, it's like a holiday at my house when Meemaw comes to visit."

"I told you," Carmy's attitude directed at you, making you feel disarmed, "these assholes don't respect our relationship, they were trying to set me up with someone else."

You offered the others a stale look as your hand latched to Carmy's, sounding like a scolding mother, "Real mature, you guys. That's wildly disrespectful and it's hard not to take it personally."

"We don't mean it in a bad way, Peach," Richie sighed, "just that there's other options and neither of you have to settle."

"'Settle'?" Carmy laughed, and you had to readjust your stance to prevent him from charging. "You're forgetting Peach did whatever she could to make us work, she was loyal when none of y'all could bother answering the phone, and she always held me down. And then, when I was finally good, I promised her we could come home. So, you jagoffs owe her your thanks that we're even home this Christmas."

"None needed," you smiled, wanting to start screaming yourself but holding back for the sake of Carmen. "I'm sure their jealousy keeps them warm at night, who am I to take that from them by having them apologize?"

"Don't do that," Mikey groaned. "Get all high and mighty."

"How have I ever? You're the assholes shitting on your brother for having a girlfriend. Just 'cause you've all thought about me when self-pleasuring, doesn't mean take your jealousy out on our relationship."

The argument started up again, sighing as you didn't engage but instead tried to hold your boyfriend back when he bared his teeth at a few comments hurled at you both. You flinched away when Mikey started reaching for Carmy to physically pick at him, inciting his anger; making him snap back to not "fucking touch" him.

"Mikey, please," you tried to stave off, but Richie reached out and lugged a heavy arm around your shoulders. "Richie, for fuck's sake. C'mon, just fuck off. Mikey, don't fucking touch him - c'mon, guys!"

"Awh, you get so defensive for him, it's so cute," Richie laughed, jostling you a little as Mikey and Carmy still snapped and snarled at each other in the way only siblings could.

"'Cause y'all don't know how to fuckin' stop," you pushed Richie off you. But then...

"HEY!"

You flinched when a wooden spoon flew through the air to hit Stevie, who yelped in shock from the sting. "Hey! What the fuck?" He looked up and asked, "Auntie D, did you just throw a spoon at me?"

"Yeah, I did," Donna snarled, hanging in the doorway. "You, Richard, bring her the pop - "

"Deedee - "

"You, Carmen, I need you!"

This triggered another avalanche of voices to overlap one another. You moved towards Carmy as Mikey approached his mother, hearing Richie tell Carmen, "We're not done about this Claire Bear thing."

"Yes, you fucking are," you snapped, pushing Richie a half-step back. "Fuck off, Cousin, you're taking this too far."

"I only meant - "

"We all know what y'all mean, but go fuck yourself! We're happy, now either accept that or fuck off 'cause you're not gonna come between us. Go, goodbye, go, go, go tend to your pregnant wife - go, goodbye, fuck you," he tried to talk over you, sounding amused, "Merry Christmas, I love you and shit, but fuck you, go away."

He backed off as Stevie left the room, allowing you to turn for Carmy as he leaned on the arm of an armchair. His head shook and reached for you, bringing you in closer until his head rested on your stomach and his arms coiled in a vice grip. You frowned and thread your fingers through his hair, hearing his mother starting up another tangent about needing Carmen. With a sigh, he looked up at you, "Thank you."

"Hmm?"

"For just being here," he whispered. "I'm sorry about them."

"They're breaking your balls, baby," you smiled, curling his curls behind his ears. "C'mon, we should go help your mama."

Carmy sighed and stood to his feet, "You don't have to stay."

"But then how will I know you're okay?" You pouted, watching him smile and wrap his arms around your waist.

"I'm sorry about them," he whispered. "They don't - they don't know what the fuck they're talking about."

"It's okay," you matched his tone, ignoring your own burning-hot emotions. "They're just jealous."

He nodded, hearing his mother snarl something else about needing him; making Carmy sigh. His lips found yours in a slow kiss, pausing to lean his forehead on yours, "Really grateful you're here with me, Peach."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be, Cream," you grinned, starting to lead him back towards the kitchen.

"Hang on," he paused you, glancing around to see nobody lingering. "You know I love you, Peach, right?"

"And you know I'm very serious about this relationship, Carmy, right?"

He rested against you, breathing, "I know." Then his lips spread in a grin, "Gonna marry you one day, Peach."

"Good," you teased, but being honest, "because I can't see spending my life with anyone else but you, Cream. I mean, who else has a family this entertaining?"

He laughed as he followed after you.

"Help me, Peach, please, Goddamn it," Donna grunted, trying to lift a heavy, full cast iron pot. "There we go," she mused when you gabbed the other end to put it back on the burner. You didn't comment that it was the same pot she had Carmy move earlier, just doing as she asked.

She only let you in the kitchen because of Carmy.

Speaking of... "Behind, baby," Carmy muttered, a hand ghosting your waist as he moved. Sugar appeared and you only tried to minimize yourself as eight different timers were ringing for any unknown fucking reason.

Donna sent Carmy off to get saltines for a pregnant, nauseous Tiff, leaving you three women. "Oh!" Donna gasped, "You're almost empty! Here, here, Peach, here you go!" She cheered when she saw your nearly-empty wine glass. Sugar sent you a long look, and you knew this was eating her alive to watch her mother like this; but you hoped you were enough of a buffer for them.

A few minutes later, Donna asked if you could go grab another bottle of wine for you two to share. You froze, between a rock and a hard place; knowing you shouldn't but not wanting to upset the host. You had once done the same with your own mother, perhaps being a reason you didn't go home for holidays.

"Yeah, of course, one second, Miss Lady," you told Donna, sending a confused look to Sugar.

When you walked out, you nearly ran straight into Carmy. "Shit," he breathed, "sorry, baby, didn't mean to run into you like."

"It's okay, but where you goin', speed racer?"

"Mikey's gift," he actually grinned, watching you return his excitement after knowing how much thought he put in.

"You know we're doing exchanges later," you laughed lightly, watching him go. Finding the wine rack, you selected a bottle, and returned to the kitchen where Donna and Sugar were bickering. "Here," you smiled, setting the bottle down to uncork it.

"Thank you, honey," Donna purred, accepting your pour. When she turned for the stove again, you winked at Sugar and discreetly tipped the wine bottle over into the sink to drain it until it was about a quarter way full. "Carm? Where the fuck are my saltines?" She yelled.

When he returned, he gave his mother what she needed before approaching you. "Wanna take a break?" He mumbled.

"Dinner doesn't make itself, baby," you teased.

"Hmm," he hummed, pecking your neck, "I'm gonna run Tiff up some crackers."

You continued your work for several long minutes, when suddenly, Donna pulled one of the seven fishes from the oven. She turned, set it on the counter, but stumbled last second to accidentally knock her wine glass over. The shattering made both Sugar and Donna swear. You wanted to help, but Sugar was already on the floor trying to clean, causing Donna to seethe, "It's like I fuckin' have to do everything for everyone." You and Natalie tried to assure her, but she spoke over any reassurance, "No one fucking lifts a finger to help me."

"Look, I'm getting it right now!"

Donna leered over her daughter, making you freeze, "Can you just go upstairs and get Dad's gun out of my drawer," she held her thumb and pointer finger like a gun, muzzle to her temple, "and I think I'm just gonna blow my fuckin' brains out, and then you guys can make dinner - " Sugar tried to speak over her mother but was unsuccessful, "because I don't think anyone would fuckin' miss me!"

Natalie sobbed as she tried to say anything other than "No! You're okay!" When the older woman gabbed her daughter's cheeks in a pinching-hold, you felt like throwing up as the scene - the words - the actions - it was all too familiar to you. They still yelled over one another, but then, Steven entered the kitchen and disturbed them all.

He only got to greet, "Hey, Donna, Mama D - "

Before Donna screeched at him, "Oh, motherfucking asshole!"

"Out, out, out," You ushered, gently directing Stevie to the door; Sugar repeating what you said as Donna still snarled and yelled and insulted and cursed.

"Get the fuck out!"

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," you whispered when you pushed him out the door. "Thank you for offering, but we got it - it's okay."

You sniffled as Sugar collected the trash and promised to take it out; one of the timers ringing. Donna looked lost and confused as Sugar left, the matriarch whispering, "What's that for?"

"Is it the flounder?"

She didn't answer, lost in her mind, yet muttering, "Nobody would fuckin' miss me."

"Mama D?" You called, watching her startle back into reality. "Is that timer for the flounder?"

"Oh! Right! Yes!" She clapped, pointing at you, "And that's why you're my favorite, Peach. Tell you what," she scoffed, shaking her head, "don't you ever have kids. They fuckin' ruin everything, never show gratitude, never bother to help their fucking mother."

"Well, I'm not thinking about kids yet," you chuckled softly, hoping to distract her. "Still got a lot more life to live before that."

"Just don't do it," she spat. "Even with a sweet boy like Carmy, kids just ruin relationships. Marriage ain't no better, either. What - where's the fucking bread?"

"Here," you sighed, showing her the bread basket.

"Hey," Carmy entered the kitchen, looking exhausted, "can I talk to you for a second, Peach?"

"If your Mama doesn't need me," you nodded, not wanting to tell him too much about what you witnessed.

"I need you everyday, honey," she spoke softly, leaning in to peck your cheek, "but it's fine, it's fine - I don't need help. Go with Carmy. Go, go, go, go."

"Holler if you need us," you smiled, "even if it's just for hot gossip."

"My girl," she teased gently with a wink.

"C'mon," Carmy muttered, taking your hand, and leading you out a side door. He glanced around a few times, finally finding a secluded part of the house. When he came to a halt, you did too, and he sighed as his hands took your waist, "Sugar told me to come rescue you. Said something happened with Mom and I should check on you? The hell happened?"

You shrugged, "Just... Sometimes I forget what family feels like. I left mine for a multitude of reasons, maybe I feel like I fit in better with you Berzatto's. Mama D just got frustrated, and it reminded me of my mom. I wasn't scared, but I think I was triggered."

He nodded, "You need a break."

"I'm okay, I promise."

"You're not," he sighed. "You shouldn't be on the frontlines against her. Okay? It's too stressful for anyone and I need you with me. I need you whole. You know? Need you intact for me, and Ma's only gonna rip you to shreds."

You pouted, "I just... I thought if I helped, she'd feel calmer, maybe save you guys from taking her shit. We used to cook all the time together..."

Carmen sighed, reaching for your cheek to caress your jaw, "You really are a sweetheart." Carmy leaned in and claimed a kiss from your lips, making you both sigh in contentment. When he pulled back, Carmy whispered, "I love you, Peach."

"I love you, too, Bear."

"Carmy!"

He whined, deflating on your shoulder at his mother's cry. "Holidays are almost over, baby. Gotta hang on for a bit, I need you intact, too."

You parted ways, Carmy returning to the kitchen as you meandered around the rest of the rooms, peaking into each of them. "Hey!" Someone cheered, making you look up to a separate doorway leading to a sitting room.

"Oh, shit, hey, Pete!"

"Peaches!"

"Just Peach!"

He laughed and accepted your hug, "Merry Christmas! Happy holidays, seasons greetings, warm tidings, and shit."

"You, too," you cooed, glancing at the tin in his hand. "Oh... Y-You brought something?"

Pete blinked as the room snickered. "Yeah? It's... It's tuna casserole."

"And you brought fish... Why?"

"'Cause it's the Feast of Seven Fishes - "

"And by bringing tuna, it'd be eight fishes."

He sighed, "Yep, so I keep being told."

"I mean, good intentions, honey, but wildly misplaced," you winced. "Probably shouldn't let Carmy see..."

And of course, when you said that, your boyfriend came from behind to clap his hands and call, "Hey, family!" He tried to announce dinner but Pete was too happy to cheer loudly and greet your lover. "Woah, woah, woah. What the fuck is that?" Carmy demanded when he saw the aluminum dish tin.

"Don't tell him," Michelle voted.

"What do you mean, 'don't tell him?'" Mikey followed.

"It's nothin', it's nothin', I - "

"Peach," Carmy looked at you, making you freeze, "what is this? What is that? Peach, the hell is that?"

"Um, well," you tried to smile in reassurance, taking his stiff hand, "you know, you're gonna get mad, but Pete's heart was in the right place."

From behind, "Uncle" Lee told Carmy, "It's a tuna casserole."

You saw the way Carmy locked in on Pete, taking a half-step back but not letting go of his hand. "It's seven fishes, Pete," Carmy snapped. It started a new wave of slander. By the end, his hand was clamped around yours in a vice, leading you through the room and telling Pete, "Just don't let her see. Don't let her see!"

"Dinner," you reminded the room, following Carmy as Sugar passed to approach her husband.

"Wanna help me dress the desserts table?"

You nodded in agreement, and together, you and Carmy brought out all kinds of dishes to leave on the table. You were bringing out the peach cobbler you brought when you caught the tail-end of whatever Michelle was telling Carmy. "That's so nice," you interrupted, moving between the two to set down the cobbler, "offering up your place like that, but we have one."

Her head cocked, asking in interest, "You do?"

"My family does," you nodded.

"Well, think about what I said," Michelle told Carmy. "Would love to see you guys in the city," she smirked at you.

"Yeah, all right, sure," he agreed. When she left, you turned on your boyfriend with confusion, but he only sighed, "She was recommending I get away from this family-drama bullshit."

You shrugged, "Not a half-bad idea."

"We'll see..."

"Carmy," you frowned, "we'll do whatever is best and right for us. Okay? Nothing more or less."

"I hear you," he muttered.

"And I just got confirmation that we can use the apartment in Manhattan," you told him. "So, whenever we're ready to go, we can go, okay? We don't have to shack up in a hotel room for much longer."

"I don't mind it," he eased. "I'll make a decision... I'll make a decision by this weekend about New York, okay?" You agreed, him looking over your shoulder before taking your hand. "Dinner's on," he reminded, feeling your hand snake around his waist to rest; letting his arm raise to accommodate you, latch around your shoulders, continuing forward to the dining room.

However, before entering, you pulled Carmy to a halt. "Hey, hey," you smiled, turning him to face you, "I'm really proud of you for coming home. I know it's not easy, but you're so brave for going through this."

"'Brave'?" He scoffed.

"Brave," you agreed, nodding. "People associate it with knights slaying dragons, but in my opinion, it takes far more bravery to stand up to family than it is a stranger. Takes more bravery to confront those that haunt your home than it does to confront a literal dragon. Hmm?"

Carmy reached a hand out to curl a strand of hair behind your ear. "How'd you get so insightful?"

"That bullshit college you, Mikey, and Richie all roasted me about going to them years ago? Yeah, uh-huh, that education paid off."

"Didn't do shit for your grammar, though, did it?"

"Hush," you laughed, pinching his sides to make his squirm.

You and Carmen entered the dining room to see mostly everyone in their seats; slowly making it to your own on the other side of the table. "Here, Peach," Natalie smiled when you sat between her and Carmy; her at the head of the table. "Got you a refill," she set your wine glass in front of you.

"You're a literal angel."

"I have a question," Cicero addressed your half of the table as Carmy got up to check on his mother. "I heard why we call Sugar, Sugar, but where did the nickname 'Peach' come from?"

"Oh," you smiled at him, "Miss Mama Dee taught me to bake and helped me perfect this peach cobbler recipe. I brought it to all my family events, work events, and when I attended, all my school events. Since then, it just stuck as a name."

He hummed and nodded, offer a silent toast with his glass as Carmy returned - looking mildly startled.

You heard Michelle asking if she could start the process to dish up what she wanted to her plate, Carmy assuring her to wait until Donna; she was coming out at any minute. You leaned back in your chair, nuzzling your boyfriend's side; his hand latching around your upper knee to keep you close with you hugging his arm. "All right?" He mumbled, glancing down at you.

"Are you?"

"Mhm."

"What'd your mom say?" You whispered, feeling him stiffen. "Carmen, please..."

"She's upset, stressed; says nobody cares, nobody makes shit beautiful," he whispered frantically.

"Okay," you soothed in his ear, "just breathe, baby, I need you to breathe. Shh," his head was bowed so you pecked his cheek, "she's just stressed from the holidays. We all know how she gets."

He sighed and nodded, caressing the skin of your leg he had been gripping tightly. "Hey, Mikey?" Michelle asked sweetly.

"Yeah?"

"You wanna say grace?"

Mikey gave an awkward sort of chuckle, relenting, "I don't know, cousin. This motherfucker gonna cut me off?"

You blinked and reached for your wine, intrigue peaking. Uncle Lee, who the jab was directed at, cleared his throat and answered, "It depends. Uh, is it a grace we've heard a million times before?"

"Okay, okay," Cicero stepped in.

You offered, "Well, good Christians know the prayers 'cause they're said a million times, right? Huh?"

"Yeah!" There was another round of agreement, desperate to direct the attention away from the two men.

"Does that mean you wanna lead grace, Peach?" Jimmy asked.

"Oh, no, no, I think the honor should go to Stevie."

"Can I please not?" Steve blanched at the thought of public speaking.

His wife, Cousin Michelle, changed the subject by asking about the Feast of Seven Fish. Before you or anyone else could truly answer, Uncle Lee was overpowering everyone to give his explanation; trying to make a joke at the end about a Dutch oven by Baby Jesus' manger that burned him or something. You gasped when Mikey lobbed a fork at him, making a buzzer noise while he did.

"Oh," Carmy realized when you did, stretching his arm out to extend over you like a seatbelt; fork clattering to the floor.

"Did you just throw a fork at me!?"

"I did!" Mikey sang, chuckling to himself. "See, that's the thing, Lee, see, 'cause... Y-You see what you did, right? You remember you already bitched about the Dutch oven. See, you did that before."

"Michael," Cicero tried to diffuse, but Mike was deflecting like usual.

"And you fucking cut Peach off," Mikey snarled. "Trying to prove you're the smartest, right? Wanna answer a question that she'd answer the best? Last I checked, she studied different religions in college, so, why the fuck would you want to answer - instead of Peach - if not to just make a repeated, shitty joke?"

It made Carmy now bark, "Mike, hey, don't bring Peach in this, okay? Please, just - just chill out."

But Lee was just getting started. He was scolding Michael, and in the process, stuttered just a bit, but it was enough of a visible weakness. Mike started mocking Lee for his words and delivery, just angry at the 'uncle' without knowing directly what truly bothered himself. In fact, riding high on his angry adrenaline, Mikey looked over and asked for Fak's fork, but the tattooed family-friend wasn't too willing to hand it over; hoping this would pass and settle.

Mikey just reached for Fak's fork himself, promising he just wanted to borrow it. Yet he launched it in the air to throw at Lee again, the entire table voicing their discomfort and displeasure. Everyone tried to diffuse the tension; desperate to muddle the tension enough so it did not, at the least, escalate.

"Carmy," you worried, holding his protective arm, "we should do something. I can get Mikey out of here - "

"No," he muttered sharply, "you don't need to be so physically close to that kind of behavior."

You felt the air shift when Mikey told Lee he could throw forks if he wanted to because they were in his father's house. The tension brewed and your boyfriend looked more and more uncomfortable; leaning into his side enough to get him to do the same and lean into you while both sat rigidly.

Now Lee lit into Mikey in front of everyone about how he was living with his mother still, borrowing money from her and anyone else who listened to Mikey's "bullshit". Now Cicero was pushing back at Lee, not appreciating the turn of events after being labeled a "sucker" by Lee only moments prior.

However, Mikey stepped back in, assuring Cicero it was "fine" that he wanted to mouth off - and Lee angrily repeated it. But he was far from being over; starting a new tangent, calling Mikey a loser. Then he started to throw the man's drug use in his face, telling Mikey to look through the fog and understand that there'd be consequences if he threw another fork.

It was quiet.

Nobody said a word as they all waited for Mikey's reaction. Carmen appeared on high alert, waiting for someone to make a move in case he had to jump in. Mikey asked Pete for his fork, picking it up, and creating a new tidal wave of voices all begging Michael not to do shit. To put the fork down. To not do a fucking thing. Over all the voices, it was Sugar's that cut above; reminding her brother she loved him, begging him not to do this.

Stevie giggled nervously, apologizing for it - claiming he giggled when uncomfortable. But Mikey encouraged him NOT to apologize, to fucking giggle and, "enjoy this," 'cause, "this is fun!"

You were so fucking nervous for whatever was to come.

Carmy's one arm was extended over you, the other crossed over his own body to hold your hand through the arm of the chair he sat in. Cicero tried to diffuse everything, Carmy's voice snapping support; but nothing was truly registering in Mikey's brain. In fact, he stood, and Lee flinched when he moved as if to throw the fork; guffawing at and mocking the man's reflexes. This only created an opening for Lee to, again, take shots at Mike's drug use; claiming his flinch was a reflex, something someone had when their nerve endings weren't fried - like a junkie's. Naturally, it caused an entirely new fight.

One where, during which, Mike brayed and screeched like an animal; and by the end, it was Lee telling Michael to throw the fucking fork so he had an excuse to rock his shit. At this point, you were ready to scream and support the violent display if just to get this over with. Lee snarled and repeated that Mikey was "nothing", and for a moment, you thought all hell was about to break loose.

Yet you wouldn't ever know. "There she is," Cicero clapped, directing the attention towards Donna as she entered at long last. You looked at Carmy and squeezed his hand, leaning in to quickly peck his lips in reassurance. The table clapped for their drunk host, watching her dance to her seat with a full glass of wine and burning cigarette; asking them all what she missed.

"I missed something," she grinned. "Peaches? What'd I miss?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh," you cleared your throat, "we were just discussing the tradition of the Feast of Seven Fishes."

"Boo," she pouted.

"Actually, Ma, Stevie, uh, Stevie was about to say grace," Mikey deflected.

"Not Peach, who studied religion?" Lee mocked.

"Oh, honey, that would be so cool," Donna nodded at you.

"I think I'd like to hear Stevie's prayer," you smiled, "but if he fucks it up, I'll take over."

Donna giggled before sniffling and composing herself while Michelle reassured her husband enough to encourage him to lead the family prayer. You half-listened, distracted by your boyfriend's body language. His hand still held yours, but now, he was sitting up with the other hand covering his mouth. The table was shockingly quiet as Stevie spoke, everyone listening; liking his impromptu speech about love, family, holidays, and bears.

By the end, everyone was softly complimenting the man; his wife hugging him; Mikey even voicing a compliment. However, you were distracted by Donna's reaction as she sniffled her tears, wiped her face, and took deep, dramatic sighs. Cicero laid his hand on her shoulder in comfort, but Donna picked up her cig and muttered, "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter."

"Oh, Donna," Michelle cooed.

"It doesn't," she whispered.

As the table took turns trying to assure Donna that everything was gorgeous, you noticed the rigid way Carmy sat. "Baby," you whispered, watching him glance at you before leaning back a bit and wrapping his arm around you in an effort to remain close. However, before anyone could do anything, Sugar was asking those two words that triggered her mother:

"You okay?"

"Oh, my God," a few people muttered softly, Carmy and Mikey looking the most distraught by her words. Your lips pursed in nerves, watching Donna like a ticking time bomb; Carmy's hand sweating, leaving you anxious.

"Oh, Natalie," Donna sneered, "Rose Berzatto, do you know how much I fucking hate when you ask me that?"

"Okay," Sugar whispered, bowing her head, averting her eyes.

"Do you know," Donna enunciated, "how much I fucking hate - "

"Let's go upstairs."

" - that you have to do that!"

"Okay," Sug whispered again.

"D-Do you ask the rest of these people if they're okay?"

"No."

"N - " Donna stuttered, revving up. "Do I not look okay, Natalie?"

"Not really," Michelle answered as if without thought she had verbalized it, shaking her head.

You wanted to step in, you did; you own mother was an unmedicated, raging narcissistic, bipolar maniac with a drinking problem. You knew how to handle people like this... But this wasn't your fight, this wasn't your family; you were a mere guest, there to support your boyfriend in any way you could.

Donna glared at Michelle as Sugar offered to go upstairs again. However, the matriarch snapped, "Oh, fuck you, Michelle."

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," Carmy tried to rein his mother in.

"I didn't mean it like - "

"Do I not look okay? Did I not just bust my ass all day for you motherfuckers!?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Michelle rushed, looking down - like the others.

"This!" Donna stood, both hands gesturing to the table, "Is beautiful! Am I okay!?" She whipped around to glare at her daughter. "Am I okay!?" And then... She glared at you, "Well, let's ask, are you okay, Peach? Huh? Are you okay not having family invite you around for the holidays so you come here to fill a void and overcompensate by inserting yourself where you're not even wanted?"

You froze, brows furrowing. What had you done to deserve this unprovoked attack? You were used to it from your own mother, but that was because you were her child and it was an easy attack. This, however, was someone without blood relation laying into you about some deeper-seeded insecurities. Sure, you missed your family, but they were wildly unpredictable, unsupportive, unwelcoming, judgmental, harsh, and constantly at your throat about things that they had no business having an opinion on in the first place. It was better you stayed away - something Carmy still had to reassure you about, so to hear his mother use it against you stung beyond words.

"Hey, hey, woah," Cicero tried, Mikey voicing his own displeasure, but Carmy's was the most prominent.

"Don't bring Peach into this, Ma, please - "

"Are you motherfuckers okay!?" Donna screeched, silencing them all. "Are you okay, Lee?" She mocked. "You didn't do shit! This is fucking gorgeous!" She glared around the table she had gestured at, then, picked up a plate as she roared, "FUCK!" Then she smashed the plate to the floor, "YOU!"

You didn't flinch when you heard the shatter, instead, reaching a hand up to hold Carmy's cheek and keep him turned from the sight. One of his hands held your elbow, a way he communicated to assure you that he liked your touch.

"Fuck you!" Donna directed at the table again. Then, she muttered and pointed at Sugar, "Fuck you." Donna made her exit, sobbing, "Fuck you, Natalie."

The door slammed and you were left in a tense, ear-ringing silence. Slowly, your hand drifted off Carmy's cheek to just sit in silence, both your hands holding his. Nobody was sure what to say, and frankly, nobody wanted to be the first who broke the silence...

Until Lee exhaled deeply and opened his mouth - like he was some prominent member of the family, "Well, I guess we all knew that was gonna happen. So it's out, and, uh, maybe everybody - everybody can relax, huh?"

Your head shook.

"Yeah, that's, uh... That's the worst I've ever seen her," Michelle noted.

You wanted to snap that the mentally ill deserved kindness and respect like every other person. Perhaps they require a different sort of understanding, but you know what? Humans are humans for many reasons, one being the ability to empathize, and it wouldn't kill them all to try and offer Donna more understanding.

Especially in times of high stress!

However, nobody got to comment because Mikey let his temper flare from Lee's words. He picked up Pete's fork and lobbed it at an unsuspecting Uncle Lee; the metal utensil clattering to the floor, making Lee immediately snap, "You fuckin' piece of shit!"

Mikey rose to meet the challenge, purposefully overturning the poker table used as an extension off the "main" table; sending everything shattering to the floor as the Fak Brothers had to hold either enraged man back. It was a frenzy: Mikey and Lee yelling, Brothers holding them back, Cicero, Michelle, and Steve standing to get away from the fight as Cousin Richie directed pregnant Tiff to go with Uncle Jimmy.

Carmy rose, too, but you shot out of your chair, pleading over the noise, "Don't, please, not you."

He sighed at you, remaining put as you watched the escalated fight wage in the dining room. Richie was caught in the middle, trying to retain space between the feuding men; but it was all so very surreal due to Mikey just literally screaming to make himself feel big, bad, and heard. All of a sudden, in the very next room, there came a distant scream before a fucking car came barreling through the living room wall.

You had flinched into Carmy out of shock, and for a moment, nobody even so much as fucking breathed. Mikey was the first, approaching the car and begging for his mother to open the door; asking her what she had done; to please open the fucking door. Sugar remained seated, rooted in her spor; Carmy only moving like a zombie to get a better look - not believing his eyes. Everyone else was in shock and you just felt something click into place in your heart, mind, and gut.

No, you mother had never driven a car through the house, but you weren't a stranger to dramatic displays.

"Okay, okay," you cleared your throat, slipping past Carmy to moved for Mikey. "Hey, hey, hey, hey," you caught hold of him, pulling him off the vehicle, "you need to step back, okay? I'm gonna get it open, I'll get her to a hospital."

"No cops," Richie snapped.

"No cops," you agreed, "hence why I'll take her."

Mikey only shuffled when you stepped up, picked up a brick from the rubble, and with pristine accuracy and strength, shattered the back, drivers side window. Moving swiftly, you reached around to unlock the driver's door - yelping when Donna literally bit you.

"Fuck's sake, stop biting!" You snapped, unlocking the door and wrenching your arm free as you opened the door at the same time. "Donna, hey, hey, hey," you knelt, "you hurt? Hey, Donna, it's Peach, c'mon, I need you to tell me if you're hurt!"

She only cackled manically as she tried to stave you off.

You steeled yourself and lifted up only to keep at a bend so you could scoop Donna out. She started thrashing and you had to set her down, groaning, letting Mikey step in.

"She needs to get checked out right now," you told him.

"C'mon," Jimmy agreed as he stepped up, "I'll drive."

Mikey nodded in agreement and carried his mother out of the house, allowing you to sit in the car and shut it off. When you stood and looked around, there was still a heavy air of shock. Glancing at the damage behind you, you figured maybe you could back the car out so you could start cleaning.

"Richie, why don't you take Tiff home, I'm sure she's exhausted," you recommended softly.

"Nah, I'll help clean," he told you.

"Sure?"

"Yeah," he sniffled.

"Mind helping me get the car, you know, out of the living room?"

"Tell me what to do, baby girl."

Richie drove as you sat passenger, directing him; the two of you working to get the car in reverse and out of the wall. You got out to direct him the rest of the way, and left the car in the garage. When you got back in, you noticed that Sugar and Carmy were both gone, and you went into what your boyfriend called "Mama Bear Mode."

Tiff was allowed to rest upstairs, Michelle and Stevie left, and the Fak's left to go get you tarps and other equipment from their house since all stores were closed. You went outside and fought the cold to grab a wheelbarrow from the community garden shed about half a block away, and bringing it to the hole. Richie grabbed some snow shovels and dust pans and brooms, and together, you got to work on cleaning. It took the better part of a 3ish hours, things going a little faster when the Faks returned; helping pick up, sweep, and dump the material out of the house. They brought ladders and huge tarps, getting up to the wall to start installing the material to prevent the horrendous draft sure to come in.

Several times, the boys told you to sit - but you couldn't. So, you worked. And when it was done, you let the men to sweep the remains as you noticed the dining room still in disarray. Any layers of clothing you wore were shed, hair pulled off your neck and away from your face; preparing for the longest clean-up job you'd know.

You stored all food, organized the dirty dishes with the ones in the kitchen still, then worked on clearing space. The table was freed and you took advantage to lay out some bath towels, then getting to work. The reason you had organized the dishes was because you could wash all plates and set them in the drying rack; when done, you'd use a separate towel to dry the dishes and stack them on the dining room table.

Same for all saucers, utensils, glasses - water cups, wine glasses, and anything someone used for a stronger liquor.

Your feet ached, back protested, ears rang with the aftermath of the night. Richie took Tiff home, the Faks heading out as well; leaving you alone in the Berzatto house with only Carmy and Sugar.

You still worked so they wouldn't have to later.

Dishes stacked on the table, your fingertips pruned from the water, the sink decently filthy from food-waste. You didn't notice the time had passed until a pair of arms came wrapping around your waist - making you jump from being startled. But the tattoos on the hand was enough to assure you the man's identity; lips finding purchase on the slope of your neck and shoulder.

"You don't have to do this," Carmy whispered.

"I'm almost done," you promised, setting another bowl to the rack. "Where you been?"

"With Sugar. She was pretty upset, so, Pete and I were with her."

You nodded, "Good. She okay now?"

"She's asleep."

"You should be, too."

"You know I don't like sleeping without you," he sighed, and you felt his frown. "I'm... I'm really sorry."

"For what?"

"For us coming this year."

"I'm not," you promised. "It's okay, we'll take it in stride."

"It shouldn't be like this."

"No, it shouldn't. You deserve better, Carmy," you whispered, leaning back into his embrace - his arms tightening. "Heard from Mikey?"

"Yeah, he said the ER was still running a few tests," he sighed. "Might be another hour or more."

You nodded, "Gimme another few minutes and I'll be done."

"No, you won't," he chuckled. "Lemme help."

"Wanna dry?"

"Got me doin' dishes again, huh?" He smirked.

You matched it, "Take you back to the good ol' days?"

Carmy nodded, and for a few minutes, you worked in silence. It went smoother with help: you washing, him drying. When all was washed, you drained the sink with the garbage disposal, washed the basin out, and then started cleaning off the counters, stove, microwave, and any other appliance or surface Donna might've splattered on. Carmy noticed your system of dishes and did his best to match it, then mopping up the floor.

When you were both done, it was well past midnight and your adrenaline was waning. You eyed your boyfriend for a long moment, slowly approaching him after drying your hands; mimicking him from earlier and wrapping your arms around his middle. You felt Carmy give a long sigh, dropping one of his hands to hold yours on his stomach. "I love you," you reminded softly.

Carmy turned slowly, facing you with a soft, ginger expression. Both his hands rose to ghost over your cheeks, whispering, "I'm so fucking in-love with you."

Your smile was easy, "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Good."

He smirked, placing his forehead to yours. "Things got a little crazy," he whispered, "but I'm really glad you were here with me."

"I promise you, Carmy, I don't want to be anywhere else."

He sighed, pulling away to admire you for a long moment. "Even when Ma attacks you outta nowhere?"

"Even then," you promised softly. "Carmy, you forget, I had a mother very similar. Our relationship won't ever be the same, but the times I was around her, it taught me to walk on eggshells around someone. You're not alone in this and I promise, it doesn't scare me."

"Scares me..."

You nodded, stepping into his embrace, "I know, baby, I know. I'm so sorry. It'll get better, y-you'll find ways to deal with it all. Okay? I'm here with you."

His arms tightened, muttering, "Don't leave me, too."

"Not even if you beat me off with a stick," you teased. "Do you wanna go to bed, Cream?"

"Please," he groaned.

"You go up, I'll be there soon."

"You're not comin' up with me?"

"I think someone should be up when they get home."

Carmy sighed, "Probably..."

"Go to sleep," you encouraged, "I'll be up when they get in. I'll make sure Donna gets to bed, all right?"

"Nah, nah, I'll wait with you. Lemme grab some pillows and shit for us."

You didn't stop him, knowing you couldn't even if you tried. So after doing one last loop around the house, cleaning whatever needed it, you met Carmy in the second sitting room (the one Donna didn't drive into). He had a couple of pillows down and a comforter, changed into a pair of sweatpants and a muscle tank top. "Give me a minute to get changed," you whispered against his lips, hearing him hum in agreement.

You brought an overnight bag in case you were too tired to drive, now grateful for being "over prepared".

When you were matching in loungewear, you crashed on the couch with Carmy under a cushioned blanket. He was laid down the expense of the couch, you nestled between him and the back cushions. "How'd you do it?" He mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Deal with your ma?"

"Put a lot of distance between us, enforced boundaries even if it made me the bad guy. Started therapy, read a lor of self-help books. All in all, I learned she was abusive in a different way and it affects me and all my relationships."

He sighed, "Think i gotta do the same."

"What's that?"

"Create distance... Think New York's far enough?"

"It'll have to be," you mused, snuggling close as Carmy picked up with phone. He mindlessly scrolled through his social media, you watching; the exhaustion catching up to you both, making you start to doze, but abruptly woke up when the front door burst open.

"I got her," Mikey waved you both off as you tried to yank off the tangle of blanket, assisting his drugged-up mother to her room after kicking the door shut.

When he returned, you and Carmy were sat up in interest. He sighed and tapped a cigarette from the carton, telling you both, "She's okay, minor concussion and shit... Nothing we can't handle, right? I'll be back." He excused himself out the front door.

You spared Carmy a look, frowning when those wide, baby blues locked with yours. "She's okay," you reminded softly, "and I'm here with you." You saw the fear flash in his eyes. "Carmy, you're not like anyone in your family - you're not like anyone I've ever known. You won't end up like them, you're not gonna slip off the deep end 'cause of their curse. It's sink or swim, and fuck's sake, I've got an extra life preserver, okay?"

He smirked, "What would I do without you or your analogies?"

"Get really boring advice," you teased, letting him kiss you. When you pulled back, you whispered, "She won't ruin you. I won't let anything tear you down."

He paused for a long while, nodding, "Think we should go to New York, then."

"I think so, too. You can't linger here, Carmy, or else you're going down with them all and I can't do anything to help. If we stay here, Cream, I'm afraid for what it'll do to us, and if you stay with your family, there's no telling what they'll do or make you feel." You told him softly, "Don't let them step in the way of what you want, Carmy. Don't let them dictate your life anymore than they do. You deserve a life, you deserve to live away from this toxic bullshit - to truly find and establish yourself without their extra dead weight."

He nodded sadly, wiping a hand down his face.

His eyes bulged naturally, and now, you could see clearly the red tinge from repressed tears and the swollen, blotchy skin from him rubbing so frequently.

"Carmy?" You waited until his eyes met yours. "Just because they're your family doesn't mean you're gonna end up like them. You're aware of the stress, turmoil, and abuse that's generated, and with this knowledge comes the ability to break cycles. Baby," you whispered, resting your foreheads together, "you are not the same, you can always choose to do better... To be better... To recognize slippery slopes and pull yourself back. They're your blood, yes, but that doesn't automatically mean you guys are the same now - or that you'll become like them in the future. You're different, Carmy... You're so different, you're going to do amazing things - they'll all see. And one day, I'll tell you, 'Told you so,' but it can all start today, if you want."

"You're right," he agreed, sighing deeply as he pulled away from you. "I do want that - I want us to get away and go live. We'll go..." He nodded in assurance, sniffling before pecking your forehead, "We'll go to New York and get the fuck away from this bullshit. It's not healthy, can't sustain ourselves here."

"For the time being," you corrected, "because never say never when thinking of returning home. But we've still got a lot of life to live before we settle down, right?"

"Right," he whispered, staring at you like you hung the moon and stars. "What would I do without you, Peach?"

"I imagine you'd be bored as hell," you teased, pecking his lips.

When Mikey returned, he found Carmy sprawled out on the couch with his arms tightly caging you to his chest; both looking utterly exhausted from the hectic holiday. He almost felt guilt for the rush to his blood from the drugs he used outside, knowing neither of you would be proud of him, and seeing you both look so at-peace solidified in his mind that he wouldn't burden either of you with his woes. So he vacated the front lobby just as your head lifted in confusion - feeling as if you had been watched and waking up.

However, when your burning-for-sleep eyes didn't see anyone, you settled back against Carmy.

rules and requesting masterlist

The Bear masterlist

[hwaslayer]

love you in slow motion (psh) | four.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist ♡

—summary: seonghwa will go through hell and back for you, as long as he can continue to see that smile on your face. because to him, that smile feels like a rainbow after the rain, thewarmth of the sun on a winter day. because to him, you’re more than just his bestfriend—you’re love. even though everyone seems to see that except you.

—pairing: park seonghwa x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriends to lovers | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 10k

—chapter warning: cussing/mature language, alcohol consumption, intoxication, club scene!, twerkin buns at the clurrrb 🤪, kissing/making out, quick rundown of oc's history with mingi, physical altercation, mention of small injuries/wounds (lip cut), arguments, crying, the silent treatment 💀, hints of a hookup, oc x seonghwa just being a mess per usual sorry 😫 lol

"Are you still riding with me and Joong to the club?" Seonghwa puts your call on speaker while he sits in the passenger's seat of Hongjoong's car.

"Yeah, if I can."

"Can we head over then?"

"Sure. I'm still getting ready."

"We figured." Hongjoong chuckles in the driver's seat, turning into a lot. "What do you want from Egg House?" Seonghwa inches the phone away from his face when you squeal loudly and clap.

"Double egg toast, please!"

"Okay. We'll be there in about 30 minutes or so."

"Thank you!" You hang up the call first and Seonghwa lets out a breath, slouching further in the seat.

"It's so easy to please Y/N." Hongjoong laughs, finding a spot in the opposite end the lot closest to the shop.

"Sometimes."

"San ever tell you about their dinner?"

"Not really. Y/N did. A bit. She was being kinda weird about it, actually."

"Hm." He hums, figuring if it was gonna come from someone, it would be him. "That's probably because they talked about you."

"Me?" Seonghwa furrows his brows in confusion. "What about me?" No wonder you were being so weird about the topic at the aquarium. You couldn't tell him the full story, even though Seonghwa wished you would've. It'd make things way easier.

"What do you mean 'what about you?'" Hongjoong laughs as he heads to the self-checkout area to order. "These unspoken feelings, that's what."

"What did San say?"

"He asked if you two had anything going on with each other."

"Why is that a question when there clearly isn't?"

"Mm, well.." Hongjoong's response has a drip of sarcasm that has Seonghwa

"He didn't have to do that."

"He just didn't wanna get in between anything, of course he had to." Seonghwa is silent and he's biting his tongue because even though he has a rebuttal ready to slip— he's not entirely sure why he'd be defensive and fight back about it.

Hongjoong and San were right. It's not like everyone wasn't aware. The only person who seemed to be was you.

"I don't know what Y/N said. But whatever it was.. was enough for San to just back off." 

"He shouldn't give up on her."

"Him or you?" Joong laughs. "I mean they're still going to be the same. Good friends. I don't think anything was lost. They're probably both comfortable this way, too. Maybe that's just how it's supposed to play out." Joong shrugs. Which, it isn't much of a surprise to Seonghwa when he hears this, especially when you started talking about the potential of ruining things—

♡ FLASHBACK

"As friends. Like we always were." You tug on his wrist. "Hypothetically speaking, if we were to date, would that ruin things between us?" Seonghwa swallows the lump in his throat before shaking his head.

"Why would it ruin things between us?"

"I don't know, because we've always known each other like this. As bestfriends. It could be a dangerous thing, right? Cause we'd know too much about each other or whatever." You look up at him, and he locks his eyes with yours. He wishes he could say everything and nothing at once— but he sticks with the latter, his own example of keeping everything at bay. 

"I truthfully don't think it'd ruin anything."

"B-because I feel like it would and that's why I'm just letting things be with San."

"You sure that's it? Cause I feel like you're asking for a different reason, and not for San in particular."

♡ END

"Hate when you do that." 

"Hate when I'm right and you're wrong.. again?" Seongwa finishes plugging in his order and yours before checking out.

"I got it since you're driving today." Is all he responds before snatching the receipt.

"More gas money for me." Hongjoong snickers, plopping onto a high stool off to the side of the restaurant to wait for the food. 

"Did San say anything else to you?" Joong shrugs and shakes his head.

"Nah. But, he seems to be the same."

"Gotta talk to him." Seonghwa mainly mutters to himself. He just wants San to be okay because he didn't want this idea of you and him getting in the way [despite his feelings]. That was never his intention. But before he can fall into a rabbit hole with his thoughts, his name is being called and a bag full of food is being pushed his way. Joong is already on his way to the car, unlocking the doors to hop in and drive off to your place with a quickness— especially because he was hungry.

When they arrive at your place, they pass through the house to say their hello's to Yaya with Seonghwa handing off the extra sandwich he remembered to buy for her. She happily thanks them before waving them off, telling them that you're probably still getting ready in your suite.

"Hey!" Seonghwa knocks and yells. "Are you decent or whatever?"

"Yeah! Come in!" He hears from the other side just as he tugs on the doorknob. Walking in, he notices a few pieces of clothing scattered along your bed and couch, with you head deep into your closet.

"The hell are you doing?"

"Finding an outfit, what does it look like?" Your response is mumbled as you dig deep into the depths of your closet to find that black cotton mini skirt and a few tops. "Got it!" You hold up a bodysuit and a regular tank in the same color. "Body suit or tank?"

"How the hell are you gonna pee?" Hongjoong asks mid-chew. "Unbuttoning that coochie holder while drunk is crazy."

"You're sick, Kim Hongjoong."

"Nah, tell me. How is that gonna work?" Seonghwa silently takes out your sandwich and plops next to him on the couch.

"He's got a point. I'm not going into that bathroom to save you."

"Ugh." You groan, tossing the bodysuit aside and settling for the tank. "I'll figure out the rest later." You plop next to Hongjoong's free side. "Thank you for the food." You smile over at them.

"Hwa bought it." Hongjoong's eyes are glued to the TV. 

"Thank you, pichu."

"Mhm." Seonghwa responds from his end. 

"Why are San and Woo going separately?"

"San has to help his uncle with something and it might run a bit long. Woo offered to go with him so he wouldn't be alone."

"Mm." You hum. "Hope it doesn't go long."

"Aw. You miss Sannie?" Hongjoong playfully pouts and you hit him on the bicep.

"You're so fucking mean to me." Joong laughs loudly when you continue to whine, Seonghwa contently eating away while watching the show.

"You guys good or what?"

"Yeah, I just want all of us together."

"We will be, don't worry." Seonghwa chimes in and passes you your food. "Eat. I know you'll need like 500 hours to get your makeup and hair done." You glare at him before picking up the sandwich and digging in. You, Joong and Hwa continue to talk amongst each other while watching the TV before you gather the strength to finally get ready for the night. You turn on your bluetooth speaker, blasting your playlist while you get dressed and get your makeup going. Seonghwa has taken a few pregame shots with you in between, now sipping on a canned cocktail to keep him going while you finish up your makeup and hair. You take one more look at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with the oversized black denim jacket, mini skirt, tank and knee high heeled boots you threw on. Your makeup was simple, but enough to pop.

"Damn." Hongjoong teases, playfully checking you out and flattening his brows with two fingers while Seonghwa rolls his eyes. But, he has to say— he's fucking dying inside because of how fine you look tonight.

So fucking beautiful, and Seonghwa wishes he could have you all to himself.

"Go away." You laugh, walking through a cloud of perfume. "I'm ready!"

"About time." Seonghwa teases. "You look good." He breaks contact as he shuts off your bluetooth speaker and is the first to head out the door.

"Thanks, pichu." You shut off the lights and lock your door. "Do you have the bottle?"

"Make sure to hide that shit in the car, I'm not getting pulled over." Hongjoong says, unlocking his car. You hop into the backseat and tuck the unopened soju bottle aside— keeping it safe until you get to the club.

It's a 20 minute drive before Joong is circling the streets to find a good spot. When he finally gets lucky and finds one just a block down, he reverses into the spot flawlessly before shutting off the car and giving off a deep sigh.

"Have at it." He says, texting San to find out his whereabouts while you and Seonghwa continue to pregame some more and finish the bottle. The alcohol is hitting you quickly tonight, the soju being the cherry on top. Joong tells you San and Wooyoung have parked nearby, giving you all the greenlight to meet them halfway and walk together to the club.

You [drunkly] scream loudly when you see the two; running into their arms and letting them swing you around. You feel happier when you're all together, excited for what the night has to bring. You cling onto Seonghwa without realizing, the group behind you two as you walk side by side while engaging in conversation.

"Seonghwa! Why would you say that!" You and Seonghwa laugh loudly while walking down the street to the club. San can't help but divert his attention to you two ahead; watching as you naturally joke around, laugh and playfully bicker. You cling onto Seonghwa and continue to attach yourself to his hip, and the reality settles for San even more.

He is sad, but it's clear this is where you're supposed to be.

Seonghwa continues to tell you his story, leaning in to tell you delicate details even as you fall in line for the club. San realizes things surely haven't changed, because for you and Hwa, all you see is each other. You both don't ever purposefully make anyone feel left out, but at the end of the day, Hwa was always going to prioritize you and vice versa.

This is your own world and San only plays a little part in it. And that's okay. That's completely okay. You deserved to be happy and that's all he wants for you. All he wants for Hwa.

When security finally checks your IDs and lets your group in, the club is packed from wall to wall and you're having to hold Seonghwa's hand while navigating through the crowd. Hongjoong is behind you, gripping at the belt loop of your skirt to help lead the other two trailing him.

"Aye, over there!" Hongjoong tugs on your belt loop and points at the free bartender towards the other end of the club nodding with his lips while nodding. You take the hint and get Seonghwa to navigate to the free area. Once you're there, you feel like you're able to breathe, being able to spread your arms and move around freely.

"Let's go get some drinks from the bartender over there, it isn't busy." Seonghwa points to the small bar area towards the back end. Your group follows, instantly asking the bartender for a few shots of tequila, whiskey, whatever each chose as their own poison. 

The shots are taken to the neck, and before you know it, you're dancing away on the dance floor with your friends. Wooyoung manages to grab a few dances from cuties nearby, dragging San along to cheer him up and find someone he could possibly have fun with. But, amidst all that and all the numbers he manages to grab, he still finds himself looking for you so he can at least have a dance. 

"Y/N?" San comes to you, cheeks tinted red as his hand  caresses at his jaw. 

"What's wrong, Sannie? Are you okay?" You look up at him with those eyes, your hand on his bicep. You're both clearly drunk out of your minds but jesus, is he having trouble containing himself. 

"Y-yeah." He hiccups. "I just wanted to ask if you'd dance with me?" You giggle and nod.

"Let's go!" You grab his hand and take the initiative. At some point the crowd builds and you're separated from your group— Wooyoung floating somewhere out in the chaos, while Hongjoong and Seonghwa are pulling further and further away. You continue to dance with San though, enjoying every moment and having fun while with him. He keeps up with your rhythm, holding you close but making sure you still have enough freedom to move however you want, have space however you want. But, you continue to work on him and dance along to the music, forgetting any worries for the night.

You dance with San for a good chunk of time before you start searching for Seonghwa, who is no longer nearby. You catch wind of him, but your body decides this is the perfect time to break the seal.

"I need to go to the bathroom." You turn to San and tippy-toe to his ear.

"You okay? Want me to come and wait?"

"No, I'm okay. I'll be back." You give him a small reassuring smile before rushing off to the bathroom and waiting in the tiny line that had formed outside the door. You're in and out within 5 minutes, washing your hands and patting your face down with how stuffy the club had gotten. After handling your business in peace, you realize that Seonghwa and Hongjoong are even more separated than you thought when you exit the bathroom— no longer being able to spot them on the main dance floor, especially due to being inebriated. You finally find Wooyoung and San together, tugging on Wooyoung's sleeve to grab his attention.

"Where's Hwa?"

"Iono!" Wooyoung shrugs. "Last time I checked he was somewhere over there with Joongie." He nods in the far back corner behind you. You give Wooyoung's arm a squeeze to thank him before pushing your way through the crowd towards the potential Hongjoong and Seonghwa spot. When you get there, Hongjoong is definitely nowhere to be found, but Seonghwa is talking to some girl. He's leaning in towards her ear in order for her to hear him, and she laughs at whatever the fuck he's saying. It lowkey kinda irks you, even though you have no reason to be feeling that way. You should be happy Seonghwa is putting himself out there and flirting away at the club. 

Not feeling jealous or envious in the least bit that she is occupying his time and space.

"Hey." You come up to him just as she giggles and playfully flips her hair, turning on her heels to walk away. She gives him one last look before she sways her hips and continues walking towards her friends, all of them squealing over the encounter in the middle of the club. "I see you've been busy." He shrugs.

"That's the girl I met. Makayla." You subtly roll your eyes and tap his chest.

"Okay, well I've been looking for you." You kinda pout.

"What's wrong?" He tilts his head.

"Nothing, I just wanted to hang out with you and I couldn't find you for the longest time." He laughs.

"You were dancing with Sannie, weren't you?" He taps your nose. He says it like it's a light, teasing joke, but deep down, Seonghwa had to step away and get outta that spot. He's not gonna lie, he is relieved you're finally looking for him and finding him. 

"So?" He laughs.

"Well, you found me? Stop pouting. We came here to have fun and you're gonna be with me all night." He gently runs a finger down your bottom lip that is still poking out in a pout. 

"Where'd Joong go?"

"Bathroom." 

"Let me grab San and Woo—" Seonghwa tugs at your hand just as you're about to turn, a small frown on his face. As you look at him, not only do you realize how drunk you still are, but you can also pick up on how drunk Seonghwa is, too. His eyes are red and glazed over, cheeks also tinted with a rosey hue. 

Which, with the way he's looking at you, can't be a good thing. 

This won't end well.

And you truly do not care right now.

"Uh-uh, I thought you wanted to hang out for a bit. Dance with me." He says, pulling you flush against him while his teeth subtly nibble on his bottom lip.

"Hwa." You get all shy and unlike yourself, most definitely from the alcohol and the way he's looking at you up and down. You let him keep you close, beginning to dance against him and go with the beat of the current song blasting through the club. 

To set the record straight first and foremost— it's not like you haven't danced with him before. You have, and those times have been careless, free and fun. You didn't have a care in the world, Seonghwa didn't. It wouldn't last because it was harmless fun before you were onto the next and brushing it off like it was any ordinary thing between you two.

Because it was.

Tonight, it isn't. The air is different, and the energy between you two is supercharged; strong, an incredible pull to each other. The air is extra thick and like no other you've experienced with him. You can't really explain it right now, but with recent events, you just know you want Seonghwa.

Just like he wants you.

So you dance, and you dance. The two of you have pushed to the farthest corner of the club that Hongjoong never seems to return to Seonghwa [or maybe he did and didn't wanna bother] and the two of you are left in your own little world. He's still keeping you close, a tight grip on your hips as he feels every inch, every move against him, doing his best to keep up with the rhythm, you.

And god, is it turning you on.

You turn to face him when the song transitions into the next, finding that Seonghwa can't take his eyes off of you. He stares through his hooded lids while he rests against the metal railing, hands still at your hips while your face is only inches away. You watch as his eyes shoot down to your lips, back up to your eyes as if he's begging, pleading, you to make the first move. Because that will be the confirmation he needs— that will open up a whole new box that Seonghwa had been waiting to open, break the lock to a door he had been waiting to walk through. But also, he's too scared to make the first move. Too scared he'd be overthinking, that you're just drunk and you wouldn't mean it—

Suddenly, the impact of your lips crashing into his quickly pulls him out of his thoughts. Instead of breaking away at that moment, the kiss instantly becomes heated, deep. And Seonghwa has to forcibly pull himself off of you because even though he wants this so, so badly, it'll ruin everything if you truly didn't mean anything by it.

"What're you doing, Y/N?" He breaks away and leans towards your ear. His voice is husky and deep, loud enough to barely be heard over the music.

"I can't kiss you?"

"Not if you don't mean it." He bites onto his bottom lip when he pulls back to look at you, hands still resting on your waist.

"Who said I didn't mean it, Hwa?" You say in his ear, shivers running down his spine when he feels your lips graze your jaw. He probably should think about this, really think about this, but he can't. He's just as fucked up as you are, and he's feeling a bit selfish, a tad bit horny. You're positioned in between his legs looking beautiful as ever even under the dim club lights.

He can't help himself.

He cups your cheek as he pulls you back in, kissing you with so much more fervor. He hears you let out a content sigh in between kisses, pressing your body up against him as you grip the sides of his shirt.

"Driving me crazy." He says, pulling back and letting his nose lightly glide over yours. The both of you are slightly panting, lips swollen from all the intense kisses just shared. You'd do it over and over again, though. And if it were up to you, you'd take this home to explore a little further.

You want Seonghwa.

"Am I?" You continue to tease.

"Y/N." He gives you a look. "You have no idea what you do to me." His voice is still husky, deep; vibrating through your ears and sending tingles down your spine. He leans in for another deep, last kiss; biting onto your bottom lip and tugging back before letting it go. He dips to your jaw, to your neck— painting the surface with feathery kisses and tiny, subtle bites.

"Hwa, we're still out." You giggle and gently tap his chest. 

"Right." He sheepishly smiles and continues to hold you.

"I'm gonna grab some water real quick. We should try and find everyone when I come back."

"Let me just come with you." He grabs at your hand.

"I'll be fine, pichu." You smile toothlessly at him. "I'll be back before you know it. Try to text one of the boys! Save our space!"

"Fine." Seonghwa slightly whines as he lets go of your hand and watches you walk off. At this point, San, Wooyoung and Hongjoong find him without Seonghwa having to lift a finger— both San and Wooyoung carrying two glasses in their hands.

"Aye! Finally fucking found your ass. Where's baby girl? Got more shots." Wooyoung looks around for your familiar figure.

"She went to get water."

"I got it right here. Tequila water." Wooyoung snorts at his failed attempt of a joke.

"You're an idiot." Seonghwa shakes his head and takes the glass, holding onto it while looking around the room. It hasn't been long, but he's hoping you haven't been swallowed by the crowd and are at least at the bar requesting for water.

"Let's wait for Y/N." San adds.

"Sounds good with me." Wooyoung shrugs.

5 minutes quickly turns into 10 and you're still not back from your water run. Seonghwa can't help but be worried, eyes now frantically scanning every inch of the room to catch any glimpse of you.

"Damn, that's a long water break. Should we just go to the bar and find her?" Whatever Wooyoung's saying is completely drowned out by Seonghwa because he finally spots you, and he's fuming. Everything in the club seems to drown out, and it almost feels like white noise. Hwa finds you at the opposite corner of the bar, and of course, Song Mingi would be the person you're occupied with. That's why you haven't returned, of fucking course. He continues to watch from his spot, feeling unsettled from the entire situation. It starts off pretty normal, until Mingi starts whispering near your ear; doing his best to pull you close, keep you close. He sees you gently rejecting Mingi's touches, shoving off his hand and pushing his arm away— clearly making you uncomfortable. Seonghwa finds his free hand balled into a fist, already boiling with anger at how Mingi doesn't read any of your signs.

Instead, continues to put you through it because he's your ex. He thinks he can get away with it. He knows he can.

"I'll be back." Seonghwa says taking the shot in one swift motion, setting his empty glass aside on the high table nearby. San furrows his brows as he watches him leave, following his trail over to the opposite end of the club.

"Oh shit." San says under his breath, and Hongjoong is confused.

"What?"

"Mingi." He points over to the other side of the club and Joong lets out a sigh, followed by a heavy—

"Fuck."

As Seonghwa comes from behind, Mingi is the first to spot him and smirks. You don't really notice until Mingi has stopped trying to get close to you, turning over your shoulder to see your own bestfriend shooting daggers his way.

"What's up, Seonghwa?" The way Mingi says his name is so fucking annoying, Hwa can't help but roll his eyes. Mingi leaves out his hand in hopes of Hwa taking it in a friendly dap. All Seonghwa does is look at it before returning his attention back up to him, then back to you.

"Come on. Let's go." Hwa mutters as tries to gently drag you away by the wrist, but Mingi stops him.

"Woah. We were just having a conversation."

"Back up." Seonghwa steps in front of you and tries to get Mingi to back up, creating some distance between you two.

"Kinda rude for someone to intervene when they have no business to."

"Didn't know that required you to put your hands on her."

"Seonghwa." You warn, but he doesn't listen.

"Of course." Mingi laughs and licks his lips before closing in on the distance, clearly drunk and trying to be belligerent by provoking Seonghwa. His face is only a couple of inches away from Seonghwa's, but he isn't doing anything to back down from whatever the fuck Mingi is trying to start. Because yeah, he's drunk too, and this is you they were talking about. "Wanna be all high and mighty now? Be the knight in shining armor you always tried to be?" Mingi snickers.

"Back away from me, Mingi." Seonghwa warns lowly. "Step the fuck away."

"Or what? The fuck are you gonna do about it, Seonghwa?" Mingi mutters. "Think she'll finally give into you?" He chuckles pathetically. "Finally give you what you've been wanting for years? I know you've always been mad because you couldn't bag her when I did. Couldn't touch her, fuck her like—" Seonghwa pushes him with so much power that Mingi stumbles and fall back on a high table nearby, knocking over a glass as his arm hits the table. Mingi recovers quickly though, glaring at him as he pushes Seonghwa back and tries to land a punch on him. Mingi successfully lands it when Hwa fails to dodge, cutting the corner of his lip after the impact. They continue to go at it, causing people to step back and watch the chaos ensue from around.

"Hwa! Get off! Stop!" You scream, trying to pry him off. San, Hongjoong and Wooyoung rush over, both San and Joong having to separate the two until the bouncers come and kick your group and Mingi's group out of the club.

"Jesus fucking christ." Wooyoung glares at the bouncer and throws his hands up. "Okay, okay, we're going!"

"Let me catch you, fucking punk!" You hear Mingi yell as him and his group walk down the opposite block, the bouncers still keeping an eye on your groups to make sure nothing occurs outside of the club and requires police activity. You walk a few steps before you push Seonghwa by the shoulder, forcing him to look at you as he tends to his lip.

"What the fuck did you do that for?!" You look at him and Seonghwa's almost taken aback by your reaction. 

What do you even mean?

He did this to protect you and keep you away from that asshole, but you don't even seem the least bit concerned about him.

At all.

"W-what?" Seonghwa looks at you, his chest rising as he tries to calm himself from all the adrenaline and anger. 

"You didn't have to do that!" You yell, on the verge of tears. You're angry at Seonghwa, but you're angry because you hate seeing him hurt. You hate that he intervened, you hate that he's hurt because of the fight. You're angry, you're hurt, and everything is coming out all wrong. "I was fine, you didn't have to get in between, Seonghwa!"

"The hell you mean I didn't?!"

"Hwa." Hongjoong calls for him, eyeing the bouncers nearby.

"He wasn't doing anything!"

"Here you go again! Be serious for once, Y/N. He's a fucking asshole! When are you going to realize that?!"

♡ FLASHBACK

"Yeah, whatever. Fuck you, Song Mingi." You walk out of his room, aggressively wiping the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Fucking crazy. Get the hell outta here!" He yells from his room, causing you to flip him off as you walk down the hallway and out of his front door. 

Song Mingi was a certified asshole.

Time and time again, your ex-boyfriend of 2 years proves to you that you just aren't shit to him. Two years, then an on-and-off again situation where Mingi just couldn't commit to you again — but he needed you to feel wanted, to feel like he had a safety blanket to fall on, to feel like he could string you along until that very last moment he couldn't. He'd whisper sweet nothings whenever he saw you late nights; no longer leaving his home to go on dates, but to stay wrapped up in his sheets. Telling you things he knows will make you weak, thing he knows will make you stay a little longer. All these years of this back and forth game you played with your ex, you had no idea why you couldn't just learn and do better for yourself instead of letting him reel you in, making you think he genuinely wanted and needed you.

There was no one like you.

You, so perfect.

You, made just for him. 

You should've known better.

This was no one else's fault but your own. You let him in, you let him in, you let him in. And you fall for it every single time, knowing you were never going to be his one and only again, knowing you weren't the only one he was keeping around. But for whatever sick reason, you wanted to believe you could get him to change again. You wanted to believe you meant more to him, that your history meant more to him. But that's all it was— wishful thinking.

Empty words built on shaky foundation.

So here you are, after he had called you saying he had missed you and wished you were near him. Here you are, crying everything you have left in you after giving him what he wanted. Here you are, after hearing that this wasn't anything to Mingi, that you weren't anything to Mingi. Here you are, broken to pieces, empty, soulless.

Again and again.

"Fucking asshole." You groan to yourself, tears streaming steadily as you head down the street from his building to a random corner. You sit on the sidewalk, kicking aggressively at the rocks beneath your feet. You give one last good grunt out of frustration before you rest your arms on your knees, head hanging low to let all your tears fall freely.

You had been crying so hard that you hadn't realized a car had pulled up in the empty spot near the curb you sat on, car being turned off before someone steps out and shut their door. You suddenly feel a hand on your back and you instantly ease up, knowing exactly who that touch belongs to.

"Hwa." You look at him, watery eyes blood shot red. He can't help but feel sorry for you, you're aware. You can tell by the way his brows soften when he sees how torn up you are, you can tell by the way his lips poke out because he isn't really sure what else he can say at this point. He shouldn't have to say anything anymore. He shouldn't be here—

You shouldn't be here.

"I told you to stay put." He teasingly scolds you, but you continue to look at him with that sad, pathetic look. "Let's get home, hm?" He follows up, free hand coming to wipe your tears away. You nod, allowing Seonghwa to help you up and into the car. He doesn't really say anything when he gets in and buckles his seatbelt, but he glances over at you, watches as you sink in the passenger's seat and look out the window.

He hates it, and he wishes he could do more to take this away from you. To keep you away from Mingi, to take away your pain completely.

It's not the first time Seonghwa's had to come get you. He's almost losing track of how many times you've called him crying because you wanted to leave a party after seeing Mingi flirting around [even though he'd deny it time and time again]. The times you've called because he left you at parties to hang out with other people, other girls. The times Mingi has disrespectfully called you out your name mid-argument, gaslighting you into thinking you were in the wrong.

Seonghwa's only hope is that one day, you'll finally get tired of your ex and move on. Leaving Mingi where he belongs, especially when he couldn't even give you the proper respect. Mingi's only reasoning for breaking up with you was that he couldn't do this anymore, he couldn't do the relationship anymore. He just couldn't, and you knew what he truly meant— it just wasn't you anymore. 

And for months and months, you sat there wondering what you could've done differently, or if there was a sign that you had missed. Every time he called, it had you thinking he must've realized he couldn't do this without you, that he was wrong and that he did want this after all.

Nope.

He made you believe it for a night, yes. Then, he'd go back to reminding you what you actually meant to you— that you were delusional, that you kept forcing things between him. That you knew what this was.

You should've known what this was.

♡ END

"He wasn't even doing anything! Not shit you needed to step in between for! He was literally—"

"Oh my fucking god." Seonghwa groans. "And you're still defending him!" He yells, his brows furrowed when he turns to look at you. He feels like he can barely breathe due to the anger surging through his veins, plus the betrayal he's feeling with the way you're delivering your responses. The way you look at him. The way you're keeping your distance.

After everything, it still seems like you're taking Mingi's side. You always find a way to defend him one way or another, even if you don't realize it.

Seonghwa does, and it hurts.

"I'm not!" Your tone is louder. "I could've taken care of it myself, he wasn't doing anything!" You repeat.

"He was making you uncomfortable, Y/N! All up in your space, trying to force you to do shit when you didn't want it. Yet, you wanna tell me he wasn't doing anything?"

"I'm just saying it wasn't that big of a deal, Hwa! I could've handled it!"

"Really? I doubt that." 

"Wow, are you serious?" You say, hurt. But, he scoffs and continues because you need to hear this. 

"I am. You always let him push you around and walk all over you. I thought by now you'd be smart enough to realize that you're worth much more than that." His tone rises again. "Why do you always let him do this to you? You're so used to the way Mingi treats you and you do nothing to change that. You always let him in. You're so brainwashed and you literally have no respect for yourself, it's fucking sad."

"You know nothing about our relationship." You're crying and angrily wiping away at your tears, unsure of how else to act, what else to say. Sure, you and Seonghwa have gotten into petty fights and arguments. Mostly over dumb shit, but nothing ever this serious. You know he cares, and he means well. But this anger, this seemingly pent up frustration— you aren't entirely sure where it was stemming from. You have never seen him act this way and quite frankly, this part of Seonghwa is very difficult to navigate. 

You've never had to.

"Yeah, because I wasn't the one rescuing you in the middle of the night every time he decided to throw your ass out, right? Because I wasn't the one having to calm you down when you were crying? Because I wasn't the one whose had to pick up the pieces every time he broke your heart to try and chase after somebody else? When he says all those shitty things about you that get to your head? When he'd fucking leave you stranded?" He shakes his head. "I'm sure I know nothing about your relationship." The two of you are staring at each other, both at a loss for words after everything has been laid out on the table. Seonghwa is the first to break, having enough of this bullshit and not wanting to say anything else. Mostly because he still cares about you and your feelings, and it's breaking his heart to see you crying over him this time. "I'm done here. I'm sure San will take you home."

"Whatever, fuck you." You respond before turning on your heel to walk away. As soon as you've created enough distance between you and Seonghwa, you find yourself stopping in your path to sob into your hands. It isn't until a few minutes later that you feel hands on your arms, a familiar touch that belongs to somebody else dear to you—

"Hey, let's get you home." San says, with Wooyoung behind him. You can't see much due to the tears in your eyes, but you can tell it's Hongjoong walking alongside of Seonghwa, making sure he's okay and pushing him along towards the car.

"He'll be okay. Just needs some time to breathe." Wooyoung adds, holding out his arm so that you can slip yourself right underneath while walking to San's car. "You alright?" Wooyoung pouts, wiping some of the straggling tears escaping your bottom lids.

"Mhm." You lie, just to keep the walk quiet and peaceful. And it is for a bit, even as you sit in the backseat of San's car. The only thing filling the space is the music playing through bluetooth— Wooyoung's playlist, actually. San peeks over at you through the rearview mirror, feeling bad for how everything went down. But, he gets it. He gets Seonghwa. You do deserve better. Mingi should never get an ounce of your attention after how he's treated you— esp with Seonghwa being here all along.

"You know he just really cares about you, right?" San breaks the silence. 

"I know." You mumble, head leaning back against the seat while you look out the window. "I've just never seen him act that way."

"It's Mingi." Wooyoung adds. "Can I be honest?" He turns to look at you with doe eyes. "I'm not trying to attack you, I promise. We see both sides." You nod quietly. "It's hard when you have history with someone, and it's hard to undo bad habits you've learned in the relationship. We know Mingi was someone special to you, but he hasn't been good for you for a long time. And there's no changing that man at this point. If it's anybody, Seonghwa knows all of that very well, especially when he's been by your side throughout everything." Wooyoung lets out a small sigh. "I'm certain he's hurt because even after everything he's done to be there, Mingi's actions seem to be dismissible. And his actions get overlooked."

"Woo, I'm not even dismissing Mingi's actions."

"Okay, baby girl. You're not. But, I think Seonghwa would have appreciated if you were there for him tonight instead of getting upset. He just wants to keep you safe."

"His goal has always been to keep you safe." San adds softly, driving towards your place.

"I didn't want Hwa to get hurt, h-he didn't have to do that." You sniffle, leaning your head against the window.

"You know he's not gonna sit back and let that shit happen." Woo adds, also leaning his head back against the headrest— a small headache forming after tonight's events. When you finally get home, San and Wooyoung offer to stay the night to keep you company, but you politely decline. They walk you to the door and give you big hugs, asking you a million times if you're sure about being alone tonight.

And you quietly nod.

Because there's nothing else you'd rather be than alone tonight. You want to be alone in your own space, crying alone in your bed; head against the pillow, tucked underneath your sheets.

You want to be alone.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa is struggling. He isn't sure what to do, hates not having you by his side. He doesn't know what's gonna happen from here on out, what will be left of you two after all this.

From the kiss, to Mingi, to the argument.

It's so fucked up.

Seonghwa hadn't even realized how much of his life was dedicated to you— how much of his life was just you. Even when he tried so hard for it to not be you.

"Fuck!" Seonghwa groans and slams his hand against a brick wall in passing. 

"Aye, come on now." Hongjoong clicks his teeth and pushes him away from the wall, urging him to continue down the car. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I swear to God if I ever see Mingi—"

"You won't. He should know better, and hopefully Y/N does, too." Hwa lets out a hefty sigh as he swings Joong's door open and plops into the passenger's seat. Not much is said between the two, even as Hongjoong drives off to his place. Seonghwa rests his head back and shuts his eyes, equally angry, yet dizzy from the alcohol still running through him. 

"I don't know what to do, Joong. I can't keep doing this just for it to get me nowhere."

"You two really need to fucking talk." Hongjoong does a slight head tilt as he continues to drive to Seonghwa's place. "I don't mean to make this worse, but I saw you two." Seonghwa looks at him before resting his head back against the headrest again. "I didn't come so I could give you guys some space."

"Fuck." Hwa repeats again with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I don't know where this leaves us."

"Give it a few days or whatever, but you need to figure this out with her." Seonghwa doesn't speak anymore, mainly because he's starting to feel nauseous after the adrenaline, the alcohol. He's doing his best to keep it together. But, on top of that, he has a ton of thoughts swirling in his mind— he doesn't really know how to tackle them or where to even start. In the end, he's afraid of what this will do to your relationship.

You and him.

In the end, he just doesn't know anymore.

This is the longest Seonghwa hasn't talked to you. It's been a little over two weeks— usually, the two of you would break in a few hours, not wanting to be without the other for long.

But this, this was different.

Of course, everything felt awful. You both felt awkward about having to be the first person to break the silence, both remembering that night and how heated it had gotten.

The kiss.

The argument.

Everything about the situation felt like doom, chaos. A whole whirlwind of emotions and feelings overpowering each other, threatening to burst at the seams.

Seonghwa had thought long and hard about this, though. For him, he decided he just needed to step back and give himself a breather. Let him do things for himself, carry on with the mentality that he'd finally put himself first. So, that's what he's been trying to do. It doesn't mean it doesn't suck, though. It does. It's terrible. He's gotten so used to having you by his side, so used to running to you first about anything and everything.

He's had to bite his tongue when he finally nailed that fucking uni pasta recipe he had been experimenting for years. Because he wanted to tell you he did so, wanted to invite you over so you could be the first to taste it;

Oh well.

His heart sinks when the realization hits him again, and he's having to give himself a 'lil pep talk to push through. He can't be the person to say sorry first, he can't be the first to break— not when he didn't do anything wrong. He needs to stop apologizing when he's not in the wrong or when he feels bad. He's given you way too much of that, and this time around, he wasn't going to.

He needs you to be the first to break. Needs you to be the one to say sorry. Needs you to show him you understand and that you would never intentionally hurt him, especially over Song Mingi.

He's still counting the days. Maybe he'll have to keep doing so. Gives him time to himself, some peace. Let's him know how much you'd truly work to salvage your relationship with him.

Your own bestfriend before anything.

Because he knows he'd do anything to keep you by his side. He would. It just sucks that he doesn't know if you would do the same. He can't confidently say the same.

But, you absolutely would.  Days and nights have passed and you could barely sleep, always questioning what Seonghwa was doing and if he was even thinking about you. This was on you, though. You knew it. You just didn't know how to say it to him and it's definitely a learning lesson for you— all in all, you wanna be better and you wanna be better for him. You miss Seonghwa a lot. You truly didn't know what it meant to be missing your other half until now;

Empty, alone.

Cold.

You sigh as you toss the pillow aside and sit up in bed, checking the time on the clock. 

3am.

You couldn't sleep, and you freeze. You freeze because you have no one to call anymore. So you turn, and turn. No longer able to find sleep for the rest of the night.

When the sun finally rises, you force yourself to get up to go for a run and grab a good cup of coffee and breakfast. It was your day off, but you thought you could at least take advantage of being up early; take advantage of soaking in the morning sun.

You were tired of sulking and being in bed. Being cooped up at home when you weren't at work.

You throw on your leggings and matching sports bra, grabbing an oversized zip-up to shield you from the morning cold. Yaya is already working in the kitchen, so you quickly let her know you'll be out for a run— rushing over to your car to avoid any questioning this early in the day. You drive over to a lake near town that has a 4.5 mile trail around its perimeter. Since it's still early, the trail isn't crowded with people; perfect enough for you to get a good 3 mile run in. You hadn't ran in a minute, but 3 miles seemed to be a breeze when there was a lot of pent up frustration and anger you needed to release. Of course, you were beyond tired at the end, but it wasn't anything coffee and a good pastry couldn't fix.

At the cafe, you grab a seat right outside of the entrance to enjoy your breakfast, scrolling through social media per usual. You click into your messages for god knows why, knowing Seonghwa hadn't messaged you.

He hasn't.

Why would he?

You sigh, the sadness now returning. You quickly clean up and toss your trash into the bin inside the restaurant before grabbing your cup of iced coffee and heading home. Once you get home, you throw your clothes into the laundry and take a hot, steamy shower, letting your worries go momentarily.

And then, you nap. Exhaustion finally hitting you from the lack of sleep.

Post-nap, you take time to clean around your suite and hang out with Yaya, watching a few episodes of her current favorite show. You help Yaya with a few things around the house, taking the time to bring her to the grocery store just right before the sun sets. Even though Yaya can tell something is wrong, she doesn't bother you or question you like you'd expect— probably leaving it for Soyeon to do the heavy lifting. You do appreciate that you don't have to dwell on it while spending time with her, though. 

Soyeon, Charli and Junseo had visited the past days, and although Charli was able to make you smile and laugh, Soyeon could also easily tell something was wrong without you having to say anything at all. Your demeanor had changed, you seemed to be snapping quicker than usual. Attitude wasn't so bright and happy. Seonghwa hadn't been around, but the other boys had quickly stopped by just to hang out.

You dimmed it down to a 'little fight between you and Hwa,' but Soyeon knew better than that, and she was hoping she'd be able to get it out of you soon. This wasn't like you, and it wasn't like Seonghwa to not come around for days on end.

This wasn't just a little fight.

"Hey." She calls you when you're settled back in your humble abode, and although you don't mind hearing from your boss-slash-cousin, you could do without any work-related conversations right now.

"What's up? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm leaving the restaurant soon. Yoongi and Junseo are going to close up. It's gotten quiet. Can I stop by? I have some food for you."

"Sure. Where's Chacha?"

"With Junseo's parents."

"Mm." You hum. "Okay."

"Okay, I'll be there in about 30 minutes or so. I'm just gonna wrap a few things up here."

"Sounds good." You hang up the call, a bit relieved that your cousin [not your cousin on boss-mode] is coming over. 

When she arrives, it's about 7:45pm. She quietly knocks before announcing her presence— stepping out of her shoes before joining you on your living room floor in front of the coffee table and TV. For a good part of the conversation, you indulge in some of the chicken she brought over, listening to her update you about the restaurant and some drama on his side of the family. She asks if there's anything new going on with you or the boys, and you simply shrug.

This is definitely her way of poking at you, and you're very close to cracking because who else can you open up to about this?

No one, and at this point, you need to. You need the reassurance.

"Are you sure nothing's up? To be honest, I know something's bothering you, and I know this wasn't just a 'little fight' between you and Hwa." She forms air quotes. That's the moment you do crack, tears welling in your eyes when you revisit that night. You tell Soyeon everything and confide in her, giving her more details about your dinner with San, to dancing with Seonghwa and kissing him, to Mingi and their fight. You tell her it's been about two weeks since you've spoken and you know Seonghwa is waiting for you to make the first move. 

You tell her how you've started to realize your feelings for Seonghwa after everything and how incredibly terrified you are of them.

"I don't know what to do, Soyeon. He probably hates me."

"Just go over there and talk to him, Y/N. What are you waiting for? You know he's waiting for you to take initiative, and you should this time. This is all you." You sigh, bottom lip trembling as you begin to cry. 

"I know."

"You know Seonghwa the best. It's so obvious how much he likes you and adores you after all this time. Why are you so afraid?"

"I know, I know." You sniffle. "I just am, Soyeon. I'm afraid of getting hurt, I'm afraid of Seonghwa realizing this isn't what he expected. I'm afraid of Seonghwa." You cry a bit harder and Soyeon is holding you close, rubbing your back as you lean against her shoulder. "I'm scared of this ruining us completely. What if we do get together and things don't pan out the way we expected? I'm so scared of losing him completely that I just don't know where I lie in all of this despite my feelings for him."

"You can't be afraid about every little thing, Y/N. I know it's scary, and life hasn't been entirely nice to you. But, this is your bestfriend. You can't just sit around and brush it under the rug when you know this is something you two need to discuss. Regardless of what happens, Seonghwa will never let you go. You two have been through so much together, he would never wanna do life without you by his side. Never." She continues to reassure you, giving you the push you need to get yourself together and just face it.

You loved Seonghwa, and it was time you looked beneath the surface.

Soyeon didn't stay too long after the two of you finish eating last night— turning the conversation into something more lighthearted after you cried and thanked her for being there for her. Her reassurance worked so much that you're ready to tackle the morning bright and early, throwing on some clothes to head over to Seonghwa's place. After Soyeon left, you called Wooyoung and asked what time Seonghwa's shift was for tomorrow. He snorted and told you it was 10am and asked what you were up to. You let Wooyoung know about your talk with Soyeon and that you missed him, finally throwing the stupid shit aside to just try and talk to him about that night.

To apologize, to make things right.

To tell him that you love him.

You keep it casual and comfy, throwing on some black and white wide-leg track pants, a crop tank and a baggy grey zip-up hoodie. You throw on your shoes, swiftly grab your keys and crossbody bag, jogging out to your car with a quick 'good morning' yell to Yaya from the side of the house. As you drive over to Seonghwa's apartment, you are equally filled with anxiety, nervousness and adrenaline. You're ready to put this behind you, but you're especially ready to talk to Seonghwa again. See him. Hug him. 

Keep him close, never let him stray far again.

You pull into a guest lot, shutting off your car and wondering if you should've brought over some coffee, breakfast, anything, to make this a bit less awkward.

"Fuck." You mutter to yourself as you shake the thoughts from your head; no time for overthinking while you're running on limited time. You jog up the steps and up to Seonghwa's apartment, hesitating when you get to the front door before you finally bring your knuckles to the surface to give a couple of loud knocks. It takes a second before you hear rustling behind the door, Seonghwa clearing his throat before he swings the door open in a white tank and sweats. Your eyes immediately meet his, but he looks surprised, caught off guard even.

But, caught off guard in a sense that he's been caught doing something he shouldn't be doing.

You don't understand it until you see someone in the back try to slip by unnoticed, but she's wearing Seonghwa's shirt. Your heart immediately sinks to your gut and it makes you feel queasy. It shouldn't, but you hate to say it does.

It's probably Makayla.

It's too fucking late.

"Oh." Is all you say, and Seonghwa feels his heart break to a million pieces when he sees the look on your face. You're trying your hardest not to show how much it hurts you, but he knows you. He knows you well, that's for damn sure.

"Y/N—"

"It's good, I didn't meant to interrupt, I'm sorry— I'll catch you later." You ramble and rush down the steps, hurrying away from the apartment to prevent Seonghwa from seeing the tears streaming down your cheeks. 

This was your fault anyway, who else was there to blame?

"Y/N!" Seonghwa calls out one last time, but you're already running to your car. Very obvious that you're wiping away at your face as you sink into the driver's seat and pull out of the spot without turning back. "Fuck." Seonghwa groans to himself, and Makayla kinda just watches everything unfold right in front of her eyes. He runs a hand through his long, black locks, shutting the door quietly behind him as he turns to her and gives her a sympathetic smile. 

"I'm sorry."

"That was Y/N?"

"Uh, yeah. My bestfriend." He looks at her, and she can already tell. She can already tell that it's you, and there is more to it than that. He loves you, and it's very, very obvious.

"You love her, don't you?" He lets out a breath and shrugs. He doesn't say anything for a bit, rather looks at her with those big doe-eyes before she catches him subtly nodding and diverting his attention to the floor.

"I'm so, so sorry, Makayla. I really am." What the fuck else can he say? He must look so fucked up right now; having taken her out the night before and let her spend the night after fumbling in the sheets. He was curious to see if Makayla would be the door to a new path, something that'll help him move forward. He had hope. After this morning's events, that clearly wasn't going to be the case and he wasn't going to lie about it.

"Don't be." She gives him a small, toothless smile. Because although it does suck, she's been there before and she'd hate for Seonghwa to miss out on the person he truly wants to be with. "You should really talk to her before it's too late."

♡ FLASHBACK | EARLY COLLEGE

You're on Seonghwa's back as he trails behind the group, walking up the path to the view of the city behind campus. Hongjoong, San, Wooyoung and a few other heads had wanted to go on a late night walk— the goal being the view at the end for everyone to just sit and admire. At first, you didn't feel like going with a bunch of obnoxious boys. But, you had been cooped up in your room doing nothing but studying all day. It sounded better knowing Seonghwa would be around and being in the crisp, night air. 

Seonghwa continues to walk up the slightly steep hill before spotting the view just down the street, you jumping off his back as soon as it becomes clear in sight.

"Hwa! Look at it!" You squeal, running to one of the free areas near the fence to get a good picture of the view. "It's so pretty! Look!" 

"Yeah, it is." He catches his breath as he walks over next to you. Trekking that hill is not for the weak.

"Oh my god, look at all those lights. It's so beautiful. I didn't realize how flat the town is." You're mainly thinking out loud, saying it to yourself, but Seonghwa chuckles next to you and quietly nods. "I think I can see our favorite convenient store from here, and our favorite spot to get jajangmyeon."

"How would you know, they're little blobs right now."

"How would you not know, Seonghwa? Are you a fraud? Do you even like those places like you say you do?" He snorts.

"Relax, Nancy Drew. It was just a question."

"I just know." You say so matter-of-fact-ly that Seonghwa smiles to himself while you continue to look out at the view. "The stars are so pretty tonight, weather is so perfect. Ugh. We should do this more often." You continue to go on and Seonghwa just likes listening to you talk. He always has, always will.

Everything about you was his favorite.

"I— what?" You look up and see Seonghwa still staring at you before he lets out a deep chuckle.

"Nothing."

"Pichu, what is it?" He looks at you again, and it's obvious he wants to tell you something but is preventing himself from spilling it out onto the table for whatever reason. You turn towards him and cross your arms, tapping your foot to wait for his response.

"Nothing! I'm just— nothing."

"Park Seonghwa."

"I-I—" He sighs. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad you ended up going on the walk with us. I wanted you here."

"Aw, you little sap." You pinch his bicep and he yelps. "Are you sure that's all?" He nods.

"Thank you, Y/N. For everything." He ruffles your hair and you can't help but pout at. "You know? For being a pain in the ass bestfriend."

"I beg to differ, but you're welcome." You chuckle. "Always us, right pichu?" You playfully punch him on the bicep before returning your attention back to the view.

And he'll forever remember this as the first time he tried to confess his feelings for you.

♡ END

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