#and his mother's strength as a single mom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 2 years

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two

summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. now friends, you, eddie and junie take a trip to the city. queue oreos with double the cream, a sock related mishap, a display of strength, storybooks, matching pajamas, a velveteen rabbit and a tray of cupcakes to eat on the drive home [15k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, eddie’s mom implied to have passed away, mention of past falsely presumed self-harm (not graphic, just baby eddie scratching a rash and wayne worrying), hair tourniquet + intense panic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie doesn't mean to come knocking. He's staring at the ceiling with an open tray of Oreos on his chest, chewing through the boredom of a Monday evening and the pain of an aching back when he thinks of you and Junie.

Toddlers like cookies, right?

He shoves his socked feet into poorly laced converse and turns out all the lights as he leaves. The door slams shut behind him, a rattling of metal ringing into the crisp night while he takes his steps two at a time.

He starts up the street to your trailer and slows as your home comes into view. The lights are on, the curtains open. You stand in the middle of the room with your eyes closed, stretching to one side with your arms held high above your head. He can see the moment your back pops, see the tension of the day slip away just slightly. The exposed stretch of your tummy shines in the light.

You say something to Junie. He decides to stop acting like a stalker and bumps up your steps, hesitating at the door with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

What the fuck was he going to say? Hey, guys, I brought a half-eaten tray of cookies. Um. Because I missed you both? Sorry if that's weird?

"What kind of loser…" he scathes. He doesn't finish, bringing his hand to the door and knocking with a haphazard explanation waiting on the tip of his tongue.

You open the door a short few seconds later. You smile wide, wide enough to open the yawning gap in his chest all over again. Tonight when he goes home he'll have to close it like he has to so often lately after seeing you. Pretend his feelings for you – whatever they are – are smaller, less terrifying.

"Eddie," you say, and the gap stretches with how you say it, fond and warm and breezy. "Hey, where's your jacket? It's too cold to walk over here without one."

He doesn't have to explain himself at all, as it turns out. You open the door and step aside to let him past.

He grins at you. "Thought I'd brave the great outdoors without any armour."

You nod like it isn't all nonsense to you and maybe it isn't, maybe being friends with him is clueing you in to all his fantastical lingo. He likes you more for it either way, especially when you say, "You need a healing potion. It's freezing."

You're embarrassed at your attempt. Eddie can't believe how cute you are, lost for words and flailing. His chest warms with affection.

Junie saves you both, whizzing down out of the nest of pillows where she'd been buried on the couch and across the room with surprising speed and accuracy, barrelling for his knees. He grins as she wraps herself around them and starts talking.

It's mostly unintelligible until she says, "Hi! Hi, Eddie!"

He hugs her back with his hand. "Hi, Junie. Good evening."

"Good," she manages in return. She's all but mastered good morning and afternoon but evening continues to elude her.

"What were you watching? Your Muppet Babies?" He looks at the screen to find Kermit, the green frog, singing a song. "Been doing some singing practice for the band?"

"You want coffee?" you ask. Aforementioned healing potion. "I have decaf."

"I brought cookies."

"Warm milk it is," you declare, disappearing behind one of the kitchen cabinets.

Your bravado makes him laugh.

He finds his attention stolen once again by your lovely daughter when she complains, glaring up at him fiercely and coveting his hand. He balances the Oreos on your table by the door and offers her both, naked of their usual rings bar one.

Junie drags him over to her pillows and tries to climb back up. She refuses to let go of his hand, making it an insurmountable feat. Eddie awes at her efforts and helps her back into the nest, hands closing around her small waist and lifting.

He drops her into the pillows with just enough roughness to garner a laugh. "Sorry, my hands slipped. Hey, what's going on here, junebug? This isn't your usual hangout."

"I felt bad because she's always on the floor," you call from the kitchen. He can see your hands and your torso through the gap of countertop and cabinets. You pour milk into a pan on the stovetop and tap your fingers against the handle frenetically. He wonders if you're anxious about something.

Junie whines until Eddie sits next to her. As soon as he's situated she takes his hand again insistently and turns her attention to the television. He rubs the soft, small back of her hand with a less soft thumb and peers down the way at you.

"She loves the floor,” he says.

"I know," you mumble ruefully. A tad theatric. He must be rubbing off on you. "I had to bribe her into sitting on the couch."

"Yeah? What's the tab?"

"A few dozen kisses and all the pillows from my bed."

"Shame it wasn't half a tray of cookies."

"I think those might help me out."

After you've poured the milk into two tall glasses, you admit to him in a smaller voice that you're not sure if Junie likes Oreos.

"'Cos they're bitter?" he asks.

Milk in hand, you sit in the free seat next to Eddie and try not to sound as embarrassed as he knows you're feeling when you say, "She's never had them."

"I'll bring chocolate chip next time."

You shake your head vehemently. "You don't have to bring anything, ever."

"I like sugar."

You smile at him like you know he's trying to make you feel better, a touch shame-faced. He smiles at you in return and hopes it shows how much it doesn't matter – bringing snacks with him when he visits is hardly a generosity. You're friends.

He keeps trying to have that conversation with you, about sharing and money and all that terrible, embarrassing hardship that isn't embarrassing whatsoever but the words taste like chalk in his mouth.

Instead, he offers the hand that hasn't been stolen by Junie to you for a glass of milk. "One of those for me?"

You pass it to him.

"Why'd you feel bad? You're not forcing her," he says as he takes a sip.

"You don't think it looks cruel?"

"No way. She's one of the happiest babies I've ever met, who cares if she lies on the floor?"

"How many babies do you know?"

"One."

You're laughing when you say, "I don't know. I think it's a habit. But we have a couch, so she should sit on it."

Eddie retrieves the Oreos. Junie watches curiously as he peels open the tray, four rows, two empty and two full of black and white cookies.

He takes one and passes it to you without looking at you. Eye contact gives you the opportunity to reject it.

When he's heard the soft crunch of your first bite, glass of milk between his knees, Eddie holds an oreo up purposefully and twists. "See, Junie?"

He licks a big stripe over the vanilla cream. The cream spreads edge to edge as he pushes both sides back together. Softened by a generous dip in milk, he eats the cookie in one vagabond bite.

"You wanna try?" he asks when he's done.

Big hands over her small ones, Eddie shows her how to twist an Oreo open. She brings the cookie with the least of the cream to her mouth and bites it. Her pout wobbles in mild disgust. Eddie tries not to laugh.

She has to like Oreos. They're a staple.

"Let me show you," he says gently, taking the cream heavy side out of her hands. Dark crumbs stain his fingers as he holds it up to her face. "You gotta lick it."

She doesn't want to, evidenced by her wrinkled nose and untrusting gaze.

"You'll have to do it for her," he tells you gravely.

Moving to kneel in front of him, you take the oreo out of his hands and lick it before stealing back the half of the cookie Junie had been munching on and squishing them back together. You dunk her sandwich in milk and press it to her lips until she deigns to take a small bite.

"Yummy?" you ask.

She takes the cookie back, a mess of dark black mush collecting at the corners of her mouth as she eats it.

You gaze up at him from the floor. Your eyes look damn pretty, more so when he offers the tray to you, your smile a beacon. "I haven't had Oreos since I was a kid," you say excitedly.

"Do they taste like you remember?"

You rest your hand on his knee and lean in. "They need more of the filling," you say secretively.

"Yeah?" Eddie's in motion, twisting one oreo apart and then another. He takes the halves with the most cream and pushes them together.

One oreo, twice the cream.

You giggle as he passes it to you. "Oh my god." You're giddy, arm heavy on his thigh.

You eat it like it's something crazy expensive, all smiley and indulgent. You look so pleased that he immediately starts to make you another.

"Eddie," you protest, covering your mouth, "don't, don't waste them."

"I won’t waste them. I like the cookie more than the cream,” he lies.

"Oh."

You finish your oreo. Eddie can’t find it in himself to be modest about it; you’re smiling and it’s his doing and that fills him with pleasure.

He watches you mistreat his jeans as you chew the second, your fingers pulling distractedly at the rips. You tuck your hand underneath, white threads tensing over your knuckles and fingerprints brushing over his kneecap, your entire face cringing as a thread snaps from the pressure.

Eddie looks away quickly. He can feel your eyes on him and has to bite back a smile as you assess if you’ve been caught.

You could ruin them completely for all he cares.

Junie makes happy noises beside him. She’s realised the middle of the Oreo is the sweetest and has split one open in her hands. A terrible mess ensues, cocoa powder fingerprints smattered over the pillows she’s buried in and vanilla cream marring her nose in a sticky line.

“Could you make any more of a mess for your poor mom?” he asks. The rhetoric is lost on her; she says something cheerful and holds her hand out for another cookie.

Her face — expectant, small, cute, all of it evokes an uncontrollable urge to do whatever it is she wants him to do.

“Is that, like, a kid thing?” he asks.

You pull your fingertips away from his skin and cock your head. “What?”

He splits an oreo and offers Junie the cream-heavy half, clarifying through a mouthful of dark cookie, “Following her every command.”

You sit at full height. He instantly misses the heat of your front to his knees, the way you’d draped yourself over him familiarly, and is wondering how he might begin to convince you to do so again as you think it over.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It might just be a Junie thing, but I guess that’s immature to think. S’pose it’s hormones or something. Like when cats meow.”

He giggles at you. Hormones? Cats?

“What?” you ask, half defensive, half sheepish.

“I just- I love it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?”

He shrugs and takes another pull of milk to think of a way to say, Well, when you’re tired you get nonsensical, and it’s charming how confident you are but hard to follow without offending you. Is there a way to say that without offending you? Or worse, without revealing every wretched feeling he has for you?

“I sounded pretty stupid,” you summarise.

“No! Never. I love that you think like that. That you’d think about cats meowing.”

“They do it to manipulate us,” you explain.

He can almost see the heat of an embarrassed flush radiating off of your cheeks, the press of your lips so endearing he almost leans forward to feel it. He can imagine it, his thumb over your mouth, the pad pulling down your bottom lip.

There’s an arrogance in thinking you’d let him.

“Jungle cats, tigers and lions and stuff, they don’t meow,” and you’re still going! He has to cover his mouth with his hand to stop from bursting. “Because they don’t need to. They have no idea what a baby sounds like, and they don’t need us to take care of them so they’ve never learned how to meow. Babies are like that. We hear them crying and we want it to stop.” You have a smile on your face that says, I don’t know if what I’m saying is true, but I’m gonna pretend it is. Pretend with me?

Eddie’s all about pretending. “Cats are master manipulators,” he eggs you on, "but you realise not everyone wants babies to stop the way you do? Some people just don’t like babies.”

“That’s okay. More babies for me.” You lean out to tap his forehead. “Touch wood.”

“What?” he asks.

“Touch wood,” you repeat. “I don’t actually want more babies right now, don’t wanna jinx myself by saying it, so I had to touch wood. You don’t have that superstition?”

“Are you saying my head is made of wood?”

Your sudden laugh is stunning; he can’t bring himself to be offended.

When Junie's had more Oreos than she should've and the milk's all gone Eddie stands up before you can do it yourself and takes the empty glasses with him, putting them on the kitchen counter with a click.

He grabs an almost empty pack of wet wipes off of the top of the refrigerator and sits down next to Junie, talking fast in hopes of distracting her.

"I got a call last night," he begins, pulling a wet wipe from the pack and taking Junie's wrist into his hand. He doesn't use the wipe at first, tryimg to convince her that this is all affection. "The phone went ring ring," he rolls the sound around, "and I was thinking, who the heck is calling me so late?"

He plays up his outrage but keeps a huge smile in place as he works his thumb into Junie's palm, tickling in circles.

"So I answer the phone, and I say, who is this? And you know who it is?"

Junie waits, looking like she might be close to laughing. And he's just getting started.

Eddie takes a deep breath. "Hi-ho, Kermit the Frog here! Is this Junie on the other end?"

What his impression lacks in accuracy it makes up in enthusiasm.

Her little mouth opens. He wipes the corners with the wet wipe and then her chin. "So I said, no, Mr. Frog, I'm Junie's neighbour. I'm Eddie.

"Kermit said, you can call me Kermit, thank you very much. Mr. Frog was my father."

You snort beside him. He tries not to look at you because he knows your happy face will stop him in his tracks, your laughter enough to make him smile and break character.

He squares his expression and begins again. "I need to talk to Juniper, it's very important." He wipes down her sticky hands, her stained fingers and palms, worse than smug when she doesn't complain and pull them away. "I said, I'm sorry Mr. Kermit but I can't put her on, she's all safe and snug in bed with her mom. And Kermit said, oh, okay. Well, please tell Junie this."

Junie's looking up at him, surprised, very pleased, practically wiggling in her seat. She's lovely. Just like her mom.

He doesn't want to do the voice for this part, struck with a sudden sense of awe. "She is… the smartest, most prettiest, loving little girl in the whole world."

Eddie beams at her and drops her damp hands. When he impersonates Kermit this time, he's trying as hard as he can. "I'd only like her more if she were green!"

You're clinging to sanity.

It's Wednesday, it's washing day, and you haven't managed a single load of clothes since you got home because Junie won't stop crying. This isn't new; babies cry constantly and toddlers aren't much different. But, it's been three hours. She's too old for colic.

Junie has screamed, she's sobbed, she's slapped her tiny hands into your chest. You know she doesn't mean to hurt you, she's just communicating her panic. That doesn't stop the growing distress.

You're terrified.

You've found yourself in tears, too.

"Just tell me, baby," you plead.

It's useless. She screams so loud her voice cracks, and you decide that nows the time. You have to go to the hospital.

You don't think you can let her go long enough to strap her into her car seat. Immediately, you think of Eddie. You don't even lock the door. The small walk to his house feels a block long.

He must hear her crying as you approach because the door swings open just as you mount the first step. You backtrack.

"I'm really sorry," you say quickly, knowing this isn't something he ever signed up for. "I don't know what to do, she won't stop and I think there's something wrong." Your voice wobbles.

There's a huge flash of something akin to the panic you're feeling over his face but he pushes it away, descending the steps two at a time. His hand immediately comes up to your shoulder, fingers curled into your shirt.

"Chill out," he says, more stern than you've ever heard him. It’s surreal to see him turn like that. Almost like he’s become one of his characters, the voices he does for Junie’s story books.

You take a ragged breath.

"I'm serious. You need to calm down. You understand?"

Junie gives a blistering shout and your face crumples. "Eddie," you say.

"Can I hold her?" he asks, softer.

You can see in his face that he isn't sure, that he's out of his depth, but you're so desperate for a life raft that you nod and squeeze your eyes closed, passing her into his waiting arms. Everytime she cries – every wicked intake of air and every subsequent bellowing sob makes your chest ache. You have a splitting headache. Honestly, you're worried you might fall over.

"How long has she been crying?" he asks, looking over her face and shoulders with a perplexed frown.

"Hours. At first I thought she was tired or- or hungry but I've tried everything, Eddie, everything."

"She was like this when you picked her up?"

You nod.

He pats her back, the other hand rubbing down one of her legs soothingly. "Did she hurt herself?" He's looking at you without an ounce of judgement.

"Not- not that I know of." You'd looked under her shirt and trousers already. She doesn't have a single bruise.

He starts to walk back towards your home. You don't follow at first and he reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you along as he says, "Come on, sweetheart. We'll go down to Hawkins general, yeah? Just to be safe."

"Yeah."

Junie screams. "It's okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, again and again and again. He doesn't hesitate, his voice velveteen.

His hand stays on your arm until you're by the car. He's never done a car seat before and you can tell: he tucks her into it with infinite care but can't work out how to do the buckles. You laugh wetly and then feel very guilty. wiping your face with one hand before ducking down to do them yourself. Junie glares at you as you do, still very much crying and now incensed at being strapped in.

You stand back to take her in and push your thumbs across her wet cheeks and under her snotty nose uselessly, feeling so sorry for her, so guilty. Why can't you work out what's wrong? Why can't you fix it?

Eddie stands by your side, waiting.

“You got it,” he encourages as you pull back. "You're okay."

You smile weakly and then narrow your eyes, the two of you seeing it at the same time – Junie reaching desperately for her sock.

You peel it off with shaking hands and feel another hot shock of tears. There, around one of her toes, is a tourniquet. The skin is swollen but looks unbroken, darkened by blood

You smile because Oh my god, this is what's wrong, and then you panic twice as much as you had before, because Oh my god, her tiny toe.

"Eddie, I need- I need something. I need a- a nail scissors or-" You drag your hands down your face, in the thick of it. Adrenaline or cortisol or something must race through your veins, your hands shaking with it.

Eddie pulls you back by the hem of your shirt. "We can't cut it away. You'll never get the blade under that- What is that? A hair?"

"Yeah. A hair."

A lightbulb moment. You brush past him and almost fall up the steps back into your trailer.

"Stay there," you say without any explanation.

You step over the mess you'd left behind and barrel into the bathroom, clipping your shoulder on the bathroom door and slamming onto your knees.

You're lucky you have it, a tiny pot of hair removal cream in an old makeup bag under the sink. Resisting the urge to kiss the lid, you rush back out to the car where Eddie holds one of Junie's hands in his. He looks an impossible mixture of worried and relieved when you reappear.

You elbow digs into his chest as you lean over, opening the cream and smearing a line over Junie's swollen toe. She whimpers and shouts and tries desperately to get out of the carseat and, to your devastation, away from you.

"What is that?" Eddie asks from behind you.

"A hair remover."

You wipe the delapitor clumsily into your only good jeans so you can take both of Junie's arms into your hands. She doesn't want to be touched but you need to be holding her, at least a little bit.

"How long does it take?"

"I'm not sure… Not long. If it doesn't work we'll still have to go to the hospital."

Eddie pushes his hands into the top of your back in answer, his fingers curling either side of your neck like he might give you a massage. You shudder as he pulls you against him, as his fingers trace an invisible pattern.

Junie looks up at you both. Her wounded expression loosens. Maybe she's realised that you've figured out her problem, maybe she's just glad to be looked at. Either way, she subdues.

The hair removal cream's acrid smell tickles your stuffed up nose. You sniffle and Eddie's fingers work into your neck lightly, a silent and unwavering It's okay.

You don't see the hair snap so much as you see the pressure wean. You smother a sob, your relief palpable as you pull your shirt sleeve down to cover your hand and wipe it away. Junie shrieks.

You take the hair between your nails and pull.

"Oh my god," you say, holding it up between you.

Everything feels a little bit hazy after that. Eddie rubs your shoulders placatingly before encouraging you away from the door so he can unclip Junie and pull her out of her car seat. He guides you away from the car and back into your trailer, over the mess and into the kitchen.

You sit heavily in a battered kitchen chair. Eddie stands in front of you, Junie on his hip and a frown warping his pretty features. She grizzles, less when he sets her down in your lap carefully.

"Is that okay?" he asks softly. Then, when you nod, "Are you okay? You look like you're gonna pass out."

"I don't feel well."

"No, I bet you don't. Take it easy."

You pull Junie's leg up to examine her foot. Her toes are covered in hair remover still. "Could you get me the baby wipes, please?"

"Sure can. It'll cost you, though." His joke falls a little flat. You try to smile anyhow, your little huff forcing a last tear. You blink until it's gone, aggravated with yourself.

After all, her toe looks better. Sore, still swollen, but better. Though you could just be seeing what you want to see.

Eddie tries to pass you the baby wipes but your hands are shaking too badly to take them. Without a word he opens the pack, kneeling on the floor in front of you to wipe down her foot tenderly. His eyebrows pinch together when she whimpers, and he murmurs a sorry, "I know, I know."

You're trying very hard to calm down.

"All done," he tells her, parentese in play. "You are so brave, junebug. You're the bravest little girl I've ever met. That's why me and your mom decided you were Juniper the Brave, and you proved us both right."

He taps the tip of a ring-heavy finger under her chin. You watch from over her shoulder. "Really brave. You did a good job, the best job ever," he praises, tilting his head to catch your eye as he says it.

You smile at him the best that you can. He holds your gaze for a weighted second and then drops it back to Junie. "Do you feel better?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, only tips her head against your chest.

Eddie pulls off her remaining sock and waves it at her. "Don't need this."

"Do you think she'll throw up if I make her some dinner?" you ask, the kind of question you don't usually get to ask someone else. A luxury to defer judgement.

"Maybe. Does it matter?"

"I don't want to clean up puke," you say pathetically.

Eddie softens. "I'll clean it up if she pukes. Don't worry about it."

You don't have to, you want to say. Of course he doesn't have to.

"Thank you," you say instead, feeling like you could burst into an entirely fresh wave of tears.

Again, he looks up at you. His smile fades from a cheesy exuberance to something sweeter, a melty-warm thing that has your breath catching.

"I'm really sorry for just showing up like that," you say tentatively, flushed with heat as you realise what you've done.

"Don't be."

"No, because she's- I know you never-" She's mine alone. You never signed up for this. You can't make yourself say it, distracted by his ever-growing smile. "I should've handled it on my own."

"Your mom really doesn't understand how much I like her," he tells Junie humorously, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "She doesn't have a clue. How much I like you," he adds, hand on your thigh, his finger stroking a line down the length of her leg.

"You didn't have to-" You try, stopping again as he huffs out of the side of his mouth.

His hand closes around your thigh. You can feel the heat of each of his fingers, the bulk of every heavy ring.

"It's okay. I promise," he says seriously.

"I got so freaked out, I just…" You give up. Whatever. He knows what you're trying to say. Hopefully.

Eddie leans forward to kiss your knee. His eyes close, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly over your thigh.

You blink to yourself in a vain attempt at processing what's just happened when he asks, "Do you still feel sick?"

"No.” Your chest burns.

"In that case, I'll make dinner. A feast."

Things start to feel better. Details sink in. Your heart slows. What was only Eddie behind the stovetop becomes his dark hair scraped up and wrapped in a hair tie, his sweatpants and unlaced shoes, his white t-shirt with sharpie writing all over. Sounds filter in; the spoon scraping the bottom of the saucepan and his frenetic humming, the sound of his rubber-bottomed cons squeaking over linoleum.

Junie doesn't cry so much as whine. You press kisses that are more for you than her into her hair and on her forehead, jogging your knee. She's fine. She's okay, and she's here in your lap, and there's nothing to panic over now.

You try to push away the lingering worry. In the moment, a million thoughts had coalesced into only one. What if she's dying? Meningitis, an aneurysm, cancer. Anything. And now those thoughts fall away, leaving behind only the sharp smell of the hair remover and the salty stick of tears.

"Do you think I have time to give her a shower before dinner?" you ask softly, clearing your throat for what feels like the twentieth time today.

"You got it. I'll simmer. You could have one, too, if you want."

"Do I look that bad?"

"Worse." He grins at your expression. "I'm kidding. You look beautiful as always, sweetheart."

You carry Junie into the bathroom. There's no tub and she's too big for the kitchen sink, so a shower it is. You stand her up under warm spray and turn her back so the spray misses her eyes. She smiles at the warm water running down her back. The relief to see her happy can't be understated. You hop in at the same time and clean her off, wash her hair, and bedeck her tiny features in big big kisses.

Wrapped in her baby towel – a pink poncho type thing with a hood – you walk her to the bedroom and dry her off as fast as you can.

"Which ones?" you ask, holding up two pairs of pajamas.

Junie points at the pink shirt and bottoms printed in bright red strawberries with light green tops, letting you dress her and plonk her at the end of the bed without any fuss.

"No socks for you," you say lightly, sitting beside her in your towel.

"No socks," she agrees.

Even though Eddie's been good to you, you can't help wishing that he wasn't here. What you want more than anything in that second is for Junie to be asleep and for your head to be wedged firmly under your pillow, the sheets to your shoulders, dead to the world.

Not truly dead, of course. But a minute of silence.

Junie doesn't seem to know what to do with herself, sitting in companionable silence and stillness with you. Her head falls onto your arm.

"Are you tired?" you ask quietly, too exhausted for bubbly talk.

She sighs. You sigh too.

Eddie hums from the kitchen.

He kissed my knee.

You think you might have imagined it, if you're honest. It could've been anything against your stockings, the brush off his palm or the back of a warm knuckle, but you'd seen it. His lips, his face turned toward your thigh.

"I think he likes me," you tell Junie.

She doesn't say anything. When you look down at her she's already looking up, eyes wide with confusion.

"He kissed me," you whisper, leaning down. "I don't know about you, junebug, but I only kiss the people I care about. For a long time, that's been a really short list." You bump your nose against hers.

You've just finished getting into your own pajamas when Eddie calls out, "Girls? I know ladies like yourselves need longer to get ready but the mac and cheese is acting weird."

"Weird?" you mumble, hooking your hands under Junie's armpits. You'd let her walk if you weren't worried for her foot.

Eddie has created a working man's feast, three identical plates heaping with food. Hills of mac and cheese topped with bacon bits take up half of each plate, fried broccoli and collard greens the other. They're golden, almost red with spices.

"You can cook," you say, surprised.

"Don't sound so shocked," he says defensively. He can only hold his facade for a moment, deflating. "I really can’t. I tried to copy what you do, I've seen it enough times…" He shrugs and flops down into his usual chair. "Don't tell me if it's gross."

"I doubt it's gross."

You can't be bothered for the high chair. Junie looks like she might be too tired to move so you take the chance and sit her between you and Eddie behind the smaller portion (though using small at all feels like a lie, he's made a lot of food). She can barely see over the table.

"Did you use two boxes?" you ask, picking up Junie's spoon.

It's all the perfect temperature for a baby, maybe a little cold for an adult. You're so happy to have somebody else cook for you that you'd die before you complained.

He taps his nose. You pass Junie her spoon.

"What do you mean?" You tap your own nose in imitation. "I'll know when I look."

"So don't look. Eat."

You eat. Without asking him too – because you wouldn’t, you never do – he starts to feed Junie.

He might be the nicest boy on this whole damn planet. You look at him thoughtfully. How come we always end up here? At the kitchen table?

He looks right. Too right. He looks like he’s meant to be here, smiling and talking to your baby in hushed, fond tones, airplaning roasted broccoli towards her mouth.

“You’ll stay to watch a movie?” you ask later, trying to hide how lethargic you are with your hands deep in dishwater.

Eddie wipes a fleck of water off of your cheek with a rag. "Duh."

On the couch, Eddie sneaks a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re pretending to watch the TV and doing a bad job, your attention stolen over and over by Junie where she sleeps in your lap. Your hand rubs over her small, distended tummy, the other holding her foot carefully. You keep glancing at her toe, much less swollen now and with a healthier complexion, though a cruel line remains from where the hair had cut into her skin.

You don't touch it, only looking. He worries as a wrinkle appears between your eyebrows.

Listening intently as he is, he can hear the hitch in your breath. Eddie doesn’t want you to cry again — the first time had been awful enough. Your face covered in tears, coming fast and panicked. It was like you’d hardly noticed you were crying. You’d been so scared that Eddie, despite knowing close to nothing about babies or how to make them feel better, had clung to his calm. He’d stomped down every flicker of panic that had surged and tried his damn best to keep a level head.

Now, with your sad face and the crisis averted, Eddie feels a pang of terror. Just one. You are completely out of your element, Munson.

You’re definitely the kind of friends now that can sit on the couch together and not care too much about personal space. Eddie uses this to his advantage and spreads his legs just enough to brush his thigh against yours. You look at him and hide your lingering upset with a small smile. It’s a far cry from the genuine happy grin he’s become familiar with, but you're still beautiful.

Eddie shuffles across the couch toward you until he can push his hand under your arm. He pulls it to his chest, beware of your tenuously sleeping daughter, and hugs it.

“I was thinking,” he starts casually, looking down at you.

Your eyes crease with a playful smile. “Oh yeah?” Like you can’t believe it.

“Yeah, I was,” he says, quiet so as not to wake Junie but extremely passionate. “What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?”

“Nothing." You laugh under your breath.

He glares, faux-offended. Any real offense is swallowed instantly by the sound of your laugh.

“Hm. Anyway, I was thinking,” he begins again, hand running down your arm in what he hopes is a soothing gesture, “that I’d head into the city this weekend. Go to the bookstore ‘n’ the big goodwill by the bus station. I was hoping you’d wanna come with me.” Is he pushing his luck? Maybe.

You look like you want to say yes, but, “Eddie, I don’t really have the money.”

“I’d pay.” He tries to sell it before you can protest. “I’m asking you to come. Stealing your Sunday. We’d leave early, get breakfast on the way. I don't want to go alone.” I want your company.

He tries not to show how terrified he is that you’ll say no.

“I can’t- I couldn’t let you pay for us,” you say, eyes on his chest.

“Can I tell you something?” You nod. “It would make me… really happy if you did.”

He doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t think there’s a way to tell you that won’t involve unveiling his new and shiny feelings for you, feelings that don’t seem to want to slow, or abate, or moderate themselves. Honestly, he doesn’t want them to.

He wants you to be happy. He wants to take care of you.

It's embarrassing in its intensity.

You reach over Junie to wrap your hand around his bicep, though you still don’t look like you’re going to say yes.

He leans in close, tracing the details of your face with a greedy kind of curiosity. “You wouldn’t let me give you anything for the haircut,” he says. “It’s the same, you know? Doing things for the people you care about."

He says it like the idiot he is, all rough and insincere, like caring about people is dumb. You smile anyways and finally, finally, give him a nod. So small it’s near imperceptible.

“If you’re sure,” you say.

“Positive.”

Eddie looks good behind the wheel of your car. The wind whips at his hair, curls that had been neat and pretty only an hour ago now starting to frizz. You think the chaos of it suits him.

He’s singing along to the radio and it’s a song you don’t know. You don’t think Junie knows it either, but she’s signing it like she does, hands flailing in the air and Mr. Bear bouncing in her lap with the force of her dancing. Eddie looks at her in the rear view mirror, beaming brilliantly.

“Yeah, sing it, junebug!" he encourages. Her voice peaks.

You laugh and stretch your hands out in your lap, knuckles brushing the sandwiches you’d packed. You’d let Eddie pay for gas, you might even let him buy Junie a book from the bookstore if he’s feeling generous, but you’re really trying to keep his expenses low. Hence, sandwiches. Even now, the idea of him spending money on you makes you feel guilty.

Deep down – deep, deep down – you want him to. You’re hoping he’ll pick up a book for you, and that fills you with so much shame you have to look away from him, your face to the window. The highway blurs past, the early morning sun lighting the blacktop and bouncing between cars of all kinds coming into the city for a Sunday outing.

Eddie turns down the radio a tiny bit and reaches across the seat to squeeze your shoulder. “You alright?” he asks without looking at you.

You tip your head toward his hand. His rings bite into your cheek.

You’re in the car on a nice day with a nice boy and your pretty baby listening to the radio, the sun at your side and the breeze kissing your warm skin.

You’d even managed to find a nice shirt to wear. Today is a good day. You won't weigh it down with silly feelings.

“I’m great.”

He gives you that smile like he doesn’t believe you and his eyes go back to the road. “Can a guy get another sandwich or does he have to beg?”

You imagine what it might be like to lean over and kiss his cheek. He deserves a good kiss, you think, and then wince as heat blooms from your chest up to your cheeks. You can’t hold in a pleased smile as you click open the Tupperware.

“Do you want PB&J or bacon and lettuce?” The tomatoes have already been accosted by a ravenous Junie.

“I’ll have half of whatever you’re having.”

You weren’t going to have one, and you both know that. You offer him half the PB&J and he takes it, eyes flitting between you and the road. You take a showful bite to release him. He gives you a grateful smile in turn.

Chewing, you take half of the bacon and lettuce sandwich into your hands and pull it apart. You divide the contents and tuck half into one slice to make a quarter sandwich before leaning over the seats to offer it to Junie where she waits in her car seat. She accepts it hungrily.

One-handed, Eddie pulls the car off of the highway. “There’s a parking garage somewhere around here,” he tells you.

Once he's found it he jumps out to go pay. You turn in your seat and smile at Junie. She's mauling her sandwich, face smeared in butter.

"Are you ready for some fun?" you ask.

She looks at you curiously.

You try again, really smiling. "Are you excited? We're gonna go find a book, something fun like Red Cat, Blue Cat, and we're gonna see the stores and the people and maybe mommy can get you a new teddy."

A spark of something. She gets happy when you're happy and today's no exception, her tiny features soon plucked up with joy. When you round the car and open her door to wipe down her greasy fingers and face she barely cares, and she receives your loving kisses with a big smile.

Eddie returns with the parking ticket and slides it onto the dashboard. You leave Junie's door open now he's back to pop the trunk and unfold her stroller. The sound echoes through the parking garage and the sun struggles to find a way in, your arms wracked with goosebumps.

"Hey, junebug," you hear Eddie murmuring.

He messes with the buckles on her car seat until they pop open, his triumphant laugh almost as pretty as his face. Junie's is prettier, your daughter laughing up a storm as Eddie scoops her up and sits her on his hip.

He looks like he had when you first met but with ten times the confidence in holding her and a clear affection. Her hands are in his hair like usual, petting and pulling gently.

"Brush out the tangles for me," he tells her seriously, bumping the door shut.

She hums like she's agreed to his task and continues her exploring.

You hang the baby bag over the stroller's handlebar and Eddie sits her in the padded chair.

"Junie, have I told you how pretty you look today?" he asks, pulling the straps over her shoulders and from between her legs. He uses parentese like you would, distracting her as he locks her in. When the lock click, he plays affectionately with her hair. "You're like a princess. Your mom has talented hands, huh? And a good eye."

Pleasure from his compliment drips in thick and fast. You bite back a smile and squeeze the clean baby socks in your hands, waiting for him to stand so you can fight them onto Junie’s feet. Ever since her ordeal you’ve been waiting as long as you can before putting on socks and shoes. The first thing you do when you pick her up from daycare is take them off.

If Eddie thinks you’re overzealous in your fretting he hasn't said anything. He holds his hand out for the socks and you give them to him, nonplussed though you shouldn’t be as he bunches them up and pushes them over her wiggling feet with patience and bemusement.

“Stay still… Do you want frostbite? Or gangrene?” he asks her.

“Eddie.”

“Sorry." He looks at you guiltily. “In my defense, she doesn’t know what gangrene is.”

“It’s weird, though. To hear you say it like it’s a good thing. S’creepy.”

He squeezes the sole of one of her small feet and stands, much too close to you as he whispers cheerily, “Gangrene. Septicemia. Pneumonia.”

You laugh and push him away from you. “Shut up.”

“You first. Where’re her shoes?”

You procure them with a smug smile. “You’ll never get them on.”

His fingers brush yours as he takes them, his eyes blazing at the challenge.

“Will you sulk all day?” Eddie asks you.

The sulking is for show. You frown like you’re really angry and tighten your grip on the stroller, the wind ruffling your clothes. After a moment the facade falls away and you smile at him, unable to hide your reluctant affection any longer. “How did you get her to sit still like that? You vex me.” Said with equal parts envy and pride.

“I vex you,” he says, voice coloured by good humour.

He’s fallen into step beside you, your jacket tied around his waist.

You should bring your jacket. In case you get cold, he’d said.

I don’t want to carry it, you’d said.

Don’t patronise me.

You glance over the top of the stroller to make sure Junie’s blanket is still in place. She’s quiet. You’ve decided that she’s in shock to be somewhere that isn’t your home or the daycare.

“Yeah, you vex me. Infuriate me. I’ve been a mom for two years and I can’t get her shoes on without a fight, and you’ve been-“ You stop dead, stutter, and quickly adjust what you'd been saying like it has been a slip up of the tongue rather than a thought you shouldn't entertain. “You’ve known her for what, three months? And-“

“Four months,” he corrects, sounding much too proud.

“Four months,” you amend. “And you can do all this stuff that took me years to work out.” You’re a little bit vexed for real.

He nods like he’s considering what you’ve said before tipping his head. “But…”

You wait. He doesn’t further his point. “But what?”

“Well.” Eddie brushes something off of your arm. “I guess I have a great teacher, right?” His voice hikes up high and he steamrolls, “I just copy you. You didn’t really get to copy anyone.”

You feel something melty hot in your chest, another affection for Eddie to add to a growing list. “Oh.”

He takes your shoulder into his hand and you draw to a pause, his other hand pointing off into the distance. “There’s the bookstore.”

You follow his finger. Across a landscape of cobblestone, situated firmly between a Domino’s pizza place and a cafe with a peppering of metal wrought tables stands Morgan’s Books. To your surprise, it’s a glass-fronted building with a big clean sign made up of red, yellow, and blue. It's a children's bookstore.

Eddie has obviously tricked you. You turn to glare at him and find him very close. He doesn’t shy away and you try not to in return. You try, but something about his pretty mouth so close sends shocks like pins and needles to your hands and you have to keep walking lest you embarrass yourself. His hand falls from your shoulder and trails down your back. You swear you can feel even the last millimetre of his fingertip before it falls away.

You get a good look at the landscape ahead and your eyes narrow. Eddie almost bumps into you when you stop abruptly.

“What?” he asks.

"There’s, like, a thousand steps.”

“Gross hyperbole," he argues. A gap of quiet furthers your point; while you had been exaggerating, there are a lot of steps, and he needs time to take them all in.

“Is there a way around?”

“Don’t be dumb, sweetheart. You’ll grab June and I’ll carry the stroller.”

“It’s really heavy. Heavier than it looks.”

He grins like a fiend. “I’m strong.”

Junie’s more than happy to be released, less when you take her into your arms and won’t put her down. You help Eddie snap the stroller back up, indicating which lever to pull with the rubber toe of your converse. He kneels down to guide it into place and looks up at you swiftly afterward, self-satisfied and much too happy considering the task afoot.

“Maybe we should find another way.”

“Y/N,” he says, like your name is inherently funny, like a joke rolled around over his tongue, “I’m starting to get offended.”

You blow air out of the side of your mouth.

Eddie slugs the stroller under one arm and holds it tight with the other, giving you a very determined smile. “Ready?”

You balance the baby bag over one shoulder and start on the stairs. Junie's heavy but she’s a heavy you’ve grown used to, and she doesn’t complain enough to warrant any stress.

You’re impressed when Eddie takes each step at your pace and doesn’t break a sweat. “I thought you were a bus boy. What do you bus? Weights?” you ask incredulously.

He laughs. “I don’t bus weights, but amps are heavy, and I’m not a big shot. I don’t have any roadies to carry them for me.”

You feel terrible then for forgettting. Right. He plays music, you think. You’ve never once seen him play any music, on stage or at home. You’ve seen him play guitar over Junie’s leg to tickle her and tap out a rhythm when he’s heating up desserts in your kitchen, but you’ve never seen him play guitar for real.

“Is that going okay?” you ask, ignoring the small burn beginning to grow in your arms.

“Bussing? Sure. Why’d you ask?”

“Not bussing, music. I never ask- I’ve never asked you how it’s going.”

Eddie winces as the stroller starts to open and pulls it tighter under his arm. It takes him a few seconds to calibrate what you’ve said, and he’s quickly reassuring. “What? Why would you worry about that? You have enough to think about without adding my moonlighting at the Hideout.” He says the Hideout like it’s something to be looked down on. You almost trip up a step and Eddie can’t do anything but watch. “Careful," he begs.

You keep your eyes on your footing until you’re at the very top, worried you'll fall flat on your face and get Junie hurt.. Eddie comes up two behind you and puts the stroller down, wiping his hands together dramatically.

“Conquered. Great job, team. Especially you,” he says, poking Junie’s cheek.

She puts her arms out, vying for his attention now she’s had a taste. He raises his eyebrows at her and offers his arms. You hand her over eagerly, arms aching. You can’t imagine what his feel like.

“I care about it,” you say firmly. It rather than you, but it rings the same. “I want to know, Eddie, I swear. I’m sorry for not asking.”

He looks up from where he’d been making playful faces at Junie to stare at you. It’s not a mean stare, but it unnerves you all the same.

She pushes a hand into his hair like she always does and starts to try and pull her fingers through it. It’s knottier than usual because of the wind, and she struggles to make sense of it. His eyes fall to her tugging.

“Sweetheart,” he says slowly. You know it’s meant for you, even if he’s not looking at you. "If there was something worth telling you, I would’ve told you. I don't doubt that you care.”

You don’t feel better. “No, ‘cos-”

“Why are you so upset?” he asks genuinely.

You hadn’t realised your face revealed the extent of it. “Because we’re friends. You’re the- the best friend I’ve ever had.”

He smiles, sudden and wide. “I’m your best friend?”

“Like we’re twelve?” you deflect.

“Yeah, like we’re twelve.”

You ignore him and try to cool down. A hot flush attacks your skin as you stretch out the stroller and click the supports back into place, shucking off your baby bag to hang over the handlebar with a relieved sigh.

Eddie moves Junie to one side. You anticipate his touch before it happens, his free arm behind your back and pulling you to him. “We’re totally best friends. I’m your best friend,” he says smugly, hand curling around your shoulder. It’s a good hug, friendly and warm and heart-racingly close; you can feel his chest on your back, the curve of a pec through thin fabric.

You turn toward him indulgently but keep your head down. It’s so nice to be hugged that you can’t make yourself move away.

He rubs the top of your arm, the bump of his rings biting into your skin. “You don’t deny it?”

“No. I don’t deny it.”

“Hear that, June?” Again, he calls her June. Not Junie or junebug, June. You like the way he says it. “I’m your mom's best friend. I win.”

You nod happily, warm under his touch.

Wait. “What?”

“She likes me more,” he teases her childishly.

“Eddie!”

“What? Am I wrong?” He leans away from you and feigns confusion.

“Yes! Of course you’re wrong! That’s my baby. Give her to me right now." You join in on his melodramatics, grinning even as you continue, “How could you say that? Sicko."

“That got frosty quickly,” he grumbles, holding her away from you.

You move in to plaster Junie in kisses. Not apology kisses because you didn’t say anything wrong, but kisses all the same.

“Can I get in on one of those?”

You huff at him. He bursts into boyish laughter and holds his hands up. “Kidding!”

“Should we go?” Before you say something stupid.

Eddie carries Junie and you push the empty stroller until you're all looking up at the store's bright sign. "This is where you wanted to come?" you ask him, eyes falling to the window where a sign brags a children's reading nook and their Read Before You Buy promotion.

He shrugs. "Bookstore's a bookstore."

"No, this is for kids. We're never gonna find what you wanted in here. I doubt they have King of the Rings between Red Cat, Blue Cat and Pony Girl."

"King of the Rings," he repeats jovially.

"Whatever it's called."

He pulls a squirming Junie higher up the length of his chest, the fabric of his shirt rides up with her. You pull it down. You're flustered enough, his naked skin is the last thing you need.

"Sweetheart, I'm sure they'll have what I want," he says flippantly, pushing the door open with his elbow.

"If you're sure…" you say, following him in

The bookstore smells fancy. You breathe in the scent of plastic wrap and paper, your eyes searching over floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and pyramids of craft kits. Box sets of Enid Blyton and A. A. Milne sporting classic, whimsy spines are stacked in a towering and precarious looking arch. Signs on either side promise a children's wonderland inside. You follow Eddie around pen displays and jigsaw puzzles, ducking under the archway with an awed, "Oh, wow."

"Watch out," he warns quietly, taking a step down into the kids' reading nook.

You bump the stroller to the bottom of the steps and have to stop, amazed.

Junie is a picture of you as Eddie sets her down, gazing around the room in shock. There's a lot of older kids scattered throughout on big circle pillows with books in their laps and a guardian beside them, but the real wonder is in the decoration. The walls are bedecked in murals; Kermit and Funnybones, The Very Busy Spider and the mouse from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Junie sees Kermit on the walls and gasps, running up to the painting with wide eyes.

Eddie follows her without saying anything. When he catches up to her, he offers her his hand. She takes it. She's practically shouting, their joined hands restless as excitement courses through her in waves.

You find two big pillows and a couple of books for Junie to look at. The three of you take to an empty corner and sit, looking over a big picture book full of stills from The Muppets Take Manhattan. Junie makes a lot of excited sounds and nonsense words, talking very confidently though half of it's lost on you both.

"Kermit," she says, pointing at the page passionately.

You wrap your arms around her tummy to keep her comfortable and hum. "Yeah, baby. Kermit, Miss Piggy, Gonzo. They're going to New York," you start to describe the page.

Eddie leans in, his arm pressed to your arm, his skin a heat where it rubs into you as he helps hold open the book.

The further you read the closer he gets.

Junie gets bored quickly, like toddlers tend to, and wants to go look at the walls again. Eddie stays with the stroller and you pick her up to let her touch her hands to the characters.

"That's Spot," you tell her quietly, her fingertips brushing over flat fur. "Spot the doggy."

Junie's never read anything Spot before. He's a popular character. There's three picture books to choose from. You pick up the first, Where's Spot? and offer it to her.

She likes the look of him. You carry her back to your pillows and struggle to sit back down in the tight gap between the wall and Eddie's knee. He stretches his arms out to take her. .

"What'd you find, sweetheart?" he murmurs as he balances her on his thigh.

He reads to her. He has the voice for it, soft and sweet.

"We had sandwiches," you argue, two hours and what feels like fifty stories later.

Eddie had known before he suggested it that you were gonna fight him on this. He’s managed to end up behind the stroller, weaving between unlucky bystanders as his eyes search for somewhere to eat.

“And they were awesome."

“Eddie,” you complain softly.

He peeks at you by his side, grinning at the plastic bag full of books you’d insisted on carrying where it dangles from your fingers.

You take his smile for teasing and sigh. “Come on. I’ll make dinner when we get home.”

“Sweetheart, as much as I love your cooking that’s hours away. We don’t have to go anywhere fancy. Look, there’s a McDonald’s right there,” he says, pointing toward the yellow ‘M’ sign where it flickers, breaking up a white sky.

“I’m not hungry,” you say. He senses your proposition before you offer it. “But if you wanna get food, that’s fine.”

“You don’t like McDonald’s?” he asks.

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Just think of it like- like using the bathroom before a long car ride. You might not need to, but it’s never a bad idea.”

Inside of McDonald’s, Eddie can tell how unhappy you are, your eyes drifting to the menu and your fingers squeezing both handles of the plastic bag.

He parks Junie’s stroller next to a low table and you slide into the booth beside her. He doesn't sit right away.

“You remember what I said?” he asks quietly, leaning on the table with one arm, head inclined to yours.

Your eyes flicker between his face and his arm. You measure his gaze “Doing things for the people you care about,” you say, equally hushed.

Eddie reaches out to squeeze your wrist. “Exactly.” He tries not to squeeze too hard in case his rings dig into your skin.

When you smile, he grabs the high chair and transfers one unhappy toddler into its constraints. There's a little basket of crayons and colouring papers near the registers that you plunder while he orders. By the time he gets back with a greasy tray of food and drinks Junie's made a masterpiece.

"Is that supposed to be me?" he asks brightly.

Of course it isn't – there's a shock of blue and a red blob almost shaped like a heart next to the dark printed outline of Ronald McDonald. It's worth the risk of sounding like an idiot because you start to laugh so hard you can't scold him for the desserts.

After wiping down the highchair's tray with a baby wipe, you peel open Junie's cheeseburger and start to break it into small pieces, blowing on each one vigorously before passing them over. You're about to start on fries when Eddie flicks your hand.

"Eat," is all he says, swiping her fries out of your reach to copy your process.

Tray laden with an abundance of bite-sized fast food, she grabs a cheesy looking slice of burger and screams loudly.

Eddie gawps. "What was that? Is it too hot?"

You swallow a sip of your drink and the cup sheds condensation like a spattering of raindrops when you put it down. "I think she's having a really good day," you say..

"Well fu-" he amends his cuss word quickly, "-dge, me too, junebug. Best day out ever. We got books, burgers, and I'm with my two favourite girls."

It might have sounded more romantic if he hadn't said it around a mouthful of big mac. You look almost as happy as Junie does anyway,

When Junies just about finished you carry her off into the ladies to change her diaper and freshen up. You have a baby in one arm and a bag full of diapers and bottles and onesies in the other, and you stare into the mirror and can't work out Eddie's angle.

Eddie is loud and crude and clumsy. He smells like his close friend Mary Jane half the time and he doesn't know how to style his hair. He laughs loud, sings louder. Almost everything about him is unapologetic and brash, his dark looks and ripped up clothes, his van, his smile.

And he's nice. He's so nice. Down to the bone, maybe down to his soul, there's a kindness that floors you every single time. He smiles and he squeezes and he says sorry for things that aren't his fault. He helps without being asked. How many times now has he knocked the door, found you kneeling on the living room floor folding clothes and thrown himself opposite you? Bet you I can do double what you've done in five minutes flat. Or stationed himself at Benny's for lunch to check you're having a good day? Here's five for the pretty waitress I saw earlier, make sure she gets it, won't you? How many times has he, hair limp and clothes rumpled, burst beaming into the kitchen with enough dessert for a family of five and a gallon of juice? Why wouldn't I get a gallon? Junebug'll have drank half by the time you sit down, sweetheart.

You look at yourself in the mirror and you can't work out why.

"Hi, girls," Eddie says when you return.

He's cleared off the table, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Like this, the lean trim of his waist is emphasised, as is the slight curve to the tops of his thighs.

"Hi," Junie says. You echo her greeting.

"D'you have fun? Powder your noses?"

"Can't you tell?" you ask. You did not powder your nose.

He straightens up and peers at you assessingly. "Definitely. S'like you got prettier, and I thought it was impossible." His voice is sugar sweet by the end, attention on Junie. She's aching to be put down and writhing in your grip, but his voice catches and holds her attention until you're back outside.

It's cooler. The air cleaner. You put Junie down and clasp her hand firmly in your own, bending at the waist to tell her face to face, "No running off, alright? You hold mommy's hand tight." You squish her little fingers until she giggles. "Okay?"

"Okay," she says.

"Okay, thank you." Then, because she looks so sweet and this has been one of the best days of your life, "I love you."

You kiss her cheek.

Eddie won't let you push the stroller. "You concentrate on little miss trouble," he says mildly, kicking the brakes with a frown. "I got this. Maybe."

Half a block to the goodwill. It's not as big as you'd expected but there's a fun furniture section that draws Junies attention. You're reluctant to let her climb on the furniture in case anything is dirty or infested, though you do sit her in a wicker chair for a tree swing and a huge velvet loveseat like she's goldilocks, asking, "How's that? Comfy?"

Hidden away, there's a bookshelf painted green and pink that threatens to topple over hiding a grandfather clock still ticking. You lift Junie up so that the three of you can look at the clock face, a small silver disk with illustrations on either side. A gorgeous swelling of purples and melty blues in a ring behind the man in the moon. The sun, a buttery yellow buffeted by white-blue clouds.

"Grand," Eddie praises.

"What did you want to come here for?"

He grins at you and nods his head to the left. "It's over there."

'It' ends up being a clothes rack longer than your trailer home partitioned by size. Every t-shirt different but bragging the same premise – band merchandise. A riot of rock bands peppered in popular duo's like Tears for Fears and the occasional Cyndi Lauper tour shirt, each one sticking out like a sore thumb; a rainbow array besides faded blacks and slate greys.

"Why'd they have so many?"

Eddie shrugs, though he tries to explain his theory anyways. "There's a venue maybe… four blocks away? That has these vendors outside all the time shelling knock-offs."

"So these are knock-offs?"

"Most of them. They're usually in good condition though."

He's right. You find all kinds of shirts in varying qualities. Some obviously real, thick fabric and perfect prints. He picks up a Judas Priest tour shirt that he claims to be the real deal, a Metallica long sleeve that most certainly is not. There's a Twisted Sister shirt with a mysterious brown stain and a Ghoulie Girls muscle tee that's almost completely split down one side.

You shuffle through the things in your size, absent-minded. Junie's not interested in the slightest and is starting to complain. You fend off an oncoming tantrum with a pack of fruit snacks, offering them to her one at a time.

Eddie whistles where he's standing a short distance away, "Oh, fuck."

He unhooks a hanger and holds it out, amazed. "Oh, shit."

"Eddie," you chastise. Not because you care, but Junie saying either of those words at daycare would suck.

"Sorry, sorry. You like these guys, right?" He holds up a t-shirt for The Mamas and The Papas, a group from the sixties. It looks new.

It's the only cassette you own where you can stand to listen to both sides all the way through. "Yeah. Like Cass Elliott's stuff more."

"Who's that?"

You point at Elliott on the shirt. "Her."

"Guess how much they want for it," he demands.

You think. Junie whines for another snack and you give her the packet. "Ten dollars?"

"A dollar." He passes the shirt to you so you can see it for yourself and leans down to bundle up your sighing daughter. She can't decide whether she's enjoying it for a good few seconds, her annoyance at being somewhere this underwhelming for so long clear but fading as Eddie shushes her gently. "Isn't that sick?" he asks you.

"It would be sick, if you liked them."

He shrugs. "I'll wear it as pajamas. A dollar for a shirt? You can't steal it that cheap."

You laugh and drop it into his basket. He bumps his shoulder into yours until you move down the rack, his fingers searching for something with focus. You're in awe at how he's handling it, a basket heavy in the crook of his elbow and Junie on his hip trying to share her fruit snacks with him unsuccessfully.

"Ah-ha!" He pulls out a black t-shirt. The back to you, you can't tell what's so interesting about it until he flips it around. "What do you think?"

It's the same The Mamas and The Papas shirt.

"You want?" he asks.

You check the price tag before answering and find yourself laughing gleefully, almost smug. "Hey, this one's fifty cents."

He gasps. "What?"

"I can afford that one myself."

He pulls it out of your hand, quick but not cruel, and tucks it into the basket. "Don't care. Wanna see if they have one in Junie's size?"

"They won't."

"What about a small and we cut the excess off? She can wear it like a dress. We'll all match."

Eddie picks up a bunch of t-shirts for you, some funny, a lot plain bad. You wonder if you're being made fun of but from the gleeful expression on his face you know he's just having a good time. It's sweet, really, how he seems to pick the more feminine looking ones for you. You try your best to calculate how much he's spending on you – it feels tacky and silly, but urgent – and end up losing the thread. He must've passed ten dollars by now. It makes you feel sick.

You see your saving grace across the way.

"Oh my god!" you feign surprise. Both Eddie and Junie look up at you, startled. "You know what mommy just saw?"

Junie perks up.

"What did I just see? What did mommy see?" you encourage.

"What?" she asks.

"I saw… teddies!"

"Mr. Bear?" she asks.

You beam at her. "Mr. Bear's brothers and sisters, I think. Should we go look at them?"

She says yes and then something else you don't catch, squirming aggressively to be put down.

Eddie says, "Sorry sorry sorry," and lets her down gently.

She snatches your hand and starts to tug you away. You glance over your shoulder to make sure Eddie's following you and he is, a melty-warm smile on his face. You navigate the store floor and almost knock down a bucket of hats with the stroller on the way to the teddies. There's a few of them, all lined up in a row next to jigsaw puzzles and old board games.

"I didn't think this through," you say, watching as Junie picks through the teddies with a huge smile on her face. She starts to hug them towards her and you try not to cringe.

"You can scrub her when we go home," Eddie assures you leaning against the stroller, hair behind his ears.

You grab the end of a curl and pull it back in front of his face, messing with it until it falls the way you want it to. He stays very still. "I might need to de-flea her."

He laughs and it's a shock, an abrupt sound that makes your chest ache with fondness.

"You might. I got some tea tree oil lying around somewhere if you need it," he says.

"And if she gets dermatitis?"

His grins turns embarrassed. "I don't know what that is."

"It's like-" You tilt your head to the side to mimic his own and drop your hand from his hair. "It's gross. Like a bad rash."

"Oh, then we'll give her a tomato soup bath."

You burst into laughter and have to grab his arm to stop from toppling over, or at least that's what you tell yourself. "That's for skunks," you manage to tell him, giggling loudly.

"Shit, really?"

You nod at him, wanting to kiss the sheepishness straight off of his lips. "You're thinking of an oats bath," you say. "Oats are good for the skin. And milk."

"So we just rub her down with oatmeal. Case solved."

Your hand rubs over the curve of his forearm until you reach the cold bite of his chain bracelet. It brings your attention back to what it is you're doing. You pull your hand away.

You have enough money to get Junie any teddy she wants. You'd made sure of that. You'll just have to hide the train in your tights and wear your waitressing skirt low on your hips for a week or three until you can afford a new pair of pantyhose.

You move to kneel next to Junie. She's pulled every teddy off the shelf and sits half-buried in them, talking a hundred words a minute. You think she might be make-believing, catching the slightest difference in her tone as she shakes one bear and then the other.

After checking the price tags stuck sloppily to each ear, you realise you can afford two.

Best day ever.

"Junie," you say with intent, heavy so she'll look at you. "I want you to pick your two favourite bears. Yeah? Pick which ones you like the best. And we're gonna take them home, okay? Give them a bath, brush out their fur, get them some jammies."

Watching the way her expression changes as she realises what you're saying is confirmation. This is the best day ever.

She decides eventually on one too many. There's a pastel green-blue rabbit with floppy ears and a ribbon tied around his neck, half a face of whiskers that make him quite charming and a worn tail. Next to him is a classic teddy bear who could be Mr. Bear's younger brother who seems in very good condition. Last, a bigger, softer golden teddy with an enamel nose and eyes lies over her lap.

You can't afford all three.

You've barely opened your mouth to tell her, a weak smile on your lips ready to placate when Eddie says, "The rabbit is classic. You'll have to let me get her that one."

"Eddie," you say, looking up at him as you shake your head, "you can't. I can't let you."

"She'll have to share him with me, obviously. He's punk rock."

It's the least punk rock plushie you've ever seen.

"Eddie," you say again, quietly.

He scoops the hair away from his face like he's going to tie it up. "Y/N." He says your name expectantly. When you don't budge he lets his hair fall back to his shoulders and turns serious. "You can pay me back, if you want to."

"Really?"

"Only for the rabbit."

You purse your lips to fight a smile.

Junie throws herself into your lap with her new treasures. "For the rabbit," she parrots factually, gazing up at you with eyes full of content. Her small smile means everything.

"He's a bunny," you murmur, fingers brushing his rough ear.

"He's sweet." Eddie crouches in front of you. He smells like something nice though you can't think of what it is. Cologne, something dark and deep hiding under a woody scent. Maybe sandalwood. His knee taps your thigh and his hand wraps around your shoulder for balance. "Got a dirty nose though. Who does that remind you of?"

You giggle and tap Junie's nose. "I wonder."

Down what feels like a thousand steps and back into the parking garage, your legs are hurting in the best way and Junie's half asleep in her stroller. You'd reluctantly let her keep the blue-green rabbit in hand, and she snuggles him close to her chest.

"I'm actually genuinely worried she's gonna get something from him," you confide.

Eddie weaves his arm through yours. "Like rabies?"

"A rash."

"I'm allergic to gain detergent tablets," he says, his hand slipping away from you so he can put both on his hips. "When I moved in with my Uncle Wayne he didn't know that, obviously, not at first. We didn't notice for a while. One day I'm scratching my chest and he says to me, boy, what are you doing always itching like that? You ever take a shower?" He impersonates his uncle's disappointed frown.

You laugh. "Poor baby."

"I mean, I probably wasn't showering." He laughs. "I was like, wow, thanks Uncle Wayne, I love you too.

"He lifts my shirt up in the middle of the kitchen and we both just stare at this rash. It was the first time I'd really noticed. I didn't… I was a skinny kid, I didn't really find any pleasure in looking at myself. And- He got so serious. Asking me if I was okay, if school was stressing me out."

"He thought you were hurting yourself?"

"In a way… It wasn't the first time he tried to get me to talk about how I was feeling, but it was the first time I thought- I mean, the first time I realised that it was permanent. That we were-" He cuts off with a laugh. "I'm being weird."

"No weirder than usual," you tease. Your expression softens.

You slow, trying to convey how much you want to hear it with a smile. You don't want to say something that'll weigh on the impossibly light mood you're both in; the ground practically glows yellow under your shoes, the two of you walking on sunshine or something remarkably similar.

"I guess I realised he was gonna take care of me. I told him all about school, stuff I'd been lying about, how the Walton twins kept taking my lunch money, how I was failing algebra. How much I," he licks his lips and then smiles, "how much I missed my mom."

"Do you still miss her a lot?" you ask, though you know the answer.

"Yeah, I do. I don't remember everything, but I remember the way she talked sometimes. I don't remember her voice," he concedes, "just… the way she moved. She would lean back whenever I was getting into trouble, and she'd get this look on her face like I was the funniest thing on the planet."

You grin at him. Your cheeks ache from what must be a hundred smiles today. It's a really nice memory to have.

"You are pretty funny," you say.

"What was that? You think I'm pretty and funny? Baby, you spoil me."

You stop altogether and press your fists into your eyes, defeated. "I should've seen that one coming."

"Yeah, you should've."

Soft snores, so quiet you almost miss them. By the time you've got back to your car Junie's sleeping with her chin to her chest and the rabbit's ear held tight in her small hand.

"Will she wake up?" Eddie asks quietly.

"Not if I'm very, very careful," you whisper.

You scoop her up and tuck her into her carseat, holding your breath all the while. Eddie tries his best to fold down the stroller.

You emerge from the backseat and make a soft pitying sound. "Stuck?"

"I can do it," he promises, head and face hidden behind the padded seat. His hands fight with the metal bars holding it in place. Again, you tap the right strut with your shoe to help him out.

He says thank you but refuses to look at you. You swear you're gonna kiss his cheek this time for real because he deserves one and you really want to give him one, but he puts the stroller into the trunk and touches your waist as he opens the driver's side. Any bravery gets turned into mush.

He rolls down the window and sticks his head out, ever amused. "Are you coming?"

You pause at the door and get closer than you mean to, close enough to find yourself distracted by the beauty mark along his jawline.

"You want me to drive?" you ask.

"No, sweetheart. You're good."

You smile at each other. It's a strange sort of smile, strange to be taller than him, strange to have your faces this near. There's a lot to say but maybe now isn't the right time to say it, or maybe now is exactly when you should, and his face lifts up just a touch and your hands feel heavy at your sides.

"Eddie…"

You close your fingers over the door, braced as his body turns to yours. You get the sense that he's waiting for you to say – or do – something. To lean down. To take the leap.

He's the prettiest boy you've ever seen.

You waver.

"You know," he says lightly, blinking his long lashes at you in a way that has your heart skipping beat after beat, "if we hurry, I think we can get on the highway before the work rush. We'll be back in Hawkins before dark."

You bring your hand to his cheek. A sorry and a thank you at the same time. "I don't want to be back in Hawkins before dark." I really want to spend more time with you.

"I'll crawl."

You press your lips together, tongue in your cheek to stop from giggling like a loser as you walk around the hood and climb in. He turns the key in the ignition and switches off the radio before it can wake up Junie. True to his word, Eddie goes what must be a half a mile an hour out of the parking garage. The car behind you beeps aggressively.

Your eyes flicker between the rearview and his grinning face. "What are you- oh."

"Crawling," he murmurs smugly.

The sun starts its slow descent. You use his knee for leverage and pull down his sun visor, then your own, blocking the light. Eddie says, "Thank you," very sweetly and you get comfortable and clip yourself in, anticipating a long drive home.

The stores turn on their neon, fast food and take out restaurants open for the night. The smell of warm oregano and olive oil is strong as you drive through the side avenue past a pizza place with its door thrown open.

Eddie asks if you're hungry and you decline. He takes it with grace and doesn't say much besides passing commentary until you realise he's going the wrong way.

"Eddie," you start.

"I know. Just- one last thing. Let me get one more thing and then we'll go home and you never have to let me spend money on you ever again."

You look over his pinched, pleading brows and his slight pout for any insincerity and find it in droves. "Until Friday," you say, dejected.

"Now you're getting it."

He pulls up to a small bakery and weasels his way inside. You wait, car idling, hands rubbing over the cracked leather of your seats wondering what sweet treat he's going to emerge with.

You have a nightmare – a heaping bag of donuts and shortbread and pastries, things you could never pay him back for, more to add to the impossible pile of things he's given you.

Doing things for the people you care about, you repeat to yourself wearily.

You hadn't expected anything for the haircut, but this is more than a haircut. It's difficult not to think of every dollar as an attribute of every hour he's worked. What makes you deserving of his literal physical labour?

I didn't force him. He likes me.

He certainly looks like he likes you as he appears again, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his black jeans and wielding a flat looking plastic platter with an exuberant expression. He almost drops them trying to show you. Your heart shoots into your throat.

He's still chuckling when he throws himself into the driver's side. "Shit, did you see that? Almost lost 'em. Here, sweet thing. Hold the sweets. Makes sense, right? Sweet thing holding sweet things."

You accept the tray of what looks like a rainbow of blobs and go to peel off the lid. "Can I?" you ask.

"Of course you can."

You pull off the lid. Twelve cupcakes of all different colours in rows of four. The first four are chocolate cupcakes, one with green icing shaped like a frog, one with a white rabbit, one with an orange fox and one with a blue fish. The second row seems fancier. By the third and fourth row there's no pattern, just an assortment of flavours and decorations, chocolate curls and glitter, a half a strawberry, a smattering of mini marshmallows.

"What flavours that one?" you ask, pointing at a golden cake topped with multicoloured icing, a swirl covered in little crystal like sprinkles.

"I don't have a clue. I picked the first four and then realised it was taking too long. Told 'em to give me whatever."

"Eager to get back?"

"Eager as a cry for life. Try it."

"You don't want one before you start driving?" you ask.

"I'll try that one after you."

You peel back crisp, metallic shiny paper and take a cautious bite. It's a bourbon vanilla cake with a coffee flavour buttercream to cut the sweetness. You can't tell whether you like it or not at first, so you take another bite.

"Leave some for me."

"Sorry!" you say through a giggly mouthful. "Here."

He has both hands on the wheel. You don't know what possesses you – though you're starting to wonder if it can be called possession at all, more like a hunger that won't let things lie – to do it, but you bring the cupcake up to his face and hold it so he can take a bite.

He licks a big dollop of icing as it threatens to fall down his chin, head tilted high. "Oh my god. What is that? Is that coffee?"

"I think so."

"Okay, awesome. Let's try another one."

"What?"

"Let's try another one. There's still eleven left! We can save the cute ones for Juniper the Loveliest, but that's still a ton of flavours. C'mon, let me try the one with the chocolate curl. If I remember, it has white chocolate melted inside."

"If you remember?" you ask, peeling back the paper of his requested cupcake. "You've had these before?"

"A long time ago."

You tilt your head toward your shoulder and watch his lashes kiss. "Here," you say warmly.

He accepts the proferred cake and takes a good bite. His eyes roll back into his head dramatically and he goes stiff, shoulders tense and then suddenly not. You watch the muscle of his bicep flex as he tips his head back in pleasure.

You chortle and you're so happy you don't care how silly you sound, nor how unattractive you might look as you hit him in the arm. "Stop! You're enjoying it too much!"

"I'm enjoying it the right amount! Try it, try it," he says quickly. His eyes flick back to the tray. "I wanna try that strawberry one next."

"Watch the road, Munson, god! I'll pass you whatever one you want, just don't crash the car!"

You forget yourselves. Laughing, eating icing with your noses scrunched up, you don't remember to stay hushed, and soon Junie's awake and annoyed.

You worry for a second that her crying will dampen the mood, but Eddie beams wider still. He's more smile than boy.

"Junie baby! What cupcake do you want, sweetheart?" he asks her, watching her in the rearview mirror.

"Cake?" she asks.

"Cupcake! Yeah, baby, what one do you want? There's a froggy and a fishy and a bunny-" He stops to take a turn onto the highway. The road evens out underneath, the plastic tray stops crinkling. "And a fox," he finishes. "All for you."

You twist in your seat, bunny and fish held in your hands. "Fishy or bunny?" you echo.

"Fishy and bunny," she says clumsily, eyes widened with excitement.

"Just one for now, baby. Let's pick the bunny," you say gently.

There's no hopes of her eating it cleanly. You don't bother with any precaution. It's your car and her seat and her clothes and if she wants to cover it all in soft fondant you don't mind, anything she wants if you get to see this look on her face. Pure happiness, her eyes closing in bliss as she takes her first bite.

"Good, huh?" Eddie asks, speaking glances at her.

"Good!" she says loudly, cheeks plastered in white icing and fluffy golden crumbs.

Then, like the good girl she is, she tries to offer up the cupcake and almost drops it.

"S'that for me? Aw, you keep it. You keep it. Mom's gonna share hers with me." He grins at you. "Isn't that right?"

You share that entire tray of cupcakes right there in the car. By the time you get home, back to Hawkins, it's dark, your stomach hurts, and every cupcake bears two missing bites.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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pucksandpower · 8 months

Text

Borrowed Time

Charles Leclerc x single mother!Reader

Summary: you do everything in your power to make your sick son’s dream come true but what you don’t realize is that meeting his hero will change all of your lives forever

Warnings: terminal illness and death

“You know what would be the coolest, Mama?” The soft voice of your son, Luca, breaks through the silence of the hospital room.

You brush a stray hair from his forehead, trying to coax a smile onto your face despite the weight in your chest. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

“To meet Charles Leclerc. Just once. To tell him he’s my hero.” Luca’s eyes, though tired, gleam with that familiar spark every time he talks about Formula 1.

Your heart aches, knowing how much this means to him. “He is pretty amazing on the track, isn’t he?” You respond, reminiscing about the countless races you’ve both watched together from this very room.

Luca nods, holding his toy race car, a replica of Charles’ Ferrari. “Yeah, but it’s not just that. He never gives up, even when things get tough. Kinda like me.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice, making you marvel at his resilience.

You pull him close, tears threatening to spill. “You’re my hero too,” you whisper, kissing his temple.

He snuggles closer, murmuring, “I just wish I could meet him, Mama. Tell him he gives me strength.”

You take a deep breath, new resolve settling in. “You never know, my love. Miracles happen.”

The determination you feel is like a roaring fire and you silently vow to make Luca’s dream come true. No matter what it takes.

***

As the evening shadows stretch across the hospital room, you find yourself deep in thought, racking your brain for any means to make Luca’s wish a reality. You think about reaching out on social media, starting a campaign, anything to catch Charles Leclerc’s attention.

You start by posting on your personal pages: a heartfelt message accompanied by a picture of Luca holding his toy race car, the walls of his room adorned with posters of Charles racing. #LucaMeetsLeclerc, you caption it, hoping against hope that the message reaches the right eyes and ears.

The following days are a whirlwind. Friends, family, and even strangers share the post, and the hashtag starts trending in your community. Messages of support flood in and local news channels express interest in Luca’s battle.

One evening, after reading Luca a bedtime story, your phone buzzes with a notification. It’s an email from a name you don’t recognize but the subject line sends your heart racing: A Special Meeting.

Opening it hastily, your eyes skim over the words:

Dear Y/N,

I represent Charles Leclerc. We were deeply moved by Luca’s story and would like to arrange a meeting ...

Tears blur your vision and you can’t help but let out a soft sob of relief and joy. Luca, hearing your cry, looks up at you with curious eyes. “Mama? What’s wrong?”

You pull him into a tight embrace, trying to convey all the love and happiness you feel. “Sweetie,” you whisper, pulling back to meet his gaze, “I think your dream might just come true.”

Luca’s eyes widen and his smile lights up the room brighter than any lamp ever could. The journey to fulfill a lifelong dream has just begun.

***

The hospital room feels heavier than usual. The rhythmic beeping of monitors fills the silence as Luca plays absent-mindedly with his race car on the bed. Just as you are about to suggest a card game, a knock interrupts the monotony.

“Come in,” you call softly.

The door opens and to your astonishment, Charles Leclerc himself steps inside, a shy smile gracing his features. He seemed different than on the TV — more human, more vulnerable.

“Ciao, Luca,” Charles greets, his voice gentle.

Luca’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping. “You ... you’re real.”

Charles chuckles, pulling a chair closer to the bed. “Last time I checked, I am. Your mom tells me you’re quite the fan.”

Luca nods vigorously. “You’re my hero. When you race, I feel like I’m flying. Free from this …” He gestures vaguely at the hospital equipment surrounding him.

Charles’ eyes soften. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. But, you know, you’re a hero too. Racing against challenges every day.”

You watch their interaction, touched by Charles’ genuine empathy. “Thank you for coming. It ... it means the world.”

Charles turns to you, a depth of understanding in his eyes. “When I read about Luca, I saw more than just a fan. I saw a fighter. Just like on the track, it’s the fights we don’t see that often matter most.”

There is a brief silence, filled with unsaid emotions.

Luca’s voice, trembling with emotion, breaks the quiet. “I have a question, Charles. How do you stay brave even when you’re scared?”

Charles takes a moment before responding. “I focus on the present. Fear often comes from thinking about what might happen. But in the moment, there’s a job to do, a race to finish.”

Luca looks thoughtful. “So, you mean I should focus on now and not think about ... later?”

Charles nods, placing a comforting hand on Luca’s. “Exactly. Live in the now and remember that every race has its challenges. It’s how we face them that defines us.”

Tears well up in your eyes, gratitude and admiration for Charles swelling within you. Here he was, not just a racing star but a beacon of strength for your son.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice choked with emotion.

Charles smiles, glancing between you and Luca. “No, thank you. Today, I met a true champion.”

***

“You know,” Charles begins, playing with the edges of the signed Ferrari cap he just gifted Luca, “I once met a kid, a bit older than you, at a race. He told me that every time he felt like giving up, he’d watch one of our races. Said it gave him hope."

Luca’s fingers trace the signature on the cap. “Is that why you race? For people like him ... and me?”

Charles leans back, gazing out the window for a moment. “Partly. But also for myself. Racing ... it’s my passion, my escape. It’s where I find my strength.”

You feel compelled to share your own perspective. “We all have our races, don’t we? For Luca, it’s here, fighting every day. For me, it's trying to be strong for him, even when I feel like falling apart.”

Charles looks at you intently. “It’s incredible the strength we find when it’s for someone we love. Your journey, your race, is just as important — is more important — than any I’ve been on.”

Touched by his words, you continue, “I watch you race. The precision, the dedication. It’s art. I want Luca to have something like that, something to pour his heart into.”

Luca chimes in, his voice soft, “I think I already have something. Watching races with Mama, it’s our thing. It helps me forget, even if just for a while.”

Charles leans forward, engaging Luca directly. “Then let’s make a promise. You keep fighting your race here and I'll keep racing out there. Deal?”

Luca’s smile is radiant. “Deal.”

There is a pause, a moment of reflection, before Charles turns to you. “You're an incredible mother. The strength you show, the love ... it’s palpable. And it reminds me so much of my own maman.”

You blink away tears. “We do what we have to for our children.”

He nods, a faraway look in his eyes. “She would always say the same thing after losing my father. And sometimes, despite all the pain and struggle, we find connections, kindred spirits, who remind us we’re not alone.”

You smile, feeling a deep bond forming, not just between Luca and Charles but between two souls who understood the depth of love, sacrifice, and hope.

***

“I have a proposition,” Charles offers, the twinkle in his eyes belying the gravity of his words.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on.”

“How would you both feel about attending a race in-person? I can make sure Luca is comfortable and you both get the full VIP experience.”

Luca’s face lights up with hope and disbelief. “Really? I ... I’d get to see you race in real life?”

Charles nods, “Right from the best seat in the paddock.”

You hesitate, considering the logistics, the health implications. “I don’t know. It’s a beyond generous offer but Luca’s health …”

Charles raise a hand, preempting your concerns. “I’ve thought about that. We have top medical facilities at the track and I’ll make sure we have everything necessary for Luca.”

“You’d do that for us?” you whisper, the weight of his offer sinking in.

Charles leans forward, sincerity evident in his gaze. “I’ve won races, stood on podiums. But the race Luca is running, the courage he’s showing ... it’s unmatched. I want him to see a race, not just as a spectator but as a fellow racer.”

Luca looks up, eyes brimming with tears. “You make it sound like I’m a hero. But I’m just trying to get by, just trying to ... to live.”

“And that’s what makes you a hero,” Charles replies gently. “Facing adversity and pushing through, not because of fame or accolades but because of love, hope, and sheer will.”

You feel a lump in your throat, deeply moved by Charles’ words. “It’s not just race wins or trophies that make you a champion, Charles. It’s moments like this. Thank you. This means more than words can say.”

He smiles, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “In the grand scheme of things, life is the most important race. And in that race, I’ve found two champions right here.”

***

In Monza, as you settle into the VIP area with Luca by your side, the excitement in the air is overwhelming in the best way possible. The roar of the engines, the sea of red flags, the bustling energy of the crowd — it is a sensory overload that fills Luca’s eyes with wonder.

“Monza is special, you know,” Charles whispers, kneeling next to Luca’s wheelchair, overlooking the historic Italian track. He slips off a red Ferrari bracelet from his wrist, its well-worn leather showing its age. “This was given to me when I first joined Ferrari. I like to think that it’s brought me luck ever since.”

Luca’s eyes widen, tracing the intricacies of the bracelet. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Charles smiles, “Today, I want you to hold onto my luck. Keep it safe for me, will you?”

Nodding fervently, Luca reverently holds the bracelet. “I promise.”

When Charles leaves to prepare for the race, Luca clutches the Ferrari bracelet to his heart. “Mama, did you see? He gave this to me. His lucky bracelet!”

You smile, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Yes, sweetheart. He wants you to keep it safe. It’s a piece of his heart.”

As the race progresses, you both watch in awe as Charles’ navigates the twists and turns of the circuit. Your heart races with every lap, both as a fan and as someone who had come to know the man behind the helmet.

And then, the moment you’d never forget — a triumphant finish, Charles Leclerc taking the checkered flag. The Tifosi erupts into cheers, and during the celebration, you almost swear that Charles’ eyes find yours among the crowd.

Over the radio, his voice crackles through the airwaves, reaching not just the pits but into your very soul. “This one’s for Luca. Keep fighting, champ.”

Luca’s eyes widen, his hand clutching the bracelet even tighter. “Did you hear, Mama? He said it for me!”

Tears well up in your eyes as you nod. “Yes, sweetheart. He said it for you.”

The post-race interview is a blur of emotions. Charles, sweaty and exhilarated, is asked about the race, about his victory. But then he pauses, his gaze distant yet focused, his voice trembling with emotion.

“This win ... it’s for someone very special. A young friend of mine named Luca. He’s fighting a battle much tougher than any race and his spirit, his courage — it’s what carried me through today. Luca, this is all for you.”

***

The roar of the crowd has faded but the emotional high from the race lingers. You, Luca, and Charles head back to the hotel provided by Ferrari with laughter and memories of the day filling the conversation.

However, as the night passes by, a chilling silence envelopes the room. Luca’s breathing becomes shallow, his skin clammy. Panic bubbles up within you. The medical equipment that was always close by in the hospital is absent here.

You rush to his side, your hands trembling as you try to comfort him. “Luca, honey, stay with me. Breathe.”

Charles, witnessing the scene, feels a deep pang of fear and helplessness. “I’ll call for help,” he says, fumbling for his phone.

As you count the seconds for first responders to arrive, Luca’s weak hand reaches out, clutching Charles’ wrist. His voice, barely a whisper, shares a desperate plea. “Charles, if ... if I don’t make it, promise me you’ll look after Mama. She’s strong but she'll need someone.”

Charles, tears blurring his vision, nods, squeezing Luca’s hand reassuringly. “I promise. But you’re a fighter. You have to keep racing, okay?”

Luca manages a faint smile. “Always racing, Charles. Always.”

Emergency services arrive soon, the room transforms into a flurry of medical professionals and machines. Charles wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as you both watched, praying for a miracle.

Hours feel like lifetimes. When the medical team finally manages to stabilize Luca, the emotional toll is evident in every face in the room.

You approach Luca’s bedside, gently stroking his forehead. “You gave us quite a scare, sweetheart.”

Luca, though exhausted, manages a faint smirk. “Had to keep the race interesting, right?”

Charles, his voice choked with emotion, adds, “Every race has its challenges, remember? You faced this one head-on, just like a true champion.”

Luca’s eyes meet Charles’ own, a depth of understanding passing between them. “Remember your promise,” he whispers.

Charles nods, his gaze drifting to you. “Always.”

***

“You know, I’ve seen some tough races,” Charles begins, his gaze distant, “but nothing compares to what I witnessed last night. The strength, the love, the sheer determination.”

You sigh, exhaustion stamped across your face. “Every day is a race. Some days, the finish line feels close, other days it feels miles away.”

Charles takes a deep breath, his voice wavering slightly, “I ... I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through but I want to be there, for both of you. Luca asked me to look after you and that’s a promise I intend to keep.”

You look up, surprised by the depth of his commitment. “You’ve done so much already. You’ve given Luca memories he will cherish forever.”

He moves closer, his eyes searching yours. “It’s not just about Luca. It’s about you too. Through this entire ordeal, the strength you’ve shown, the love … it’s made me see life in a different light.”

A silence envelopes the room, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring Luca.

“I’ve raced all over the world,” Charles whispers, “but I’ve never met someone who’s touched my heart the way you both have. I want to be there for you, for whatever you need.”

You blink back tears, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. “It’s been so long since someone offered to share the load. I’m not sure I know how to let someone in anymore.”

Charles gently takes your hand. “One step at a time. Just like in a race. We face each challenge as it comes, together.”

A tear escapes, trailing down your cheek. “Thank you, Charles.”

He brushes the tear away, his touch lingering. “No, thank you. For letting me be a part of your world and for showing me what real strength looks like.”

***

“Look at that,” Luca murmurs, pointing towards the sunset painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. The three of you sit atop a hill overlooking the city, a picnic blanket spread beneath you.

Charles takes a deep breath, the fresh air filling his lungs. “You know, moments like this make me appreciate life even more. The simple joys, the beauty all around.”

You nod, taking in the serene view. “It’s easy to get caught up in the chaos and forget these moments exist.”

Luca’s eyes shimmer with a mix of mischief and wisdom beyond his years. “You two sound like philosophers. All I know is that this sandwich tastes amazing.”

You chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Always living in the moment, aren’t you?”

He grins. “That's the secret, Mama. We have to savor every bite, every sunset, every laugh.”

Charles, deeply moved, joins in. “You're right, Luca. In the races, I’ve learned that every second counts. It’s the same with life.”

Luca nods earnestly. “Exactly! You can’t rewind time. You can only enjoy it.”

The evening wears on with laughter, stories, and shared dreams. The three of you revel in the simplicity of the moment frozen in time.

As stars begin to sprinkle the night sky, Luca turns to Charles, a serious expression on his face. “Promise me something?”

Charles leans in, listening intently. “Anything.”

“Make more moments like this with Mama, even after ...” Luca's voice trails off, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

Charles squeezes Luca’s hand, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise, champ. Moments full of love, laughter, and sunsets.”

Luca’s watery laugh has tears pooling in your eyes. “You know, when you look at the sunset, remember me. Remember this moment.”

You turn to him, tears now overflowing. “Luca …”

He smiles, a mixture of melancholy and contentment in his gaze. “I may not be here forever but I'll always be a part of these sunsets. A part of you.”

Charles, his voice a gentle whisper, adds, “And a part of me.”

***

“Mama?” Luca’s voice, frail and delicate like the gossamer wing of a butterfly, quivers with fear.

You lean in closer, grasping his hand between both of yours, heart heavy. “Yes, my love?”

He swallows hard, searching your eyes with his own clouded ones. “I’m scared, Mama. I don’t want to go.”

Tears blur your vision but you muster a brave smile for him. “I know, sweetheart. But remember our sunsets? Sometimes, the sun has to set to make way for a new dawn.”

Luca’s fingers weakly grip yours. “But what if it’s dark, Mama? What if it hurts? What if I’m all alone?”

Charles, unable to remain a silent spectator, interjects, his voice cracking with emotion. “You won’t be. It will be just like falling asleep. You’ll have the sunsets, the memories, and all the love we’ve shared. That light will never fade. We will always be here. I promise.”

Luca’s eyes shimmer with tears but also a glimmer of hope. “Will you sing for me, Mama? The song from when I was small?”

Your heart breaks, remembering the countless nights you’d sung him to sleep. Taking a deep breath, you begin, your voice soft and lulling:

“You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine,

You make me happy

When skies are gray ...”

Luca’s breathing slows, his grip on your hand loosening.

“You’ll never know, dear,

How much I love you,

Please don’t take

My sunshine away.”

As the final note leaves your lips, Luca’s chest rises gently one last time, then stills. The room is silent, save for your heart-wrenching sobs.

Charles steps closer, wrapping his arms around you as you crumple into him, your world shattering. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, tears streaming down both your faces.

***

The somber quiet of the funeral is punctuated by the soft cries of mourners. The backdrop of gentle flowers contrast starkly with the weight of the grief in the air.

Charles stands next to you, holding a polished helmet, the vibrant colors of his Monza race-winning headgear gleaming under the sun. He turns to face you, eyes red-rimmed.

“This,” he starts, voice choked, “is my helmet from Monza. The race we won together. He was my co-driver that day, in spirit.”

You take a shaky breath, reaching out to touch the helmet, feeling its cool surface, the memories of that day flooding back. “He would’ve been so proud to have this.”

Charles nods, tears streaming down his face. “And this,” he says, taking the Ferrari bracelet off his wrist, “he held onto it for me once. I ... I want him to have it. To keep it safe.”

You clutch the bracelet, feeling its familiar weight, the leather still warm from Charles’ wrist. “It meant the world to him. And to me. Thank you.”

The two of you stand side by side, staring at the small casket adorned with flowers and memories. The embodiment of a life cut short but filled with love and unforgettable moments.

Together, you place the helmet and bracelet inside, a final tribute to a young racer whose journey had inspired so many.

“He’s free now,” Charles whispers, his voice barely audible. “Racing in the skies, no pain, no limits.”

You nod, tears flowing freely. “Our little champion, forever.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, both of you finding solace in each other’s warmth. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves, carrying with it the memories of a brave soul, forever remembered, forever missed.

***

The familiar crest of the hill looms ahead, the very spot where laughter and dreams once danced in the wind. You and Charles reach the top, the vast expanse of the horizon stretching out before you. The setting sun casts a golden hue, much like that unforgettable evening a year ago.

Charles lays down a blanket, reminiscent of that day, and the two of you sit, lost in memories. The silence isn’t empty — it’s filled with remembrance of a young boy’s laughter, his dreams, his courage. The hole he left behind in your hearts.

“Do you ever feel,” Charles hesitantly cuts through the quiet, “that Luca is still here with us, watching these sunsets?”

A tear slips down your cheek. “All the time. Every time I close my eyes under the setting sun or look up at the sky, I feel his presence.”

Charles takes a deep breath, struggling with his emotions. “I’ve been thinking about a way to honor Luca. To keep his spirit alive.”

You turn to him, eyes questioning.

“A foundation,” Charles begins, “In Luca’s name. To help children with terminal illnesses and their families. To give them hope, love, memories.”

You feel a rush of emotion, a tidal wave of love and loss. “He would have loved that. To know he’s making a difference even now.”

Charles nods, tears rolling down his cheeks. ‘It’s not just about the financial help. It’s about the moments, the memories. The sunsets and the picnics. The dreams and the hopes.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, drawing strength from the bond you’ve forged. “We’ll do it together. For Luca.”

The sun slowly dips below the horizon. As the first star appears, a sense of peace envelops the two of you. In the heart of sorrow, a new purpose is born, ensuring that Luca’s light continues to shine, guiding countless souls out of the darkness.

***

The sun sets in a blaze of colors, casting a warm glow over the hill that has become a symbolic memorial. Charles and you sit side-by-side, hand-in-hand, watching the bittersweet horizon.

A small voice breaks through the silence. “Mama, Papa, why do we come here?”

You turn to your daughter, a smile tugging at your lips. Lucia, with her curious eyes and radiant smile, is a constant reminder of love and life renewed.

“We come here to remember someone very special,” Charles explains gently, his eyes, so similar to your daughter’s, filled with tenderness.

Lucia looks at you both, a hint of understanding in her innocent gaze. “Luca?”

You nod, voice soft. “Yes, sweetheart. Your big brother. We come here to celebrate him, to tell stories about him, and to show him how much we love him.”

Lucia frowns slightly. “But I never got to meet him.”

You stroke her hair, your heart aching and swelling simultaneously. “He’s always with us, in our hearts. Just like you are.”

Charles leans down, wiping away a tear that escapes your eye. “And you’re named Lucia after him, to carry his memory forward.”

Lucia’s eyes light up, smile shining bright. “I’m like a part of him?”

“Yes,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “A part of him lives on in you. In all of us.”

As the sun dips below the horizon, bathing the world in twilight, you hold each other tightly, a family united by love, loss, and the enduring spirit of a young boy whose legacy lives on in every sunset, every star, and every beat of your hearts.

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kraviolis · 11 months

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WHY does no one think camila would be super active in her kids' lives!!!!! that she would just immediately dip from the demon realm and not go back unless necessary!!!!! she's not gonna pull a greg universe and step away from one of the most important parts of her kids' lives just because she's uncomfortable with magic!!!! shes a Noceda!!!!!

she would become good friends with all the adults in luz & vee & hunter's lives. she visits the boiling isles several times a week and hosts big family dinners at her house where she invites all of her kids' friends and parents and teachers. her home is always open to any of her kids' friends or parents, whether they need a shoulder or a friend or a break or a hot meal or even just homework help. she babysits king whenever she can find the time to and he starts calling her "mamila" and no, it doesnt make her choke up every time.

she makes a penstagram account with a cosmic frontier reference for her username to keep in close contact with her new friends and she actually knows how to use it better than hunter does. she's the first person alador goes to when he needs advice about being a parent. she has a permanent offer to stay at the owl house or at alador's home whenever she needs. she meets with gilbert, harvey, perry, steve, and raine for brunch every sunday morning.

she and principal bump meet and he is absolutely honored to meet her and he gives her the opportunity to give extracurricular after school lessons at hexside about the human version of beast-healing. she does a single lesson once a month, but does open up the chance for one or two older kids at a time to shadow her at her vet clinic for a day as a little field trip (viney always gets herself at the top of the list and becomes well known around the clinic) and she is lovingly teased by her co-workers for always picking up "strays".

she is one of the people on scene during the gathering of the guards who had all been murdered by their own creator and left to rot in the dark for decades. she doesn't have the strength in her to be one of the ones collecting the remains of all these men and boys who once had her son's face, but she stands by hunter's side and keeps him from falling to pieces and they help make sure all the golden guards all finally given a chance for peaceful rest.

she helps gus with preparing the curriculum for his classes on the human realm in eda's new school. she is there at all of the emerald entrails' flyer derby matches and wears green face paint to every single one and cheers the loudest. she's the one who takes amity to her meeting with the dean of the university of abominations when alador gets fireflu and is stuck in bed. she is the one who figures out hunter's never had a proper birthday party and quickly remedies that.

she meets the elder clawthornes and absorbs every piece of wisdom they give her as if they were her own grandparents. she learns palisman care from dell clawthorne so she can better take care of stringbean whenever luz leaves her palisman with her mom. she gets roped into learning how to carve wood by hunter during the start of his apprenticeship under dell & the bat queen.

her name ends up in the history books of the boiling isles, and not just for being known as the mother of luz the human. she becomes known for being the reason of the sudden boom in witches who focus in beast-healing and the reinvention of the entire industry on the boiling isles. she is known as one of the first people to rediscover and establish contact and fight for the protection of all the basilisks scattered across the boiling isles, who were previously thought to be extinct.

she would NOT just stand by and watch her children come and go between realms with her house serving as the port but not the embassy. she was once that very child, caught between what felt like different worlds, feeling as if she might be forced to choose one or the other because her parents were too uncomfortable with what felt like half of her soul. she would refuse to let luz, vee, or hunter feel as if they have to angle those halves away from her so they dont have to watch her wince at them.

camila noceda would make an effort to make the demon realm a part of herself, too, so that no matter where her kids settled themselves down in the future, they would still always feel at home with her.

#krav talks #toh #the owl house #camila noceda #luz noceda #hunter noceda #hunter the owl house #vee noceda #toh spoilers

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roll-for-gaslight · 4 days

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While I think Sklonda is right to be critical of the Bad Kids and specifically Kristen, I think that a lot of the reason she did so is that she was missing a lot of context the other parents were given. We see in Freshman Year that she’s often given the information about their quests from Riz, several hours after the fact, and he shares clues with her rather than personal things. He doesn’t think the personal bits are what she cares about because, for him, that’s not the problem being solved. He’s happy with his friends and she only really would hear if one of them caused a problem. Her apartment isn’t a hangout like Seacaster Manor, Mordred Manor, the Thistlespring Tree, or even Gilear’s season one apartment were. By the nature of her being a single working mother in a difficult financial situation, she often was left out of extracurricular activities.

For example, Mordred is obviously a place filled with a lot of activity, and plenty of kids to give updates on said activity if something slips through the cracks of someone’s retelling. If Adaine leaves out a personal moment because she’s focused on the case, Fig or Kristen or even Ragh could fill in that blank, plus the fact that the other BKs spend a lot of time there means that Sandralynn, Jawbone, and Lydia are usually getting every side of every story. The Thistlespring Tree is where the Bad Kids go not just because it’s a nice place to spend time, but because it’s often directly tied into a plot or subplot! The power source in season one, the satellite in season two, and Gorgug’s artificer journey + the whole Frosty Faire thing going on now! Besides that, the Thistlesprings have raised Gorgug in a way that encourages open channels of communication about his emotions above all else, so he tells them what’s going on! Fabian’s parents over at Seacaster Manor haven’t been involved so much this season, but Bill Seacaster saw their bond from the start and taught them how to take care of each other and fight as a group, and Gilear has always been heavily involved in their adventures because all of the BKs have been emotionally invested in him as well!

Aside from that, she’s missing the context of actually being able to attend their quests like some other parents/guardians were able to in Sophomore Year! Gilear and Cathilda and Sandralynn all know things like the fact that everyone was worried about Riz and called him their little angel when he was gone and that Kristen saved him almost at the expense of her own life in the Nightmare King’s forest. She never sees them together, the way they’ll risk everything for each other when the chips are down, the way they all show they care in little ways all the time ( like Fig giving him the card or Fabian’s gifts in Freshman Year). She doesn’t understand that while “the Ball” may have come from a bully on the first day of school, it turned into a term of endearment! She doesn’t see how hard they’ve been trying this year to pass their classes and such, not because it matters to them, but because they know it’s important to Riz. He never even explained the whole needing scholarships thing to them! He showed up with folders on the first day, stressed out of his mind about all of them passing together, and basically decided to get their shit together! Sure, it took Kristen and Fig a little while to do it, but that’s because they were struggling to build better habits!

I also understand how she could think Riz does all of the heavy lifting: when he presents the clues to her and he’s their lead investigator, do you think she assumed other people did the finding? Absolutely not! She doesn’t see the way they put things together by focusing on their individual strengths; she only sees Riz trying to put it all together and find the connections. Why would she know that a lot of the investigative work was done by Adaine and Kristen in sophomore year because so much of it had to do with religion? She wouldn’t!

All this to say: Sklonda is a good mom for checking in with Riz, but she also has a narrow view of things that no one else has. If she were to be exposed to the BKs more often and actually pay attention to how things work between them, I think she would be much more understanding.

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readychilledwine · 1 month

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When I'm Gone

Summary - You always had the perfect answer, even when you weren't there to give it anymore

Warnings - angst, loss of a parent

A/N - enjoy this short little drabble of single dad Azriel and his daughter 💕

Azriel Masterlist

Azriel couldn't help but stare at his daughter. His beautiful Mia. His sweet little Mia. Mia, who at 16 years old, looked more and more like you every day. Mia, who shared your love and passion for reading. Mia, who despite losing you at 5, was every bit you.

He sighed as he stood, wiping the tears from her face. “Stay here, okay?” She nodded as he went upstairs, entering his office and opening a chest full of yellowed envelopes. Envelopes with Mia and Azriel's name, envelopes with specific instructions of when to open them.

Open me if Mia meets her mate matched to a separate one that said For when you meet your mate.

When you experience your first heartbreak, it matched an envelope with his name When Mia experiences her first break up. He pulled those envelopes out, wishing your scent still lingered to them, wishing he could smell you one more time. He walked back downstairs, pausing to look at her without her knowing, holding back his anger and grief.

Every milestone, happy or sad, had been a challenge since you had died. Even with you leaving gifts for every birthday and solstice. Even with every letter of love, encouragement, or longing, it was a reminder to both of them of what was what could have been.

Mia and Azriel would never forget the first time Azriel opened those chests. A letter sat at the top, addressed to both of them, For when you two miss me.

And Gods did they miss you every day.

Azriel sat down across from Mia again, handing her the letter with her name while opening his own.

My love,

If you are reading this, Mia is going through her first breakup. I know you. I know your reaction, your instinct, is to go and fight, but she needs your gentleness now. She needs her father to tell her it is all going to be okay. She needs you to hold her, to take her to our favorite bakery, to take her shopping. She needs you to remind her of your love for her.

I can only imagine how beautiful she is. I pray to the Mother that you only go through this once, that the next male will be someone we would have both loved. Hopefully, he is kind, gentle, and caring. He loves her for the right reasons.

I can only pray for you to have strength through this all. For you to continue putting her first as you always have. It is bittersweet, knowing I won't see her go through this, but knowing how desperately I wish I could be there. Life is unfair, Azriel. So disgustingly unfair and unjust.

I need you to remind her I love her. That she was my world. My everything. I need her to know what she meant to me even if you have to be my messenger. I picked the perfect gift for this moment. I need you to go to the gift pile. There will be a gift that's a small wrapped box. It has the pink silk ribbon. Can you give it to her for me? After you do, because we both know you were never able to tell me no, I want you to take her to the Cafe, the one we both love with the good cakes? Please?

In your pile, you will find something as well. It has the same ribbon. I want you to open tonight once she is asleep. I love you, Azriel. You are my light in the dark, and now you need to be Mia’s.

Forever and always yours,

Y/n

Azriel released a heavy breath, going to the former space you had made an office to find Mia’s gift. His hands shook as he walked back to her, barely composed as she began to sob. “I miss her,” she whispered as Azriel sat next to her, setting the gift down and pulling her into his chest. “It's not fair.”

“It's not,” he whispered. “She thought of everything, though.”

Mia nodded, leaning more into him. “She was the best mom.”

“She is,” he corrected her, grabbing the gift and setting it in her hands. He knew immediately that it was. You had treasured your blank journals, and he stupidly had never even thought of giving Mia one. She tore the paper before laughing through sad eyes.

A leather bound journal, hand painted and magically persevered, sat in her hands. Three smiling, young faces looked back at her. Mia opened the journal to the front page, and your handwriting met them both again, sprawling and swirling the page with your love.

“I am supposed to take you to the Cafe your mom and I used to go to. Your mom loved their cakes. Do you feel up to going?” Mia nodded immediately. She stood, walking over to the coat rack. Her hands lingered on a soft powder blue peacoat. Fingers gliding over the contrasting black buttons. Azriel moved behind her, grabbing the jacket and holding it for his daughter to put on. She looked even more like you now in your favorite jacket, a bow in his color gracing her hair.

He stared at her as she got ready. Watching as she slipped each shoe on. “Can we go to the book store after?”

He felt Mia’s eyes on him as he sucked in a breath and his eyes shut. You had always asked the same question. He stilled himself and then nodded before giving her the same answer he always gave you. “Only if you promise not to empty my account.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger

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h34rtbeat · 11 days

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BAD RELIGION

pairings: na jaemin x afab!reader

warnings: blasphemy, oral (f receiving), misogyny, purity culture, hard use of gender roles, dubious content (bordering non-con)

a/n: i’m back🤞🏻pls send in ur asks and requests i feel shitty and need to write. make sure to check rules since they have changed!

born and raised, surrounded by ideology that made no sense to those who weren’t involved. skirts that went below your knees, paired with pitch black tights that left no doubt of how your family felt about ‘those’ teenage girls.

cross hanging from your neck, you felt as if you were crucified as well.

every. single. moment. was. gods.

it was not yours, no, never yours. it was the heavenly fathers, for him to decide your fate, not you, not anyone else. yet, it seemed twisted into men deciding it for you, rather than you for yourself.

life has seemed to regulate a new rule every year. when you were 12, you were not allowed to wear that nail polish.

13, no shorts that short!

14, no concealer!

15, a smack on the hand for even thinking of uttering a word of a shorter skirt!

16, a slap to the face for breathing words of sin to another being. as time continued, they just became stricter and stricter.

your mother only watching as her modesty prevailed— beauty in a sea of blood.

a bead of sweat rolled down your neck as it was heating up. the cramped bible study room not allowing for any breath to be shared unless it went up and above.

those shorts your parents hated would’ve been useful.

a pit formed in your stomach, how you dreaded such times. winter was okay with those unfashionable clothes, but heavens above, you couldn’t have fun in summer.

you left he class early, finishing your prayers as soon as you could. though none were sincere, there was one that was nearly the truth.

“please, father, give me your strength.” you didn’t desire strength or power. you just wanted summer shorts.

but, you knew what your mother would say.

“it’s impure!” her offended— almost scream-like voice resonated in your skull as you stepped on the pavement to head home. your legs were burning up. your neck still burned.

her hand slapping your neck, ushering you to stir faster.

your uncles would be visiting soon, why the hell weren’t you cooking faster?

now, as you walk home in the heat, you’re reminded again. this was not yours to choose, nor would it ever be. you had no idea of what surprise your father had planned for you at home.

he seems like everyone else. a churchboy, a gleaming smile, and that cross also hanging around his neck.

you felt your stomach churn, as you shook hands.

“my name is jaemin..” he muttered, through a smile. was that also gods smile? you didn’t know, or bother asking. he smiled and smelled like a god, is all you could register.

you replied with your name, releasing his hand as quick as it came. was he close with your father? oh, he was a family friend from what you could see.

“stop staring and go to the kitchen.” your father patted your shoulder, making your body stiffen. your necklace jingling as you walked into the kitchen.

stirring some mixture of whatever it was that your mom called it, you caught yourself before your mind could wander.

your ears listened diligently, catching bits and pieces of your father, his parents conversation. he seemed to stay quiet. it felt like a slap to the face hearing his mother brag on about jaemins girlfriend. or whatever she was— his mother described the woman being someone jaemin had a keen interest in.

you didn’t know it was you.

thus, the thoughts wandered. was he really so different? what was so different about him that it allowed this?

how could he have a loved one, wasn’t it gods choice? was that what liberation was?

after pressing enough dough into small balls for your mother, she pressed them on the stove, making them into flat tortillas. then, you had to go check on the slow cooker, was the meat ready?

then, your actions halted when you saw that man step into the kitchen, that same smile plastered on his face.

“I hope i’m not interrupting..” he chimed, walking over to your mother, “these look wonderful.. are you sure there’s nothing i can help you with?”

“oh, no honey! it’s my and my daughters duty to do this, please, i assure you, go sit back down with your father!” your mother ushered, patting him on his shoulder.

your mothers tone was so sweet, your finger almost twitched as you chopped some carrots. she was so willing to give her gratitude to anyone but you.

“if you say so, ma’am.” his eyes crinkled in interest, he knew your mother was going to say that. jaemin knew what families like yours were like. only hearing a daughter— he could already predict what they thought of you.

though the bible states everything is pure born, jaemin knew. he knew your parents thought you were tainted from both. why?

because the existence of a woman is a sin to those heavily involved in church.

he saw the way your eyes lingered on your mother, the way your knife slipped and you slit across your palm on accident.

“ow!” you reeled back, and instead of pain from your injury; jaemin saw it. the fear instilled by your parents- not the holy figure. your hand shook.

“oh..” your mother feigned faux concern, nearly shoving you to the sink to clean your wound, “she’s just so clumsy, isn’t she?”

you felt a lump in your throat. though you tried as you might, you could feel your throat tighten, the space seeming more cramped. you grabbed a towel, running off to the bathroom.

jaemin didn’t miss a beat. following after your panicked state, he watched as you closed the door. you didn’t lock it. his eyes narrowed, smile faltering.

you really had his interest this time.

you were so interesting— pure as ever. the way the blood trickled, he could only imagine.

his hand on the doorknob, he checked to see how far he was from the table. though, even if he was close, he doubts your parents would care.

they were so willing in handing you off without your knowledge.

your eyes widened in panic as he walked in.

“w-what are you doing here!?” your voice was meek, scared. he liked that. jaemins smile returned, as he went behind you.

“you didn’t lock the door. I figured you needed help anyway. that wound looks.. pretty bad.” his voice was smooth, calm. though his eyes were at the wound, his calm smile prevailed.

you didn’t say anything in response, even as he was behind you. his arms reached over, moving your non wounded hand away.

“I’ll help.” you paused, only making it easier for him. his soft hands were cleaning your wound.

you felt heat rise to your cheeks, averting your gaze nervously. he chuckled softly, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“why.. is your head there?” you inquired, as his warm body was now even closer. you prayed that he couldn’t hear the way your heart beat.

“it gives me a better view, when i’m standing like this.” his response was plain and simple, you couldn’t fault him for it. maybe it really did give him a better view.

your lips parted to protest, but his movements had no intent of malice. if you did protest, it would show how impure your thoughts truly were.

“th-thank you.” you muttered, as he stepped back. you patted the wound with the towel, hissing softly.

“no biggie.. after all, you’re…” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“…hurt.” he finished. he wanted to confess and say ‘mine’, since— your parents did say that. but, he felt that letting you find out on your own would be better.

he softly grabbed your waist, moving your body to sit on the toilet lid.

he looked in the drawers, pulling out the first aid kit. he kneeled, your body was so warm. you were too shy to say anything when he grabbed you in such a way.

you looked away, as he wraps the bandage tape around the palm of your hand.

“it’s a shame this happened,” he mumbled through focus. “since you have such nice hands.”

you felt your blood rush. you weren’t complimented often, never so freely either. he said it with such ease, he genuinely meant it.

jaemin peaked up at you, curiousity in your gaze, possession in his.

“never been complimented like that before?” he probed, closing the first aid kit.

“n..no.” you managed to stammer out. he made you feel nervous, looking down at your hand.

he laughed softly, kneeling back down. he grabbed your hands with his, his chin resting on your covered thighs. this was strange— he was strange! it was too much, you just met him and he’s doing all of this!

“I think i’m fine now. we should get back out there, your parents will start to won-“ he tugged your hands softly yet with enough force that it lunged your body down.

“no. they’ll be fine. i’m pretty sure your parents don’t want to see you after that anyway. what’s the rush?”

he was right. your parents would be upset if you did come back out. silence hung over you and jaemin, as you just stared into his eyes.

“did your parents tell you?” jaemin suddenly broke the silence.

“tell me what?” you pulled back, sitting normally again.

you didn’t even notice how much closer he was getting to your heat, the way he’d rubbed his cheek on your thighs.

“…that you belong to me now.”

your eyes widened in so many emotions— shock, horror, surprise, anger. most of all.. betrayal. all those years of punishments, slaps… your knuckles red and swollen from the ruler smacking down on them at church; just to be given to a man you didn’t know.

maybe he just wanted to scare you, but you couldn’t say anything. the worst part is— he wasn’t lying. you knew, at some point..

you’d be like your mom, given to a man.

“no words, hm? I guess I’d feel that way too..” he mutters, his voice full of pity but his eyes full of something else.

“you know, our heavenly father is watching over us in heaven. jaemins tone was mocking, nearly taunting you.

“do you think he chose this fate for you? all those years of devotion, all wasted because you’re someone’s property now.”

you felt tears brim at your eyes, wanting to be angry. to rebuke, yell, scream kick.

you couldn’t. you just couldn’t. his hand rubbed soothingly on your covered legs. the position made it seem like he was worshipping you.

he wanted this. he wanted your purity. you said nothing- and he’ll grant you that. your time to accept.

he didn’t stop, though. his hands wandering down, rubbing your calves under the skirt.

“you’re so soft…” he praised, he blushed, turned on already by your soft skin.

“stop that.. what are you doing?” wearily protesting did nothing to falter him.

“shhh. let me have what’s mine.” jaemin cooed, relishing in the feeling of your warm skin.

you stifled back hot tears that spilled.

“oh, nono, baby.. don’t cry.” his hands delved, going to your thighs. “it’ll feel really good right now.”

you silently pleaded with him to stop, to let you go.. but your pussy welt warm.. and wet. it was a strange feeling, one you hadn’t felt before.

“please stop, our parents might hear us..” you importuned, as the hot feeling grew stronger.

“they’ll only hear us if you’re loud.”

you covered your mouth with your hands, as he lifted your hips up. he slid off your skirt, spreading your legs just enough for him to see your clad panties.

“you’re not telling me to stop.. so i’m going to keep at it.” his fingers rubbed your slit through your white cotton panties. jaemin felt like he was on cloud 9, you trulywere pure.

every movement of his made your body tremble, your left hand covering your mouth, the other going down and gripping his arm.

“calm down.. i told you, it’ll feel good.”

and he wasn’t lying. lying was a sin, after all.

his slender finger moved your panties to the side, and he delved into your sweet essence. your body, naturally, jolted.

“no! don’t go there!” you whined pitifully, as your hips grinded against your will.

his tongue was licking in that area— that sacred area. it felt warm, hot, you felt like you were gonna pee.

“p-please, i’m gonna pee!”

he paused his slurping momentarily.

“you’re not gonna pee, and if you do.. let it happen.”

he delved in more, his nose brushing and rubbing against your nub. you held your hand over your mouth. you prayed— to whatever it was, that no one could hear this utter indecency between your wet legs.

soaking his mouth, he tasted your innocent pussy. his fingers soon made their way, your thighs tightening around his head.

every movement of his made your body jolt and twitch, you couldn’t think.

your hand went down, rubbing his hair because you were scared of tugging it. your feet thrashed, as you leaned over, letting a pressure form in your tummy.

pressure and heat combined, as you felt the pressure release, painting jaemins lips a clear white.

he looked up at you, his mouth sinful, eyes full of greed.

“it feels good to be impure, doesn’t it?”

you panted softly, covering your face in utter shame. what came out of you? what was he doing with his mouth down there!? jaemin locked his lips, letting your panties slide back on naturally. as you delved in your shame, he put your skirt back on.

“let’s go to your room.”

snapping you out of your shameful demise, you looked up at him as he stood. your necklaces were hanging off your necks, a reminder of the sins.

“we need to go out and see them.”

“no we don’t, that’s nonsense. I’ll make up and excuse, too.” he replied, a promise of you not being in trouble.

hesitantly, you and him walked to your room.

no one had any idea, only a concerned murmur from his mother.

“her wound must’ve been pretty bad..”

moments later, jaemin let you lay in your bed. he sauntered out of your room, into the dining room.

“say.. is it alright if i stay with her? she wasn’t feeling well after her cut.”

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matts-k1tten · 16 days

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𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬

summary: y/n has daddy issues where her and her father has a wrecked relationship and would argue every night but this time the argument got serious and her father did something he would later regret which led y/n to run to matt.

warnings: Swearing, ‼️mentions of abuse‼️, heavy angst, ‼️mentions of blood‼️,

this is written for the challenge made by: @annamcdonalds67

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

The rain pours and the small droplets bang against the window making the noises in the room louder than they already were. “You’re a piece of shit! You’re the reason why your mother left!” My father screams. It hurt that he didn’t even need to be under the influence to tell me that. I felt my bottom lip quiver slightly at that sentence but I composed myself and yelled back. “She didn’t leave because of me, she left because you didn’t know how to be a man and all you did was slump on the couch and smoke weed until you hotboxed the whole house!” I breathe out. His face twisted with anger as he stares at me.

“Not to mention! You also have to have someone to take care of you like a little fucking baby and mom finally got fed up with your constant bickering and left!” I scream louder and feel tears streaming down my face soaking my cheeks. My breathing starts to go uneven as I stare at him with fire in my eyes. His demeanor changes and his face scrunches as his eyes start to grow glossy. He suddenly walks towards me and slaps me with all his strength, the anger taking over his body.

The sound of this hand hitting my cheek echoed through the house as I held my hand on my cheek and refused to turn back to him. It was silent for a moment as we were both frozen in place. I slowly turn back to him with red and puffy eyes and a slap mark on my cheek and a cut from how hard he hit me and a black eye forming. His face suddenly changed from angry to regret and I swear I could hear his heart drop to his feet as he reaches his hand out to me but before he can touch me I snap back from my daze and slap his hand away and run out the door grabbing my phone and sweater on the way out.

My dad screams after me but I slam the door shut the night sky consuming me as I immediately get soaked by the heavy rain. I felt blood gushing out the cut on my face but the rain washed it away. I didn’t even bother pulling up my hoodie and let myself feel every single raindrop. When I’m in the rain and I just let out uncontrollable sobs and walked to a nearby bench and sagged down. I love the rain, it made me feel better. For me, the rain meant that god was crying. It comforted me. This night in particular, god was crying with me.

I sat in the rain not knowing where to go as I couldn’t return home to my father. I look at the back of my black phone case thinking about it. I let out a loud sob and shove my phone into my pocket and stand up. I look up into the sky the rain immediately coating my face. I look back to my feet and before I knew it, my feet moved faster than my brain and I found myself walking towards Matt’s house. The rain soaked me even more by the minute and my face throbbed in pain as I felt my eye start to swell up.

By the time I got to Matt’s front door I was soaked from head to toe and my eyes were bloodshot red and puffy, one of them black and swollen and a slap mark right under my black eye and blood running down my face. I hesitate for a moment and rethink about coming here unannounced late at night looking like this. I slowly lower my shaking hand and stare at the door for a moment. I rethink coming here and start to walk off the porch. “I’m so stupid.” I mumble to myself and continue walking down the driveway when I hear the door swing open followed by Matt’s voice calling my name.

“Y/n!” Matt screamed, the rain slightly muffling him. I pause and don’t turn around. “Is that you? Why’re standing in the rain alone?!” Matt questions and steps on the porch. My shoulders start to shake while I sob quietly refusing to face Matt. “Y/n? Turn around! What’s wrong?!” Matt shouts again. After I don’t listen, Matt walks off the porch not even caring about the rain. “You’re gonna get sick!” Matt shouts again holding his hand over his eyes. I stand there frozen, part of me wanting to run away, run away from all my problems and never come back.

Matt comes up behind me and puts his hand on my shoulder spinning me around. Once his eyes meet mine his face drops and his eyes examine my bruised face and open wound. His hand on my shoulder softens and without a word he pulls me into a tight hug and I let out all the sobs I’ve been holding in since I got here. The only thing we could hear were my sobs and Matt sniffling once in a while. Matt holds me closely, our bodies pressed against each other. Once my sobs die down a bit, Matt pulls away still holding me and looks at me. I felt small under his stare and I just look down at our feet.

Matt puts his hand under my chin and lifts my face with a sorry expression. “Let’s go inside.” Matt whispers softly and puts his hand on my back, leading me into the house. The warm air consumes me as Matt shuts the door behind us making me shiver. Matt helps me take off my sweater and hang it up next to the door. I wrap my arms around my body trying to find a feeling of warmth as Matt leads me to the bathroom. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Matt asks softly right in front of the bathroom door looking deep into my eyes. The water from his hair drips from my face as I shake my head and look down. “Later.” I mumble.

Matt nods from above me. “Okay.” He whispers and kisses my forehead before he opens the bathroom door letting us in. Matt lets go of me and goes to turn on the shower and while he’s doing that I turn to the mirror and examine my appearance. My black eye now more vivid and swollen and my cheek only slightly red and the cut on my cheek stopped bleeding leaving dry blood on my cheek. I touch my face and flinch with a quiet hiss. I sigh and look away, I can’t even stand the reflection of myself.

I sit down on the toilet next to Matt who is standing by the bath tub. He glances down at me for a second before looking back at the shower and sticking his hand in to check the temperature. “This should be good enough for you, tell me if you need anything.” Matt whispers and goes to walk out. “Matt-“ I say abruptly. Matt stops and turns around, looking down at me. “Can you…shower with me?” I say quietly and look down at the floor. Matt stands there for a moment, hesitating. Without a word, Matt walks over to me, helps me stand up and take off my shirt. Since our clothes were soaked it was sticking to our skin.

Once me and Matt were both u dressed, we hopped into the shower and began to wash our selves letting the warm water consume us. Matt helps me scrub off the blood on my face and hugs me close, holding my head to his chest. I feel the lump in my throat start to form again.

“Matt-“ I whisper in a broken voice. He doesn’t answer and keeps holding me. “The reason why I came here was because…” I hesitated. “Because of my father, he did this and I also came there so that..I wouldn’t-“ I swallow. “I wouldn’t hurt myself.” I finish and whisper the last part. I feel the tears start to cloud my vision again as Matt tenses up, taking in the information. He stays quiet and doesn’t let go of me. “Don’t you ever-“ He pauses. “think about doing that, never.” Matt speaks and pulls away to look at my face. Matt brings his thumb up to my cheek and caresses my face. I smile faintly and I could see that Matt was trying not to cry.

My eyes trail all around Matt’s face and end on his lips. I look back into Matt’s eyes and see him leaning in to kiss me. I lean in as well and catch his lips in a breathtaking kiss. The kiss was so passionate and sweet I felt like I was in another world. He kissed me slow and held my face as my arms went around his neck and my hands went into his wet hair. We kissed for what felt like hours but were only minutes until we finally pulled away. Matt smiles down at me and kelp my face in his hands. “You’re so beautiful” He whispered.

I smile genuinely and hug him.

Matt and I finish up in the shower and go to dry in his bedroom. We brush our teeth and Matt hands me some of his clothes to wear to sleep and walks me over to the bed. I hop into the bed and pulls the covers over my shoulders and feel a sense of comfort being surrounded my Matt’s scent. Matt kisses my head and walks over to the other side of the bed and lays down next to me. Matt pulls me close to him and I use his body as a makeshift pillow and start to drift off to sleep. “I love you, angel.” Matt whispers and kisses my head again. I smile against his chest. “I love you more.”

——————————

a/n: this one shot was written for the challenge and it took me some time to actually write this and go into detail but i’m happy with how it came out and I hope u guys like it!!

taglist: @stars4matt @unfilteredassmf @junnniiieee07 @imwetforyourmom

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jungkookschin · 1 month

Text

demigod trials: our starlit bond - love you from tartarus | 3.5

synopsis: mark lee, the clumsy t.a for forging foundations: introduction to the forge, takes you on a magical pegasus ride, and you fall in love.

word count: 3k

pairing: son of hephaestus!mark x daughter of aphrodite!reader

genre: camp half blood au, percy jackson au, demigod au, friends to lovers, mark is so cute and clumsyyy

warnings: SO WHOLESOMEE, mentions of death, mentions of mark going into tartarus- this is just love, angst bc he's going to be leaving. this is definitely a whole new oc

author's note: THIS IS A WHOLE NEW OC. this is still canon to the original series, but i wanted to give a closer perspective of mark and the other characters. YES THIS IS THE SAME MARK who is the little brother of oc from the previous chapters. the next chapter will be a sonofposeidon!taehyung fic. also this was supposed to be a drabble but its kinda long

demigod trials masterlist

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

At the age of 14, you discovered a life-altering truth: your mother did not pass away during childbirth, as you had been led to believe. Instead, you learned that she is none other than the Greek goddess Aphrodite.

For the average Camp Half-Blood attendee, 14 years old is fairly late to learn about one’s Greek origins.

The gods promised that they would reveal themselves to their demigod children by age 13, but you guess your mom didn’t get the memo.

Joining Camp Half-Blood the summer after your freshman year in high school came along with significant drawbacks.

You weren’t good at combat, weren’t good at strategy, and you certainly weren’t favored by the other campers.

In fact, you were disliked so much that your own siblings actively avoided you, scooting towards the far end of the Aphrodite table whenever you sat down with your magical lunch platter.

During the first two months at Camp Half-Blood, a melancholic reality enveloped you. You sought refuge by sticking your nose in a book and studying your hours away. You wouldn’t even consider yourself to be a good student, but it became a way to make amends for sucking at everything else.

You remember meeting Mark Lee during the first day of your third month at Camp Half-Blood.

It was your first day of Forging Foundations: Intro to the Forge. To your surprise, a cyclops marched into the classroom, accidentally knocking over tables and side swiping papers off the teacher’s desk.

In Greek mythology, Cyclopes are one-eyed giants, often associated with strength and craftsmanship. They are known for their forging skills and are credited with creating powerful items for gods and heroes.

Though your teacher Argos was barely proficient in the English language, he certainly knew what he was talking about.

“Um- h-hello c-class! Welcome to Forging class! You introductory class, correct?” Argos asks, his voice deep and gruff- but it was obvious enough that Argos was a gentle giant.

None of the other Aphrodite kids even graced Argos with a response, filing their nails or checking their reflections in a mirror.

You cleared your throat. “Yes sir,” you responded, offering Argos a warm smile. His large mouth grinned, displaying his yellow and crooked teeth and his single eye softened at you, beaming that somebody actually responded to him.

“Good!” Argos responded, straightening a stack of papers on the desk. Unfortunately, the teacher’s desk snapped in half, causing Argos to blush and his single eye to dart around the room nervously.

“So, your daddy is Hermes?” Argos asked, to which some of your siblings actually sneered.

One of your sisters scoffed. “Our mother is Aphrodite. Maybe you should get your eyes- err- or eye checked out,” to which some of your other siblings burst into cackles.

Gods, you remember feeling so horrible for poor Argos, who immediately apologized clumsily, tears welling up in his single eye.

On cue, a boy burst into the classroom, panting heavily with his hands tightly secure around his backpack straps. He was wearing jeans, converse, and a Camp Half-Blood T shirt over a white long sleeved tee. His black fringe fell into his eyes and he flicked his head back to clear his vision.

"Sorry I was late!" he panted, resting his hands on his knees. "I was in the forge and got so caught up with something I didn't even realize I was late!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening slightly when he saw poor Argos tearing up.

"Hey big guy, something wrong?" he asked gently, brows furrowing in concern.

Argos, despite being twice as big as the boy, crushed him in a hug, and the boy's face turned red from how hard he was being squeezed.

By the gods' grace, he found it in him to pat Argos on the back while reassuring him that everything would be okay.

Argos stopped crushing the boy and redirected his attention to the class, to which the boy almost theatrically inhaled to catch his breath after almost being crushed to death.

"This is Mark!" Argos announced. "He is teacher's helper!"

Mark nodded and greeted the class. "That's right. I am the official TA, or teacher's assistant, for this class. If you don’t know me, I’m the head counselor at the Hephaestus cabin. It’s nice to meet you all." He smiled at the entire class, but for some reason, you felt shy when his eyes momentarily lingered on you, and you looked away.

"Mark gonna help me!" Argos grinned. "Argos is so happy Mark here!"

Mark smiled. “That means a lot big guy. I’ll be there whenever you need me, alright?”

He then addressed the class. “So let’s get started with Lesson 1: Fundamental Tools of Blacksmithing. If everybody could come up to the class to pick up their notes, that would be great.”

Needless to say, the Aphrodite cabin did not give a single shit that Mark was leading the class, even though he was a slightly better teacher than Argos. Nobody said anything, their eyes still focused on their nails or mirrors.

Mark fished for something from his backpack: a hammer. He held it up, motioning with his hammer and occasionally pointing it at the class.“You guys might be Aphrodite kids, but I promise blacksmithing is super easy and fun. This class is going to be a blast.”

Your siblings clearly didn't agree, but you figured that you needed to show some sort of enthusiasm. So, whenever Mark met your eyes, you nodded like you were super engaged.

Gods, you thought Mark was the cutest boy you had ever seen. So cutely clumsy, and you couldn't help but giggle at his little mistakes.

“Oh shit, I’m still holding this,” he mumbled, making you giggle. His eyes met yours, and he crimsoned before he cleared his throat.

“"So," he began, "does anyone know what this is?" he asked, motioning towards the hammer.

Crickets.

You raised your hand. "Umm... is it a hammer?" you sheepishly responded, to which Mark beamed and nodded his head.

"That's right," he encouraged, his eyes scanning over your name tag. "Y/N," he finished, flashing you a grin.

“This is your trusty companion, the hammer. Grip it firmly, but not too tight. Precision is key in our craft. Watch closely as I shape this piece of celestial bronze. Every strike has purpose, every movement deliberate.”

Argos passed out hammers to the class, nearly knocking kids over to their displeasure.

That day, you learned all the basic safety rules and how to strike armor against an anvil to shape metal.

For the entire class, you were the only one who engaged, and it almost felt like you and Mark were one-on-one. You didn't have a problem with that.

After class, Mark approached you, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck. “Hey, thanks for responding and whatnot,” he expressed, “The Aphrodite kids don’t seem to like this class that much.”

“Yes, thank you! You are sweet and pretty girl. Very nice. Happy to have you!” Argos added.

You shyly smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I actually find forging to be very interesting. I’m not good at combat or anything so I kinda do better in the forge.”

Mark nodded, “I can see that. You do seem pretty knowledgable- at least about the tools and stuff.”

“For knowing what a hammer is?” you giggled, making Mark’s ears turned red as he stuttered out a response.

“W-well yea. At least you answered. Maybe the others didn’t say anything because they didn’t know what a hammer was,” he reasoned.

Argos nodded in concurrence. “That could be the case.”

With Dumb and Dumber in front of you, you laughed, to which Mark reddens.

“Wh-what’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you smiled, shaking your head.

Forging Foundations: Intro to the Forge marked the inception of yours and Mark's love story.

Looking back, you realize that you had definitely fallen for him the moment he clumsily burst through the classroom doors.

On the last day of class, Mark and Argos congratulated you for being the only student to get an A in the class, and Argos offered to treat you to a meal in the mortal world.

Funnily enough, Argos forgot about your plans, leaving you and Mark to awkwardly greet each other by the barriers of the camp.

Mark was adorned with a light blue button-up, slacks, and dress shoes. He had a celestial bronze watch on his wrist, occasionally checking the time and looking out for Argos's arrival.

You approached him from behind, gingerly tapping him on the shoulder. When he turned around, he appeared to be completely awestruck.

That night, you decided to wear a long satin red dress that hugged your body in all the right places. You did your makeup and actually got one of your siblings to do your hair.

Your hair was curled in voluminous curls, and you pursed your lips once more to ensure that your red lipstick was still evenly applied.

Mark couldn't seem to control his reaction because his jaw physically dropped.

“Do I look bad?”

Mark’s eyes widened. “No- not at all. Y-you’re gorgeous Y/N, truly.”

You softened, instantly enveloping him in a hug—one that he reciprocated by holding you tightly, seemingly never wanting to let you go.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Mark deadpanned “I don’t think the big guy is gonna show up.”

“I don’t think so either. So what should we do? We both got ready for dinner,” you pout.

Mark bit his lip, gathering his thoughts before a lightbulb appeared over his head.

“Wanna go for a pegasus ride?”

Your lips parted. “Wait, are we allowed to? Chiron said no more pegasus rides after Jaemin crashed into the Big House.”

A smile graced his lips, and he shook his head in at the antics of his friends. “Yea, but it’s whatever. I’m an experienced rider. You won’t crash if you’re with me.”

With that, he offered his hand and you both ran off to the Pegasus stables .

The sun had set below the horizon, staining the sky with hues of orange, red, and pink. The sky was beautiful, and it was a perfect night.

Together, you and Mark made your way to the stables, where a few winged horses grazed under the fading daylight. Among them stood a magnificent Pegasus, its wings shimmering in the twilight.

The Pegasus, a sleek silver-winged beauty named Zephyr, had nuzzled against Mark affectionately. "This is Zephyr," Mark explained, his palms caressing Zephyr's gorgeous mane.

“He’s so… pretty,” you expressed in awe to which Zephyr neighed, snuggling his snout into your side.

Mark tilted his head, “I don’t speak horse but I think he says you’re prettier.”

“Oh shut up,” you mused, to which Mark laughs, “I’m serious Y/N-“

And you thought he was going to tell you how beautiful you are, but instead he said “I really think Zephyr said that.”

You couldn’t help but smile, swatting at his bicep. Mark held your hand as you mounted Zephyr before he slid behind you, holding the reins from behind you as Zephyr took off.

As you ascended into the evening sky, the world below transformed into a patchwork of twinkling lights. The camp, nestled between hills and forests, appeared even more enchanting from above. You and Mark marveled at the serene lake, the training grounds, and the cabins bathed in moonlight.

Zephyr soared higher, catching the cool breeze that whispered through the treetops. Laughter merged with the wind's gentle melody as you and Mark ventured beyond the camp's borders, exploring the surrounding landscapes.

You were sure that your perfectly curled hair was ruined from the wind violently thrashing it, but you didn't care.

Mark used the reins to direct Zephyr to ascend before rapidly descending, and you couldn't help but scream and laugh because you felt like you were on a roller coaster.

Mark scooted closer, pressing his chest directly against your back as he secured the reins. "Ready for this?" he yelled over the winds before Zephyr did an actual loop in the sky.

You screamed before bursting into laughter. "Mark!"

His laughter echoed as clear as ever.

The moon reached its zenith, casting a soft, silvery glow on Zephyr. You and Mark exchanged exhilarated glances, sharing stories, dreams, and laughter against the backdrop of the starlit sky.

Mark finally decided to stop treating Zephyr like a rollercoaster, and you both tread peacefully amongst the stars.

As you soared through the night sky, Mark shared the story of a defining moment from his childhood, recounting how he acquired a scar on his cheek. It happened during a time when he was still learning the basics of blacksmithing, and he cut himself with the back of a hammer when he swung it too closely to his face.

He also tells you stories about his older sister. She had embarked on a perilous journey into Tartarus, the treacherous abyss, and actually survived. Tragically, she sacrificed herself by immolating both herself and Gaia, an evil primordial goddess, to death.

In return, you shared how you had struggled to assimilate into Camp Half-Blood. A soft, almost bitter smile graced your lips as you recounted, "My siblings— they kinda avoided me, so I gave up on talking to them," you responded.

You delved into the emotional weight of feeling isolated, the subtle but hurtful distance from your siblings

You couldn't see Mark's face, but you could imagine he was sporting his usual look of concern and worry.

He paused, collecting his thoughts before he responded. "Do you think—could it be like—that they were jealous of your beauty?"

At his ridiculous comment, you actually burst into laughter, and Mark thought that the sweet sounds of your laughter were prettier than the stars and the moon.

"I wish," you giggled, "I wish I had those main character vibes, but it’s just because they don’t like me. And that’s fine."

Mark softened, "That’s alright, Y/N. You have me and Argos. We’re your friends."

You smiled before a thought dawned on you, "But what if I didn't want you to be a friend?"

“Are you mad that Argos forgot about our dinner reservations?”

“No!” you expressed, “Gods no. Mark, I like you more than a friend. I want to be more than friends.”

As Zephyr began its descent, gently landing on the ground, you wished you could see Mark's face. Perhaps it was a good thing you couldn't, as the lack of visual cues allowed you to summon the courage to confess your feelings.

Mark dismounted from the Pegasus, and in a moment that felt like the culmination of shared laughter, stories, and dreams beneath the starlit sky, he kissed you.

With that kiss, the uncharted territory of romance unfolded, and that night, Mark officially became your boyfriend. The stars above bore witness to the inception of a new chapter, marked by the shared warmth and affection that had blossomed amidst the celestial tapestry.

You and Mark are a happy couple. You keep things to yourselves- really the only person who even knows about your relationship is Argos.

In a humorous turn of events, Argos unexpectedly walked in on you and Mark sharing a kiss by the Pegasus stables. The moonlit rendezvous had created an intimate atmosphere, and the two of you were lost in the moment. However, the serenity was abruptly interrupted as Argos stumbled upon the scene.

Profusely apologizing for the intrusion and seemingly flustered, Argos apologized for forgetting dinner reservations. However, his words were cut short as he gasped, realizing the nature of the situation.

“You- you and Mark are … dating?”

There's no room for conflicts; if something bothers either of you, a simple conversation resolves it.

That is, until he tells you that he’s willingly going to sacrifice himself to Tartatrus.

You both are in the 18+ Hephaestus cabin resting on his king sized bed, and you almost think he’s joking until you really get a good look at his face.

“So you’re serious,” you deadpan.

He nods, “I am. I can’t let my older sister be sacrificed to a dangerous primordial God,” he reasons.

You bitterly nod, not being able to contest that. Mark’s older sister is one of the most well known demigods within Camp Half-Blood. She actually died and came back to life with the Physician's Cure- so you completely understand that Mark doesn’t want to endanger her life again.

“Okay, then I’m coming with you,” you bluntly respond, arms crossing as you glare daggers into Mark

“No.”

This is likely the first time where Mark has ever refused you, and you feel on the verge of tears.

"Mark, you run the risk of dying. What if—what if I never see you again?" you ask breathlessly, your voice carrying a hint of worry and vulnerability. In response, his expression softens.

He approaches you, his movements gentle, and pulls you into a comforting hug. "I don't know, Y/N. I might face that risk, but if I do—then it's for a good cause."

Tears begin streaming down your face and onto Mark’s sweater. As they fall onto Mark's sweater, you voice the overwhelming fear that has taken root in your heart. "Mark, you can't. I can't live without you. I need you here."

He sighs, holding you more tightly. “I’m prepared. Baby- I’m strong. Nothing’s going to happen to me-”

“You have to promise me Mark. You have to promise me that nothing is going to happen,” you sob.

Holding you more tightly, he attempts to provide solace amidst the uncertainty. "I'm prepared. I've done all I can to ensure survival, but I can't make any promises."

You hold him as you cry into his neck. Gods, you’re going to miss Mark so much. The thought of being without him is nearly unfathomable and a tremor runs through your body.

An alarm goes off on his celestial bronze watch.

Mark sighs, a look of urgency enveloping his features, “Babe, I have to go now- but meet me tonight by the portal to Camp Jupiter.” He hurriedly pulls away, gathering his belongings into a backpack.

He pulls you in for one last kiss before escaping through the stairs and out of the cabin.

You follow Mark's instructions diligently, patiently waiting by the portal to Camp Jupiter. As your eyes scan the familiar faces, you spot Mark's older sister and her friends approaching. Recognizing Taehyung, Namjoon, Rose, Jungkook, and Mark's sister among the group, you brace yourself for their arrival.

Mark's older sister beams at you as she recognizes you, immediately pulling you into an unexpected and warm hug. The surprise is evident on your face, realizing that Mark had shared the news of your relationship with his sister. While you hadn't anticipated this revelation, you don't harbor any objections.

"Hello?" you manage to greet.

"Y/N," she responds with a smile, "It's me—Rose. Can you turn off the mist for a second?" With a snap of Rose's fingers, the appearance of Mark's sister morphs into none other than your boyfriend.

A breath catches in your throat, and you're left breathless as Mark shakes his head, enveloping you in a reassuring hug. "It'll be alright. My sister's safe, and you're safe too. Everything will be okay," he whispers into your hair.

Taking a moment to process the unexpected revelation, you sigh and pull back. It dawns on you that this might be the perfect time to make your relationship public. You lean in and kiss Mark passionately and ardently,

“You got this, sweet boy. I believe in you,” you express pulling back from Mark who appears dazed and starstruck.

He reddens, knowing that the other demigods are staring right at you and him, but you don’t care. You press another chaste kiss to his lips.

Collecting himself, Mark takes a moment to share crucial information. "Y/N, look. My sister and I manufactured these rings that'll keep you updated with everything that's happening to Jungwon and me. Just go to Bunker 9, and you'll get live updates of everything that's happening," he explains, holding up his finger to showcase the ring.

As he holds the ring for you to see, you can't help but marvel at the intricate craftsmanship. The significance of the piece becomes apparent — a tangible connection to Mark, a lifeline to stay informed about the events unfolding in their Tartarus.

You hear a voice from behind, “Does your sister know that you told your girlfriend about Bunker 9?”

Mark ignores it and hugs you one last time.

“I love you, sweet girl. You’ll be with me the entire time.” He lifts up the locket you gifted him for your first-year anniversary, a delicate piece adorned with your image within its bearings.

And with that, Mark transforms back into the image of his older sister and walks into the portal to Camp Jupiter.

#nct scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream #mark lee #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #mark lee scenarios #nct drabbles #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 fluff #nct angst #nct dream scenarios #mark lee fanfic #camp half blood au #demigod!nct #demigod!nct127 #demigod!nct dream

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celestialwhoree · 2 months

Text

🎀🍼

What time is it?! More single mom!reader time!

Someone dropped into my inbox asking for Single mom! getting upset at her daughter and yelling at her and then crying about it. I needed a minute to cook but I'm here now.

"Come on, Lottie." You huff desperately, covered to your elbows in suds and applesauce as you try and fail to get your daughter into the bubble filled tub. "If you take a bath, I'll let you watch Bluey before bed." Has the three year old perking up, albeit barely, still stroppy about some trivial thing or another. She's probably still sour about you saying no to having cake for dinner, despite the fact that you'd relented this morning and allowed cake for breakfast, on the condition that she also had some strawberries to 'cancel the sugar out'.

"I wan' see Riley!" She pouts, stomping a tiny, chubby foot against the tiled bathroom floor. Ever since you'd dog sat for Simon on his latest deployment, Charlotte had decided that Riley was more her dog than his, and despite the fact that you too, absolutely adore Riley, the thought of bothering Simon any more makes you physically wince. "We can see Riley tomorrow." You attempt to bargain, growing more frustrated the longer you sit on the edge of the bath with your daughter looking at you like you're unreasonable. You never thought you'd see the day where you could get genuinely upset at a three year old covered in apple sauce and glitter glue. You've already had to fish a clip on earring from her mess of hair, and now you're at the end of your very, very long, single mother special edition, extra strength rope. "Wan' see him now!" Has you practically on the verge of tears. Today has been one of those impossible days where all you can think of as you're working out how much you have to spend for the month and whether you need to call a plumber out for the kitchen sink, is whether it's all worth it. Sure, going back and grovelling would be shameful, gut wrenchingly so, but at least then you wouldn't be alone.

"Charlotte, get in the bath or I'll put you to bed with no TV time." The unrelenting growl of your own voice feels foreign as it echoes around the tiny bathroom. You hate playing the bad cop, that was never your role, you'd always been the one to pick Lottie up after her dad laid down the law, take her for ice cream in the park or to feed the ducks. Now you're forced to do both. Charlotte, being three and having no care for the fact that she's making your life more difficult than it needs to be, simply sticks out her bottom lip and quivers her chin a little. Which, under normal circumstances, would make you give in and try to chase her down with a wet wipe, or coax her with the mermaid barbie doll that 'lives' in the bath. "Charlotte. Bath. Now." Of course, she'd had to have your spirited nature and unwillingness to give in passed on to her like a flaming torch, like you were Prometheus, being punished for giving fire to man. "No!" She shrieks, and that's enough to tip you over the edge. "Fine, bed then! Go on! Go and get in bed all dirty and see if I care." You snap, fingers pinching frustratedly at the bridge of your nose, trying to hold back the angry tears threatening to spill.

You're too consumed by hurt and endlessly roiling frustration to see where she storms off to, allowing yourself just a moment to sit on the edge of your shitty bathtub and let it all out. It was hardly ever that you got angry at Lottie. It was practically impossible given your situation. She doesn't understand where her daddy is or why you needed to go without him, nor why she can't always go and play with Simon and Riley whenever she wants.

"Charlotte?" Simon is confused and more than a little concerned at the snotty three year old currently stood at his door, cheeks ruddy with tears and little fists balled as she walks past him into his flat. "Wan' play wif Riley." She babbles, toddling through his entrance hall to the living rim, where the K9 gladly greets her with licks to her cheeks, making her giggle. "Where's mummy, Lottie?" Riley is called to heel, told to calm down so that Simon can understand why he's currently got your three year old crying in his lounge. "Baffroom." The toddler mumbles, seemingly perfectly content to get comfortable on his couch with Riley, burying her little face in the fluffy golden scruff of his neck. "What do you mean, bathroom, poppet? Is mummy alright?" "Mummy cryin'." "Did something happen?" In her usual way, Charlotte completely zones out from his line of questioning, too engaged with snuggling his dog.

The toddler wails and kicks when she's hoisted up onto his hip and carried back through the concerningly open door of your apartment, still swinging slightly on its hinges from where Lottie had thrown it open. "Love?" Simon calls into the seemingly empty house, your daughter on his hip and Riley waiting at his feet, wet nose twitching for any smell of the familiar woman who feeds him treats and scratches behind his ears. In seconds, Riley is tearing into the dimly lit bathroom, jolting you from your meltdown, followed rapidly by Simon and a tired looking toddler. "Love? Darling, what happened?" He's crouching at your bare feet as you sit defeatedly on the rim of the tub, your chin in his hands, tilted this way and that as though to make sure you're not hurt.

"Charlotte wouldn't get in the bath and - and" You can barely get your words out before you're wailing into your hands again, hiccuping pathetically at your situation and the fact that such a simple thing has the strength to derail you entirely. "Ah. Wondered why she came round mine all huffy and puffy." "Oh my God, I'm so sorry - You must think I'm awful." "I don' think you're awful. I think you're fuc-fudging amazing. Look at you, are you jokin'? Raisin a kid all alone, startin' a new life just the two of you. You're a trooper, yeah? I've seen soldiers weaker than you." "You don't really think that." You sniffle, inadvertently leaning your cheek into his palm when he reaches up to wipe your tears. "Course I do. You're brave and kind and beautiful. You've done a hell of a job with the little spitfire over there. Don't think I've ever come across a woman I admire the way I do you."

The way his words, aloof, distant Simon Riley's words make butterflies flutter in your stomach should be illegal. The way his eyes are so warm and dark like the comfort of a warm bed after a long day makes your heart pound and your breath catch. You know you shouldn't feel like this, for Charlotte's sake, and his, and yours, and yet you can't stop yourself. For the first time, you're falling, hard. Not for danger or the lure of the unknown. No. You're falling for the safe, gentle domesticity that Simon offers you in the waiting palm of his hand, like feeding a frightened animal in the hopes of coaxing them into the safe warmth of a home.

｡ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ

I didn't mean for this to be 1.2k oops I got totally carried away 😚

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laviefantasie · 3 months

Text

Patience

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Reader

Summary: It was just a childhood crush, right? If your heart skipped a beat every single time your eyes crossed or if your palms started to sweat with every lingering touch, it was just because of what you used to feel as a kid, right?

| Masterlist |

It was just a childhood crush. Nothing else. That’s what you’d heard all your life. And who could really blame you with how close you two had always been? No one. Truly, everyone around you both had expected one of you to grow a crush sooner or later.

You just wish it hadn’t been you. Everything would’ve been easier then. Cause nothing was worst than having a crush on THE Eren Jaeger.

If only he had never smiled your way maybe your heart would’ve been spared.

Tears started gathering in your eyes as you stared at your best friend dancing with another of your close friends. You couldn’t even find it in your heart to be mad. How could you when you knew how sweet and kind Historia was? You couldn’t blame Eren for choosing her, if there was ever really a choice to make.

You try to move your gaze away but all your strength was gone. It was as if your brain was unwilling to hide the truth from your heart, as if it had finally been enough.

A comforting arm settles itself across your shoulders and a body soon finds itself in front of you, shielding you from the heartbreaking scene.

“Don’t look, Y/N” you hear Armin say, he’s the one holding you safe under his arm.

“Let’s go home” says Mikasa, who’s shielding your view.

You can’t find your voice so you just nod weakly. Your best friends seem to understand though, and soon both are guiding you to the doors of your school gymnasium where the homecoming dance is being held.

Honestly, you knew this would happen someday. Eren had never shown any sign of reciprocating your feelings.

It still hurt though.

Armin and Mikasa keep quiet throughout the drive home, both allowing you to feel safe in their silence; neither asking you to voice how you’re feeling at the moment. You’re thankful for them, without them you’re not sure you’d even think about the possibility of mending your broken heart.

“You sure you don’t want us to stay with you tonight?”

You stare at them with a blank gaze, slowly shaking your head.

Mikasa and Armin share a look before nodding in understanding, promising to come check on you tomorrow. Waiting until you’re inside your home before even moving towards their car.

Only once you’re sure you’re safe inside your house and that they have left the driveway is that you allow yourself to crumble.

“Mom” you whimper “Mom! MOM!”

Your body is shaking and your voice is a dead giveaway that something is wrong, which makes your mother wake up alarmed and run downstairs.

The sight she is greeted with is one that breaks her heart in a way not even your father’s death could.

Your knees are wobbling and your whole body is trembling, it’s a miracle she reaches you in time before you fall down, gathering you safely in her arms as you allow yourself to break down for the first time that night.

“Shhh, sweetheart. It’s okay. Whatever happened it’s okay”

You sob, gut wrenching sobs that make your mother want to shed a few tears herself.

You spend the night in your mother’s arms, crying until sleep finally catches up to you. It’s your mother who greets Armin and Mikasa the next day, whispering how you need more time before you’re ready to see them. Both quietly explain the situation to your mom and she promises to let them know as soon as you’re ready to see them.

“Honey”

You hug your blanket tighter around your body.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart” she tries again, hugging you from behind “It was just a crush, it’ll be okay”

“It wasn’t a crush” you choke “Mom, I—I love him. I love him, mom”

Her eyes widen without your knowledge and she curses herself for not seeing it sooner. Of course it wasn’t a crush, at least not anymore.

The way you’d always cling to him since you were kids, the way you’d follow him everywhere, how you always helped him study so that he’d never fall behind, how you were at each of his basketball games screaming at the top of your lungs.

It may have started as a crush but you both had grown up, your feelings had grown too.

She should’ve seen it. You wouldn’t spend a whole night baking his favorite cake for his birthday when you could buy it just for a crush. You wouldn’t leave everything behind just to answer his call just for a crush. You wouldn’t be the first to clean his wounds after another of his stupid fights just for a crush.

You had fallen in love with him. With every part of him. Even the ones he, or anyone around him, was not proud of.

“Oh, honey” she soothes “It’ll be okay. You may not believe me, but you’ll be okay”

She sighs, holding you tighter.

“You’ll fall in love again” she promises “And it’ll be just as great and as painful as this time. But you’ll fall in love again”

“I don’t want this to hurt, mommy” you sob “Why does it have to hurt?”

“Because every feeling that made you go up has to come down sooner or later. Sweetie, the greater the love, the greater the pain. That’s the rule” she sighs “But it’ll be okay. You’re strong, you’ll get through this. You’re just one heartbreak closer to happily ever after, just have a little patience”

The next day, although still hurting, you get out of bed and answer Armin and Mikasa’s texts, asking them to come for a movie night. You ignored Eren’s.

JaegerBomb: Y/N you left homecoming early?? What happened?

JaegerBomb: You probably fell asleep. Text me when you wake up, doofus, got a lot to tell you.

JaegerBomb: Morning, sleeping beauty!!

JaegerBomb: Hey, I’m getting a little worried. U okay?

JaegerBomb; Y/N what’s going on?? Answer your phone.

JaegerBomb: I’m gonna file a missing person’s report!!

You hesitated before locking your phone. You weren’t going to answer. You couldn’t. Not because you were mad at him, you had no reason to be mad. You weren’t answering because you needed to move on. You couldn’t be there every time he texted anymore.

You had to stop being his person, cause you weren’t his.

Armin and Mikasa came to your house as planned and it was honestly what you had needed all that time. Having their shoulders to cry on was enough to mend your broken heart, at least a little. They made you laugh and smile in a way you didn’t think possible to do with the pain you felt.

You sometimes forgot that your life didn’t revolve around Eren. Being so used to always being at his side, to always call him whenever you were upset or happy, you’d sometimes forget that Mikasa and Armin always stood beside you through the path. Never once abandoning you. It was nice to be reminded of how much you still have, with how much your heart felt was losing.

Eren, meanwhile, was confused and worried. Carla, his mom, watched with a curious gaze as he paced back and forth in front of her, trying to argue with her about going to the police cause it wasn’t normal that you weren’t answering him.

“Eren, honey, she could be busy”

“No, mom, she always answers!” He almost screams “This is not normal! What if something happened to her? Mom, we have to go!”

It was truly an interesting sight. Eren who had grown up to hide his feelings behind a blank space was openly expressing his worry. Somehow you were always the one to let her catch a glimpse of her old sweet boy.

Carla sighs, “Can I at least call Y/M/N first? Just before you jump to conclusions?”

Eren grunts but nods. Carla sighs once more before grabbing her phone, dialing your mother’s number. Eren waits anxiously by her side, making her worry he’d run to the door any second with how fidgety he was.

“Hello. Carla?”

“Y/M/N! Hi! How are you?”

“Mom” Eren whines in a whisper, urging her to get to the point.

“Sorry to call, I just wanted to—”

A crash sounds through the phone, making both Jaeger’s jump.

“Y/N! What are you guys doing?” They hear your mom scream.

“Sorry, mom! I got scared and my bowl fell!”

Eren visibly relaxes in his place once your voice sounds through the phone. Carla eyes him with curiosity. He had his hand over his chest as if the relief of you not being in trouble was finally allowing him to breathe.

“Sorry, Carla. Y/N is watching some scary movie with Mikasa and Armin” she laughs “You know them, can never leave them unsupervised”

Eren straightens in his seat. Mikasa and Armin? You were with them?

He stopped listening to the conversation after that. Why weren’t you answering him? Since when did you text them before you texted him? Didn’t you know he’d worry? Even better, why didn’t you invite him? Didn’t you want him there?

That couldn’t be it. You never left his side. You were even more annoying than Mikasa when you were kids, always glued to his side. Although not as protective as the dark haired beauty, your presence was always clinging to his. That hadn’t changed throughout the years. You clung to him every step of the way. Always making sure to be at his side no matter what. Even when your grades were good enough to take higher classes, you stuck by him. Never going too fast, never going too slow; you always stood by him.

And he never pushed you away, not like he did with Mikasa. He never could.

He tries texting you again, thinking that maybe the texts hadn’t gone through. But he knows better. He just doesn’t want to know better.

When the weekend ends, Eren, for the first time ever, gets to school in time. Honestly, he just wanted to be there when you got there, not wanting to miss you by chance.

“Eren!” He hears Historia before she sees her “How was your weekend? I haven’t heard from you since the dance?”

“Huh?” Historia hugs him, but he’s too distracted scanning the hallway for you.

“Thank you so much” she smiles “I had a lot of fun. I was really sad Ymir couldn’t make it, but you help it be a fun night”

“Yeah. No problem”

Historia frowns confused, “You okay?”

“Have you seen Y/N?”

Historia tilts her head, “Yeah, she was by Calculus with Jea—woah! Where are you going?”

He’s out of her sight before she can even finish her sentence. All he could think about was seeing you.

He just didn’t expect to see you with Jean.

He stopped midway. His heart tightens as he sees you laugh happily because of something Jean just said. His fist clenches when he sees the way Jean is smiling at you.

He didn’t like the way Jean was looking at you.

The bell rings and he moves fast, scared to lose you from his sight, as you walk to your class. Imagine his surprise when he goes in to find you sitting with Jean. He frozed for a second. Was he still dreaming? You always sat with him. Always had. What was going on?

“Y/N?”

You look up from your notebook to see Eren looking like kicked puppy in front of you. He looked lost. Which was weird. Never had you ever seen that expression on his face.

Jean, who’s at you side, frowns in bewilderment. He didn’t remember the last time Eren had shown so much emotion.

“Eren” you whisper before smiling faintly “H-hi, I didn’t see you come in”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

Your teacher comes in before he can open his mouth again and he soon is obligated to sit behind you with Marco.

His jaw clenches. He didn’t understand. Had he done something wrong? Why were you not sitting with him? Why even though you smiled at him did he feel you so distant? Why did it hurt him so much to see you smiling and whispering with Jean when he knows he is your friend?

He didn’t really pay attention to anything their teacher said, too lost in his own thoughts to even bother caring.

The bell rings and he jumps off his seat, but before he can catch you someone grabs his arm.

“Mikasa” he moves his arm but she doesn’t let him go “Mikasa, let go”

“Leave her alone, Eren”

He looks at her with no expression, though the girl for a second could see how his eyebrow twitched.

“I need to talk to her”

“Her world doesn’t revolve around you” she scoffs “So don’t act like it does”

“What do you mean?”

“Weren’t you just about to go ask her why she didn’t sit with you?” She raises a brow “She doesn’t have to be at your side 24/7”

He hates that she knows him so well. Hates even more that she is right. You don’t owe him anything, you can sit with whoever you want. So why did he felt the need for one?

He jerks his arm off Mikasa’s grip and scoffs. Maybe you just wanted to talk to Jean, things would go back to normal soon enough.

At lunch you didn’t say by him either, you sat in between Sasha and Mikasa. Laughing loudly while sharing your lunch with Braus. He naively waited for you to hand him the chocolate chip cookie you always made for him, yet this time you didn’t.

And it went on for two months.

He couldn’t handle it anymore. 62 days of agony waiting for you to turn to look at him first, just to never do it. 62 days of waiting hours before you text him back. 62 days of seeing you sit with everyone but him. 62 days of wondering if you’ll show up or not at his game. 62 days of being invited to movie nights at your house by Mikasa or Armin, never by you.

He couldn’t bare it anymore and it didn’t take long for his friends to notice. Emotionless and unbothered Eren Jaeger jumping out of his seat every single time you entered the room. Eren Jaeger who cannot stop clenching his fist and moving his leg when you haven’t made an appearance. Eren Jaeger who looks like a lost child every single time you don’t give him his attention.

They honestly grew tired of it.

“You need to talk to him”

You blink, confused, at Armin, “what?”

“It’s been two months, Y/N, and he looks like a kicked puppy. You need to talk to him”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Just let him know you’re still friends. That you’re not mad at him” he sighs “Things don’t have to go back to how they were, but he deserves to know he did nothing wrong. He can’t stop pouting and, honestly, I feel kinda sorry for him”

You sigh. Armin is right, as always. It wasn’t fair for Eren, who is your best friend, to feel like he has done something wrong when he truly hasn’t. You needed to make things right. You needed to salvage your friendship with him.

That’s why you come to school the next day with a box of the homemade chocolate cupcakes he loves so much.

That’s why you stand in front of your school’s doors waiting for him to arrive.

Your heart clenches with how defeated he looks once he does. And when your eyes find one another, you can physically see the hope and relief that he feels.

“Y/N” he sighs.

“Eren” you smile “I, uh… I wanted to apologize. I know I’ve been a little distant lately and—”

“Why?” He begs “Why have you been distant?”

You open and close your mouth, your finger tightening around the box in your hands. You had to be honest. You had to voice what you had silenced for so long. That way you would be able to move on, that way he’d understand why you needed to keep him at arm’s length.

“I, uh, um… I sa-saw you and His-Historia at the dance” you clear your throat “It wasn’t your fault! I swear I’m not mad and I never was! It’s just—it just hurt… that’s why I needed space. I liked you and it hurt”

You sigh, and extend the box towards him before slightly bowing your head.

“I’m sorry!”

You stay with your head down for a few seconds. He doesn’t move nor answers and it makes you wonder if he is mad you didn’t just tell him sooner, if he thinks you’re immature for not talking to him before so he could understand.

You feel the box being taken from your hands and before you can react you feel him lower his body, making you stand straight. Yet his face still falls on your shoulder. You feel his body relax as soon as it comes in contact with yours, and you feel him breathe in relief once he can feel your lavender scent. You don’t move, you don’t know exactly what to do in that moment. Does this mean he understands? Does it mean he is not mad? Are you both okay?

“I missed you” he whispers “I missed you so much”

“I—I missed you too, Eren”

“Never do that again” he begs softly “Please. Never leave me again”

“I, uh—I won’t”

“It’s you, Y/N” he continues “It’s always been you”

Your heart beats loudly in your chest at the declaration, yet confusion follows.

“But Histo—?”

“Historia was just sad Ymir couldn’t make it to the dance” he explains softly “I went to help her forget about it for a while”

“Oh”

“It’s you, Y/N. Always has been, always will be” he continues “Promise not to give up on me? Please. I just—please, don’t leave me”

You find yourself wrapping your arms around him, and he hides his face on your neck with content and relief.

“I promise”

The next time your friends see you both, you’re no longer clinging to him. Instead, Eren has his arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him. And, for the first time in a long time, he is smiling. That boyish smile they had all missed.

Your mom had been right. It was just one heartbreak before your happily ever after. She just didn’t know it would be the same person who’d mend it.

You just had to have a little patience.

#eren yaeger aot #eren yeager x oc #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger x oc #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren aot #eren x reader #erenjaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger x femreader #mikasa aot #aot x reader #aot #attackontitan #attack on titan #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert

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scuderiasundays · 10 months

Text

time after time

summary: years of yearning ending in a fiery release 🧨 written with lennon stella's cover of "time after time" (one of my all-time favorites) on repeat!

words: 1315

a/n: those b/w milan photos gave me the final push i needed to get this out into the world! the first time i've written anything this long so i would appreciate any and all feedback 🫶🏼

September 2012

"I bet you could convince my mom to let me go." It was a picturesque night in Madrid as the words slipped out of his mouth. Gathered around a table adorned with colorful tapas, Carlos and his friends celebrated his and Y/N’s birthdays over Gambas al Ajillo and pints of Estrella Galicia. Sat across from Carlos was Y/N, his best friend who he had grown up alongside. The aspiring Formula 1 driver had been away for months, leaving behind his beloved hometown. Tonight, their tight-knit group had unanimously agreed to refrain from discussing anything related to motorsport, but Carlos couldn't help but come up with hypothetical situations that ended in successfully persuading his mother to allow him to race in Macau, a city an astonishing 10,497 kilometers away.

Would Y/N ever gather the strength to say no to those velvety brown eyes? The evening had quickly gone by, and Carlos and Y/N bid farewell to their friends, commencing their walk back to the Sainz residence. “Mama, look who I’ve brought home.” Reyes’ face lit up upon Y/N’s arrival at the front door. If ever a motherly instinct surged within Reyes, it was when she witnessed the two little ones growing up, sensing deep down they were destined to end up together. Reyes had been like a second mother to Y/N and had always gotten her a birthday gift of her choosing. “So, what shall it be this year?” Reyes beamed. “I want to use this year’s wish for Carlos, if that’s alright. He’s worked tirelessly this season and it would kill me if he didn’t get to race in Macau.”

“Carlitos put you up to this, no?” Reyes chuckled. Drawing Y/N into a warm embrace, she assured Y/N that Carlos could race at the Macau Grand Prix, so long as he stopped pressuring his best friend to speak on his behalf. To make up for her son’s foolishness, Reyes allowed Y/N to blow out the candles on the birthday cake she’d made for Carlos since she had virtually used up her birthday wish on him. Y/N closed her eyes, silently praying that this would be the year Carlos would come to his senses and realize she’s been madly in love with him this whole time.

July 2020

"You're not coming to Mallorca this summer?" Y/N could sense Carlos’ frustration seeping through the phone. It wasn't that she didn't want to go, of course she did. Summers in Mallorca were pure bliss. The refreshing gazpacho Reyes prepared, the laughter-filled board game sessions with Carlos' grandfather, and the exhilarating late-night padel matches with Carlos, Ana, and Blanca. There was cause for additional celebration this summer as Carlos had made it through the treacherous F1 silly season unscathed, securing a seat at McLaren. However, a mixture of the demands of residency and an unspoken truth kept Y/N from wanting to spend even a single moment with the man she had termed “Summer Carlos.”

Summer Carlos was carefree, bronzed, and exuded warmth. Summer Carlos was the Carlos who had drunkenly kissed her three summers ago, leaving her heartbroken when he acted as though nothing had happened the following day. The memory still stung, and Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready to face those emotions once again.

July 2022

Caco, Carlos' older cousin, had graciously invited Y/N to join them at the Silverstone Grand Prix. After managing to secure a weekend off from work, Y/N was euphoric escaping the sterile confines of the hospital. As she walked into the motorhome, a mix of emotions swirled within her. It had been months since she had last seen her best friend. Her job kept her tethered to the emergency room, while Formula 1 had taken Carlos across the globe.

The initial words that escaped Carlos' lips were, "You look pale, like you could use some Mallorcan sun." Y/N couldn't decipher whether he genuinely wanted her there or not. The uncertainty lingered, leaving her unsure of where they stood after all this time apart.

Eager to avoid being in anyone's way, especially Carlos', Y/N decided to take a stroll around the paddock. Lost in her thoughts, she ran into Lando, Carlos' former teammate, who recognized her immediately and approached with a friendly smile. "How've you been, Y/N? We miss you over at McLaren.” Y/N had tended to Lando after his Eau Rouge crash during qualifying in 2021, forging a close bond between them.

A faint smile appeared on Y/N's face as she replied, "Maybe I'll seek refuge at McLaren's hospitality this weekend since it seems like Carlos doesn't want me here." Lando chuckled in his characteristic way, the sound putting Y/N at ease. "You and I both know the man is terrible at expressing his feelings. He's probably just yearning for you because you've been too busy saving lives. Trust me," Lando reassured her. "I'm running late for a meeting, but I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Y/N's mind was filled with curiosity, trying to make sense of Lando's words. Carlos pining for her? It seemed impossible, given their history and the distance that had grown between them. Yet, a flicker of hope ignited within her, and she couldn't help but wonder if there was more to Carlos' aloofness than she had initially assumed.

Y/N's phone buzzed, and her heart skipped a beat as she read Carlos' message: "You and me in my driver's room now." Her hands shook as she knocked on the door, waiting for his response. "Come in," he replied, and as she entered, she couldn't help but notice how he made the fiery Ferrari red his own.

"You can't just waltz back into my life whenever you feel like it, Y/N. Race weekends are sacred to me, and you showing up out of nowhere is a distraction. It's not like you even care about me or my career anyways. When was the last time you watched a race, hmm? Dr. Y/N is always too busy at the hospital."

Y/N wouldn't allow Carlos to lash out at her like this, not after all the sacrifices she had made. Countless sleepless nights on call, choosing to stay awake to watch Carlos race in distant cities. Collecting every article featuring him since his karting days, carefully preserving them in a special scrapbook. Being there for him in his darkest moments, answering late-night calls when the pressure almost crushed him.

"You can't push me away that easily. We both know I've always been there for you, to the point where I didn’t even know who I truly was when you reached Formula 1 and left Madrid," Y/N said. "I only bury myself in my work to avoid facing the emptiness that hangs over the city when you’re not around."

Carlos felt a pang of pain as he witnessed his best friend break down in front of his eyes. Had he truly misunderstood everything all along? Y/N's words pierced through his heart. "I’m all yours. I always have been," she said, her tears dampening her sleeves.

In an attempt to console her, Carlos whispered softly, "Don't cry, princesa. Mama will kill me if she finds out I made you so upset."

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle through her tears. “Well, go out and win this race for me, and I'll promise not to snitch.”

“For you, anything,” he said.

“And for the first time in Formula 1, Carlos Sainz is victorious! He wins the British Grand Prix!” The electrifying announcement filled the air as Y/N ran from the garage to the podium. As Carlos emerged from the car, his eyes searched for one face in particular. With both hands, he gently caressed Y/N's face. Without hesitation, he pressed his lips against hers, years of longing exploding in a passionate release. The two of them radiated a golden glow, as if destiny herself had brought them together, time after time.

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #carlos sainz fic #f1 x you #carlos sainz fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz angst

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bidisastersanji · 4 months

Text

I'm impatient as fuck so here is part 2/3 of the "Zoro gets lost because he uses the red string of fate like a compass" :))) Part 1 here, Part 3 here, read it on AO3 here.

Sanji’s lungs burn, like a sharp blade incessantly scraping his chest from the inside. The unbearable, searing pain in his head, his legs, his ribs- his everything, really- are this close to making him pass out on the spot, but he’s used to dissociating from his battered body. He knows he’s bleeding out in various places, a familiar warm wetness seeping through his clothes, he knows his bones are bruised and broken. He keeps going.

He’s not a hundred percent sure that him running isn’t a hallucination.

But he has to find him. That absolute fucker of a swordsman.

His vision of the red thread he’s desperately running towards blurs a little bit- there must still be smoke in the air- but Sanji doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter. Not for a second. Single-minded, relentless, he throws his legs forward, one after the other, ignoring each sharp, fresh stab of pain as he does so. He won’t stop until he finds him.

The red string is there again. Is still there.

He’s still alive, he repeats to himself. But for how much longer...

His mom was the first to explain it to him. He could still remember her bright, cheerful smile when he told her about his soul mark, the way her elegant hands excitedly danced around when she explained what soulmates were, and what a wonderful thing it was that he had one. She’d seemed so happy for him, elated that someone out there was meant to be for her beloved son.

Starry-eyed and brimming with curiosity, he’d impatiently asked her every single question that popped into his mind- what were they like? Were they close by? How were they chosen? Why was it a red thread? Did he have to marry them? Were they pretty? Or kind? What if they were mean like his brothers? Would he get to meet them someday? Were mother and father soulmates too?

In her trademark fashion, Sora had patiently, lovingly answered all of them-all but one- but he didn’t notice, nor the way her smile faltered, just a little bit. Her hands were warm, cradling his own like he held all the treasure in the world between them. He, in turn, kept her words, her answers, her stories from that day, like a treasure as well. Sanji clung to this dream, of someone loving, caring for him unconditionally, despite his deficiency, his weakness. Just like the All Blue, it seemed almost too good to be true, but little Sanji didn’t let go, his belief an oasis to comfort himself with.

With every new tragedy fate brought him, his bright-eyed idealisation gradually made way for bitter disillusionment.

The unimaginable violence his blood relatives regularly inflicted on him served to remind him of his dreams’ unfeasibility. After all, how could anyone love a failure like him? How could he find such a legendary place when locked down in this cell? And yet, he clung to both dreams, the comfort of the paling red thread keeping him tethered, weakly fanning the dwindling flame of hope in his chest that he would one day be free from his torment, free to chase his dreams.

He tried not to worry about the thread fading. Guilt ate at him- maybe it reflected the strength of his belief, and that somehow felt like betraying his mother. She wouldn’t have lied to him, would she? She wouldn’t.

Sometimes, his brothers taunted him about it. Told him that having a soul mark was yet another proof of his weakness, and that they pitied whoever was stuck with their failure of a brother. Sanji cried and pleaded as the blows, physical and mental, bore down on him. The red string kept getting lighter and lighter, nearly translucent as they eroded his faith in it, until one day he no longer saw it at all.

Soul marks didn’t mean anything, really.

Because why would have fate wanted his sweet, kind mother to end up with a monster like Judge? How else could she have married this cruel tyrant who did not even mourn her death, or let their children mourn it?

No.

Soul marks’ meaning must be something ascribed by people, Sanji reasoned.

He escaped. Found people that were good to him, just like Reiju told him he would. With Zeff’s gruff but nurturing presence, Sanji slowly built himself back up. As he grew older, he let himself fall back into his romantic tendencies, daydreamed and idealised the concept of love, of intimacy. His body twirled and buzzed with the comfort that throwing himself at and serving beautiful women always brought him. For what better way was there to protect his brittle heart than to reach for something he already knew was unattainable? There was incredible safety in professing his love to a lady just passing by the restaurant for a night. No stakes at all to worry about.

On some sentimental days, he saw a flicker of red on his pinky.

Deep in his thoughts, prepping for the dinner rush, the rhythmic chops of his knife hitting the cutting board, he sometimes thought of the soulmate he used to fantasize about as a child. Wondered what he would do if that person found him, or if he stumbled into them. Would he even know? Feel anything? He wondered if his mother’s words had truth to them, offhandedly entertained the idea that love like the one in story books really existed out there. Zeff seemed to think so- had confided in him about his own soul mark on that godforsaken rock. Made it sound like, from what he’d seen on this wide, wide sea, soul marks were nothing to laugh at- just as much as how dreaming of the All Blue was nothing to laugh at.

It was in those moments that his heart imperceptibly opened, albeit temporarily, to the possibility of love, and he saw red flash in the corner of his eye. He didn’t linger on it. He didn’t even linger on it when it appeared with increasing frequency after leaving the Baratie.

Joining the straw hats breathed a second wind into Sanji. His smiles, his laughs became fuller, almost childlike at times, reminiscent of simpler times, as the unconditional love- given so freely by the captain and his crew- soothed his deep scars like a balm. Sanji learned that people could love him, rely on him, care for him. Perhaps his mother’s ideas on love hadn’t been so far off, even if he’d found it in another form.

There was something off about the shitty swordsman, though. Granted, they hadn’t been purely adversarial from day one. Zoro hadn’t seemed in search of a fight -with him at least- when they first crossed paths on the Baratie. Sanji could only remember weird looks, narrowed eyes searching his face, almost accusingly, even though they’d only just met. It quickly got on his nerves.

The guy naturally aggravated him, made him feel a tad uneasy, nervous. Which is probably why their fights always felt so satisfying, a blissful outlet to the inevitable tension that rose between them every day. Sanji’s skin sang with each clash and blow, and he tightened his jaw to keep himself from grinning with every petty insult thrown between them. (Zeff may have imparted his love language- words of disapprobation- to him.)

Nobody saw fit to comment on the odd rivalry between them, nor did they question his uncanny knack for finding the directionally challenged mosshead when he got lost. Sanji least of all of them- it just...happened. He must just have a talent for foraging algae and moss.

His stomach drops like a stone when he spots him.

Arms crossed, still as a statue, an ungodly amount of blood paints the rubble around him and drips from his body.

Sanji can’t think. Doesn’t even consciously register that, just as he suspected, the red thread on his hand is tied to Zoro’s own as he sprints to close the distance between them. He’s pure instinct, heart hammering in his chest as he furiously questions the injured swordsman. What happened here? Where did the warlord go? Sanji feels like his heart is trying to crawl out of his throat, thick, choking him, each lungful a strenuous effort he has to consciously make.

“Nothing...happened.”

Zoro seems a breath away from death and passes out in his arms. Sanji has no choice but to carry him the best he can to camp, hoisting him on his back, limping and near delirious with pain himself. He can’t let this shitty idiot die. He wants to kill him himself.

Thankfully, he gets to Chopper in time, only passing out when he sees the doctor in his heavy point carrying him away to treat him. His last thoughts as the darkness claims him are of the red string now stretching before him in the direction Chopper went.

Fuck.

#zoro x sanji #zosan #zosan fic #zosan fanfiction #zosan soulmate au #one piece zosan #one piece fanfiction #zoro gets lost #thriller bark angst #the vinsmokes fucking suck as always #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro

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mhathotfic · 1 year

Note

Can I request an heifer reader that has two newborn sons? (It can be fluff if you want!)

She was moved from her old farm because hers was abusive and with that she grew more aggressive, if anyone or any of the cows/bulls she will nip them hard or kicks them and with that bakugo starts to have a liking to them and is willing to wait for her to warm up to him and will father her two calf’s?

(If not you can ignore this plus I love your stories!!)

Only because I miss Bakubull, but fun fact! Only young cows who haven’t had a calf yet are called heifers. Just fluff for now but if anyone wants to give me a reason to make a smutty little sequel I wouldn’t be opposed

Warnings: swearing, mentions of past abuse, hybrid au, hybrids being kept as live stock, fem reader with she/her pronouns, written with plus size reader in mind, single mom! reader technically a cliffhanger ending

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

“My boys aren’t going anywhere with you!” she had snorted and snuffed at some pushy bull her first day there. Nipping and snapping when he tried to push her anyways in some sort of asinine attempt to show her he was no threat, because obviously a frightened young mother with her background is gone accept some assholes ‘help’ with her calves when he’s stupidly grabbing for them with insistence that he could help.

Like something like that doesn’t potentially lead to something awful happening to those calves. Like she hasn’t been through traumatic shit at her last farm that made her apprehensive to trust anyone but herself and her newborns.

Not the other cows who cooed at the sight of the new babes and offered help with the feedings, and certainly not any bull who’s motivates where unclear and very well could be an attempt to gain a new cow to breed instead of genuine care.

Bakugou found himself watching in silent wonder and slight disgust as they all crowded it her like they weren’t told how they needed to be careful and patient with her. It was beyond him how he, a bull who was the picture perfect example of his title, had internalized this when the ‘non-problem’ cattle hadn’t.

He would have stopped it himself by intervening, but before he could even stand to move, she was kicking up dirt as a warning before charging the larger bull for not taking her seriously. Her horns just nubs in comparison to his and her stature much smaller, but she held her own and proved appoint.

And maybe that’s what sparked his interest? Maybe it was the gentle way she regarded her boys? The little hint of joy in her eyes which she goes a particularly enjoyable treat that hinted at what she was like before the trauma?

Or maybe it was the fact she was a touch like himself not too long ago, scared and confused and covering it up with aggression to create a sense of superiority and strength so no one touched her or those calves.

Whatever it was it had him in a vicious little vice grip.

“You know, those idiots are wrong for how they’ve gouged about it, but they have a point”.

“And how the hell do you know that huh? How do I even know if you’re any different?”

He shrugged at that, watching her boys playing with the ring toys their handlers gave them, she didn’t have any reaction to trust him like she said but he was determined to prove her wrong.

“It’s been what? Four? Five months? None of us have done anything wrong yet”.

“Doesn’t mean you won’t, last place was good until it wasn’t too”.

“Well you didn’t have me there did you? I’ll killed anyone before they lay a finger on those calves or you”.

She snorted at that. He’s hung around them and kept other’s from bothering her and the boys, an attempt to win her over to breed her then throw her aside to be picked on by the other buzzards that called themselves cattle. He was self serving like any other bull, she was sure.

“Stop thinking I’m like the rest, you have that written all over your face princess” he huffed cutting her off before a word passed her parted lips. “Don’t fuckin’ care how long it takes, I’ll prove I’m better than them. Promise I’ll take care of those boys if you let me, take good care of you too”.

And maybe it was that soft little gleam, more of a glimmering spark, in his carmine eyes, but she wanted him to. It didn’t seem so bad an idea to let him father her boys, maybe even give her some of his own if he were so lucky. A thought that flustered her greatly when it ran through her head.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #tw hybrid au

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ladyelissarose · 1 year

Text

‘Don’t Make The Same Mistake ’

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x female aviator reader; callsign- ‘Delta’

Summary; Jake all his life was afraid of love, from terrible past experiences he had with his father who only showed him the broken version of it. So when he fell in love with Backseater, Y/n ‘Delta’ Y/l/n, and was heartily convinced to take their relationship to the next level, he was suddenly hit with a deep fear, of turning out just like his father. Hence making him run away from her and avoid her, afraid he was making a mistake all along. But when she got in a jet accident with her front seater, ‘Robin’. Jake is confronted with his fear, as Robin’s last words to him struck his heart and changed his mind.

Warnings: mentions of breakup, abusive father and harsh past memories, character death, angst, lots of crying, fluff in the end.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Jake huffed to himself at the sound of his father’s ungracious words, always being an asshole and unwelcoming, totally unlike his mother, who had passed away 4 years ago due to cancer. Oh how he missed his mother, who was an angel at heart, so forgiving and loving. She protected little Jake from so much harm from his father, she took most (ALL) of the hits for him when Jake’s father got drunk. But when Jake grew older, much taller and stronger, (for he purposefully got into high school football to gain the strength and discipline) he began to defend his mother and end up being the bruised one. But he never minded, if it meant that his mother was ok and safe. But soon it all stopped, when Jake made his mother leave his father and divorce him, but that earned him the most hurtful and long lasting words that his father ever told him,

‘It’s in our blood son, men like me... have boys like you. Don’t think you’re better than me just because you got your mother to leave me, no... you’ll be just like me. Just watch Jacob. You’ll either end up with no wife, you’ll just be a single jock with a different whore warming your bed every night forever. No one, will ever love you.’

Jake tried to ignore those words he remembered as he stood in his father’s living room, looking dapper and sharp as always in his Naval Khakis. He sent him a curt look before replying simply,

“I’m looking for my mother’s jewelry box-“

“For what? Gonna toss that shit to a stripper? They like big bills, money instead-“

Huffing our his growing frustration Jake interrupted his father,

“No, just- just tell me where the box is? It’s mine anyways, mom said I could have it whenever I was ready to pick it up.”

Jake’s father stood up and tried to size himself up against Jake who had grown to be more broad and tall, but no matter how much he tried to puff his chest out and straighten his shoulders, Jake still beat him in every way. Jake’s father knew he couldn’t hide away his ex-wife’s jewelry box, it was rightfully Jake’s, so he then said with a click to his tongue,

“It’s in the attic, go find it and get the hell out, my wife is going to be here any minute now and would be pissed to see you here.”

Now that Jake knew, after he had come over unannounced and was met face to face with his father’s new wife, who only cussed him out and chased him away. So Jake didn’t waste time as he ran upstairs and found the attic, pulled the ladder down, and climbed up quickly. His father had kept a few things from his ex-wife, which was the more valuable things, and one of them was the expensive, golden jewelry box. Jake opened the familiar box of memorable things of his mother, and let out a happy sigh when he saw the adorning box. When he was 5, him and his father picked it out for her birthday. Jake quickly took it into his hands, and opened the top, where inside laid, the infamous, wedding ring of his mother’s. His mother was a fan of bling and shine, so you could imagine the size of that golden, diamond ring.

“It’s perfect... Delta’s gonna love it.”

Y/n Y/l/n, who’s callsign was ‘Delta’, was the woman Jake had fallen in love with. They had been in a relationship for 3 years already, and Jake felt that it was time to take the next step, he was sure that Delta loved him, he knew she did. Delta had loved him and accepted him, his flaws and all, his cockiness and all, and was able to bring out his soft and loving side. And you better bet, and you must believe that Jake, treated his girlfriend like a queen. Oh, she wanted ice cream at 3 in the morning, so guess who’s Texan ass was up and in the gas station looking for her favorite flavor? Jake Seresin. After a long day of doing push-ups with the squadron and her because Cyclone was being an extra ass that day, if she mentioned the word, ‘back rubs and a warm bath’ guess who’s cocky and stubborn ass was bent like a taffy at her service, as he swooshed the tub water with his calloused hand side to side to make many lavender-scented bubbles, and had gotten the best cream in town to give back rubs and full body massages afterwards? JAKE SERESIN! He made a point to shower her in LOVE. And Delta saw this, and adored his kind behavior, she returned the favor by cuddling him in his sleep every night, (because he really loved that), memorized every baking recipe that Jake had told her he loved most made by his mother, and of course, gave him the best attention and sex ever. Now, in the light that peeped through the attic’s small window, Jake let the wedding ring sit in his hand, as he examined it happily, until he heard the cruel voice say behind him,

“Thinking of getting married huh? Doubt she’d say yes, you haven’t even introduced her to me, must be some kind of whore huh?”

A low chuckle could be heard after that, Jake’s father laughed to himself as he mocked Jake. And hearing his evil, cruel father call the love of his life, Delta, who was an aviator like him, a strong and independent woman, a whore, was what set Jake off.

“SHE’S NOT A WHORE!! And I didn’t introduce her to you, because you’re a sick man and don’t deserve to be around good women like her. She’s nothing like you think she is, and I’m going to marry her-“

Jake was interrupted by the loud, mocking laughs of his father,

“Marry her?! Really? Wow... Jake, thought you’d learn to stay away from the rings and shit after seeing me-“

Jake clenched his fists and seethed,

“Well I am not you, I’ll never be.”

“Jake.. Jake, listen boy, I am you, and you are me. You think that just because you went to college and joined the Navy, you’ll be different? I’m just you, in a suit. You’ll never know how to love and treat a woman right, you’ll only hurt her, use her.. like a good ol’ toy. I used to be like you Jakey boy, good and sweet, until I put that damned ring on your mother, and marked her as mine. And you’ll just be doing the same thing, all over again.”

Hearing those toxic words come out and go into his ears, was actually beginning to sink into Jake’s heart, and take affect. The fear of maybe his father being right, began to seep into his heart and confuse him of himself and who he really was,

‘What if he’s right? What if I mess this up, and turn out like... like my father?’

“Honey bear!? Didn’t know you had a Red truck?!”

Jake’s face dropped at the sound of his father’s wife echo through the house, but he didn’t spare a second more before running out, passing his father who only shouted behind him,

“Don’t make the same mistake I made Jake, don’t do it!! You’ll hurt her anyway.”

Jake clutched onto the ring tighter, and ran passed the wife not sparing a look back or anything, he hoped into his truck, and drove away to the Naval Base as fast as he could. His hands shook on the steering wheel, and he could feel the imprint the ring was making on his palm as he held it in between his hand and the wheel. Jake’s tried to catch his breath, but feeling the urge to cry and scream was making the mission to calm his breathing difficult. He had a flight mission that day, and he wanted to propose to Delta beforehand, closing in his undying love for her, but now... Jake lost all the confidence he had gained in the passed months, to propose.

Couple of hours later...

Jake had been avoiding Delta all that afternoon, and now all the dagger squad was on deck, preparing to get in their designated jets to take off. Delta saw Jake walking ahead of her towards his jet, and thats when she saw her opportunity to talk to him. She thought that perhaps he had been overwhelmed with the whole mission situation, hence why he kept to himself and refused to talk to her. So Delta figured she’d talk him through it, maybe make him feel a little better,

“Jake!! Hey Jake wait up!!”

Jake didn’t want to turn back, but it was either now or now.. that he’d tell her what he had on his heart and mind, even if it ruined everything, but he was very disoriented and hurt by his father’s words, and didn’t know how to deal with that kind of childhood trauma yet, so he took it out on Delta. Stopping in his tracks Jake turned around and said in a stern tone,

“Listen Delta... it’s over.”

Delta had just caught up to him when she paused, and let her jaw drop at his words, feeling her heart sink by the second,

“W-What? What are you talking about Jake-“

“Let’s not make this bigger than it already is... find someone better- s-someone you can count on, and that you know is never gonna hurt you-“

Delta felt the tears brimming in her eyes as she took in Jake’s words and change in demeanor, not understanding what was going on or what could be the cause of this. As much as she wanted to cry, or even scream at him so he could see what dam he was about to break, she asked calmly instead,

“Jake are you ok?”

Jake huffed out a breath, and stared at his hands, remembering the ring his had in his pocket, considering maybe taking everything back that he had said... but then he remembered his father’s terrible words,

“Don’t make the same mistake I made Jake, don’t do it!! You’ll hurt her anyway.”

Jake then shook his head no, as he determinedly said,

“I’ll hurt you anyway Delta... so why don’t we just-“

“Jake you’ve never hurt me in any way and I know you never will.-“

Jake refused to believe Delta as he lastly put forth, which silence Delta and let the tears run free,

“But I can! I probably will... and I don’t want to... I love you too much... I’m sorry, but you deserve better than me. I know you do. So when we get back... we’ll go about our lives.. like if this relationship of ours never happened.”

Delta let out a low sob, utterly heart broken and confused, as to why Jake thought he’d hurt her, because he never had, he was the most soft, and caring person ever. With everyone else he was cocky and always being bigger than himself to keep his reputation up as being strong and independent. But with Delta, in the comfort of their privacy he had the biggest heart of all time, and he had such a giving soul, he was soft spoken and kind, in a disagreement between them (which was rare) he’d be calm and understanding. So seeing this unfold in such an abrupt time, was very terrifying for Delta to see, even Jake didn’t recognize himself, but he was unfortunately determined. Even in the midst of this chaos, Delta loved him enough, to understand him, and even believe, that he was going through something personal... and needed time. So without sayin much, Delta walked closer to him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then said,

“Goodbye Jake... I love you.”

Jake cherished her lips against his cheek, and felt his heart pinch at her honest words, but he repeated her words, that’s tasted sour coming out,

“I love you too.. Goodbye.”

Delta sent him a brief nod and short smile, before turning and running towards her front seater ‘Robin’, who was calling after her, as it was time to board and leave. Jake could see Delta pat Robin’s back before getting on the ladder to climb into her seat, once he knew she couldn’t see him, Jake walked to the edge of the ship’s deck, took out his mother’s wedding ring from his pocket, and threw it into the ocean. Jake watched it fall into the ocean, and he let out a broken sigh, his mind making him believe that he was doing the right thing, though his heart shattered, and opened a wound he though had healed, but he let his father’s words tear it open. Jake wiped his tears away and walked to and up into his jet, thinking no one had seen him, but unbeknownst to him... Robin had seen him, Delta’s frontseater.

About thirty minutes later, while all daggers were in air, they each were trying to escape enemy 5G jets that were after them. It was getting more combative by the second, and more risky. Jake kept his eyes on Robin and Delta who flew in front of him, as they both had a specific 5G jet after them. He still definitely loved and cared for Delta, so he was very nervous that something could happen to her along with Robin while on this mission. And his worst nightmare came true, when a missile that passed him, hit directly at the tail of Robin’s and Delta’s jet. Jake swerved his jet away as it exploded from the back and went down for the forest under them. In the distance he could hear every other dagger scream out to each other about the incident, some saying to continue on the mission, and others saying to get help for them, and Jake listened to the latter, when he sent his jet straight down for the hills, and landed his jet as soon as possible, even though it was a very risky move, and against protocol when in combat, but he didn’t care about future consequences, all he cared about was Delta and her partner. With all his might and with stable coordination Jake landed his jet on the closest and flattest hill he could find. The landing was bumpy and a little painful, but Jake didn’t waste time to consider about himself as he immediately jumped out of the cockpit. And ran down the hill as fast as he could, towards the jet he could see at the bottom. His heart was glad he had found the jet right away, but it was more scared and nervous at the thought of what he could find. Upon arriving Jake saw how the cockpit was already opened, with smoke coming out, he approached the front seating and saw how Robin sat inside, taking deep breaths. When Jake looked in the back, he saw that the seating was empty, but before his heart could ache or sink, a grunted voice was heard,

“She was able to eject... I-I couldn’t.”

Jake sighed in relief as he replied happily,

“Oh ok! Ok... then she should be ok, I’ll go look for her, stay here-“

Robin grasped Jake’s arm as he panicked,

“Wait! Don’t leave me.”

Jake wanted to be upset for a moment because he was being refrained from looking for Delta, until he saw a red stain growing on Robin’s suit. Jake felt his chest ache painfully at the sight, seeing this could mean so many things, all to which Jake was terrified off, it could only make him more afraid for Delta, who he couldn’t reach to yet. But putting his growing worry to the side, and maintaining calm for Robin, Jake quickly reached his hands onto him as he worriedly said,

“Oh God... Just sit still pal let me look, I got you, I promise.”

Robin groaned in pain when he felt Jake hit a certain spot, but kept his thoughts to himself, because he came to the conclusion... that he wasn’t going to make it. It was growing harder to breathe, and he couldn’t feel his legs, he even began to not see clearly. So to keep Jake distracted from his own wound that Jake would probably figure out soon was more than horrific, he began to talk in between deep breaths, bringing up what he saw back on the ship,

“Hey Jake..”

Jake kept moving his hands around pressing here and there as he replied,

“What’s up kid-“

“OW OW!”

Jake pulled away afraid he had made Robin worse,

“I’m so sorry!-“

Robin calmed down as he repeated,

“It’s ok it’s ok... it’s ok... just hear me out... I saw you throw a ring... why? I thought you were proposing?”

Jake shot his head up and looked into Robin’s eyes as he asked with shock,

“How’d you know? I mean, I don’t know what happened-“

“You stepped back Jake why? Delta.. ah! Shit this stings...”

Jake then pressed his hand onto Robin’s side, and found the wound, where the blood gushed out onto his hand, making Robin shout and throw his head back onto the seat, letting his hand fall onto Jake’s to apply more pressure, so he could have more time to spare. Jake didn’t want to focus on his problems, so he suggested,

“Ok pal let’s not talk about this... let’s focus on you yeah?”

Robin insisted to keep the conversation on as he put forth,

“No Jake... tell me why you did that, you told Rooster, Coyote and I that you were proposing, what changed your mind?”

To please Robin and not make him more upset than he probably already felt, Jake hesitantly replied,

“It’s more like ‘who changed my mind’... and it was my father... he’s right. I could never marry anyone, let alone the perfect and beautiful Delta, she deserves better than me man-“

Robin let out a low grunt as he asked with an upset tone while looking into Jakes eyes,

“Are you crazy! You let that mad man get into your head! Jake we’ve talked about this... you’re better than him-“

Shaking his head Jake argues,

“No I’m not! I’m a son of a terrible man... who used to hurt my mother... what if I do the same-“

“You won’t do the same, because you’re not your father! You’re Jacob Seresin, not your father!”

Jake stayed quiet for a few seconds, as he thought about Robin’s words, he looked into his eyes and only saw sincerity, he couldn’t even see fear or pain, just sincerity and honesty. Jake rubbed his face with his clean hand, and held onto Robin’s shoulder as he began to cry softly,

“I can’t believe this is what you want to talk about... why?”

Robin sent Jake a positive smile, trying to mask his pain as he replied,

“Because you got a life ahead of you pal...”

Jake caught onto Robin’s words, it was like if he was saying goodbye, and Jake wasn’t ready to take that,

“No no... though I appreciate your kindness and helpfulness, don’t try and use those words on me, you’re getting out of here!”

Jake then went back to putting pressure on Robin’s wound, but Robin began to push him away as he shouted,

“J-Jake- Ah! l-listen to me.”

Jake shook his head no as he tried to hold the side where all of Robin’s blood was coming from,

“No no, stop talking kid, don’t start-“

Robin grunted painfully as he grasped onto Jake’s arm, making him stop looking,

“Jake, it’s over. I-I’m not gettin out of here-“

Jake took Robin’s hand and removed it from his arm as he seethed,

“Stop being so stubborn and let me help you-“

Jake’s face was turned towards Robin’s by being grasped by the chin with Robin’s bloody hand,

“AH! I SAID NO!! JAKE STOP! L-Look at me.”

Jake could feel Robin pour out his pain by holding onto his chin tightly, almost painfully, he tried not to wince or pull away, as he finally complied and questioned,

“Ok ok... I’m looking at you kid, what do you want buddy, talk to me.”

Robin sucked a deep breath and let it out slowly before explaining,

“Remember that girl I told you about.. the one I really fell hard for?”

Jake nodded as he recalled,

“Yeah yeah! I remember her... pretty girl huh... Her name is Angela isn’t it? The one I told you to talk to?”

Robin shook his head sadly as he put forth,

“Yeah... that’s her... and well, I never got to tell Angela I loved her. I never did because I was scared she’d say no, or-or reject me... and I.. gosh I regret it wholly.”

Robin let go of Jake’s chin letting his hand fall on his lap, as he let out a cry of pain, pain from the physical damage he felt, as well as the fact that he never got to tell Angela his long hidden love for her. Jake grew sympathetic and wiped Robin’s tears away, and left his hand holding his wet cheek, trying to be as supportive as possible, even if nothing more could be done to save him. Robin leaned into Jake’s touch and listened as Jake asked him softly,

“Robin... is there something you want me to do about this?”

Robin thought for a mere second, then quickly nodded and moved his trembling hand, pointing to his pocket, while letting out a shaky breath,

“I-I have something i-in there.. take it out please.”

Jake moves his hand from Robin’s face and reached for the pocket, hence opening it and pulling out, the most simple, but beautiful diamond ring. A thin silver band it was, that held a beautifully heart shaped diamond in the middle, that was cradled between two shiny, white baby pearls. Jake gawked at the treasured beauty, also expressing his confusion, but Robin explained as best he could, while his blood spilled and painted his clothes dark red,

“It’s my mothers... and she told me to only let it be worn on the woman that could love unconditionally and be trusted to be loyal, and faithful. I thought I could never find one, but I did and never got to pick her and hold her. And I won’t ever-“

Robin was cut off by his own gut wrenching coughs that was causing blood to paint his white teeth, soon spilling out slowly. Jake grew nervous and his breath hitched at the sight, he then quickly wiped Robin’s mouth with his sleeve.

“Robin please talking isn’t helping you pal-“

“Please... Jake. Ugh... j-just listen.”

He extended his hand and reached for the hand in which Jake held the ring. Jake took his hand and held onto tightly with the ring in between, with growing tears in his eyes, as he watch Robin who suffering so much, yet was still willing to speak for him.

Robin looked at Jake and squeezed his hand harshly while taking in a long, deep breath, as he thought of what to exactly say, making his last words count. Jake waited patiently, and could feel his heart break slowly, more at the thought of what he knew what was coming, and he couldn’t stop it no matter what. But he listened attentively, as Robin took his last breaths, to give Jake, the biggest mission of his life, an order, which was Robin’s last order. Robin took all the remaining strength in him, and his last seconds of given life to lastly say,

“Marry her Jacob Seresin. You’re not your father man... he’s nothing compared to you. You’re a good man, a loving and respectable man. So take back Delta, Marry her, and never leave her till death do you part. For me. Please. Take this ring, which was my mother’s, and marry her. Do what I couldn’t Jacob. And be better than your old m-man.”

Robin then closed his eyes slowly, not seeing how Jake let out a breath he was holding onto, and the tear that slip down his cheek. Jake let his eyes close as well, setting free a deep sob that was awaiting to be let go, when he felt the pulse on Robin’s wrist, stop beating, and his hand go limp in his hold. Jake grabbed the back of Robin’s head and leaned his forehead to press it against his own, as he cried in utter sadness. In the distance he thought he had heard something other than his own whimpers, but it was confirmed that someone else was indeed there when a strained scream could be heard coming close,

“ROBIN!! Is that you!?!”

Jake lifted his head and turned to see the person he knew would be crushed the most, Delta. Delta was great friends with Robin, practically platonic soulmates. And Delta had introduced Robin to Jake saying he was her brother, and soon Jake and Robin had become great friends, but it did not compare to Delta’s and Robin’s connection. They had grown up together and closer through high school, college, Navy academy, and through Top Gun, they knew each others biggest secrets and flaws. They loved one another more than a blood-related brother could, their bond and faithful friendship was unbreakable, but only up until this day, when death took Robin away. Delta ran through the snow and sported a look of fear and pain, as her forehead was covered in blood and so was her flight suit near the waist, in her hand she carried her broken helmet. Jake didn’t want Delta to see Robin the way he was, lifeless and gone forever, the opposite of who he always was to her. Jake knew it would only strike her pain more, and scatter the shattered pieces from her heart. Jake then quickly grabbed his own helmet and put it on Robin, and pulled down the large visors that were on it, so most of his face could be covered. He could hear Delta’s footsteps approach closer to him and that’s when he ran for her. Delta immediately recognized the blond aviator coming towards her and realized that it wasn’t Robin, whom she thought had made it out of the cockpit. But before she could say or do anything, Jake and caught her in his arms, and held onto her tightly. She began to kick and scream for him to let her go, she really wanted to see Robin, still thinking he was alive,

“Jake!! Please let me go!!”

But Jake held her down and pushed her head into his chest, hiding her away from the world and it’s darkness, it’s loss.

“No Delta.. n-no.”

Delta didn’t need to hear anymore from him, she had read Jake’s mind. She could feel his body trembling against hers violently, as he took deep breaths. It was in that moment when she figured out, that Robin was dead. Delta moved her arms to come around him, as she clutched onto Jake’s body embracing him, and began to cry out loud with him. Jake cradled Delta’s head as he cried,

“I’m so sorry Delta, I’m so sorry.”

Delta shook her head as she buried her head in Jake’s chest sobbing,

“Oh honey... It’s not your fault... it’s no ones fault.”

Exactly one month later....

Jake sat next to Robin’s grave as he let the breeze sweep against him, taking in the blessing of life, and what it privilege it was to still be breathing. He had been coming every Monday, the exact day when Robin had passed, to talk to him about what had been happening during the week, even about the past football games he was watching. But today, Jake changed the subject, as he examined the wedding ring Robin had given him, such a precious gift it was. While looking up at the blue clear sky, Jake teared up as he expressed,

“I don’t know Robin... I know you’d want me to do this for you... because you’re right, I’m not my father. I’ll love Delta so much, I’ll do and give her anything. My undying love, a good house, even if she wants it blue and pink or even green? Damn you bet I’ll paint it and make it exactly how she asks. Kids... yeah I’ll give her those little gremlins too. But what if she says no? A-And doesn’t want me anymore, I already called it off- I left her. She might not want me back again after I screwed up. But I love her, I’m madly in love with her Robin. What do I do? I’m scared, just like you were... but I don’t want to make the same mistake you made, which is not telling her that I love her and that I want to love and have her forever. But what would she say to that?”

Jake lowered his head and closed his eyes, letting the tears slip down, unafraid to let his guard down and just break. Indeed he was afraid, afraid that it was too late to fix what he had broken, all because he was terrified of becoming just like his father, when deep down he should’ve known, that he was no where close to his father, but a good, loving, honorable, and respectable man he grew up to be. Over the soft breeze that blew through the trees that surrounded him, which gave the gentle sound, the quietest, and calmest voice could be heard saying,

“Yes... I say yes, Jake.”

Jake moved to stand on his feet in the same second he had heard the voice, the voice he fully recognized, the one he had fallen in love with the day she spoke to him softly, after he took a punch for her when drunk guys tried laying their hands on her. He got the flashback from hearing her voice in that moment.

‘... Back in that day... he had stepped into the situation, without caring if he knew who the gorgeous woman was or not, he just wanted to do the right thing, which was not let men touch women when not given permission. He got up from the floor, after taking 3 hard punches from two guys way larger than him. He heard someone else and Rooster chase them out, as he tried to compose himself. He wiped his bloody nose and saw the blood on his palm, but then he heard Delta’s voice for the first time when she thanked him. Now that was what caught his attention, he could taste how sweet she was, just by the nice words she spoke, they were like honey, to the red metal his tongue tasted,

“Thank you for that, you didn’t have to... but um, my brother Robin got your Stetson, and y-you’re wallet back... May I buy you a drink, sweetheart? As a payback, for saving m-me.”

Jake took a second, and looked at Delta fully for the first time. He then just about fell for her in that moment, with her sincerity and smile, her humbleness to accept help when needed, even when she wore her decorated dress blues, that held awards showed her untold bravery. Jake grew cottonmouth, for once he didn’t know what to say, or didn’t have a good pickup line for a pretty chick. But that’s cause Delta wasn’t any pretty chick, no no... that’s was Jake’s, gorgeous and beautiful future wife...’

“Delta?”

Delta stood a short distance from him, as she wore a long, flowy white dress. Her loose, curled hair flew slowly in the wind, as her hands were clutched in front of her, holding a blue vase with baby breath flowers, all put together nicely. Jake took a step closer to her, as he heard her begin to explain,

“I said yes... to you..”

Jake was still in a trance of disbelief, wondering to himself if he was seeing a beautiful angel in front of him, or if it was actually Delta. But she answered his untold questioned as she added in a sweet tone,

“I-I couldn’t help but hear you cry to Robin, telling him how you felt about what happened a few weeks ago. Believe me I talked to him too, on the jet before the crash.. and even right there where you stand. I was expressing to him my love for you. And all he said to me was... was to not give up on you, to love you and help you through it all... and I will. I still love and want you. I need you.”

Jake fixed his eyes on Delta, and couldn’t say anything, once again, like the first time when he had seen her. He only walked up the hill to her and got on his knees, looking up to her, relishing in her touch as she grabbed his face in between her hands, after she had put the vase down next to her. Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, holding it up, and grabbing one of Delta’s hand as he said nervously,

“Please tell me again, please baby.”

Delta could see him holding his heart in his hand as he asked, she smiled compassionately as she repeated,

“I say yes, I want you.”

“You’ll marry me? Even after all of this?”

Delta nodded approvingly,

“Even after all of this...I’ll marry you, baby. I’ll marry all of you.”

Jake let out a sigh of relief, and right away put the ring on Delta’s left hand, giving it a warm kiss afterwards. Delta grabbed his hands and pulled him up as he stood, then brought his face down for a kiss. Jake held onto her face gently, as she did his, while they poured their love onto each other. Jake could feel Delta brush her thumb against his cheeks, wiping away the tears that had fallen from his closed eyes. Delta separated from his lips and pecked them a couple more times before saying,

“You’re Jacob Thomas Seresin, and no one else. And I’m marrying, Jacob Thomas Seresin.. and no one else. And all I want is you.”

Jake nodded as he searched for her eyes, seeing how they were already fixed on his. He smiled happily with teary eyes,

“Thank you... I love you so much, I always will.”

Delta smiled up at him wiping his tears away as she replied,

“And I love you too, so much, forever.”

Jake leaned down and kissed her lips one more time passionately, before letting her go, and hugging her tightly, laying her head against his chest, as he laid his head on top of hers. They both looked ahead, and saw Robin’s tombstone, and only embraced one another more tightly, as they both thought to themselves,

‘We did it Robin... thank you.’

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