#in between Chapters 14 and 15 in What Might Have Been

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 16 [final chapter] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warning(s): talk of past drug use and withdrawal symptoms.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 14 / chapter 15

[love renée but fuck am i getting sick of this gif. been looking at it for sixteen goshdarned chapters. finally i am freed.]

You woke up first. Naturally. Every time, every single morning that you'd had sleepovers, you'd been the first to wake up. The sun was shining through the blinds in a pleasant, warm yellow tone. Still morning but not unreasonably early.

You shifted to a more upright position, looking down at the girl still snoozing, whose hand was holding onto your forearm. She was all sprawled out, starfished as much as one could be on a couch. Her body was taking up the shorter end of the L-shape, one knee curled up towards her body, just barely on the couch, while the other stretched well beyond the end of the divan. You were situated much the same, except the other way around. You laid on the longer end so that your heads had almost met in the corner.

Her arms reached out towards you, one around your pillow and the other holding onto you. You knew you'd fallen asleep with much more distance between you, but you couldn't say you minded her having drifted.

Did you, though? You sighed and grumbled as you got up. Might as well do something while you contemplated reality, or something. Mrs George had insisted on some classic American breakfast ingredients, such as bacon and pancake mix. You didn't feel like causing a fire hazard, so pancakes were a no-go, at least for now. Eggs and bacon you could do.

What did you even, like, want? Realistically, actually, no, unrealistically what did you want? There was no sense in trying to make your base wants and desires realistic because at that point was any of that yours anymore? Likely not.

You wanted nights spent with Regina, talking and eating take-out, laughing until your tummy hurt and looking at her glowing in the blue light of whatever Adult Swim show was on at the time. You wanted grocery trips with Mrs George and to go to Kylie's games. You wanted people at school to just, simply not be jerks. You wanted Janis to find peace. You wanted Cady to wake up.

You wanted yesterday to not have happened. You wanted Thanksgiving dinner at the Georges' to never have happened. You wanted for your dad to be different, for Mr George to be different. You wanted your mom to not have died.

Looking at the bacon sizzling in the pan, you chewed on your lips and thought about that. You wanted many things. So many things, mostly for things to not have happened or to have happened differently. It was all wildly unrealistic. You were not a wizard, a time-traveller, or some other mystic being. You were a teenager.

You cracked the eggs into the mix. God, it smelled divine. You pulled a salt and pepper shaker from the spice rack and sprinkled a reasonable amount on there. You groaned out loud and threw your head back when you remembered there was sriracha in the fridge. Mrs George had seen you eyeing the bottle and had not taken a no for an answer, despite your abundant protestations.

"Spare your kitchen utensils the horror and go masturbate in your room like a normal person!" Regina hollered from the living room.

"Oh! Spatula! Harder! Harder!" You cried, moaning like you were receiving the blowie of your life. "If you want breakfast you're gonna have to witness this sordid affair." You called back, giggling. You leaned back from the stove, bending back at the waist. Regina was leaning her chin on the armrest, still more or less sprawled on your couch. There was a pout on her lips and a light flush to her cheeks.

"I'll show you sordid, nerd." She grouched before getting up. You straightened your posture, turning back to the stove, and probed the eggs in the pan with the spatula with a satisfied grin on your face.

You wanted this and more, above all. Was that something you were allowed to want? More importantly, was that something you were allowed to ask for?

Regina came up behind you, hand coming to rest on the small of your back. You didn't jump, much, which you were proud of.

"Looks yummy." She pointed out.

You hummed in agreement. "Can you put toast in the toaster?"

"Sure."

Then, as if no time at all passed, you were sitting down. Then eating and chatting. There was toast, eggs and bacon, and you'd made yourself a bowl of oatmeal. Mrs George had splurged on some blueberries and local honey. Regina refused to make eye contact when you were chewing, citing that your O-face was hard to look at. You only moaned louder and made more faces at her.

Then, just as you were heading to the couch to digest the meal as god intended, lying down, Regina yanked you to the foyer. Still in your jammies and everything, she insisted you bundle up and go for that walk she was talking about yesterday.

You'd hoped she would've forgotten. Sure, the weather was nice for once but if you didn't have to go outside then why would you? It was below freezing!

Much like her mother, she would not budge. You were going on a walk.

"What am I? A dog?" You muttered as you wrapped your scarf around your neck.

"If you were a dog, you'd be a... A Doberman." She was already dressed. It was odd for your roles to have switched like this. Usually, you were the one waiting for her to get ready. She had on a thick, white parka and a cute beanie. She also had on black leggings sure to insulate absolutely nothing and bulky, also black, fur boots.

"What? 'Cause I'm big and scary?" You preened at that, smiling widely.

"Nope." She tilted her head, examining you. "Gloves."

"Geez, okay, mom." You grabbed some mittens from the hat rack. "Why Doberman?"

"They wouldn't look so scary if they didn't have their ears clipped, y'know?" She said. You just looked at her weirdly, not catching her meaning. Your ears were not clipped. "Anyway, let's go."

"Aye aye," With that, you were out of the door.

You walked the block and down to the street. The sidewalk stopped so you went by the side of the road. She was walking ahead of you. It was cold out but not too windy, so it didn't feel so bad.

The sidewalk started again eventually. There, you walked side by side. You were just looking at a bird perched on a wire when you felt her grab your hand. Thinking she had something to say, you turned to look at her. She was still facing forward, the other hand in her pocket, walking along. She was just holding your hand.

Oh. Oh. She was holding your hand. Out in public. Not a lot of people were out at this hour, not even cars since it was a weekend. There was a woman with a stroller. A psychopathic man out on a jog. A dog walker. Still, it was outside where anyone who walked by could see.

You arrived at the park, hands clasped together. You stopped by a bench.

"I don't think we should sit." You said, observing the coating of snow piled on top.

"Let's go over there." Regina pointed to a tree a little ways away.

You went obediently, following the tug of her hand in yours. She was holding your hand. You felt all warm in your chest, like you were full of warm water.

You stopped by the tree. She looked around, trying to spot if anybody was nearby. Then, like she had a secret to tell you, she motioned for you to bend down closer. You did. Her hand squeezed at your fingers as the other came up to your neck, pulling you down the rest of the way.

The warmth you'd felt became hot, like an oil fire erupting in the foil-covered saucepan that was your heart, kernels and half-popped popcorn sputtering out as she kissed you. Your eyes just barely got to shutter closed before she pulled away. Instinctively, your body so starved of affection and touch, you chased her and found her lips again.

She smiled against your mouth. It felt like a secret of the utmost importance being shared, like a pinkie finger wrapped around your own in the corner of the room during a sleepover, giggled promises and childish adoration. She tasted vaguely like breakfast, and maybe egg-breath should've been nasty, but it wasn't.

Cold seeping in, the anxious feeling like you were soon going to be caught taking hold, you pulled away. You didn't lean away entirely, crowding her against the tree. When you'd gotten so close, pinned her, you weren't sure.

"Do..." What were you supposed to say post-kiss? "Do you like it sloppy?"

"What?" Her brows furrowed and the smile on her face turned sharper. What to say post-kiss: Not That.

"Uh, I mean, I just- uh..." You swallowed. "I don't know how to, like, I don't have technique. I dunno. Was that good? I saw Aaron was doing it differently..."

Regina rolled her eyes, head thumping lightly against the tree as her neck lolled back. "You would bring up Aaron now." She sighed. "It's fine. It's- it's good."

"Okay." You swallowed again. A slow smile crept up to your face. "It was good?"

"Ugh, yes, shut up." She shoved you away, but you just allowed the momentum to swing you back to her. "I... I don't think I'm good at words."

You chuckled at that. "No, you're not." She glared. You shrugged. "But, hey, you know me. I'm Chatty Kathy."

"No," She huffed through her nose, seemingly in frustration. "I wish I could say to you what I mean. What I feel. But I just... It's... It's not supposed to be but it's embarrassing."

Looking at her, hunched in on herself like a girl her age was supposed to be at times, so different from how she was most of the time, made your chest feel tight. You figured a person having been raised like she was, having turned out the way she had, would find being vulnerable uncomfortable. Or, as she said it, embarrassing.

Then again, it wasn't your place nor your duty to psycho-analyze her.

"Reg, I..." You hesitated. "I'm tired of, like, sitting in the passenger seat while you bulldoze everyone. I'm tired of feeling like if I do something you don't like you'll push me under too." You pulled away from her, hands getting sore from leaning your weight against the rough bark. "And then there's this whole thing." You gestured around you at the empty park. "Even if we were the best couple ever in terms of, I dunno, vibes or something, we're still..."

"Lesbians." She finished for you. "I'm a lesbian, Jorts." A sentence you never thought you'd hear from Regina George. "I know. For me, it felt justified for a long time, keeping them in their place, but since we started talking again, doing all that stuff just started to seem... Unimportant. And stupid." She fiddled with her fingers, eyes glued to the space between you. "It hasn't gone away. I still want to, I guess, hurt people because it does make me feel better even if it's, like, fucked up. But I want something else more than I want that."

"What's that?" You couldn't help but ask, hope stuck in your throat. Choking hazard.

"You, obviously." She said it so flippantly as if those words didn't just send your heart into the Milky Way. "I want you. I'll stop doing that stuff for you. I know we can't be out yet, but I... I have good grades."

You looked at her, puzzled. She huffed and continued. "I'll go to college. Major in, uh, I dunno, some sorta politics and I'll change the law. Maybe a law degree would work better for that, actually." She seemed to think about it for a moment before returning to her point. "Whichever one would be best in getting gay marriage legalized."

"You..." You had to laugh at that, disbelieving as well as delighted. "You're gonna change the world for me?"

"If that's what it takes." She said, determination shining so bright it made your eyes water.

"Wow, okay." You licked your lips, trying to will the stupid grin off your face. You had some important questions still. "If I moved away, would you still stop?"

She paused at that. Took a moment to really look at you, like she hadn't considered that to be a real possibility.

"Yes." She sounded so sure you believed her. "I just don't have... What it takes anymore. I guess. I don't know if there's something wrong with me that I... I want to be mean, sometimes. It's funny. For me." She glanced down and then looked somewhere over your shoulder. "It took a lot of work to get to what Regina George is now. I don't want to put in all that next year."

"Y'know what they say. New year, new me." You quipped, looking down at her. You were quite sure your pupils had morphed into heart shapes, despite your valiant efforts to have this meaningful conversation without seeming like a love-drunk idiot.

(She kissed you. You kissed her. It was a beautiful morning, you were on a walk and you'd held hands and then you'd kissed under a barren willow tree. It was the first day of Christmas break and you were spending it with Regina George.)

"Does that mean I can be a raging bitch till January 1st?" She asked, eyebrow notching.

You laughed. "Only if you..." You bit your bottom lip, getting nervous. "Only if I get a kiss for every mean thing you say."

"Deal." She offered her hand to you, a cheesy smile on her face.

You pulled your glove off and spit on your hand, then made to take hers.

"Ew! That's disgusting!" She flinched away from you, violently shoving herself back against the tree. "Don't- no! Not near me! Don't touch me with that!"

She bolted and you ran after her, cackling maniacally. You waved your spat-on hand at her as you chased her around the park, her shrieking and you laughing.

"I'm serious, J!" She looked at you over her shoulder as she ran. "Stop chasing me!"

"Stop running away from me!"

"You're just gonna smear your spit on me, you- you fiend!"

"Pinky swear I won't!"

"I won't pinky-swear with your disgusting paws, you-"

With a yelp, Regina tripped over something, probably a root, and fell to the ground. You, having been closing in on her, put the brakes on, windmilled your arms, and tried to stop, but soon followed her into the snow.

"Ouf!" The breath wooshed out of her as you fell on her. She wheezed as you rolled off of her, half-heartedly punching in your direction. You giggled and dodged to the best of your ability, not even minding the snow seeping through your pyjama pants.

Giving some time for her to recover, you laid on your back and looked up at the sky. Clear blue with some thick, greyish clouds looming in the peripheral, morning was turning to day fast. Soon, the park would surely get some more traffic. Kids and their adults, mostly. There was a sizeable play area in the centre. You were pretty much on the outskirts of the park.

It was a familiar spot. You and the guys used to meet your other friends here all the time. Those times it'd been night, too dark to see the faces of the guys with big gym bags, filled to bursting with little plastic baggies and glass bottles.

You turned your head to look at her once her breathing had quieted down.

"You bitch," She hissed at you, the usual venom in her voice gone, replaced by exhaustion. You could only smile, somewhat sheepish but mostly just happy.

"It'd be a lot harder to resist if we were still in school, y'know." You said, turning back to watch the sky. "You can't change the law until we graduate. Until then, we're stuck here. And then, let's say you do change the law and it's passed, it's gonna take some time for people to accept that."

"Yeah," Regina agreed, folding her arms under her chin to lean on.

"And you can say that you'll change a hundred times easily, but actually doing it is different."

"When did you get so wise?"

"When I was all alone for years and did some stupid stuff."

"Like what?" You could tell she wouldn't be expecting what you said next. Even you weren't expecting it.

"You know how I sell drugs and alcohol, right? Where do you think I get the stuff from? I got to know some people while we weren't talking." You sighed. Remembering those times, the worst of them, still so fresh despite it having been years, wasn't nice. "Vandalism, underage drinking, shoplifting, driving without a licence... Did some harder drugs than weed... Stupid shit. I stopped most of it when I got caught the last time and almost went to juvie. Dad got me out, somehow. Probably threw money at people."

You turned your head to look at Regina. She was already paying keen attention to you. "I told my mandated therapist I was gonna change. I said I wasn't going to ever do anything like that ever again. I lied, of course."

"When did you actually stop, then?" She asked.

"Months after the mandated therapy was over." You put your hands in your pockets, getting cold. "I wanted to do it before then. I wanted to just, not be that. A druggie fifteen-year-old spraypainting some dilapidated trailer, hanging around guys that were way too old to be hanging around me. I didn't want to be that but at the same time being anything else was terrifying. I don't think highly of myself, but that was low even for me. Then, Mrs George found me one time."

"Mom?" The question was more out of shock than actual inquiry.

"Yeah." You blinked a couple of times. "I was in a bad state. Withdrawals. I made her promise she wouldn't tell my dad if I allowed her to take me home. She was talking the whole ride from downtown to mine, trying to keep me awake. I just lost it. I don't remember what I said or exactly what I did, but she had to pull over and restrain me." You gulped. "It was awful. Then she offered that I could mow your lawn for some money. I used it the first couple of times to get a new dose. She used to ask what I'd be spending it on and those times I had some bullshit excuse, but the first time I said I was probably gonna get some McDonalds', she cried. Cried real actual tears." You didn't feel like looking at Regina, but you could feel her eyes on the side of your head. "After that it just... It wasn't worth it."

"You never told me." Regina breathed out, still sounding shocked.

"I didn't want to." You turned onto your side, body facing her. "I was- am ashamed."

You didn't feel shame now, though. You undoubtedly would later, tomorrow perhaps, but not now. You were glad for it. You regretted it, wished you hadn't gone down that road, but lying there in the cold snow there was only indifference. That had happened. You had done that.

"Me too." She whispered. "Obviously, it's not the same, but-"

"I know what you mean. And it could be more similar than you think. Quitting an addiction is hard, but I wouldn't say quitting a behaviour is easy."

"It's stupid to compare drug addiction to being a bitch." Regina huffed, a frown on her face. "It's incomparable."

"Well, then let's not compare. Both can be hard in their own way without diminishing the other. What I'm trying to point out is that," You thought for a moment. "We're both trying to get over a bad, toxic habit that feels safe and good and like the only option, without seeing the merit or the other supposedly better option first. It's scary."

"Are you still trying to get over it?"

"I haven't been on drugs since, no. But it's not something that goes away. Not ever."

"And you're still kinda in it." She said, remembering your hustle around the school.

"Yeah. I can't expect you to be all buddy-buddy with everybody suddenly. That'd be hypocritical."

"So what do we do?"

What a question. One that you did not have the answer to. You didn't feel unsettled by the confusion. You hadn't told anyone of your dark past (gosh, could you be any more emo?) since those that knew had just kind of stumbled across it, so telling somebody felt... Good. You'd just sort of blurted it all out without thinking about it too much.

"Can we go back home? I wanna..." You stopped, realizing I wanna make out with you on the couch sounded awfully crude.

A lecherous grin spread Regina's cheeks. "Oh, I see. You just want me for my body."

"No!" You denied, indignant. "I would never."

"You would never want me for my body." She reiterated, purposefully misconstruing what you said. "Wow. Just wow."

"Regina, c'mon, I just mean..."

"Say what you were gonna say." She rolled away and up, towering above you with a twinkling smile pointed down at your prone body.

"Let's just go," You said and tried to get up. Like some bondage dominatrix, she pushed you back down with a shoe on your chest.

You hated how that sort of got to you. Your heart beat faster against her Ugg. Hopefully, she didn't feel it through the thick sole.

"Nuh-uh. Say it."

"I... I wanna make..." You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. "I wanna go home and make out with you on the couch."

"Oh, that wasn't so hard, now was it, baby? Let's go."

It was only once you'd made it back, chucked your wet clothes into the hamper, and spent a considerable amount of time in liplock, that either of you thought to circle back.

"Hey," Regina said, adjusting her weight to not be leaning on you so heavily. Your lips smacked apart and, gosh, now you were the gross ones. "I just now realized,"

"What are you realizing while you're supposed to be kissing me?" You pouted, falling onto your side and away from her. Your hand went over your eyes like you were a swooning maiden. Regina just patted your leg in mock consolation.

"You have your drug thing-" Only she would refer to your past addiction as your drug thing. "but I was, like, the only one doing anything actually wrong. Actively. You know what I mean." You craned your neck to look at her. Your double chin was probably epic.

"I lied to you by omission. I was really mean to you on Thanksgiving."

"Okay, lying by omission was bad and never do that again," She paused, waiting for you to affirm. You nodded solemnly. "But you were only mean after I was mean first. So, both forgiven. Anyway, I'm talking, like... I don't know how to say it."

You blinked. You didn't know what she meant so you couldn't really help. Regina huffed, nails scratching absent-mindedly on your calves.

"You made it sound like we were both wrong for how things exploded." She eventually said. "That was all me."

"I shouldn't have been such a doormat. I let you walk all over me and I never said anything about how I really felt."

"I don't think you can be in the wrong for that."

"I think I can be. At least the way that I was. I could've said something."

"And what would that've achieved? Me cutting you off and nothing changing?"

You clambered up to your elbows. "And now we're here." You smiled, one side a little crooked with how gleeful you were. "Look, we can hash everything out during the break, now just... Let's focus on other things."

Regina, still looking conflicted, caressed a hand up your leg. You shivered. You were in just a hoodie and loose briefs. Regina was more covered up than you, but still in just your old basketball shorts and a big band tee.

"Reggie, I'm getting used to asking for things I shouldn't want. Amuse me." You turned onto your back and hooked your legs around Regina. She fell forward, hands braced on either side of your torso. "Kiss me."

"I just don't want to mess up and have all this go away." She swallowed, a worried crease between her eyebrows.

"I think we're gonna mess up plenty of times. It's a possibility you'll find some justification to make somebody's life hell for a time. I could relapse." You pulled her closer with your legs, arms coming up to cross your fingers behind her neck. "A lot of the time we're not gonna want to admit it, we might not even know it. So, we can lay out a few... Promises, or something."

"Okay," Regina said, gazing down at you like you never imagined. Like you meant things to her. Important things.

"Promise me that you'll listen. Even if you disagree, please hear me out." She nodded seriously. "And, in turn, I promise to speak my mind. When I don't like something, or just like something, I'll say so." Again, she nodded. You loosened your hold on her neck and rubbed your thumbs on her cheeks. Getting to touch her like this, having her literally between your legs, was more than you ever thought you'd get.

Even if this ended in a similar fashion to the Thanksgiving kiss, or even much, much worse, you'd have regretted not taking the chance for the rest of your life.

"And... This is the most important one... Come closer."

Regina shifted closer, bending down, her elbows coming to rest next to your chest as she turned her ear towards you.

You whispered conspiratorially, like this was top-secret: "Still let me do your yard work."

Notes: Fucking christ. I wrote this all in one sitting. 4.3k words. That's like two chapters. I've written long chapters before, longer than this, but I got so used to the 2k on average pace that this felt huge.

Also! Don't be spooked by the [final chapter] marking! This is the last chapter in the story, yes, but we'll be hearing more from Reggie and Jorts still! I have a couple of epilogue sequences I want to write. Would y'all be interested in a poll as to what order those should be published? As in, chronological. Do we start from 10 Years Later... or something more like, idk, next summer? Lmk in the comments :)

This might be counterintuitive to add, and if my lovely amazing readers have exercised their reading comprehension during this series they might get why on a more nuanced level, revenge on Gretchen was left out purposefully. This will not be the last we hear of her, I have some plans for her in some of the epilogues, but yes. That plot point was left open on purpose.

The name. A lot of people like it! I was feeling insecure about my lack of foresight and impulsive naming, but hey, as it turns out it's not that deep! To add, it went really nicely with the end there I think :) No changes will be happening.

This note is getting so long. I just wanna thank everybody that's been along for the ride so far. I read every single comment and check my notifications way too often for new ones. I'm pretty used to writing for quite dead/inactive fandoms on AO3, and I love that site it's my origin, but it's very different to Tumblr. I just feel like people on here are much more open to sharing their thoughts. Everybody who's bore witness to my grief with the taglist, thank you for your patience. And thank you so much for wanting to be on it. I cannot believe people wanted that. For little ole me? Oh, you shouldn't have...

If there are spelling errors or grammatical weirdness, shhh. I'm not reading all that again at 1am. Toodles!

Taglist will be posted separately! Comment on that post if you want to be added to be notified when the epilogies are published!

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #mean girls x reader #lesbian regina george #wlw #fic: yard work

[khattikeri]

some timeline shenanigans and musing to figure out when Hirano and Kagiura will confess/get together. long post ahead!

In Sasaki to Miyano vol 1 ch 4 (ambiguously set around July-October of Sasaki's 2nd year and Miyano's 1st) we get this panel of Sasaki offering Miyano mitarashi dango.

As of the end of SasaMiya vol 9 we're two years past this panel, with Sasaki and Hirano in college and Miyano and Kagiura as 3rd years.

One thing to note is that in SasaMiya Vol 9 Ch 43, Sasaki and Hirano chitchat on the train. Sasaki notes that Miyano would've been "thrilled" to see Hirano... and for good reason. There's a ring on his left hand's ring finger!

From this we can extrapolate that Hirano and Kagiura are definitely together and might have been in a relationship for longer - if they started dating around the same time as Sasaki and Miyano, it'd be strangely early (albeit not completely impossible) for them to wear pair rings.

We'll come back to this that train of thought. As for the mitarashi dango from SasaMiya v1c4: in Hirano to Kagiura vol 5(?) ch 21, we get a very similar scene...

...of Sasaki offering the dango to Hirano, before Miyano comes to the classroom. Same time frame, then! Somewhere between July and October of Sasaki and Hirano's 2nd year and Miyano and Kagiura's 1st.

This matters because right after that scene, in HiraKagi vol 5 ch 22, we get the delicious beginnings of Hirano starting to realize his feelings.

For reference: Sasaki's official confession to Miyano is in SasaMiya vol 3 ch 13-14, which takes place in May around the beginning of Sasaki's 3rd year and Miyano's 2nd. That could be anywhere from six months to nearly a year after the mitarashi dango scene.

So what the hell is going to happen between Hirano and Kagiura during those months? SasaMiya sort of timeskipped through it, but the HiraKagi manga is taking us much slower at a much earlier point in the timeline.

We can't pinpoint, but we can narrow it down by looking at chapters set in the future. More specifically, in SasaMiya vol 3 ch 15, we get this exchange between Sasaki and Hirano, where Hirano tells Sasaki more or less to be direct about how he feels and clear up the misunderstanding with Miyano.

Sasaki's confession was in May; this chapter takes place in June.

Excuse me? Hirano Taiga, the guy who is constantly stuck in his head over how he treats Kagiura and unsure of whether to view it as romantic or 'just looking out for a kouhai', telling Sasaki to stop making excuses and just tell him?

Unless Hirano is a massive hypocrite, I suspect that by June of his 3rd year/Kagiura's 2nd year, he and Kagiura have already had a mutual confession.

TL;DR - I think it happens sometime prior to June of Hirano's 3rd year and Kagiura's 2nd year.

Whether they drag it out by not actually dating yet or just start dating with the confession is another thing entirely ofc, but I'm delighted to assume the best ^^

#sasaki to miyano #hirano to kagiura #hirakagi #sasamiya #keri chats #this post honestly could've been shorter/just included the final panel as proof but i wanted to make sure of the timeline in hirakagi lol #i'll assume by the end of vol 6ish in hirakagi (similar pacing to ssm) #it'll take years ofc but i'm looking forward to when the timelines finally meet closer in both manga

[annymation]

The Kingdom of Wishes- A “Wish” Rewrite

Chapter 15- At All Cost?

Chapter 14

Asha is now in the middle of the wishes room, staring at the queen standing on the king's study.

She feels her heart racing for a moment, she's scared... But then she remembers what she's holding right now, her sketchbook and her magic pencil.

She has nothing to fear, if anything, it's the queen who should be scared.

After glancing at the objects in her hands, Asha takes a deep breath and calms down, and faces the queen boldly.

The queen smiles at that, as she begins to speak with her usual honeyed voice "Hello dear, such a pleasant surprise to have you back so soon." She looks down to Valentino, the goat in cowering between Asha's legs and shaking in fear at the sight of the lynx next to the queen, her smile widens "Awww and you even brought a little snack for my pet, how thoughtful." she lets out a quiet chuckle.

Bravo is salivating, staring at the baby goat with predatory eyes.

Asha starts to think on what she can draw, the queen hasn't moved yet, so maybe she can ramble with her for a bit and then catch her off guard...

Asha realizes how the queen looks older than the last time they've met, not too old, but the white hair streak and the subtle wrinkles on her previously perfect skin are noticeable... Just like Aster, she sees this change as an opportunity to make fun of the royal.

"Yeah, glad to be back. Though I thought my last visit here in the castle was 2 days ago, but judging by your face it must have been AGES, huh?" Asha says with a smirk, knowing that would infuriate the queen.

And she was correct, for the queen's smile immediately fell into a cold glare.

(This is the closest I could find in the movie of Amaya looking evil)

"It is churlish to comment on a woman's age, have you no manners?" Her tone is condescending.

Asha simply smiles, seeing that struck a nerve "These are just the manners you deserve, "your highness"" She says the formal title with sarcasm.

The queen looks at her with a serious expression as she raises one eyebrow, almost impressed with how much that sweet and insecure girl they met changed so much in so little time... But her smiles returns slightly, because she has already planed on how to take all that courage out of her.

"You really think so? This way you might hurt my feelings, child..." She places a hand in her chest making a fake sad expression, that instantly returns to a wicked smile as she takes a potion flask from inside the front of her dress "Perhaps I should give you just what you deserve as well."

Asha notices the flask and instantly turns to her sketchbook to try drawing something "What a coincidence, I was thinking the same thi-"

But before she starts to draw, she notices... The floor she's standing on is covered with something... Something shiny, that look's like blue sand.

She glances around the room and sees that the whole floor around her is covered with a thin layer of this weird sand, Asha has a puzzled expression.

The queen notes her confusion "Ah, I see you finally noticed the fire salamander ashes, quite pleasing to look at how they sparkle, don't you think?"

Asha feels a chill run down her spine as she hears the word "fire" coming out of the woman's mouth "W-What?" She turns to the queen, and sees she's now opening a flask with an orange shinny liquid inside.

"Oh yes, it is known as one of the most inflammable components in the magic world, and it also so happens to have such a beautiful reaction when mixed with dragon's blood..." She explains like she's just sharing an interesting fun fact about her hobby as a potion maker, her tone becomes sinister as she opens the flask and asks "Would you like to see?"

"No- NO NO WAIT!" Asha screams in desperation, completely forgetting about her magic pencil as she takes Valentino in her arms to protect him from what she already knows is coming.

The queen drops one single drop of the shiny liquid on the floor, and a HUGE blue flame forms in front of her, spreading slowly to the whole room covered in fire salamander ashes.

(If you're wondering where the heck Amaya get's all these ingredients, let's just say that line she had in the movie about "Why a sorcerer needs what a sorcerer needs is not your concern" is a line Magnifico probably said to a lot of soldiers he sent off on dangerous quests over the years.)

The queen laughs maniacally as she snaps her fingers, making the huge door made of mirrors close in front of her, trapping Asha in the fiery room.

The flames are spreading and approaching Asha slowly, she thinks fast and pulls from her sketchbook the drawing of the flying carpet.

As the carpet flies out of the page, she jumps on it with Valentino. Now they're both safely flying above the flames, surrounded by the wish bubbles.

The queen has no idea they're safe from harm, and Asha smiles with that notion. She'll open the door sooner or later to see if Asha is dead, so all the girl has to do is play along and pretend she's in mortal danger.

"THERE'S SOMETHING SERIOUSLY WRONG WITH YOU LADY!" Asha yells from the carpet, trying her best not to laugh while faking she's scared for her life. Valentino also catches on to the plan and lets out some fake scared bleating, Asha pets him to show she's proud.

The queen falls for it, as she says in sarcasm "Who meee? Why, all I want is to give my beloved pet some freshly cooked meat" She's sitting down with her back against the wall of mirrors, as she too pets her lynx's head gently... Her eyes light up as a devious idea pops in her head, so she says with her words dripping with venom "...Besides, wouldn't you agree this is the most fitting end for you? To burn into ashes just like your dear mama and papa?"

Asha is stunned at the mention of her parents, but her surprise quickly turns into anger "Don't you DARE talk about my parents!" She almost forgets she's supposed to sound scared right now

"Awww sensitive topic, my flower? If it serves as any consolation, they would've suffered way more had I picked how to kill them." Her voice has a twisted sense of humor hanging on every word.

Asha's eyes widen "... Wait... What did you just say?"

"You see, Magnus has always been more of a "Get things done quick" kind of man, and although I love that about him, I oh so wish we had gone with my plan of poisoning their garden..." Amaya continues casually like she's just sharing small talk with the poor girl that is having this terrifying revelation unfold before her "But oh well, I suppose starting a fire with magic was simpler. Such a shame you weren't inside with them, would've spared us a lot of grey hairs." She says as she holds a strand of her newly white hair streak.

Asha feels her world crumble as she process what Amaya just told her...

All this time she thought it was just bad luck, that they had an accident with the fireplace or dropped a candle... But it was them...

Everything was because of them. The reason she never got to learn how to draw with her mother, the reason she never got to hear her father stories, the reason she never got to grow up with them, the reason she and her Saba were alone... It was all THEM.

Asha sees the fire consuming half of the room bellow her, the flames are reflecting on her eyes as she asks with her voice more furious than ever "WHY?! WHAT DID THEY EVER DO TO YOU?!"

The queen laughs at the question "You are just like them, darling. They were worthless little weeds festering in our garden, inspiring our roses to grant wishes by themselves. We simply had no choice but to root them out." Amaya explains with her voice turning more and more maniacal as she finishes "And now, it's your turn to join them!"

... That was the reason? Because her parents encouraged people to chase after their wishes? Her parents lost their lives... Because these two sickos wanted to control EVERY SINGLE PERSON in Rosas?!

Asha sees that the room is almost fully consumed by the flames, and so is her heart consumed by anger. So she lets out a scream, from the pain she feels in her chest and also to trick the queen into opening the door.

"AAAAAaaAaaaAAAAAaAAAH!!!"

The queen is content hearing the girl painful screaming, thinking that's the last sound she'll ever hear from her.

"It seems your meal is ready, Bravo" She says with a twisted glee while getting up, Bravo looks just as exited as his owner.

The queen snaps her fingers, opening the huge door made of mirrors. The whole room is covered in bluish flames. With one drop of another flask she had with her, this time with a blue liquid, the fire is quickly extinguished like the flame of a candle being blown out.

Once the fire was gone the queen expected to see the girl and her little goat lifeless bodies laying on the floor... But they're nowhere to be seen.

"... What in the-"

"Looking for me?" Asha's voice comes from above.

The queen quickly looks up, gasping in shock when she sees the girl flying on a magic carpet.

The queen barely has time to react before Asha jumps from the carpet, and with one swift move of her hand, points to the surprised lynx, wordlessly commanding the carpet to deal with him.

The carpet flies towards the queen, and she cowers in fear and closes her eyes trying to protect herself. But her eyes quickly open again when she hears her pet meowing desperately, the carpet took him and flew with him to outside the window.

(Ya know, originally I was gonna write a chase scene between Valentino and Bravo, but I realized we kinda don't have the time and I'm not feeling like writing that, soooooo I just throw the cat out the window instead. He'll be fine.)

"MY BABY!" The queen shrieks, worried sick for his safety

"Relax, I sent him somewhere safe. Unlike YOU, I'm not a monster." Asha sounds fierce but also with a hint of pain in her voice, like every word that comes out of her mouth gives a sting in her heart, as she's fighting to not cry in front of the queen. "Valentino, go hide while I deal with her." Her voice is serious, while she's flipping through the pages of her book, and once she finds the one she was looking for she pulls out a sword just like the one she used to practice sword fighting with Aster earlier.

The queen sees Asha doing magic in disbelief, as she's now walking backwards slowly shaking her head "no" with a terrified expression.

Asha doesn't hear Amaya whisper under her breath "That boy didn't say anything abo-"

The queen stops mumbling when Asha begins to run, charging towards her with sword in hands, ready to attack.

Amaya tries to run out of the way, but she trips on her own dress and falls on the floor.

Now, Asha is the one in control, pointing her sword to the woman laying down beneath her. Her enraged face shows clearly that she's after revenge.

Amaya for the first time loses her composure, and stutters in a desperate attempt to reason with her "A-Asha, now now ca-calm down, listen to me-" her voice is helpless.

"NO! YOU LISTEN!" Asha's voice echoes through the large room "All the pain and suffering I've went through ALL MY LIFE ties back to the two of you! All because you wanted to keep this SICK AND TWISTED sense of control over everyone in Rosas." She points the sword closer to Amaya's neck, the older woman is shaking "But guess what, no matter what you did, you could NEVER control me! I overcame everything you threw at me, and now, I'll make sure you two can NEVER hurt anyone else ever again!" Asha raises the sword above her head to strike down the witch-

...

But Asha stops.

She can't do it.

She's not like them.

Asha looks down on the queen breathing heavily and lowers her sword. She doesn't know if she's doing the right decision... But that's her decision.

The queen sees Asha's hesitation... And a smile slowly creeps in on the corner of her red lips "You can't do it, can you dear?... Because unlike me, you're not a monster." She repeats what Asha said moments ago with a faux soothing voice.

Asha quickly points the sword back to Amaya's neck, as a warning that if she moves Asha won't hesitate anymore, she speaks with the queen with a cold expression "I never intended to kill neither of you anyway, the plan was just to-"

"Apprehend us and have Rosas decide our punishment?" The queen finishes her sentence, now with a full smile. Asha's eyes widen in surprise "I must say, I found that part of your little plan quite adorable, so nice of you and your friends to show us mercy." Her voice mimics a sweet tone, dripping with sarcasm.

Asha feels a chill run down her spine when the queen mentioned her friends... This, and the trap that was set up for them in the kitchen... How did they know?

"How? HOW did you know we were coming?!" Asha tries to hide her fear, speaking angrily while getting the blade closer to the queen's neck.

Amable doesn't even flinch, she simply warns her "I'd be careful with that blade, my sweet. You lay one scratch on me and my darling king will be quite upset." That doesn't really phase Asha at all as she just squints her eyes at her, wanting some answers, so the queen gives her an answer "Let's just say a... Sleepy little pawn of ours made himself quite useful."

Asha's eyebrows scrunch in confusion, she thinks for a moment and... Realization hits her.

"... Simon?" Asha's mind is rushing, she's stares at the queen nodding positively in front of her, and she feels like she's the one who was cut by a blade... He betrayed them?... No, he wouldn't, the king must have forced him "What did you two do with him?!" She asks furious.

"Nothing at all, he ratted you out. For you see my dear, our "sick and twisted sense of control" you speak of runs oh so much deeper than you think" Asha is staring at Amaya straight in the eyes, so she doesn't see that the queen's hand is reaching for something inside the a hidden pocket inside her long skirt "You can't trust anyone in this kingdom, in the end, they're aaaaall just little pawns in our game of chess."

"You're wrong... Simon didn't tell you our whole plan. If he did then you'd have known about my magic." Asha says with certainty, not fully understanding what happened yet, but still believing that her friend at least fought against telling them everything.

"Indeed, he failed to mention it, which gave you an advantage... However, it hardly matters how many advantages you get, for when playing chess-" Her smile widens into a maniacal expression, and she raises her hand holding a potion flask that was hidden inside her dress "The QUEEN is the strongest piece on the board!" She throws it on the floor, it shatters, creating a cloud of thick blue smoke.

Asha coughs, that caught her completely off guard. She looks around and can see nothing but the thick blue smoke, she tries not to breathe too much of it in by covering her face. Still holding on to her sword tightly.

The queen is no longer on the ground, Asha can't see where she went... But she hears the sound of something made of metal hitting the floor.

She turns to the direction of the sound-

Queen Amable took a sword that was previously decorating the wall, and is now running to Asha ready to attack.

Asha gasps in surprise, raising her hand drawn sword to defend herself, and she succeeds. The two are now pressing their swords against one another, with the queen trying her hardest to get Asha out of balance to stab her.

The queen fights the girl with finesse and precision, like this is something she has experience with, while Asha's movements are more clumsy and rigid, but she's still more agile and relatively stronger than the older woman, since she was cursed and is now 10 years older than she was previously.

(Cute fun fact I guess: for the longest time Magnifico was a bit paranoid that if people found out they were evil and a "hero" could try to defeat them, so, just like how Asha practiced with Aster, he taught Amaya how to defend herself just in case anything happened to him... I hate them, but I also love them as a couple)

As their swords clash against one another, the metallic sounds echo through the room. Asha tries to show confidence, smiling while they fight "Y-you two won't win! Magnus doesn't stand a chance against Aster in the forest, he's gonna be here soon and-"

The queen can only laugh darkly as she speaks "Oh darling, it is your little star who doesn't stand a chance! For you see, dark magic is not be his only weakness! Hahaha"

Asha is still fighting, but her face looks concerned...

Aster's weakness?

Now... We cut to the woods.

We see a dash of light quickly flying through the trees, until they reach a specific one and flies to the top of it.

The dash of light is obviously Aster. He sits on a tree branch and knocks on the tree "He'll be here any minute now, you guys ready?"

From a role in the tree, two round shinny eyes open, and a voice comes out sounding mysterious: "Of course, a pleasure to be of service."

"Great, thanks again for the help fellas" Aster smiles excitedly, he looks down, just waiting for Magnifico to show up on the trail bellow.

... But then he hears something...

Instruments... Again.

The instruments sound slow, like they're warning Aster of something, and judging by Aster's annoyed face it's something they've already been alerted about before

"Yeah, I knooooow I can't let him get my magic. Don't know if you guys realize but that's the whole reason I'm trying to break that staff in the first place." Aster speaks looking up with narrowed eyes.

The instruments sound... Worried? I don't know how one would describe a worried orchestra, but it's like they're playing cautiously.

Aster this time responds calmer, trying to reassure them "I am being careful, I swear. I won't let him-" Aster stops for a moment and thinks... He doesn't actually knows what would happen if the king got his power, well, except for the part that without his magic he can't exist so the king would pretty much kill him. But Aster doesn't know what would happen to the king and queen... He might as well ask "By the way... Has that ever happened before? A human absorbing a star's power?"

The stars go quiet for a moment, before a single flute plays a small sad melody

"I see..." Aster has a worried face "And what happened then?"

Aster listens to the orchestra sounds, it's an ominous percussion mixed with some erratic violins.

Aster listens to it all attentively, his face slowly becomes more and more shocked, as if he's listening to something out of a horror story.

He slowly nods, humming a little with the concern now growing inside him too.

But then he hears one thing that gets his attention.

"Wait wait wait back up" The instruments all stop "What was that about "The human fell into madness"?"

A single cello plays a small melody... Aster's eyes widen.

"Huh, really?... I wonder if the king knows about that..." Aster ponders quietly. Then Aster hears a sound that is not instruments this time, but a twig breaking on the ground bellow, Magnifico's coming "And speak of the devil, that's your cue friends." Aster says knocking on the tree.

Down bellow, Magnifico is walking on the trail, with trees all around him. He's holding his staff over his shoulders casually as he singsongs to himself:

"Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder where you are..." the king looks around the woods... It's quiet... Too quiet. The star is plotting something, but that's alright, because so is he "Come out come out lad, we both know you can't hide from me the whole night long... I just wish to have a little chat with you." The king says in a faux friendly voice.

"Yeah you can keep wishing that but I ain't granting it!" Aster's voice comes from the tree tops

The king looks up with a wide smile, ready to cast a spell to capture the star. But his smile instantly vanishes as the green light from his staff reflects on many tiny eyes staring down at him, revealing that on the trees above there's a whole army of Genets ready to pounce:

(Genets: Slender cat-like nocturnal animals that can be found in Spain... Imagine a bunch of these fellas staring down on you at night, terrifying me thinks)

They all jump on the king, climbing all over him and scratching his clothes. Magnifico screams while holding tightly to his staff and trying to protect his already scarred face

"AAAAH GET OFF ME YOU WRETCHED- NOT THE FACE NOT THE FACE!!" Magnus is wobbling around covered in wild cats.

Aster lets out a childish laugh as he cheers while flying above the desperate king "Yes! Get the face everyone! And also those fingers if you can! Hahahaa"

The king turns red with fury "ENOUGH!" he uses his magic to throw all of them away from him, some genets scatter while others stay, ready to attack him again, but the king is having none of that "GET NEAR ME AGAIN AND I'LL MAKE FUR COATS OUT OF YOU"

The all get scared, and run away to the depths of the forest.

Aster looks sad for a moment but he has no time to think too much about it, for the king immediately turns to him and tries to capture him once more.

Aster swiftly dodges the king's magic and hides behind a tree.

He then shrinks down to the size of a hand. He's the size of tinker bell.

The king is catching his breath after all the commotion, but he has enough energy to scream some facts to the star "Just accept it, boy! You can't best me! throw me your plants and I'll burn them, throw me your animals and I'll scatter them!"

Aster face is deep in thought, he hates to agree, but they have indeed been in this game of cat and mouse for a while, and Aster is not even close to getting that staff, not to mention how they hate to put even more animals in danger...

The king upon receiving no snarky comment in return, calms down slightly, knowing that the star deep down is just as tired of this game as he is...

He reaches for something inside his vest.

"So how about we stop playing, and just talk things out, hum?" Magnus voice is once again "friendly" but with a clear ominous undertone.

Aster thinks... He might be able to catch the staff while the king is distracted blabbering whatever he has to say... So he plays along.

"You really must love the sound of your own voice, don't ya? All you do is talk all the time." Aster's snarks while hiding behind the tree "Fine, what do you wanna talk about so bad?"

We don't see what Magnifico pulled out his vest, but he's holding a small object on his hand. Looking at whatever it is with a mischievous smile.

"That girl... You love her, don't you?" The king asks nonchalantly.

Aster's eyes widen in shock... EVEN HE NOTICED?!

Aster knew he couldn't let this man know how he and Asha felt about each other, as he'd totally take advantage of that, so the star tries to lie "W-what?! What you talking about?! We-we like- We just met 2 days ago! That's crazy talk!" Aster is a terrible liar by the way.

Magnifico has a pleased smile, as he walks forward to where Aster's voice is coming from, he's holding his staff with one hand while hiding the other behind his back. "And I fell in love with my wife in two minutes or less, what's your point? Heheh" he chuckles like he's reminiscing of something, but then continues, sounding as if he's talking to a stubborn kid that refuses do admit something obvious "Come now, starlight. Wishing stars are supposed to only give humans some guidance, but here you are going waaay above and beyond your purpose, breaking all the rules for her... Because you love her~" He singsongs that last part as if to make fun of the star.

Aster is about to say something when he notices that Magnifico is getting closer to his hiding place, so he flies to the ground, still on his miniature size, trying to hide in the low vegetation and move to somewhere else.

Magnifico notes the silence, and just chuckles "Well, either I'm right, or you're just too incompetent to even guide her at all, aren't you?" The king says jokingly.

That strikes a nerve with Aster, as he's quite done with the stars calling him incompetent and naive for so long. The star is still hiding in his small size but his voice is just as loud as it would be if he was normally sized:

"You know what?! YEAH we are in love! And it's thanks to our love that we'll defeat you! Because we'll fight to protect each other, at all cost!"

The king's grin grows even more devious.

"At all cost? Hmm, how charming." The king coos, and we see him holding the mysterious object tightly and focusing to perform a spell... He whispers some words in latin:

"Ligneus. Pupa. Crescere. Et dolus."

Aster doesn't hear what the king just said. but suddenly, he starts to hear the stars all speaking with him at the same time, the instruments play alarmingly all at once. They're speaking over each other, so Aster doesn't understand, the star looks up in frustration and whispers "Guys o-one at a time please- UGH I don't understand nor have time to talk ri-"

"Did you hear that, Asha? I told you he cared." The king speaks sweetly with someone else.

Aster feels the world stop when he hears that name come out of the king's mouth.

Aster flies out of the bushes and sees it... Magnifico is holding Asha by her shoulder, she's tied up by a rope made of green magic, her mouth is covered and she's struggling to free herself.

The star doesn't even think before he returns to his normal size, their animation looking rough and sketchy as he yells "GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF-"

Aster sees a giant green hand made of light coming in his direction.

The star remembers he can't let himself get caught. In the blink of an eye he stretches his body down, like he's made of rubber... Get it? He's animated like a rubber hose cartoon for a second.

Aster dodges the king's magic once again and flies to hide behind a large tree.

"Ha! Almost caught you this time!" The king exclaims victorious while laughing.

Aster's mind is rushing with questions as he starts to panic... How did he get her? Is she hurt? Their plan went wrong? How can he save her?!

In the confusion that is their mind, they can't focus to listen what the stars are trying to tell him, the stars are just muddled voices to him now.

"I bet you're wondering how I found her, aren't you?" The king asks with a sadistic sweetness in his voice, holding the girl close to him "See, while you were flying away and hiding, like a coward, a guard came into the forest to tell me they found the poor thing lost in our garden" His voice is filled with a mocking fake sadness like he's describing a tragedy "And she just wouldn't stop calling your name... So here he is Asha, your daring "hero" hahaahaha!" His evil laugh echoes through the woods.

Aster didn't even know he could feel so much fear and anger at the same time. He places a hand on the ground and uses his magic to try attacking Magnifico with vines.

The king notices the plants beginning to grow next to him from the corner of his eyes, and his smile just grows as he says "Ah ah ah, I wouldn't do that if I were youuu~" He points his staff to her face, with the green gem shinning brightly and menacingly.

Aster can hear Asha muffled screams in fear, and he get's the message. He stops the vines from growing. The star looks down defeated.

Magnifico sees the vines retreating, and takes the staff away from her face "That's better. Now! How do you feel about a little bargain?" His voice is full of excitement like he's a con man ready to make a big deal.

Aster may be naive but even he knows where the king is going with this, and his not falling for it "Do you think I'm an idiot!?" The star asks angrily

"Why, yes! Very much so!" The king answers gleefully.

"You want me to surrender in exchange for Asha's life... But we both know your word isn't worth anything!" Aster is trying to speak boldly to mask how scared he actually is.

"*Gaaaaasp* You think I would lie?? Meeee??? I'd never!" The king says dramatically with sarcasm clear as day "Hehe jokes aside, I can assure you I NEVER break my end of a deal... If you don't break yours." He puts emphasis on that last part, he then begins to speak very quickly the terms of their deal "So here's the trade off, you surrender in, let's say, the count of 5, and in return I'll have your little doll here sent to some other kingdom where she'll be safe from harm and can live on to thrive and chase after her dreams yada yada yada happy ending! What do ya say? Come on."

Aster is too overwhelmed to think- He obviously can't trust Magnifico's word, but if they don't do as he says then Asha is done for- But who's to say she'll be safe later when the king has his mag-

"Let me make this easier for you... One"

The king starts counting.

Aster mind is spinning, he tries to think clearly, but his emotions are clouding his judgment. The stars voices are just white noise.

"Twooo"

The king prepares to use his magic on the girl.

Aster feels some tears form in the corner of his eyes... He promised Asha he would't let himself get caught but-

"Threee"

Aster hears Asha's muffled voice screaming for help, but not the stars above him...

He breaks his promise.

"ALRIGHT!" The star yells, flying out of their hiding place, with his hands up.

And before he knows it, there are glowing green chains on his writs that quickly pull him closer to where the king and "Asha" are. Once the chains are on him the sound of messy orchestra instruments stops all together, since Aster's powers are diminished by the dark magic, he can no longer hear the stars.

The star doesn't struggle, accepting his loss. The king pulls him in closer and closer until Aster is standing right in front of him, Magnifico looks down on him with a cruel smile.

Aster is not looking at him, his eyes are full of sadness and fixated on the ground, unable to face "the girl" the king's holding.

"Awww why the long face, little one? Here, she's free just as promised." The king snaps his fingers and "Asha" is free from her restraints, now just standing still next to him. "... Any last goodbyes before I send her off?" Aster doesn't notice but Magnifico is trying his best to hold in his laughter.

Aster can only look down, not wanting to face her yet, but he apologizes for not granting her wish "... Asha... I'm sorry... I tried everything I could but- I failed." a single tear runs down the star's face as he begs her "When you're away from here... DON'T come back, and DON'T look back... I just want you to be safe and-" Aster stops as he finally looks at her face.

It's devoid of emotion... And her eyes are soulless... Like a dolls eyes.

Aster is worried that Magnifico did something to her, he reaches out to hold her hand "Asha? What's wro-" but when he holds her hand... There's nothing... No star inside of her... That's not Asha.

As realization dawns on the star, Magnifico can't hold it in anymore "Pffft HAHA HAHAAHAHAAH HAHAHAAH"

With every "ha" Aster's face becomes more furious, both angry at the king and himself for falling for his trick.

"YOU LIED TO ME!" Aster shouts as he tries to get away from Magnifico, who simply pulls him closer by the chains so they're face to face.

"Did I? I thought I was quite clear." He smiles sadistically "I said I'd "have your little doll sent somewhere safe", remember? Aaaand" He snaps his fingers, and the magic that made up the fake Asha disappears like it was blown away by the wind, and all that is left of her is a small wooden doll. The same wooden doll Magnifico made for Asha all the way back in chapter 4.

(... Get it? He turned a wooden doll into a real girl... Like Pinocchio... Heheheheh *Jumps out the window... Gets back to write the rest of the chapter* ahem, anyway, congrats @gracebeth3604 you guessed it, I made Magnifico pull a Hades move on our wonder boy)

"Here she is!" Magnifico exclaims excitedly while placing the doll inside Aster's chained hands "She's all yours, lad! You can even choose where you want me to send her while we go back to the palace." Magnifico says like he's doing Aster a favor. He starts walking and pulling the star to come along.

Aster looks at the doll with rage and throws her away into the bushes.

Aster tries to pull away from the chains and keeps himself still with his feet fixated on the ground "I AM NOT LETTING YOU USE ME TO HURT THEM! IF YOU THINK I GONNA JU- GHHAaaAAaAAAaaaA!!!" Aster feels a shock wave of pain course his body as the king uses a spell to electrocute him, his animation becomes fully disjointed like he's struggling to keep his physical form. Once it's over, Aster can only kneel down in pain.

"Not so funny when it happens to you, is it?" Magnifico's eyes are now full of spite, highlighting the scar over his left eye "I've enjoyed this little game of ours but we really must hurry, I'd hate to keep my queen waiting... Not to mention, your girl is just DYING to see you too."

Aster is weak from the pain but he manages to look up to the king.

"W-what...?"

Did they get her?

We now cut back to the palace, Asha is still fighting with the queen.

The girl looks exhausted, swinging her sword around and defending herself from the unhinged woman. She doesn't have time to stop and take her sketchbook to draw something else to attack.

But Asha slips up, and Amaya manages to disarm her, throwing her sword away to the other side of the room.

Asha gasps in shock.

"NO!- UGH!"

The queen KICKS the girl's legs, making her fall on the ground, now their positions are reversed from how they were before.

Asha looks up horrified to the queen pointing the blade to her face, she's looking down on the girl with a smirk "So... Ha ha- how's that for an "old lady" huh?" The woman is panting like she could collapse from exhaustion at any moment, but she still keeps her composure as she threatens the girl bellow her.

Asha tries to reach for her sketchbook tied to her belt, but the queen quickly takes it off her hands. Asha doesn't have time to react before Amable throws it away to the other side of the room.

Asha is petrified, she has nowhere to go.

She can see Valentino hiding behind the curtains of a window, he's scared.

"You put up a good fight child, but I'm afraid this is where your story ends, with you... All alone." Amaya raises the sword to end the girl's life.

Asha can only close her eyes and prepare for the impact... Until she hears a familiar voice

"Think again WITCH!"

Both Amaya and Asha are startled by the sudden scream, however, a smile quickly appears on Asha's face when she sees who it is.

Amaya turns around and is quickly knocked out of balance by something pushing her to the side, away from Asha. The queen drops the sword on the floor.

What pushed the queen was Dahlia's crutch, as the girl is now standing in front of Asha offering her a hand with a relieved smile "Sorry we took us so long, you okay?"

"Better now you're here!" Asha hold her best friend's hand and goes in for a hug, feeling relieved to see her safe. While they hug, Asha opens her eyes and sees that behind Dahlia there's also Gabo, Hal, Bazeema, Safi and Dario. All of them glaring at the queen laying on the floor.

"Ho- HOW DID YOU BRATS GET IN HERE?!" The queen demands to know, her hair is partially covering her face, she looks like an absolute mess.

Hal points to the small elevator on the wall, used to get food from the kitchen straight to the king's study "Did you forget how you get your meals everyday?"

(How did all 6 of them fit in the elevator?... Same way they did in the movie, cartoon logic)

Amaya just groans in frustration as the teens walk closer to her.

Asha gets her sketchbook on the floor, she sighs in relief before saying with a smile "*sigh* Alright, just like we planned, everyone" She begins to draw some squiggly lines on her book, and as she touches the page the lines come out as long pieces of rope.

Her friends all get a piece of rope. And they walk to tie up the evil queen.

(Hahah get it? The 7 dwarfs references are the ones who save her from the evil queen! Heheheeh I love when references fit the narrative)

The queen's screaming for them to stay away from her in the background. But we focus on Asha, who's calling Valentino to come out of his hiding place.

The baby goat does so, rushing to her arms happily. Asha hugs him with a big smile "It's alright, I'm fine" She reassures him, and also reassure herself.

Asha looks around to her friends and notices... There's one missing.

"... So it was true" She begins to speak with Dahlia, the only one that didn't go help tie up Amaya, preferring to stay by Asha's side "Simon really did betray us..." She sounds hurt.

Dahlia places a hand on her friend's shoulder and explains "At first, yeah, he did. But who do you think pulled us up here?" She smiles at Asha, and gives her a wink.

Asha's eyebrows raise "Wait... So he changed his mind? How?" She asks confused

"Let's just say the king's mind control was no match for the power of friendship... Also Gabo kept screaming and swearing at him like a sailor." Hal said joyously.

"I told him bad words he didn't even know existed! And I'm literally younger than him!" Gabo says proudly while pulling a rope to tight up the Amaya's arms on her back.

"He can pull himself up the elevator, so he'll be here to help us pretty soon!" Safi comments.

Asha is happy that her friend came to his senses... But she still has a bad feeling.

"Did he say how much he told about the plan to Magnifico?" Asha asks Dahlia, with concern clear in her voice.

Dahlia's smile fades, she also seems worried "He doesn't know actually, he can't remember much about how the conversation went."

Asha looks down and thinks for a moment "... Okay, he didn't tell them about my pencil, so maybe he didn't tell them everything, we can still win." She smiles confidently.

Asha and the teens are suddenly startled once they hear a familiar voice shouting aaaaaall the way down the stairs of the palace:

"NO NO IT'S FINE, I CAN GET HIM UP THERE ON MY OWN! YOU ALL JUST SOUND THE TRUMPETS AND GATHER THE CITIZENS!" The king's voice echoes through the castle, he's talking to the guards in the entrance.

"Aster!" Asha exclaims worried.

The queen is all tied up, smiling in the background.

"I- I gotta go help him! You all stay here." Asha rushes to the door.

"Oh no we won't, we're not leaving your side again!" Dahlia exclaims holding her wrist.

"No, you don't understand, Magnifico CAN'T get even close to you all, not while he still has that staff, I won't let him hurt you." Asha explains to her friend with a serious expression "I'll find a way to save Aster and break it... Somehow." She doesn't sound so sure of herself, but she knows she has to try.

"And how can you do that?" Bazeema asks concerned

Asha holds her sketchbook and her pencil and starts drawing a key "I'll use my imagination" She smiles.

Asha pulls out the key from the page, she turns to tell her friends one last thing before leaving. But when she turns something catches her attention, on the king's desk there's a a small cloth bag full of blue sparkly sand, the bag is labeled "Fire Salamander Ashes". Asha takes the bag from the table and says quickly "Also this might come in handy."

She opens the door with her hand drawn key and tells her friends one last thing "No matter what you guys hear, don't leave the room." She runs down the long flight of stairs.

Meanwhile Magnifico is dragging Aster up the stairs, the king looks exhausted as he tries to perform a teleportation spell to get them to the top, but he can only teleport a few steps up.

"ARGH I'm gonna give myself a splitting headache because of you!" Magnifico says, with a hand over his forehead, he speaks to himself under his breath "Never had to teleport so many times in one day, thought such a simple spell wouldn't exhaust me that much..."

Aster hears that, he's still struggling to not get dragged away by the king as he exclaims "If just teleporting a bunch of times to get us here gives you a headache then you REALLY not gonna like what'll happen if you get my magic!" This isn't a bluff, but an actual warning, as Aster remembers what the stars told him... Maybe he can convince Magnus to stop "LISTEN! My powers may seem weak now, but even the most powerful of sorcerers couldn't handle the power of a star inside them, it's TOO MUCH for a normal human to handle!"

"Yeah well, good thing I'm no normal human." The king says with a frustrated expression while dragging the star up the stairs.

"YES YOU ARE, MAGNUS!" Aster screams, trying to reach out for some sense of humanity inside him.

"Don't call me that." The king warns sternly, he's not looking at Aster as he speaks.

"You only have power at all because of that green gem on your staff. And even with it, you're not strong enough!" Aster continues while still getting dragged by the king

"I'd really not test my patience right now if I were you, boy." He sounds more and more angry.

"I'm trying to save you! If just performing a spell way too many times gives you a headache then MY POWER will make you LOSE YOUR MIND-" Aster tries to spell it out to Magn-

"AND I WOULD RATHER LOSE THAT THAN LOSING THE WOMAN I LOVE!" Magnifico shouts, now looking straight to the star behind him, enraged in a way the star has never seen before.

Aster goes silent, staring at the king in shock and... For the first time feeling like the man was 100% honest with him.

Magnus takes a few seconds to realize what he just said out of anger and exhaustion... He puts himself back together, straightening up his posture and taking a deep breath, before looking down to the star with his usual smile full of sarcasm "Thank you for the concern, Aster. Really appreciated, but you have nothing to worry you shinny little head about" He taps on the star's forehead with one finger "I've already planned on how to get myself a-... Let's say a "Power boost" before performing the spell to get your magic humhum" He chuckles lowly, excited to show the star what he means by that "Besiiiiiides, all the sorcerers that tried to yield the power of a star only went mad because they tried to do it on their own, while I have someone to share it with."

Aster is dumbfounded... The king KNEW that the power of a star can drive someone mad... And he choses to go after it anyway because he THINKS that by sharing it with his wife they'll be fine?... Aster realizes he is too far gone.

"Nothing I say is gonna change your mind, is it?" Aster asks with frustration in his voice, the king simply shakes his head "no" with a smug "... Then you don't love her at all, you just wanna use her to get more power." The star says with a scowl.

The king is stunned for a second by the gall the star has to say that, before his rage comes back at full force, he doesn't take his eyes off the star as he makes shock waves of pain go through Aster's body again, the star kneels down in agony.

"ASTER?!"

Asha's voice comes from the top of the stairs, surprising both the star and the king, but they're surprised for completely different reasons.

Aster looks up to the top of the stairs with a huge smile despite the pain he's in right now "ASHA!"

The king however turns to her in bewilderment "YOU?! HOW ARE YOU STILL ALI-" He stops as he has a realization... His face turns into a cold glare, hiding a hint of worry in his voice "Where's Amaya?"

Asha ignores the king's question, as she's already drawing the first thing that came into her head to stop him.

She throws out of her sketchbook what she just drew and...

A hand drawn piano manifests right above the king

"WHAT THE-"

BLAAAAAAM

The piano fell on the king. And keep in mind Simon didn't mention the magic pencil, so from Magnifico's perspective Asha just randomly manifested a piano out of nowhere.

Aster is free from the king's restraints, and he quickly flies up to Asha and gives her a hug, Asha hugs him back and the two have a second to breathe and be relieved that they're both okay.

"I was so worried about you! Are you okay?" Asha asks holding his face with both her hands.

"I'm the one who should be asking that!" Aster sounds worried sick.

"I'm fine, the others saved me from the queen, she's all tied up. Now we gotta focus on breaking that staff" She looks down the stairs to the destroyed hand drawn piano that the king is under "Do you think that was enough to knock him out?"

Asha's question is immediately answered by the remains of the piano being engulfed by green magic. It begins to float as the king violently throws it out of the stairs.

(Yeah sorry, he's unfortunately fine, because cartoon logic and this ending would be underwhelming.)

They can hear the loud sound of the piano falling on the ground bellow, as well as the sound of the king practically roaring in anger. He gives the two teens a death glare while trying to stand up.

"NOPE!" Aster answers, holding her in his arms, Aster flies as fast as he can up the stairs, fast enough that the king doesn't have time to catch them with his magic.

He does however have enough energy to do one simple spell. He snaps his finger, which locks all the doors that lead to the wishes room.

Asha and Aster are in the treasure room, the dimly lit room where Magnifico and Amable sang "Wish Away" to her.

The two of them are startled when the entrance they just went through shuts behind them and one second later the exit does too, they're trapped in the dark and large room full of treasure exposed like a museum.

But Aster quickly comes up with a solution.

"I-I'ts okay, I can unlock the door!" The star reaches out to use their magic, but Asha holds his arm.

"No! We can't keep running away from him, otherwise we'll lead him straight to the study, to where my friends are." She explains to Aster with concern, but also determined to fight back instead of running.

"Then what do we do?" Aster asks her quickly.

"I- I... I have a plan." Her face lights up with an idea, as she holds the star's hands "I don't have much time to explain so pay attention-"

"Oooooh Asha~" The king's voice comes from the other side of the door, he's getting closer.

Asha holds the star by the wrist and guides him to hide behind one of the many artifacts in the room "Aster- Turn into your human disguise NOW." They're now crouched down, hiding behind a small pillar with an old vase on it.

Aster is confused "What?? But I can't use my powers when I'm in that form." Aster explain nervously as they hear the king's footsteps approaching

"You can't glow either, you need to stop glowing so we can hide in the dark." She whispers quietly, her glance is practically rushing the star to just do as she says.

Aster doesn't know what she's planning but he trusts her wholeheartedly. He quickly goes from a 2D drawing with shiny hair to a 3D animated character like Asha, with normal blonde hair.

"Okay, so what do we do no-"

They hear the door opening.

The two teens keep their mouths shut.

"... Playing hide-and-seek again, little star?" Magnifico's voice echoes through the room, he lets out a low chuckle and says "Alright, let's play one last game."

Aster and Asha are staring at each other, it's dark but they can see one another thanks to the dim blue lighting above the treasure they're hiding behind. They hear the king's foot steps as he slowly walks around the room looking for them.

Asha can feel her heart pounding, how can she tell the plan to Aster if they can't speak?

...

She remembers they both know how to communicate without speaking.

She begins to speak in sign language, Aster can see her hands under the dim light:

"I'll make a distraction, while you take this and spread it all over the floor when he's not looking" She signs and takes from her belt the bag of blue dust she took from the king's desk.

Aster doesn't understand what that is or how she can distract him at all, he signs to her back "How are you gonna distract him?"

She's about to sign to answer his question, but then the king begins to speak casually

"Ya know, Asha. I'm actually so glad you evaded Amaya's trap, truly I am." We see the king looking at his own reflection in one of the artifacts in the room, not really in a hurry to find them "For you see, I have a little secret I wanted to share with you... Wanna know what it is?"

Asha obviously doesn't respond, she's holding her sketchbook and pencil like she's preparing to draw something, she tries her best to focus and ignore whatever the king is talking about.

"Your grandfather's wish." Asha's eyes widen, she stops drawing "The very thing that started all this... Yeah, me and my wife miiiiiight have told you a little fib, shocker I know heheh" he jokes, as they both know all they've done is lie to her from the start "But I decided to come clean, since I happen to actually remember now what his wish was: "To inspire the people of Rosas with my songs"" The king quotes what the wish was, with a clear tone of disdain.

Asha feels like everything fell into place... Saba really was just like her... Or maybe she was a lot like him. This is probably the first time anything the king says brought her a sense of actual comfort.

Aster is surprised as he himself didn't know what Sabino's wish to the king was, but by pure coincidence it's the same thing he guided Asha to do.

But the king obviously is not sharing that to give her a wholesome moment or anything, he continues with a smirk "I'm sure now you see that I did him a favor by never granting that wish."

Asha's face becomes an angry glare. And she begins to draw something in her sketchbook quickly.

The king can hear the sound of the pencil sliding on the paper, and he follows it while speaking calmly "I mean, if I did grant it, he could've ended up crossing the line... Like you did."

Aster notices he's getting closer and looks at Asha anxiously as if to rush her to finish what she's drawing already. Asha looks like she's almost done.

"And when you cross the line..." Magnifico grin widens, he get's closer to the sound and...

He sees Aster dragging Asha to a different hiding place as fast as he can, but not fast enough.

Magnifico uses his magic to grab Asha with a giant hand.

"AAAAGH!" Asha screams as the king raises her up.

"NO!" Aster yells in desperation

"THERE ARE CONSEQUENCES!" Magnifico says with a twisted glee, and he throws the girl all the way to the other side of the room.

Aster runs to where she is, but to no avail as Magnifico holds him with his magic. The man is laughing maniacally as he walks to the girl.

"Ha ha aaah and it looks like I win our little game, now who would've thought?" Aster is struggling to free himself from the king's magic while Asha is laying on the floor, looking up in fear "But I'm afraid you won't get to see what happens next, my dear." He grins as he points his staff to her, but just when he's about to charge up an attack-

"W-wait!" Asha exclaims, looking up terrified "... Can I just a-ask one thing?"

The king raises one eyebrow "Your last words? Hmm it's cliche, but oh alright I'll allow it, what is it?" He asks with a relaxed smile.

Asha looks down defeated "I- I just wanted to say..."

She looks back up to him with a smug.

"I got way better at drawing self portraits, didn't I?" "Asha" asks full of confidence.

Magnifico's evil smile disappears, replaced by a face of pure confusion, completely taken aback by the girl's random comment.

"Wha-"

"Oh yeah! You look amazing, and I look pretty good too." "Aster" comments cheerfully, still tied by Magnifico's magic, but he doesn't seem to care at all anymore.

The king turns to the star in confusion, not understanding what these kids are talking about... But he notices something he didn't see before because of how dark the room is... "Aster" is black and white.

Before he has time to fully process that, the two living drawings smile at him while going from 3D animated, to 2D, to looking like rough sketches, until they both disappear completely.

... He got tricked.

"Hey Mag!"

Asha's voice comes from behind him. He turns around in shock, and sees the REAL Asha and Aster as standing in front of the now open exit. Aster is back to his 2D glowing self, and he's holding a now empty cloth bag.

The floor is shining with blue dust all over it.

"Here's a little trick your wife taught me!" Asha exclaims with a defiant smile, and she throws a hand drawn fireball from her sketchbook.

The fire hits right in front of Magnifico. A large black and white flame grows, it looks like scribbles one would draw on paper, but it shines and burns just as much as normal fire, and it's spreading all around him.

Magnifico get's so startled by the fire that he finally lets go of his staff for a second.

And that second is all that Aster needed. The star stretches his arm all the way to the other side of the room, grabbing the staff and bringing it to them.

(I mentioned on Aster's "How I'd Reimagine the Characters in Wish" blog that he could stretch his body, but he kinda never used this ability, so what better moment to have him use it than now)

"No-NO WAIT!" Magnifico is trying to avoid the flames as he begs.

Aster spins the staff in the air before HITTING IT ON THE FLOOR with all the strength he can manage.

"AAAGH!" Magnifico quivers and yells in pain.

The gem is broken.

Asha and Aster run out of the room, and Aster locks the door behind them with his magic.

They can hear the king's painful screams coming from the other side of the door...

The two run up the stairs that leads to the wishes room, Asha is breathless as they stop in front of the door of the king's study.

"... We did it? We won?" Asha asks almost in disbelief, but with a smile already beginning to form in the corners of her lips

Aster looks to the staff now with no green gem on his hands, and let's go of it, letting it fall on the floor, he looks to her with a bright smile "... Yeah, it's over!"

Asha hugs him and laughs in relief. Aster holds her tightly while spinning her in the air.

"That was GENIUS!" Aster exclaims once he stops spinning "You finally figured out how to draw yourself!" he sounds proud of her, as he knows that was a skill Asha always struggled with.

"All I needed was to understand what I was drawing... And now I do." Asha says with a warm smile, placing a hand on her chest, reflecting on how this whole experience helped her understand who she really is.

She pulls Aster by the hand for them to go through the door of the wishes room. "Come on! Let's go tell the others."

Once she opens it, they see her friends all around the door waiting for them, Gabo is holding the sword Amaya was fighting with earlier, like he's ready to attack if who came in was Magnifico.

"ASHA!" They all scream in excitement and relief. Everyone rushes for a group hug

Including someone who wasn't with them earlier, but managed to pull himself up the rope elevator.

"YOU GUYS ARE OKAY!" Simon exclaims, embracing the whole group with his big arms.

Asha is smiling despite almost suffocating in the group hug "Heheh yup, we're fine, but we still got some wishes to free!"

Her friends let go of the hug, fully focused on the task at hand.

"Right! Aster, give us a lift to the ceiling will ya? There are some pulleys up there, that must be how we can open it!" Gabo exclaims, pointing to the top of the wishes room.

"Oh-ho! A few lift ups coming right up!" Aster says cheerfully, and uses his star dust on a few of the king's books, making them float to the wishes room, just waiting for the teens to get on them so they're lifted up there.

The teens run to the wishes room, Asha stays behind in the study for a moment to see... The queen is all tied up, looking at her in horror.

"Where is Magnus?"

If it was anyone else Asha would probably feel sorry for her, but this woman deserves no sympathy. So Asha just says with frankness "Burning down stairs. You're a widow, again. Consider that my wedding anniversary gift."

(Yeah I couldn't fit anywhere else so here's a reminder that back in chapter 2 Dahlia's mom said they had to go to the market to get her some ingredients, because she had to make a cake for the king and queen's wedding anniversary, and guess what? That is TODAY! So uuuuh yay tying up with the 100 anniversary disney movie theme... Also they kinda canceled the celebration for obvious reasons.)

The queen holds in a gasp, as if her cold heart just shattered.

Dahlia was next to her friend and is surprised by her tone "Woah Asha, I know she's evil but y-"

"They killed my parents, Dahlia." Asha puts it simply to her best friend while walking to the wishes room to join the others.

"THEY WHA- OOOH That's what you GET you WITCH!" Dahlia shouts in Amaya's face, now fully on board with Asha.

(I love that witch is the closest I can get to have them calling her the B word)

We see Gabo, Dario, Safi, Hal and Bazeema all being lifted up by the books, as there are 5 pulleys for each one of them to pull.

Aster is flying around the wishes, looking in amazement to the blue ones, and holding the green ones, which makes them turn back to their original blue color, un-cursing them. He is flying around repeating the process on as many as he can.

Asha looks up to her friends and the wishes, she smiles in relief that everything is finally falling into place... But then she notices Simon is standing in the corner of the room, his eyes are downcast.

Asha walks to him "Simon, you okay?" She asks him worriedly.

Simon doesn't even know where to begin his apology, for everything. He looks at her full of regret "Asha... I'm sorry, I am so so sorry." He begins, Asha looks to him and listens attentively "I don't expect you to forgive me. I was so scared that we could get hurt- I just- I couldn't believe that everything we knew was a lie" he begins to tear up "... And I wanted so badly to believe in him-"

Asha gives him a hug.

"... You were hurting in silence for so long because of the things he did... And I was too, we all were." Asha says calmly, trying to reassure her friend "What matters is that he's gone now, he can't hurt us anymore."

Simon has tears running down his face but he hugs her with a smile.

Aster flies closer to them, holding a wish bubble "And I think THIS belongs to you!" The star says warmly

Simon and Asha still can't see what's inside the bubble, but just by getting close to it Simon can feel it "My wish?" Simon asks in surprise "... No, I don't deserve it, I put all of us in danger and-."

"Everyone deserves to know their wish" Aster tells him with a bright smile "He tricked you, so what? Happens to the best of us, literally happened with me today"

"The important thing is that you see the truth now." Asha says, she looks at Simon and then at the wish with a smile, as if to encourage him to get it.

And he does so, reaching out for the bubble, and once he holds it reveals the image of Simon wearing knights clothes... Simon's smile is replaced by disappointment.

"Well... This is awkward." He says letting go of his floating wish "That's not what I wish for anymore... Guess I can't have it back."

"Hey now, that's not how it works." Asha smiles as she holds his wish "It's not about what the wish IS, it's about what it MEANS." She repeats what Aster told her back in the cave when they were talking about her wish, the star smile widens at that. Asha continues to explain "Sure, on the surface it may look like all you wish for is serve the king... But there's so much more to it than that." She places the wish in his hands "You wish to protect those you care about, like you've been trying to protect us this whole time, because even without your wish, THAT'S who you are. This wish is what makes you... YOU." Simon's smile returns "And NO ONE should live a life without being themselves fully." She finishes, her eyes sparkling with joy for her friend finally getting his wish back.

"... Thank you." Simon takes his wish and brings it to his chest, it is quickly absorbed.

Immediately there's a change in him, the bags under his eyes are gone, he gets a better posture as his back becomes straight, his smile widens once he realizes for the first time in 3 years he's not feeling exhausted.

"Woah... I forgot how this felt like heh" Even his voice is more full of life now.

"Uuuuh hate to interrupt the wholesome moment, but we're having some trouble up here!" Gabo's voice comes from above them.

Asha, Aster and Simon look up, seeing that the teens are struggling to pull the ropes to open the ceiling

"Do you think you can use your magic to open it, Aster?" Asha asks him

"Those panels are waaay too heavy for my dust to make them float..." They explain disappointedly

"We need more weight..." Hal says, she looks down and thinks for a moment, and an idea pops in her head "Alright! Who here ever wished to be an acrobat?" She asks them excitedly while preparing to jump with the rope tied to her hand

"What are you doing???" Safi asks her worried

"Follow my lead! YOOHUUUL!" She jumps with the rope, pulling the triangular plate from the ceiling right open.

All the teens understand the plan, as Dario doesn't hesitate and jumps right after her, followed by Bazeema, Safi and lastly Gabo.

The ceiling is open.

Asha is jumping with joy as the wishes begin to fly out of the castle.

"Well done guys! You're ready Aster?" She asks the star thrilled

Aster is just as thrilled as her when they answer "I fell down here ready!"

He flies up to the middle of all the wishes. The star focus his magic and opens his arms wide, magically turning all the green bubbles into blue ones.

The teens and Asha clap and cheer from bellow. While Bazeema is holding Valentino in her arms.

Aster looks beyond relieved he was able to actually do this... After this, Asha's wish will be granted.... And even if that means he'll have to leave, he couldn't be happier that he could give that to her.

Aster prepares to send all the wishes back to Rosas "And now! Time to return you all to who you belon-"

(*siiiiiiiiigh* ... I hate myself for what I'm about to do with these kids)

...A giant green orb holds all the wishes...

Aster sees he's surrounded by dark magic. He is mortified by fear.

And so is Asha as we see her and the teens looking up in horror... The magic that created the orb came from behind them.

Asha can't move, she doesn't want to turn around, but she hears that condescending voice she thought she'd never hear again... And he sounds very excited about his big entrance:

"Surprise~ Did you miss me?." Magnifico's voice echos, and all the 7 teens turn around to see who they already know who it is.

King Magnifico is completely unharmed, holding the staff with no green gem on it with one hand, while hugging a now untied Amaya with the other, they're both smiling deviously at the frightened teens.

Asha hasn't turned around yet.

"I certainly did, darling. Although, I didn't doubt you'd come back for a second." The queen says honestly, as that heartbroken expression she made earlier was just an act, she knew Magnifico had a precaution in case they got his staff.

Asha finally turns around, she's trying to hide her fear as she speaks "How? W-We broke the gem from your staff, how did yo-"

"Oh you mean this gem?" Magnifico says casually while pulling a glowing emerald from inside his vest... The actual gem from his staff.

Asha is stunned, and so is Aster, watching them from the bubble, trying to get out.

"Fun fact about magic power sources, kiddos." He explains like he's teaching a class, while placing the gem back into the staff "Although it is easier to use them in an amulet or staff, if you have it with you anywhere then its magic can still be used however you please." He fits the gem back into its original place, finishing his little explanation "And that includes making it LOOK like the magic is coming from a fake power source, such as that one you broke down stairs." He smiles at Asha triumphantly.

"... You knew we were planning to break it." Asha already suspected it from the moment Amaya told her Simon betrayed them... But she was hoping maybe he didn't say that part of the plan, or the king was too full of himself to come up with a precaution.

The two royals are walking towards them as the queen says "Of course. Thank you so much for the tip, Simon, we really couldn't have done it without you." Her voice once again has a mocking motherly tone to it as she speaks to the oldest of the group, who looks like he wants to burry himself on the ground right now with all the regret he feels.

"I- I DON'T REMEMBER TELLING THEM THAT!" Simon exclaims to his friends, who are all looking at him with sadness in their eyes, except for Gabo who looks ready to kick his kneecaps

"Well you were rather sleepy, perhaps it slipped your mind heheh" The king's eyes glow green, just to indicate what he did.

The two of them are approaching, but Asha is not about to just stand by and let them win like that, she's in front of her friends as she prepares to draw-

"Ooooh no you don't." Magnifico uses his staff to snatch the sketchbook off her hands

"NO!" Asha tries holding it with all her strength, but it's no use, as the sketchbook flies straight to the king's hand.

And just like that, Magnifico summons a green flame with his hand and burns the sketchbook.

Asha feels tears form on the corner of her eyes as she watches all her drawings burn in front of her.

She still has her pencil though, which she discreetly hides inside her sleeve.

"Welp, this was fun and all, but I think it's high time we get to the main event of the night." Magnifico says as he and his wife walk, looking up to the trapped star above them, who has been throwing himself on the walls of the large bubble all this time trying to get out.

Asha wipes away the tears forming in her eyes, she's NOT letting them win, she's not letting them get Aster.

"ASTER! Can you hear me!?" The star stops trying to get out and looks down to her, nodding "yes". So she continues to shout "If you get ANY chance to escape, do it! GO BACK TO THE SKY!" She begs him, knowing that's the only way to protect him and Rosas "Don't look back! It doesn't matter if my wish isn't granted! I just need you to be safe!"

Aster is looking down to her already with tears in his eyes. She's saying pretty much the same thing he asked to that illusion the king created in the woods...

And said king is standing right behind her "Giving up at last? Good. But I'm afraid our star is not going anywhere." He grabs her by the shoulder and pulls her closer to him, threatening to use his magic on her while looking up to Aster with a threatening smile "If he does, I might take my anger out on someone else, and we wouldn't want that, would we Aster?"

Aster looks down shaking in fear, his animation is more sketchy... He can't do it, he can't leave her.

Asha get's out of the king grasp and turns to him in defiance, refusing to show weakness "I'm not giving up! And neither will anyone else in Rosas, even if you get Aster's power, they will NEVER knell to you!"

Magnifico and Amable just look really amused and even intrigued by her boldness, after everything she still has spirit... And they can't wait to break it.

Magnifico leans down to look at her angry eyes "You really think so?" His eyes move away from hers, and he changes his focus to the 7 teens "Hmm let's test that theory..." He begins to walk towards them, ignoring the girl "Ooh Simon~ I believe you just stole something of mine-"

Asha doesn't think twice before holding him by the cape and pulling it.

"Leave them alone! I'm not letting you hurt them-"

Magnifico holds her with his magic and THROWS Asha to the bookshelves on the wall, the girl screams in pain upon impact and falls on the floor.

Aster can't be heard from the bubble but he's clearly screaming. While the teens gasp in fear.

"Frankly Asha, you REALLY should start worrying about yourself once in a while." He says sarcastically while turning back to the other teens, specifically to Simon.

Asha is laying on the floor in pain, but she sees the books that fell down from the bookshelf... Paper.

That's all she needed.

"Now where was I? Ah yes, you stole a wish from me." He chuckles darkly and speaks in mocking reprehending tone "Tsk tsk tsk first you break your end of our deal and now this? Asha really is such a bad influence."

Simon is no longer scared, but rather furious with every word the king just said "This wish is MY wish! And YOU are the one who broke the deal! You said Asha wouldn't get hurt!"

"Ah ah ah wrong in both instances. First of all: I said IF you kept all your friends locked up, then I, as in ME, Magnifico, wouldn't hurt her... But my dear wife promised you nothing, sooo really it's your fault for forgetting she existed, young man." He explains smugly.

"Indeed, how dare you?" Amaya complements, like she's offended he forgot about her.

Asha is quietly ripping off a page from a book on the floor. She tries to think on something to draw... But nothing comes up, her head is pounding in pain after being thrown to the bookshelf. And all the ideas that do come in her head just sound too risky, if she messes up the king will break her pencil.

"And second of all: ... I believe you misunderstand what I actually DO, Simon. So allow me to explain." His voice is more menacing this time as he approaches them, Simon has his arms open to shield his friends behind him "When you give me your wish, you're not just lending it to me, no no no, you GAVE it to me... So I can do whatever I want with it."

That get's Asha's attention as she tries to get up, using the desk to balance herself.

"No one agreed to tha-"

"SO" The king interrupts Simon and places a hand on the young man's chest, surprising him and all the others "If I say I want to change your wish, I will. If I say I don't want your wish to be granted, then it won't be" A blue light starts glowing on Simon's chest, the boy looks scared at the king smiling deviously to him "... And if I say I want your wish BACK"

He pulls out Simon's wish. Simon immediately feels himself grow weaker.

"Then I'll take it back." Magnifico says simply while looking at the blue orb.

Simon feels hopeless, the fire he had in his eyes a moment earlier is all gone.

Asha sees this happening all the way back in the king's study, she hides the piece of paper she got inside her sleeve. She's still trying to stand up as she asks.

"Y-you ugh- You can STEAL people's wishes?!"

"Oh I "wish" heheh" He laughs at his own joke "But nah, I can only take back from those who have given it to me once willingly." He holds Simon's wish in his hand with a smirk "Now the question is... What should I do with this one?" It's a sarcastic question, as he knows exactly what he'll be doing with it.

Simon is horrified, thinking the king will change his wish into something else, maybe even control him.

"Ah I know, how about a little demonstration of what happens with wishes in this real world? heheh" His grip begins to tighten on Simon's wish.

Simon gasps in pain as his legs go weak, his friends all worriedly ask what's going on with him and try to help him stand up.

"They get CRUSHED." The king destroys Simon's wish. Absorbing it's energy like it's the most wonderful sensation going through his veins.

Simon collapses, his knees on the floor as his face is now lifeless.

His eyes are unfocused. He's catatonic.

"Si-simon?" Dahlia tries to shake him to wake him up, but he's not responding, he's just breathing.

Asha is still in the king's study, shaking her head "no" in disbelief.

Magnifico pulls her back to the wishes room with his magic.

"What was that you said about Rosas "never kneeling to me", Asha?" He says smugly, pointing to Simon kneeling in front of them.

"What did you do with him?!" Asha is struggling to get out of his magic's grip

Magnifico just ignores the question and lets go of her, as he walks to the center of the circular room.

But Amaya gladly explains with a wicked smile "Have you forgotten what kind of wishes he takes? Your deepest desire that shows who you ARE, one might even call it... Your soul." Asha and the other teens look at her shocked. "Or at least HALF of it, people still need the other half to keep living or whatever." She finishes dismissively

Magnifico hits the floor with his staff, sending magic waves all around the room. And before they know it the whole room is being lifted up.

He then turns to Asha with a menacing grin "And ya know, your sweet little star did mention I'd have to be very powerful in order to sustain his magic... So take a wild guess where I'm getting that extra power from." He gives her a clue by looking up, as if he's pointing to the wishes trapped above them with his eyes.

Asha looks up at all the wishes and then to him in disbelief "No... You can't- They didn't do anything- They don't deserve-"

"I decide what everyone deserves." He puts it simply with a grin, as they reach the top of the tower.

Chapter 16

Final Thoughts

... So... How many of you fell for it? I mean, maybe it just felt like an obvious fake out death to me because I'm the twisted and sleep deprived mind that came up with it, but come oooon ya'll didn't think I'd only end ONE of them, right?

But if you're DONE with Magnifico and Amable, don't worry I am too, can't wait for them to be defeated next chapter, for real this time, no cap, we'll get a happy ending for our traumatized heroes I swear.

But let me lighten the mood with an imagery that cracks me up every time I think about it... Magnifico sneaking in the room while Asha is having her little speech with Simon.

Like dude just got in like:

Then he unties Amaya and listens as Asha is like "He's gone now, he can't hurt us anymore" and they're both thinking like "OOOH WE GONNA HURT THEM SO BAD LMAO" like the abusive parental figures they are, because that's what they represent by the way, they're like Mother Gothel and the whole population of Rosas is Rapunzel.

Asha is better than me by the way, like, if I saw this man alive again after ALL that I'd just do like Bravo and jump off the window. But she just keeps going, keeps finding new ways to fight back, I love my girl so much, like, you guys may think I hate her for putting her through this, but I can't wait for us to get to her happy ending! BUT I CAN'T RUSH IT OTHERWISE IT'LL RUIN THE WHOLE THING.

Anyway, this is already way too long, pray for Aster, I think ya'll can guess what'll happen to him next chapter, and pray for Rosas, because Magnifico will not be making them knell down by being chaining them to the ground like in the movie... Sooo yeah.

Thank You For Reading!

#wish rewrite #disney wish #wish reimagined #wish #wish disney #wish 2023 #wish movie #disney #wish star #wish asha #kingdom of wishes #asha x star boy #asha x star #human star #star wish #starsha #disney wish star #queen amaya #king magnifico #magnifico #wish magnifico

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 13

Hobie’s over and they’re both just lounging on her couch. It’s a rare day she has off and so far, nothing crazy has happened to set off Hobie’s police scanner. He had been coming over more often. When he's not at her flat, she’s managed to wiggle her way onto his house boat a time or two. It’s nice for them to hang out and it not be at her place of work. Not that she doesn’t enjoy the pub, but she can’t have any intimate moments with Hobie.

Not that she’s trying to be intimate with Hobie, but they’ve definitely been touchier as of recent…

By touchy she means actively kissing her friend, who she doesn’t think she’s dating and doesn’t want to ask if they are. Mostly because she doesn’t know how she would even want him to answer.

Which is why instead of over analyzing her feelings for her best friend she’s instead choosing to push it under the surface and try to just enjoy the moments she does have.

She’s laying on the couch but her legs are drapped on top of Hobie’s. One of his hands sits in between her thighs, just holding her in place. His other hand is lazily drumming a soundless tune on her leg. His attention only half on the television playing in the background. His full attention is really on her as she tries to curate a perfect playlist for them.

“Should I organize it in a specific order or just let it shuffle?” She asks mindlessly as she’s scrolling through her music.

“It’s a classic mixtape if ya plan it out yea? Make the order matter right?” He hums to her in suggestion.

“Mmm I didn’t think about it like that. Oh!” She has an idea and sits up to look at him better. “What if we did it like a real mix tape? Side A and Side B, but like we curate one side each.” She says with a bright smile.

He nods in agreement, “I like that. So that’s ten songs each yeah?”

She makes a small noise of satisfaction and plops back down. “Let’s put them on a separate playlist and we can share them together when it’s done, it’ll be a surprise.” She suggests.

They had been doing this for the past couple of hours, just sharing music. MJ suggested they make a playlist to share with each other. It’s escalated into this mixtape.

She’s tapping away on her phone scrolling through song after song, “I don’t know if it’s harder or better that I only get to pick ten songs…” She murmurs to herself.

Hobie’s just watching her with a small smile tugging at his lips. It’s a real peaceful moment between them.

“Choices, choices, choices.” He whispers back leaning toward her.

She looks up from her phone to see him hovering over her with a smile. She pulls her phone against her chest.

“No cheating! It’s not fair if you look before I’m done. That ruins the point of sharing music.” She says giggling.

He rolls his eyes but backs away, keeping his hands on her thighs. “Fine fine, I won’t look.” He leans back into the couch and starts tapping an unknown rhythm against her leg.

Her face scrunches up as she looks through her songs, trying to find the songs she relates to. She is nervous about sharing her stuff with him though… Hobie actually writes and performs music. It’s a small added pressure she wasn’t expecting.

Hobie moves one of his hands to grab her cheek, making her look up at him.

“Relax, you’re thinking too hard about it.” He tells her in a soothing voice.

She rolls her eyes but gives him a soft smile, “I know but, I don’t know, I feel like I’m thirteen and you’ll be hyper critical over my music taste.” She mumbles.

He looks at her with a straight face, “I will be hyper critical.” He says in faux seriousness.

“Oh, piss off!” she laughs shoving him away. She readjusts herself to sit up and face him. “That’s not helpful.” She jokes.

He rolls his eyes, “MJ it’s fine. Whatever you put on there won’t change how I feel about ya. Relax.” He gives her a toothy smile and musses her hair.

She bats his hands away and frowns, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

He grabs her waist and pulls her to his lap, wrapping his arms around her and slotting his head on her shoulder. “It’s fiiiiiiiiiiine promise.” He presses a kiss to her cheek drawling out his words. 

She turns to look at him relaxing into his hold. She hums in satisfaction at his response.

“Okay, I need to get up or I’ll get sleepy like this.” She tells him starting to wiggle.

He groans in response and locks his arms around her, “Too late, I’ve trapped ya with my superior spider strength.” He tells her jokingly.

She laughs and tries to worm her way out of his hold. “That’s not fair!” She groans in response pushing down on his arms. Which are definitely not budging.

He just grunts as a reply and keeps his hold on her, his laugh vibrating down her back. It sends a chill through her spine.

She opens her mouth to respond to him but before she can they both hear the buzz of the police radio. Hobie sighs and shoves his face into her back, groaning in annoyance.

They both listen in and catch something about a break in down a block of locally owned storefronts.

He releases his grip on her, “Can’t steal from the giant corporations like the rest of us, gotta be the mom and pop shops.” He mutters under his breath.

She just chuckles in response and turns to face him, giving him a soft kiss.

“Guess you better go then tiger.” She says softly.

His face heats up, “That’s new.” He chuckles a bit looking down at her.

Her face burns red, “Do you not like it?” she asks now a little embarrassed.

“No, no, no! I liked it, just different is all.” He chuckles nervously.

“Oh my god, okay, go go! Moments over.” She covers her face in embarrassment.

He smiles and tugs her hands away pressing a soft kiss to her, “It’s cute, like it.”

He pulls away quickly and backs up to her balcony, pulling on his spider mask, “I’ll be back, promise.” He tells her shooting a web and diving off her balcony.

She rushes over to door and shouts after him, “You better come back!”

She sees him wave back to her before he’s gone from her sight. She sighs and fidgets for a moment before walking back to her couch.

She opens her phone and starts shuffling through her music.

Hobie comes back to her flat, tired and with a sore back. Upon entering he notices she’s laying on the couch. He tries to not make much noise and peaks over the couch to see her passed out, phone in hand and music softly playing.

He gives a soft snort and gently pries her phone from her hands. He opens it and sees she’s been meticulously crafting her portion of their shared mixtape. He grins to himself and starts the playlist from the start. He’s too enamored by the thought of her sitting here the whole time fussing over what songs she was going to pick, it has him grinning from ear to ear.

He sits and listens to the playlist in order, it only take around forty minutes, give or take. He sits on the edge of the couch running his hand lazily through MJ’s hair, she doesn’t move except to turn over once.

She’s a deep sleeper and he’s thankful for that right now. He’s crafting his half of the mixtape as the music pours from her speakers. He’s jotting them down in his head. It’ll be a pleasant surprise when she finds it.

Once he’s done listening he takes her phone and adds his own half. Some songs are easy to add, others he had to think on a little bit. One just makes him chuckle a bit and he doesn’t hesitate to add it.

He finishes adding his half and looks over it, checking it one last time to see if he wanted to make any changes.

He nods to himself and sets her phone down. He looks over to MJ on the couch and decides she should probably be in her bed, it was late.

He picks her up gently, nestling her in his arms. She makes a small noise but doesn’t wake up. She squirms for a moment pressing her face into his chest, searching for his warmth. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead and walks her to her room.

He lays her down and she rolls off of him easier than normal. She sighs and nuzzles into her pillow, getting more comfortable.

He covers his face turning away for a moment, finding the moment too sweet. He leaves her room and goes to take a shower. He knew he was going to stay at her place the moment they were lounging around all day. Her flat was just so comfortable…she was comfortable.

When MJ wakes up she’s in her bed and she feels strong arms around her waist. She turns to look over her shoulder and sees Hobie pressed against her. He’s wide awake and grins as he sees her looking at him sleepily.

“G’mornin’ sunshine.” He murmurs.

“What time is it?” She asks, her words slurring together groggily.

“Probably around one in the morning. Maybe later?” He whispers to her.

She sighs and nods her head. She wiggles herself so she’s facing him and wraps her arms around his waist bringing him closer to her. She shoves her face into his chest and mumbles something under her breath.

“What was that?” He asks amused.

She mumbles again, voice still too low and words mushed together for him to know.

“Missed you.” She says more clearly, looking up at him, face red.

He grins and moves one hand to pinch her cheek. “That’s cute, say it again.” He teases.

She groans and puts her face back into his chest, “Not happening.”

“Aww c’mon? You’re so cute when you get like this.” He grips onto her waist and rolls them so he’s on top of her. He looks down at her, with an amused smirk.

Her face is flushed as she looks up at him. “Stoooooop you’re so-” she rolls her eyes.

“So charming? Funny? Delightful?” He lists off with a chuckle.

She groans, “More like annoying.” She replies.

“Ouch!” He holds his hand over his heart in fake pain. He drops his weight onto her pinning her in place. “Ya wound me! My ego, it’s crushed!” he groans in pain.

She’s laughing but also shoving him off of her, “You’re the one who’s crushing me!”

“Guess I’ll just delete my half of the mixtape then, if I’m so annoying.” He goads grabbing for her phone.

She sits up and snatches it away from him. “What?! You added to it?” She’s immediately opening up her music and looking through what he’s added.

He’s smiling at her and shrugs his shoulders, “Ya had it open when you passed out.”

She whips her head to look at him, “Did you listen to it?” her eyes are wide as she looks at him, almost embarrassed.

He scratches the back of his head, “I did, couldn’t resist.” He leans forward to look at her closer, “Came back and you were napping phone in hand, music playin’… All I could see was your scrunched-up face trying to find the perfect songs.” He grins cheekily at her.

She shoves his shoulder lightly. “Can we listen to it together?” She asks softly.

He throws his head back and groans playfully. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her back down to lay in the bed. Nuzzling his face into her neck.

“So cute…” He mumbles into her. His breath fanning her neck, sending a shiver down her back.

“Hobie…” She drags out his name, almost in warning.

He hums and peaks up at her, “You’re just so cute, can’t help it.” He presses a kiss to her neck.

He pulls back and plucks the phone from her hand and presses play on the playlist. He moves her phone to her bedside table and drags her under the covers with him to snuggle. He slots his head back against her neck, arms clinging tightly to her waist. She in turn wraps her arms him and interweaves their legs together into a knot of limbs. Their breathing evening out as they listen to the music together.

They fall asleep to sound of each other’s hearts and shared songs.

Spotify Playlists can be found here: Mariana / Hobie

Please do not come for the music choices I made, I spent way to long on them and I stand by them. I will not take criticism on this, I will cry. I will add art to them later, but collectively this is about an hour of music.

Tag List: @missshelleyduvall

Message if you would like to be added to the tag list!

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x oc #across the spider verse fanart #across the spiderverse #hobie x reader #spider punk #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman #my art

[pisupsala]

Of All The Stars in The Sky | 19 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 8.8k

Index | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

Library

Chapter 19 - It Had to Be You

“Do you feel… strange?” Emil phrases the question awkwardly. “Since the war, I mean.”

You pause and look up from the mushroom you had been inspecting before popping it out of the ground with your knife and placing it in the wicker basket on your arm. You nod.

Strange is a good word for it. You just don’t know if the world has become estranged or you. 

It’s late autumn and still pleasantly warm. The sun is low, but your heavy white cable-knitted sweater is still a bit too warm. You haven’t spoken to Emil since you marched out of the hospital last June, so you were surprised when you received a letter from an estate in the northern mountains with an invitation to visit. It had your old address on it, but your downstairs neighbor forwarded it to you.

“I can’t be in the city anymore,” He admits with difficulty, eyes trained firmly on the forest path before you. His stance is casual, hands in pockets of his dark green pants, in stark contrast to his near-wavering tone. Emil left the army abruptly, and this is the closest he’s come to admit as to why. The tranquility of the forest and the smell of pine and moss are soothing. “It’s too… busy. Too many people, you know?”

“I understand,” You reply softly. Too many people, no oversight, and blocked escape paths. “I don’t feel like I really have a place anymore.”

“Yeah…” 

Silence falls as you walk, looking around for more mushrooms. It’s only the two of you and the sounds of the forest. 

“Are you still waiting?” He doesn’t elaborate. There is no need to. Your hand automatically moves to the pocket of your gray slacks. The metal of the bracelet is cool and familiar.

“I’m not sure if I’m waiting or just stuck,” You admit, smiling sadly. You should have given up by now. 

For years, you thought everything was on hold temporarily, and you’d return to your life, classes, and books after the war. But you came to the realization you are not that person anymore. It’s a version of you that stayed behind on that dreary September day in 1939; you just didn’t realize until everything and everyone else returned. And now you’ve lost that; you no longer know where your place is. You’re not even really sure of who you are anymore. 

The only time you were reminded of the person you once were, which made you believe that you still existed, was with Bradley. He so skillfully unwrapped you to the barest essentials. But when you go looking now, there’s nothing left – like it was only a fleeting illusion that existed between the two of you, a flash of a chemical reaction before it all went up in smoke.

It’s like you’re in stasis. Again.

“Do you still hope?” There is no bitterness or accusation in the question.

“Hope?” You croak out. Of course, you still hope. It’s just becoming harder to believe by the day. The world has changed, and Bradley has probably changed with it. You don’t think you could blame him—not really. Not after what you’ve become. You blink rapidly a few times. “It mostly hurts.”

It’s a more honest admission than you would typically make. But who else could yet tell?

“I’m sorry,” Emil mumbles, aimlessly kicking a pine cone down the small path. 

“Times have changed. For the better, I might add,” You shake your head with a chuckle as you move your wicker basket to your right hand, balling your left hand in a fist, trying to stop it from shaking. “And people changed with it. That’s okay.” 

You slow down your pace, looking at Emil. “It has to be, you know?” You say urgently like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him.

“I suppose we both got left behind in more ways than one,” He sighs before meeting your gaze. “I always believed you, of all people, were destined for more, Anya.”

“Maybe some version of me was,” You chuckle dryly, playfully bumping him with your elbow, holding out the basket to him. Emil takes it without argument. “Don’t you think we’ve had enough adventure for a lifetime?”

He laughs, a small, genuine laugh. Finally, you’re unsure if you can forgive Emil for planting those seeds of doubt in your head about Bradley. Maybe one day you’ll be grateful. Perhaps you never fully believed what Bradley told you, and you’re mad at Emil for voicing what you had been too afraid to confront. But whatever he said, whatever you sniped in return — he’s still your friend. Brother in arms. 

“You’d be content with just being a housekeeper?” He asks, almost incredulously. Just a few years ago, you would have been offended by the question—because of course not. You were going to travel the world and become a diplomat, a writer, an explorer. Now, you only count the steps from your home to the tram stop.

“Are you content with just being a gamekeeper?” You counter without malice. Emil doesn’t react. “Maybe we both deserve some peace, in whichever form.” 

“I hope you find your peace, Anya.” Emil looks at you sadly. “You more than anyone.” 

Peace.

The city is cleaned up quickly, but the splatter of blood, the agonizing screams, and the explosions have become indelible in your mind's eye. It’s like a ghostly shadow wrapping around the bustling city. Maybe Emil could see it, too. Perhaps that’s why he couldn’t stay.

Was the city like this before the war? Were you part of that crowd? Why can’t you go back? 

You’re moving through life without purpose, just getting by. It’s enough. 

Right?

You live a quiet, frugal life. You dutifully add to your monthly savings, but it’s a slow undertaking. Your salary is okay, all things considered, but traveling to the United States is expensive — and you’d need to get to a port city first. And that’s just travel. You need money for hotels, food, and a visa — it makes your head spin when you think about it. It’s that sliver of a dream that keeps you going. So you just keep your head down.

You don’t question Mrs. Parker’s particular requests; even though you figured out pretty quickly, she puts a lot of stock in seeing hard work and effort over results. You don’t question why Mrs. Parker appears craftier than her husband, the ambassador. You especially don’t question why the ambassador and his wife sleep in separate rooms. You clean them all the same.

And then there is Loretta. Beautiful, young Miss Lo. She came with silken blonde curls, bright green eyes, and trunks of dresses from exquisite fabrics on a gap year. You don’t question that she seems more interested in parties, men, and dancing than anything else. But you recognize the insatiable hunger recognition: being great at your work. And Miss Lo is excellent at being fun, young, and beautiful. And not a single man in the long parade of officers and dignitaries visiting would disagree.

Deep inside, you know you don’t question it because if you did, you’d have to see the lingering envy in you for what it is. So you just keep your head down.

Almost a year passes. You’ve hemmed and re-hemmed more dressed than you count, scrubbed more stains from delicate fabrics than you care to identify, sweeping piles upon piles of ashes from the marble floors. 

If anything, you are an excellent seamstress now, especially considering how awful you were at most handwork, like knitting. Miss Lo caused you plenty of practice, and your roommates were gratefully making use of your offer to mend and tailor what they needed. But you’ve had enough of your dresses that needed tailoring — raising necklines, adding collars, and sometimes even adding new sleeves. Anything that would keep prying away from the scarred skin that your ever-longer hair could not hide.

You’re in stasis.

It’s May again. It’s a year since the war has ended, and it’s a beautiful day — warm, with a gentle breeze swaying the blooming trees. In a few days, you turn 27, although you’ve not celebrated your birthday… well, since Eva last baked you a small cake. That’s four years ago now.

It still hurts. It’s like every memory is now overgrown with thorns, the edges irreparably singed by the fire. Eva. Your parents. Bradley. It still hurts, and it will probably never stop hurting. Like your shoulder aches and hand shakes after a long day after a long day of work. Like your head is always buzzing, the ceaseless noise in your ear painfully keeps you awake. You long for the morning you wake up and finally accept that this is it. None of them are coming back. You will never be whole again. When waves finally wash you away, and you’ll see them again. Like in that dream, on that beach, when for a moment nothing hurt.

Standing at the back of the tram, a bucket full of beautifully arranged bouquets wedged between your foot and the wall, you are entirely focused on the leather-bound booklet in your hand, tapping the back of the small pencil against your lips. You try to scratch the itch in your brain by doing crossword puzzles. Your dad bought you all those newspapers, after all.

Maybe you’ll even get good at doing crosswords, finally.

You don’t need to pay attention to where you are going; you’ve taken this route hundreds of times. You know where you are just by a glance from the corner of your eye. You recognize the shape of the buildings, the way that the sun hits the street, the gait of the tall figure walking out of the train station -

You swing your head around so hard your forehead rams into the window with a dull crack. You see stars for a moment, colors melting into each other in strange shapes. When your vision returns, the tram has already turned a corner. Ignoring the stares around you, your hand flies into your pocket, dropping your pencil. It rolls away between the legs of the other passengers, but you pay it no mind. You are trying to catch your breath. The metal loops around your fingers, but it scarcely brings you comfort. 

Your bored brain must be hallucinating; the cruel sun must be playing tricks on you; your poor heart must be dreaming. 

Because of the tiniest second, you could have sworn you saw Bradley walk out of the station.

***

Dear Captain Bradshaw,

I am writing to you in response to your repeated inquiries to the International Red Cross about Anna Sokolova, born December 25, 1919, in Prague. No person matching that name and birthdate has been found in our records of wounded, dead, or missing in Czechoslovakia. The IRC has also been unable to confirm Ms. Sokolova’s current whereabouts with any local authorities due to a lack of records.

I hope to have sufficiently informed you. Please understand that at the time of writing, our resources are stretched, and we regret to inform you that we cannot further assist you on this case.

Bradley must have read the letter a hundred times before crumpling it up in frustration and jamming it into the side pocket of his duffle bag. It’s all coming down to this last-ditch attempt. Getting to Europe was actually surprisingly easy — Cyclone seemed more than pleased that Bradley had decided to follow his advice and take a desk post in Nuremberg. By the end of January 1946, Bradley was making his way back across the Atlantic.

However, getting a liberty pass was more difficult, especially a week pass for international travel. Bradley had called in about every single favor he could, signing on to stay an additional month in Germany, ultimately getting Mav to pull some strings for him. It’s May by the time he finally boards a train east, restless in his seat, looking out the window, waiting for when he will eventually see something he recognizes. Something, anything, will make all the puzzle places fall in place again and show him a path to you. 

Bradley desperately hoped that everything would fall into place when he got off the train. That he would remember. 

But in the back of the large black car that was waiting for him, zipping through the city, everything is just a blur. 

It makes him uneasy. Nervous. 

It’s like that moment of take-off; the second the wheels leave the carrier runway, there’s nothing but dark water beneath him. In that fraction of a second, his stomach drops — what am I even doing here?

Meeting his hosts does little to calm the mounting anxiety he feels. The ambassador’s residence is a grand villa surrounded by a beautiful garden overlooking the city. In the distance, the river glitters happily in the sunlight; the fruit trees are in fragrant bloom, colorful bunches of lilac in pink, blue, and purple color the city. The ambassador himself is almost unremarkable in stature as well as demeanor. Mrs. Parker appraises him with a sharp look and a too-kind smile. The daughter bats her eyelashes a little too hard for it to be genuinely demure; her perfectly sweet smile is a little too well-practiced, not a wrinkle on her pretty dress, not a hair out of place. 

Behind them stand two maids in matching dark dresses and white aprons, with blank, borderline bored looks. After exchanging pleasantries, one of the maids leads him wordlessly up the grand staircase. Red carpet on marble. Gold latches on the windows.

It all seems very… formal, considering Bradley is not here on business. But when he received his travel visa, it came with an invitation to stay. It seemed rude to decline. Now Bradley is starting to regret not doing so anyway. Something about the house and these people is making him uneasy. It’s making his head hurt like he’s even more out of place here than anywhere else in the world.

Walking into the large sunny guestroom, a fresh flower arrangement in the vase on the dresser, Bradley closes his eyes for a moment. You once said May was your favorite time in the city because you liked how everything bloomed. Breathing in deeply, trying to gather his thoughts, floral notes hit his nose. There’s something familiar in the air. 

He can smell your soap.

Bradley drops his duffle bag; it crashes on the carpeted floor. The smell, the tiniest hint that lingers, is making his stomach lurch like at take-off. God, it’s like your ghost is in the air, dancing around him, evading him every step. Bradley screws his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists. He wants to remember. 

Every route you showed him. 

Every street corner he kissed you on.

Even that goddamn small room tucked away behind the hidden servant's entrance.

Your steps echo around him, running up the stairs, coming closer and closer. Suddenly, his heart was beating so fast, and his breath was coming out, heaving, somewhere between panic and elation. Before he can pinpoint where the footsteps are coming from, they disappear. A door closes. Silence.

You are haunting him.

***

Eyes closed, blouse sleeves rolled up, cigarette dangling loosely between your lips, you’re lounging on the old, creaky wooden chair outside the kitchen entrance. The empty bucket sits at your feet. Your new red and blue plaid coat hangs from the chair. It’s quiet. The sun feels pleasant. Behind your closed lids, you see the shadows of the trees move in the breeze. Inside, you hear the cook pottering around the kitchen, whistling.

It’s such an odd day. Despite the gorgeous weather, you have that foreboding feeling, like when a storm is brewing — not a cloud in the sky, but you feel how the air pressure suddenly drops. Your forehead still stings. 

It’s ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous. Eva would have already set you straight. If not for her, your mom would have. You thought you saw Bradley in a flash, in a flicker of shadow, and your heart soared with such force that you nearly knocked yourself out, falling over to catch another glimpse of his ghost. How incredibly pathetic. 

The pit in your stomach is there again. The consuming darkness expands through your flesh and bones again. You managed to keep it at bay all this time, simply not admitting it was eating away at you. But the split second of your dream leaking into reality broke the dam.

Men like Bradley don’t wait for a girl for three years. They don’t need to. Men like Bradley sure as shit don’t settle for jumped-up little schoolgirls that dropped out of college. Why would they? And men like Bradley, you swallow heavily, have no use for a broken and burned body like yours. You have nothing to offer him.

You knew this. But it was your mistake to make, you tell yourself again. You thought you accepted that. Logically and rationally, it shouldn’t hurt like this. Your hand sneaks into your coat pocket again, the tip of your finger just brushing against the nameplate. It brings you no comfort — instead, you feel so much more aware of the pit in your stomach. 

What would Bradley say if he knew you still had it in your pocket? He would probably make fun of you and tease you for falling for him so hard, still pining despite your constant protests as if he would remember. He never gave it to you to keep. He flung it at you. You just never gave it back, and Bradley never asked for it.

You screw your eyes shut tighter for a second, exhaling deeply. It’s Sunday, your day off, and you should be enjoying yourself. Not pondering the maybes of life long passed. Moreover, you shouldn’t be at the residence today — you’re only here to drop off the flowers for the guestroom because the florist forgot to deliver them. Which you did, and then you bolted through the servant’s entrance to the back of the house.  

So why do you hear someone calling your name?

You wonder how much longer you can pretend not to hear and just bask in the sun a bit longer. The rapid footsteps approaching spell the end of your moment of quiet. Sitting up, rolling down your sleeves, and brushing the carefully styled curls back into place, framing the left side of your face.

“Annie!” 

You wince. You hate that name.

Smiling broadly, Julie comes bursting out of the house. Her red hair is like a flame. Unceremoniously, she sits herself down in the doorway, legs stretched in front of her, toeing her neat black lacquered shoes off.

Automatically, you hand her your cigarette holder and a box of matches, which she gratefully accepts.

“Don’t sit on the floor, Julie,” You say in way of greeting. “You’ll get your dress dirty.”

She ignores you, stretching languidly.

“Did you take a peek at the new house guest?” She asks instead, a devilish look on her face.

“Do I ever?” You reply, ashing your cigarette absentmindedly. You ensure everything runs smoothly behind the scenes: the rooms look beautiful, not a crinkled sheet or speck of dust, magically laundered clothes each morning, fresh flowers. But it’s not your job to serve drinks or dinner. 

It was hiding away in the shadows that once protected you. The shadows that wrapped their branches around you, through you, rooting you into place.

“He had Miss Lo on the ceiling with one look,” she continues, giddy. “This is promising to be such an entertaining week!”

“Oh please,” you close your eyes again, leaning back. “Nothing will happen. Miss Lo will simper, fawn, and complain, Mrs. Parker will loom over every step we make, and then the ambassador and his guest will probably burn a hole in the smoking room curtains again.”

Julie snorts. 

“I get her, though,” she adds thoughtfully. “Miss Lo, I mean.”

You shoot her a skeptical look.

“What, you never have a little daydream about one of those handsome officers sweeping you off your feet?”

“Me?” You gesture vaguely at your face. “Hardly,” you lie. 

“Especially you,” Julie continues, undeterred. Your mouth sets in a hard line. “You pine.”

“I don’t,” Annoyance is seeping through your voice.

“Yeah, you do. When you think no one is looking, when you’re working, it’s like your eyes glaze over. You’re pining for someone,” She’s pointing her index finger at you playfully. You roll your eyes.

“You know you could just tell me, right?” She presses, a little too eager. “You’re inviting all the gossip because you never tell us anything,”

“It’s annoying when Miss Lo does it, but it’s rude coming from you, Julie,” You cut her off sharply. Your head still hurts, and your ear feels heavy like it’s full of water. 

You could talk about Bradley. There is no reason to keep it a secret anymore — the danger has passed. Once, you were waiting for the time when your great wartime romance would only be a story lovingly recounted over too many wines. 

You could talk about what happened in those final days of the war. You were hardly the only one that came home broken in more ways than one. You thought that one day you’d look back at everything that happened, everything that you did, and feel some pride. 

But it just hurts. And that hurt is all you have left. It’s yours to suffer because you convince yourself it’s the only way you are sure everything that happened was real: the good and the bad. 

“You’re doing it again, Anya,” Julie takes a long drag from her cigarette, mercifully dropping the horrid new nickname bestowed on you by Mrs. Parker. You shoot her a long-suffering look.

“You know what they say, right?” Julie says calmly, legs stretched before her, languishing in the sun. “The best way to get over a man is to get under another one.”

You start laughing, despite yourself. You don’t know what has suddenly gotten into you. Maybe the shadows had become too cold and lonely for you to handle. 

Maybe you finally allowed yourself to break free from your stasis. 

Maybe you really stopped believing Bradley would ever come back to you. 

Maybe you are ready to admit you never truly believed it in the first place.

The music is too loud. Your head is spinning — not from the collision, but from the white wine spritz going down too quickly. Why are you in a club on Sunday night? Why is it so busy? Someone is talking to you. You can see his mouth move, shaping the words, but you cannot hear his voice. It simply disappears in the wave of dissonant sounds. Julie is dancing. You see flashes of her red hair twirl in and out of sight. 

It’s the creeping realization that you shouldn’t be here. 

The room moves in strange waves. Fingers wrap around your chin. You want to stumble back, but your back is against a wall. Were you here the whole time? Nervously, you brush your fingers through your hair, ensuring the curls framing your face's left side are still in place. Another hand brushes them away again. You wish you could melt through the wall. The puffs of breath against your skin tell you he’s whispering something in your ear. 

“Leave me alone,” You try.

You can’t hear your own words. You can’t hear the fucking words. Panic is bubbling up now. The grip on your chin is painful — you jerk your head away, throwing up your arms to create a shield between yourself and the hulking mass hovering over you. It doesn’t have the intended effect. The moment you think you’ve made an escape for yourself, he closes in on you more. 

The hand threading through your hair yanks your head back painfully. You are sure that you screamed out. But it’s like the sound disappeared into the void. Maybe you only screamed in your head. His lips crash roughly into yours. Every action elicits a reaction — whenever you pull away, he pulls you back in closer.

It’s like a switch flips in your head. For a few seconds, the surge of adrenaline sharpens your vision again—the wave of noise stills.  You stop struggling.

You know where you are.

Your wine glass is on the table, on your right-hand side. Your fingers sneak towards it, gripping the stem tightly. You have one shot at this. He is taller than you, heavier. You don’t stand a chance in a fair fight.

That’s okay. You won’t fight fair.

Shattering the bell of the glass on the side of the table shocks him enough to break off the kiss. The shock changes to wide-eyed horror when the sharp edge of the wine glass is pressed against his jugular. You use the moment to switch positions. It’s almost comical how meekly the man allows himself to get pushed against the wall.

You want to say something clever. But it’s like your tongue is paralyzed. 

This is your chance. You need to get out before people start noticing you are poised to stab someone in the neck. 

Stay in your shadow.

You are halfway down the street in the pitch dark night when you realize you are still holding the broken wine glass. The fine shards have made your fingers bleed. You stumble to a halt. The world is spinning uncomfortably again.

Why are you holding that glass? Where is your coat? Your purse?

Fuck. Fuck. 

You don’t care about the coat. You don’t care about the purse or anything in it. Everything is replaceable. 

 A broken sob escapes you. 

You care about that fucking bracelet in your pocket. It’s the one thing you can’t make yourself leave behind. You let out a scream from frustration. A window slams shut somewhere.

Why can’t you move on? Why are you allowing Bradley — fucking Rooster — who is not even fucking here, that you haven’t seen or heard from in the three years, who spent the better part of two months sweet-talking you into bed with him when he could have fucking died, who fucked with you, your head and heart so thoroughly in just six short days, and you let him, why are you still allowing him all this power over you? Why can’t you just let him go already?

You will yourself forward, but your feet won’t move. 

You’re in stasis.

Tears streaming down your face, broken wine glass in your bloodied hand, you are sure you look as unhinged as you feel. Turning around, you march back to the club.

You will get back what’s yours. 

You will get what was promised to you. 

And you’ll do it your fucking self. 

***

Looking at the picture he tore from Life, Bradley tries to determine if the church spires in the background are the same ones he’s looking at now. Has he been here before? Did you ever take him through this part of the city? It’s frustrating how little he seems to remember and how hard it is to recall the things he was so sure were branded onto his brain.

That place, the villa, was messing with his head. Something there was putting him on edge like he had to be on the lookout the whole time. It was almost like he was expecting to turn a corner, open a door, walk into any room, and find you there. He barely made it through the one night there before the anxiety became too overwhelming, and he packed his bag and checked into a hotel. 

It settled some of his anxiety, but it didn’t help Bradley remember anything. Instead, he snaps a picture of the church. He got a new camera so he can play the part of tourist fully, but he mostly hopes someday, somehow, something will click in his brain again, and he’ll find his way to you. As of today, he has five days to find you in this maze of a city before he needs to get back to Germany and finish his assignment there. After that, there is no telling how long it will be before Bradley gets another chance to come to Europe.

He has to find you.

“Rooster!”

Alarmed, Bradley turns around, stuffing the picture back into his wallet. He’s not sure if he should be relieved or annoyed at the person calling his name. 

“Bradley Bradshaw, as I live and breathe,” Jake Seresin saunters to Bradley, grinning widely. Bradley closes his eyes for a moment, cursing. Of all the people in this city, he had to run into Bagman. A Bagman that looks and smells like he just rolled out of a bar, no less, his RAF uniform jacket unbuttoned, tie loose, cover askew. 

“What on earth are you doing here?” Jake asks, attempting to fix his hair by running his hand through it several times, just making it stick out worse. “Did you miss me so much you came to see me on my home turf?” He adds arrogantly, still smiling like the devil.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Seresin,” Bradley retorts flatly. “I didn’t come to see you, and right now, I’m not sure I want to be seen with you,”

“You’re such a stick in the mud, lieutenant,” Jake drawls sarcastically.

“It’s captain,” It shouldn’t feel so good to Bradley to lord his rank over Hangman, who is still a lieutenant. But of course, Hangman only responds with a deliberately poorly executed salute to Bradley. 

“I know a good watering hole near here,” Jake says offhandedly as he searches his pockets, only to pull out an empty carton of cigarettes, crush it, and stuff it back in his pocket — if it’s supposed to be an invitation, it sure as hell doesn’t sound like one. “You can buy me a drink and tell me what you’re doing here.” 

“It’s 11 in the morning, Hangman,”

“When in Rome and all that,” He waves Bradley’s protests away. 

Bradley hates the idea. Absolutely hates it. But what if. What if Bagman, of all people, could actually help him? 

“Fine,” Bradley tries to sound indifferent. “I’ll buy you a drink, but you have to help me with something,”

The broad smile on Jake’s face at the mention of Bradley needing his help has Bradley convinced that this is all one big mistake. 

Bradley still thinks Jake is arrogant and annoying at best, but he begrudgingly appreciates him tagging along. Jake seems to be at least somewhat genuinely interested in helping him, and he cleans up quite well. Bradley needs a guide and someone who speaks the language, even when that guide is more interested in catching the eye of as many girls as possible in his flashy uniform, adorned with medals for bravery and the highest orders of service. It’s not that Jake didn’t fairly deserve those—Bradley still thinks he’s an absolute madman, both in the air and on the ground. A madman with his heart in the right place, however.

And he can hardly blame Jake for using his uniform to charm the local ladies—Bradley has done the exact same many times. But he’s only looking for one lady to charm again.

“I’m sure even you thought of this before, but are you sure you have her real name?” Jake asks conversationally as they walk across the bridge over the Vltava. 

He has four days to find you. Yesterday Jake was of relatively little actual help, and somewhere, it pains Bradley that the first and only person that he has spoken to about you, is Jake fucking Seresin. Bradley couldn’t tell Jake all the details, but he put together the details. He thinks that by now he has seen every part of the city in the last two days, but he still hasn’t found you.

“I know her first name is Anna—everyone consistently referred to her as Anya, though,” Bradley replies, looking around. A little tug in his heart. Carefully, he thinks he sees something familiar when you connect the first two pieces of a puzzle.  Bradley remembers the bridge, with the golden ornamented columns at either end. He remembers your teasing smile as you helped him practice the pronunciation.  He walked past it with you so many times, the national theater behind them.

“Yeah, people do that here.” Jake shrugs. “It’s a common nickname to a very common first name, though.”

“As for her last name—I know for a fact, her initials are A.S.” Bradley continues. “She gave me her handkerchief with her initials embroidered on it and a little bird. Sokol, for falcon.”

“Sure, her last would be Sokolova.” Jake interjects, bored. “But,” he continues, lighting a cigarette. “Have you considered that, even if her initials are A.S., she could have a different first name? Alzhbyeta, Alitse, Anastasia, Alena—I mean, if I had to pick a cover name, I would probably pick the most bog-standard first name in the whole country, too.” 

Bradley knows Jake is inferring it will be next to impossible to find you. They walk along the colorful buildings along the water—Bradley feels like he’s walked this route a million times in his dreams, and the moment he waited for is finally here. He knows exactly where to go without being able to explain which turn to take.

“I grew up near here.” Jake suddenly pipes up as he walks next to Bradley, looking around the stately buildings. “My mother still lives around here,”

“Anya said she grew up here too.” Bradley’s heart is beating loudly. Maybe asking Hangman for help was a good idea after all. “Do you think there’s a chance you might have known her?”

Jake shrugs, eyeing the girls walking down the opposite side of the street. Bradley describes what you look like; you were in your sophomore year in university in 1939.

“She could be my age,” Jake admits flatly. “But there were at least five girls named Anna that could roughly fit your description in my cohort in high school—if she even went to the same school as I did. And I don’t remember what they went to college for.” 

Jake is not the most encouraging companion, but Bradley’s heart still skips a beat as he sees the familiar street. It’s all slotting into place now. The row of yellow, white, pink, and green. The statues look down at the entrance. He speeds up his pace, Jake jogging behind him.

Bradley quickly scans the names next to the doorbells before moving on to the next one, Jake hot on his tail. 

“Bradshaw, listen.” Jake puts a hand on his shoulder, face concerned. It’s strange to see him so serious suddenly. “I grew up in the next building over,” He gestures at the yellow building at the end of the block. “I don’t remember a family called Sokol living in one of these buildings.” 

“Fuck.” Bradley mumbles as he pulls out your handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket. He traces the stitching of your initials. Was it really all a ruse? Did you never truly believe he’d come back for you? Were you just playing out a role in the end?

Jake glances down before clearing his throat awkwardly. “Can I see that?”

Bradley hands it to him wordlessly, tucking his hands in his pockets. Did he not tell you enough times? Did you forget or simply stop believing? Did you never believe him in the first place, and were you only happy to dream with him? The fact that he had spun so many girls so many tales over the years this might finally be his comeuppance. 

All the dark thoughts he had tried to keep at bay have broken through. He would be crazy not to consider that you might not have gotten married in the meantime or still living in the same place. You were never going to wait for him. Why would you? He knew he was right when he saw your real smile, and you could see everyone wrapped around your little finger, and you did the same thing so effortlessly with him. And he’s more and more sure you could have a devoted husband now, maybe a baby. And you’re happy. Without him.

You never told him your last name. You really didn’t mean for him to find you after the war. 

“Bradshaw, I cannot believe I have to tell you this.” Jake sounds like he’s holding in laughter, breaking Bradley out of his reverie and thrusting the neatly folded fabric back into his line of vision. “This,” He jabs at the embroidered corner. “Is not a fucking S with a little bird,” He bursts out laughing.

“Wai- what?” Bradley forcefully grabs the handkerchief, looking at it intently, like it now contains some new information.

“Did she tell you it was an S with a little bird?” Jake asks, barely able to contain himself.

“No, no…” Bradley is sunk in thought. “I just… I just thought Anya was awful at embroidering.” He mumbles.

Jake absolutely loses it at that, doubling over in laughter. An old lady looks out of her opened window, staring both men down judgmentally. When Jake finally stops laughing, he tries to catch his breath to explain how this could be funny.

“So, it’s not an S,” Bradley asks impatiently. “Then what — Hangman, get a grip! — What is it?” 

“It’s a Sh,” He replies simply, rubbing his face and giggling. “It’s a completely different letter.” 

Bradley stands rooted to the ground, speechless, as Jake keeps laughing.

“You know what would be even more hilarious?” Jake is leaning his forearm against the building, hand covering his eyes with his hand as his shoulder shakes from laughing. “If this whole time, you had been actually talking about Anna Shafrankova, my neighbor who tutored me in high school.”

“They say it’s a small world,” He takes a deep breath, wiping the tears from his eyes. “But man, that would actually be really weird.”

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Bradley throws himself against the wall, closing his eyes. He feels the sun shine warmly on his face. The gears in his head turn, overheating. He tries to desperately remember every bit of information you shared with him, sometimes offhandedly. As a child, you were scared of ghosts and explored the passageways between buildings with other neighborhood kids. Jake must have been one of them. The arrogant classmate who went to flight school and then disappeared. Was that also Jake?

“Was she scared of ghosts?” Bradley ventures carefully. Suddenly, Jake’s laughter evaporates, and he’s looking at Bradley with astonishment. “When exploring the buildings, as kids, she told me she was scared of the ghosts haunting the servant stairwell,”

“What the…” The look on Jake’s face is confirmation enough. Bradley is sure of it. They are talking about the same person: you. This means, embarrassingly, that Bradley now actually knows less about you than he thought. Those identity papers had been fake. 

“Was her birthday on Christmas?” 

Jake actually looks confused for a moment. “No,” He ventures carefully. “I’m pretty sure it was sometime in summer — we used to go swimming in the reservoir lake and build camp fires for her birthday, so definitely not in winter.” 

Those papers had been very fake, indeed. It’s both a relief and a setback. 

“Come on, let’s see if old Shafrankova is home,” Jake announces, clapping Bradley on his back. “After that, you can buy me a drink or ten, and I want an invitation to the wedding.” 

Bradley follows Jake in a daze to the green house – you always took him out of another exit, so Bradley never knew which building you lived in. Or which apartment for that matter?

“There’s a different name on 2B now.” Jake comments. “But maybe she left a forwarding address.”

Jake is playing up his natural charm to the lady of the house, who is blushing furiously, answering his questions. Bradley looks around. You never talked much about your home or family. The apartment is light and spacious, with high ceilings and hardwood floors. It’s ornately furnished. What was it like to grow up here? You always seemed humble, never complaining about the conditions you found yourself in, from sleeping on the floor to eating old dry bread. But to live here, surely your family must have been well off, solidly middle-class.

You were well-educated; that should probably have been a hint of your background. But Bradley thought you were just determined. Because you had proven time and time again in the short time he knew you that you had determination and discipline in spades.

“Come on, let’s go.” Jake motions him out, and the lady of the house waves at them with a dreamy look in her eye.

“What did you learn?” Bradley can’t contain his curiosity.

“She didn’t leave a forwarding address,” Jake grumbles. “The lady said Shafrankova sold everything and disappeared.”

Jake hesitates suddenly, eyeing Bradley wearily.

“She said that she only saw Shafrankova once.” He says, choosing his words carefully. “She said she looked… scarred.”

Bradley stops mid-descended on the stairs.

“Scarred, how?” He asks sharply. The vision from his dream, blood gushing from your head, the smell of burning flesh, your face contorted in a voiceless scream, flashes through his head.

Jake shrugs. “She didn’t elaborate. She only said it was a waste of such a lovely face.”

Bradley feels the blood drain from his face. Someone hurt you. Someone came after you. His mind keeps flashing back to when he looked out the train window. What if he wasn’t misremembering? What if it was really someone dragging you off the platform by force? What if you had been arrested? Locked up?

What if that dream really had been more than just a dream?

He tries to find solace in the idea that you aren’t dead. That picture in Life, with his bracelet, must have been you, and if the new tenant saw you, you must have survived the uprising. But you got hurt. And he’s getting the sinking feeling it’s because of him.

“I need to find her.” He utters, panicked.

“That’s the idea,” Jake replies in a bored tone again. “But let’s figure out a plan first. I know a good bar near.”

Dragging his feet, Bradley follows Jake down the street. All the progress they made today was for naught in the end. He is no closer to actually finding you; he only knows where you are not. Time is ticking, and tomorrow, he needs to spend the whole evening as a dinner guest of the ambassador.

“Hey, cheer up,” Hangman turns to look at Bradley with that exact shit-eating grin that never spells anything good out of his mouth. “If you don’t find her by Saturday, I’ll happily introduce you to another Anna,”

***

Mrs. Parker likes to see effort over results. Even though the windows in the smoking room are squeaky clean — the room hadn’t been used since it was cleaned just a week prior — she won’t be satisfied until she has seen you scrub everything and sweat on your brow. She is always particular, but now she is doing it to punish you.

A searing headache and repeated nightmares that kept you bedbound until yesterday. You couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t stay awake. You just lay there, tears streaming down your face. 

And from what you had heard, the houseguest suddenly left without a real explanation. It’s not your fault, but Mrs. Parker needs to get rid of her frustration somewhere.

You hate washing windows. You hate it even more when someone hovers over you. But dinner is in an hour and a half, and Mrs. Parker is getting nervous. You don’t bother to ask if important guests are coming; they are all important. Decorated, distinguished, loud, and drunk.

The big windows of the smoking room on the second floor open outward into the beautiful garden of the villa on the hill, the city sprawling below it. The sun is low, and the blue sky slowly colors pink and orange. You wish you could take a moment to enjoy it rather than scrubbing nonexistent dirt from the window sill and listening to Mrs. Parker going through what appears to be a nervous breakdown as she zooms through the room.

“Annie, make sure that there is fresh ice here before dinner ends,”

“Yes, ma’am,” You reply lightly.

“Annie, this tablecloth has a gray sheen; please replace it and rewash it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” You reply dutifully as you strain to reach the top of the window with your cleaning cloth.

“Annie, Annie, these flowers look like they are wilting. Are you sure they are fresh?”

You look over your shoulder at the vase Mrs. Parker is holding. Wilting is a strong word.

“I’ll replace them with fresh cuts before them men arrive after dinner, ma’am,” You assure her, although you doubt they will notice the difference or care.

“Oh, Annie, I need to go check on dinner,” Mrs. Parker dramatizes. She grasps you by the shoulder as you stand by the open window, the long sleeves of your dark work dress awkwardly rolled up, sweat prickling on your forehead, and sopping cloth in your hand, slowly dripping onto the hardwood floor. “You’re the only one I can trust,” She implores you. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

She’s asking you like she’s not paying you to do this.

“Of course,” You smile politely. “Don’t worry about it, ma’am.” 

You sigh deeply when you hear the door click close, returning to the open window. You plop the rag back into the metal bucket on the window sill, wiping your hands on your apron as you look out over the garden. The blooming colors, the sweet smells — it’s really at its most beautiful right now. The apple tree is so full of blossoms it’s almost completely white. The rose bushes have come in beautifully again in pink, red, and yellow. The lavender is abundant.

When you hear the high-pitched giggle, you step back from the window, averting your gaze. Miss Lo is strolling through the garden with tonight’s guest, showing him the lush surroundings and stunning view. You busy yourself with changing the allegedly grayish tablecloth and taking the perfectly fine flowers out of the vase. 

You can hear Miss Lo’s melodic voice, although you cannot make out any words. Envy is searing through you like a red-hot iron. Today, you just can’t take it. Resolutely, you march back to the window, expressly not looking at the two figures slowly walking down the garden path in the sunset. As you reach the window latch, you plant your left hand on the window sill to keep yourself stead.

The windows are so unnecessarily large you have to strain to reach far enough — your fingertips barely touch the handle. As you put more weight on your left arm, leaning forward, you feel the pain building in your shoulder.

Just a little further.

Finally, you get a grip on the handle, but it’s like a bomb bursts in your left shoulder. Your elbow buckles from the sudden wave of pain, colliding with the metal bucket that you stupidly left on the window sill. Time almost slows to a crawl as you grab your left arm, pressing it against your chest to stop it from violently shaking, and you watch in partial fascination, partial horror as the metal bucket is no longer standing on the window sill but rather tortuously slowly is sailing down to the patio. 

You scrunch up your face and hold your breath in preparation for the screech and clang of the metal against the stone, still standing in the window, looking down at the inevitable chaos below you. 

The impact echoes, drawing out your mortification. You close your eyes in frustration.

The high-pitched girlish scream is several orders of magnitude louder than the bucket hitting the stone patio.

Shit. Fucking shit. Miss Lo.

Hesitantly, you open your eyes, still frozen in the open window. You don’t see the bucket and the soapy water sloshed over the stones. You don’t see Miss Lo in her evening dress and glittering jewelry, her face etched in horror, clinging to her companion. Everything has disappeared, melting away in the background.

Because on the garden path leading up to the house, in a resplendent white Navy uniform, looking right at you, is Bradley.

You can’t breathe. You can’t think. Bradley pulls his arm away from Miss Lo, shaking her off almost rudely. He’s still staring at you like he’s just seen a ghost. As he takes one step forward, you take a step back. With one last look, you start running. 

In the war, you left small parts of yourself scattered. A version, a part of you, stayed on that square in front of the university between the bodies of your classmates. Another part of you broke off in that mountain cabin when you first aimed a gun at another person. Bradley chipped off and pocketed so many bits of you, and oh, how gladly you let him. Finding Eva’s murdered body in the stairwell of your apartment cracked deep into your soul. When you shot Jan, you didn’t feel anything; you were already so broken, but more bits of the person that you once were died there that day. The explosions, the bodies, the blood, the shots—they cling to the wreckage of your former self.

As you stand at the top of the stairs, tugging your sleeve down out of habit, you’ve never been more acutely aware of how incomplete you truly are. There is nothing but debris left of the girl Bradley met that day in that barn. You are surprised he even recognizes you.

He is looking up at you in wonder from the bottom of the stairs. Hurriedly, clumsily, he grabs his cover off his head, holding it in his hands almost nervously, unsure what to do next. The black pit in your stomach is still there — you are so afraid that the look of wonder will disappear forever when he sees you up close. Despite your heart beating as much in fear as in excitement, your feet start moving down the stairs of their own accord, going faster and faster. Every broken piece of you rattles like broken china with every step, the sound becoming deafening the closer you get. 

Bradley is running up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. His brain is going a mile a minute: you look exactly like he remembers, but also different. Still beautiful, so much more beautiful than in his memories. Your hair is different than he remembers— longer for sure, but he could swear you used to wear it parted to the right rather than the left. The long-sleeved, high-collared, dark charcoal dress looks severe on you in the light summer weather.

You almost crash into him as you race down the stairs. You grab onto his uniform jacket to steady yourself, your face automatically moving to his, only just stopping yourself short. His scars have faded, although you can still see the raised ridges on his skin. There is no way he cannot see yours now. His arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you flush against him. His warm hazel eyes roam over your face, unreadable. You hesitate, averting your gaze. 

Maybe you’ve changed too much. Maybe there’s really nothing left of the person Bradley once knew. He can probably see that now. Maybe this Bradley is not the one you remember anymore. His fingers graze the damaged skin along your hairline. Swallowing dryly, you look up at him.

He’s smirking at you, eyes twinkling. 

How you hate that cocky smile. How you’ve missed it. Seeing it again, feeling him again, is so overwhelming you feel your poor heart might give out. You tighten your grip on him, pulling yourself closer, as if you’re scared he’s going to turn to smoke in your arms, or, worse, push you away.

But Bradley moves his face closer to you, his mouth only a fraction away from yours. You can feel his warm breath on your face. You can feel his heartbeat under your fingers.

“Do it, you coward,” He whispers.

He sees the flash of anger in your eyes. How dare he use your own words against you? But it has the intended effect. It’s all you need to hear. You kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck, barely giving him a moment to recover from your ferocity, slanting your mouth against his, begging him to let you deepen the kiss. Bradley allows you without hesitation, easily catching your weight as you fall into him. Your body still fits so perfectly against his.

This is what it should have felt like, Bradley realizes. Coming home, finally closing the long chapter of war. He had been chasing this feeling: the benevolent calm, the warm intimacy.

Home is where the heart is, and that was always in your arms. 

note | good things come to those who wait. Also, this chapter has some of the earliest scenes that I actually wrote over a year ago, and those were the exact things that kept me awake the whole night when I came up with this story. Which is more than a year ago, actually. God, I hope the payoff is really going to be worth it hahahaha. Thanks for sticking by me, still. There was actually a full chapter of material before this, titled Blue Skies. But I cut a lot of stuff out to start moving the story a bit faster, mostly because I really want to write this finally!

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[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Everybody Hurts

Chapter 17

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 12/20

Word Count: 7K

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Nerves fluttered in your stomach as Eddie opened up the passenger door, offering you his hand. You took it, hopping down off the seat, your feet hitting the asphalt of the road with a thud. Your eyes peered up at Steve’s house with trepidation, the very idea of facing all of them after your epic and entirely embarrassing outburst at The Hideout making you want to lose the grilled cheese that Eddie had cooked for you as a late lunch.

It was a nice house. It looked like a basic American Craftsman with some touches of Spanish colonial. The colors were all earth tones, rusty orange siding with forest green details in the shutters, railings, and columns. You spotted a small balcony on the side that would be perfect for late night stargazing or watching the sun rise high into the sky with your morning coffee warming your hands. There was no garden but the front walk was lined with small trees, inviting and warm.  

“Hey,” Eddie said, squeezing your hand in an attempt to assure you as if he knew the panic that was raging through your body. “It’s gonna be fine. Seriously. These guys aren’t going to care about any of that. And if anybody should be ashamed, it should be me. You just yelled. I’m the one who acted like an asshole. If they’re still happy to see me, they’re going to be overjoyed to see you. Nancy and Robin have been pestering me daily because you won’t answer their calls. Trust me. They’re going to be over the damn moon to see you.”

You hoped he was right. Not only had you acted like a lunatic in front of them, then you'd completely ghosted all of them. You had only done it as an act of self-preservation, trying to keep yourself from looking the part of the fool that you felt so deeply. It had nothing to do with any of them. But how would they not feel offended that you'd disappeared on them? You would have definitely taken it personally if the roles were reversed. They’d been so kind to you, welcomed you in, and then you'd just ghosted all of them. 

“I guess we’ll see,” you muttered softly. 

“Seriously, you should have heard the tongue lashing Nancy gave me. She backed me up against the wall at the bar, her finger jabbing my chest so hard she left bruises. Man, that woman might be tiny but she is scary as hell. Then Robin started in on me, then Gareth ripped me a new one, and then I had to listen to Mama Harrington lecture me about being a good man. It was fucking painful, man.”

Your face cracked into a smile, a quiet giggle escaping despite your fear. Leave it to him to make you laugh, to put you at ease, when you were feeling anything but. When Eddie had mentioned heading over to Steve’s, you had tried everything you could think of to talk him out of it, including pulling off your shirt but he would not be deterred. Apparently, everyone was heading over for a cook-out and some drinks. They were all expecting Eddie but no one knew that you were accompanying him. He had a great plan to surprise them all, to remedy his screw-up, and to make everything better for you. He was assuming it would be a good surprise but that remained to be seen. 

What if they were all done with you? They barely knew you and you'd managed to dig into secrets that made them uncomfortable, create drama between them all, and then ignored them when they tried to reach out. What reason did you give them to want to keep you around? You'd given them no reason to. It wouldn’t be hard to drop someone you’d only met a few weeks ago. None of them would be feeling any great loss if you were no longer there.

“Is it bad if it brings me pleasure that it was painful for you?” you teased, leaning into his side, your cheek resting against the soft fabric of his shirt, a stark contrast to the muscle of his bicep beneath it. 

A chuckle shook Eddie’s chest, his lips ghosting over your forehead, “Nah. I guess I did kind of deserve it.”

“Damn right you did,” you stated, poking him in the ribs, grinning when he arched his body away from you with a shriek. Oh, he was ticklish. That was good information to have and use to your advantage at a later time. 

You stepped up onto the porch and Eddie looked down at you, “Ready?”

You nodded even though you felt anything but. You wanted to bolt, race down the sidewalk and away but before you could even process that, Eddie was knocking on the door and it swung wide open, Steve revealed behind it. With one hand on the door and the other on his hip, you watched as his face lit up upon seeing you and then his eyes trailed down to where your and Eddie’s hands were clasped together.

“Holy shit! It’s about damn time!” he exclaimed with a wide grin, his head shaking back and forth slightly. “I thought you two idiots would never figure it out.” Steve turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Munson and Sam finally got their shit together!”

A chorus of cheers, about times, and finallies could be heard from just beyond the door. You flushed as Eddie smiled down at you, an ‘I told you so’ look of arrogance on his face that should annoy you but he just looked so damn cute doing it. You shoved him gently with the hand he didn’t have a hold of, snorting and shaking your head. Of course he wouldn't be able to pass up rubbing this in. 

Then Nancy and Robin were there, pulling on your arms, yanking you into the house. They wrapped you in a hug from either side and all of the anxiety you'd been feeling seeped out of your body like water being wrung from a sponge. You squealed, gasping for a breath as both girls squeezed you as tightly as they could.

“I’m happy to see you guys too but I can’t breathe,” you choked out.

They pulled back, laughing, Nancy saying, “Sorry. We were just so worried.”

“Yeah, when you didn’t answer the phone this afternoon, Nancy declared we were showing up on your doorstep tomorrow and we weren’t leaving until you answered,” Robin told you. With a raise of her eyebrows, she hooked her thumb toward the brown curly headed girl. “And trust me, this one can be scary when she doesn’t get her way. She would have broken in if she had to.”

“Then I guess it’s lucky I showed up when I did,” you laughed.

“Damn right,” Nancy huffed, her hand coming to your shoulder and shoving firmly enough to send you stumbling back. Damn, she was freakishly strong for being so small. “You don’t get to disappear on us like that. I don’t care what happened with you and Eddie. That doesn’t change that we’re friends. I’ve lost enough people in my life and I won’t lose anymore.”

You swallowed hard, remembering Nancy telling you about her best friend who vanished only to be found dead later. She had to have known people in the mall fire in a town this small. She definitely knew the boy who was murdered ten years ago as they were together at the trailer park. This girl had suffered immense loss at far too young of an age. Of course she’d panicked when you suddenly vanished and that only made you feel like an even bigger shit.

“I’m sorry,” you told your friend, meaning it with every fiber of your being, your hand coming to Nancy’s bicep, squeezing lightly. “That wasn’t fair to any of you. I was just so damn embarrassed that you all knew that I’d…well, I thought I’d let some guy pull the wool over my eyes again. I assumed Eddie was a womanizer and you all knew and you would think I was an idiot for believing him.”

“Eddie?” snorted Max as she walked up, slinging an arm around your waist in a side hug. “Eddie Munson, the biggest nerd to ever walk the Earth? Dungeon master and geek club leader Eddie? You thought he was a womanizer?” She threw her head back, laughing. 

“Well, I mean he is in a band,” you stated in an attempt to defend yourself, narrowing your eyes down at Max who was turning red, her laughter taking over her whole body. “Women love a guy who plays guitar.”

“They also love a guy who plays DnD, is socially awkward as hell, completely lacks any self-awareness, and will talk obnoxiously for hours about things like heavy metal, government control, and Lord of the Rings?” challenged Max, her hand slipping from your side to rest on her hip, eyebrows raising.

“Maybe. I mean, girls are into a lot of different things. Look, he totally has the bad boy thing going for him. He’s got the long hair, the chunky rings, the leather jacket,” you argued, gesturing to where Eddie stood with Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will. 

Nancy’s lips pressed together in amusement, watching as Eddie wrapped an arm around Mike’s head, placing the lanky guy in a headlock while the boy struggled. He brought his other hand up, rubbing it vigorously over the top of Mike’s black hair until Mike yelled out for mercy. Then he released the kid, his head thrown back with laughter just as Lucas jumped onto Eddie’s back and he roared, reaching behind him. 

“Yeah, totally a bad boy,” Nancy mused with a roll of her eyes. “Sorry hon. You didn’t snag yourself a bad boy. You snagged yourself a man-child.”

“Oh, man-child. Are we talking about Eddie or Dustin or, honestly, it could be Mike,” El interjected, red solo cup in her hand, as she and Suzie approached their group. 

“Or Lucas,” Max groaned, watching as Eddie spun, her boyfriend on his back, arms locked around his neck, legs locked around his middle until Eddie backed into the wall, crushing the guy between him and the plaster until Lucas cried uncle. 

“Dusty-Bun may be immature sometimes but it’s just because he’s so young at heart. And he more than makes up for any immaturity with his incredible intellect and his very romantic nature,” Suzie stated and you noticed how the group just smiled endearingly at her. 

“It’s not like mine’s any better. Him and Argyle are out back and you know what that means,” Nancy added with a laugh. “I’m surprised Eddie didn’t make a beeline for them straight away. Those three can usually be found in the sacred circle around the firepit.”

“You think that one’s any better? And for some reason, I have to claim him,” Robin sighed, hooking her thumb in the direction of Steve, standing in the kitchen, pulling out lettuce, tomato, onion, all the fixings for burgers on the grill. 

You looked at her, confused, “He’s just getting ready to grill. I mean, looks very adult to me.”

Robin’s chin tilted down, snorting, “Yeah. Okay. Steve is very responsible, maybe too responsible. I got over here earlier and he was stressing out over how Lucas told him he was just going to charge a vacation for him and Max on a credit card and then he’d have time to pay it off. Apparently, they don’t have the money right now but he still wants to go. Lucas’s version is if you always wait to have the money, you’ll never do anything. You should have heard Steve. ‘He just thinks credit cards are free money or something. He doesn’t understand the interest he’ll be paying. He could be paying that trip off for years and wind up paying more than double what it actually coasts. This is why you budget and save for things like that.’ Seriously, the guy needs to join the sacred circle more often because he needs to chill.”

“Wait.” Max’s hand came up, her face suddenly tight. “I’m sorry. Lucas wants to do what? Excuse me.”

The girls watched as Max stormed over to the guys in the living room, grabbing onto Lucas’s ear. The poor guy yelped, wincing, as she dragged him out the front door, clearly in for a mouthful. They all looked at each other and then burst into laughter. 

“Oops,” Robin smirked with a shrug. “Guess she didn’t know about the vacation plan.”

“What the hell was that about with Sinclair and Red?” asked Eddie, walking up and tossing his arm casually over your shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it belonged there, and you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed it. You couldn’t deny how much you wanted this, all of this, to become natural, a part of your everyday life.

“Apparently, Lucas was planning a trip for the two of them but they don’t actually have the money to go right now. So, he was just going to charge it all to a credit card,” Nancy explained. “I guess Max didn’t know and Robin spilled the beans.”

“Damn, Buckley, that’s cold,” Eddie chuckled, thumb running along your arm absently. “How are you going to just rat out my man like that?”

Robin held her hands out beside her, “I didn’t know that she didn’t know. I was just mocking Steve for freaking out about it. Mr. Mom in there couldn’t handle one of his little chicks being so irresponsible with money.”

“To be fair, that is really irresponsible. Credit cards are for emergencies only or using them and paying them off right away to build credit. They’re not just for flying fancies that you can’t afford. It’s a slippery slope into a mountain of debt that you’ll be able to get out from under,” Nancy defended. 

“Of course it is,” Robin mocked with a slow nod of her head. “Should have known you’d agree with Steve. It’s a wonder why you two didn’t make it, honestly. You’d think the responsible, follow the rules, parents of the group would have been the perfect match but then our Nancy throws everyone for a loop and goes for the stoner.”

“Speaking of, I’m going to go find Jonathan and Argyle,” Eddie grinned, tongue darting out between his teeth. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be back.”

“Told you Eddie can’t resist the call of Mary Jane,” Nancy told you with a roll of her eyes.

You laughed, “Hey. I’m going to go see if Steve needs any help with the food.”

“Aww, such a good little dinner guest. You go right ahead. Good luck. I’ve learned not to get in that man’s way when he’s cooking,” Robin stated, eyes wide, taking a drink from her cup. “Come on girls. Let’s go upstairs and check out our game options before the guys choose Dragon Strike or something else similarly nerdy and nauseating.” 

You watched Suzie and El trail behind Nancy and Robin up the stairs of Steve’s house before making your way into the kitchen. Steve stood at the counter, chopping up the tomatoes into perfectly thin slices for the burgers. His head lifted, a smile appearing as he caught sight of you. 

“Hmm…it would appear that someone finally saw what everyone else did, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh shut it, Steve.”

“I’m just saying, I was right. You two annoyed each other too much. You were at each other’s throats too much, denying it too much, for it not to be an attraction thing, trying to act like you couldn’t stand each other like we all couldn’t see what was really going on.” He snorted, moving on to the lettuce, running it under the tap in the sink before tearing off large pieces. “We all saw it and when I confronted Eddie about it, he was way too defensive. I saw right through him.”

“You confronted him about me? Why?”

“Because he got all grouchy with me about you. He kept making these snide little comments, asking if we’d hooked up yet, asking what I was waiting for.” He rolled his sleeves up, his eyes moving along with them. “Look, Eddie’s not exactly hard to read. Man wears his emotions on his sleeve. You’d have to be blind not to know when something’s bugging him. It didn’t take a genius like Henderson to figure out he was jealous, thinking I was taking the girl he was interested in. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I thought about asking you out but once I saw how he felt, I backed off. Glad I did too. You two just seem right. I think you’ll be good for him. Man could use some good in his life.”

You knew what Steve was talking about because Eddie had made multiple comments about Steve to you too. It hadn’t made sense at the time but now you knew he was digging for information, trying to see if the two of you were a thing. He’d just assumed that you would be attracted to the pretty boy. And why wouldn’t he? That was the guy you'd married but after Cam, you wanted nothing more than everything that was the complete opposite of him. And Eddie, well, him and Cam could not be more different, in all the best ways possible. 

You hopped up on a stool, resting your forearms on top of the speckled brown counter. Steve had a kitchen that had jealousy burning within you. Oak cabinets, stainless steel appliances, a light wood floor. It put your own kitchen to shame. You would need to find a second job if you wanted to update your kitchen. More likely you would have to do it piece by piece as you could afford it. A kitchen like this would cost a pretty penny, far more than you made in six months as a teacher.

“This kitchen is fantastic,” you told him, Steve glancing up from the cutting board where he’d moved on to slicing onions. “Was it like this when you bought it?”

“No,” he laughed, “definitely not. It looked like I’d walked through a time portal and straight into the seventies when I bought it. I remodeled it.”

“Damn, that must have cost quite a bit.”

He shrugged, “I mean, yeah, but I saved quite a bit too because I did most of the work. Eddie and Jonathan helped quite a bit. Labor is always where they really get you. I probably paid a third of what I would have by putting in the work myself. It took a few months between everyone’s work schedules but we got it done.”

“I know what you mean. My kitchen is horribly outdated. It’s barely even workable. I would love to remodel my kitchen but there’s no way I could afford to have someone else do it. And, while I am more than willing to put in the work, I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea what I’m doing with some of it.” You sighed wistfully. “Who knows? Maybe someday, far into the future, I’ll be able to pay for something like that. Until then, I’ll just have to make do with my birch cabinets and avocado green counters. At least the appliances are newer.”

Steve paused, lips pouting in thought, “You wouldn’t have to wait that long. I bet we could do it if we all help. I mean, it could take a while. But between all of us, we could definitely knock out a kitchen renovation.”

“Oh no. That’s way too much, Steve. I appreciate the offer but I can’t possibly ask all of you to donate your time like that,” you insisted, shaking your head. 

This group of people were so kind, had been so wonderful to you, and you could never thank them enough for readily accepting you into their group. They’d given you hope for your future. They’d made you feel alive again, made you feel as if you could move on, could have a life beyond Cam and your failed choices. They'd given you a place to belong. They helped you find your strength to take that step forward. And knowing them had brought the possibility of…no, you couldn’t bring herself to say that word, not yet. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to hope for something that big, not yet. This thing with Eddie was new. You were excited to see where it led and you hoped it could be the beginning of something, that maybe, just maybe, he could be the one. Maybe you'd chosen wrong but maybe it was because your life was always meant to lead you here, to him. That was such a wonderful thought. There was a spark of excitement and possibility but you had to tread carefully, baby steps, not scare Eddie off.

But it was hard because you had never felt with Cam the way you did with Eddie. It was a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation all at once. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, longing for the next time his lips found yours, the next time his hands touched you. He was like a drug and you were hopelessly addicted. It both thrilled and terrified you because you'd never experienced anything like this before. You knew you were already in too deep and with that came the possibility of your heart shattering once again. But something about him made you feel he was worth that risk. You were ready to close your eyes and leap off the cliff. You just hoped Eddie was there to catch you at the bottom. 

��What are you talking about?” Steve asked, bursting through your thoughts. “That’s ridiculous. Of course we would help you. That’s what friends do and you’re one of us now.”

“Not really. I mean, you’ve only known me for about a month and I know I’m…” What were you doing with Eddie? Were you just hanging out? Were you a couple? The only time you'd brought it up he’d said you didn’t need to label it and maybe you didn’t. He’d told you he wasn’t going anywhere so that had to mean you were together, right? “I’m…hanging out with Eddie.”

“Hanging out?” Steve’s shoulders shook with the laugh that rumbled out of him. “Is that what it’s called now? Huh, I must be getting too old to keep up with the young kid’s lingo these days.”

You grabbed a dish towel from the counter and threw it at him, hitting him in his handsome face. “Shut up. I don’t know what to call us, okay? We haven’t exactly defined anything so for now, hanging out seems the most appropriate definition. Anyway, I definitely don’t know you all well enough to expect you to donate hours of your time to help me with some huge project at my house. I know Nancy and Robin helped with my garden but that was a few hours. This would be months. It’s way too much.”

“Well, it’s too bad you don’t get to make that decision. Trust me, the minute I mention it, they will all be in. That’s what we do. Just provide food and drinks and everyone who can will show up. And with me as your foreman, I’ll make sure that boyfriend…” He leaned over the counter, pointing at you with the dish towel tightly in his fist. “Yes, I said boyfriend because that’s what it is. Let’s stop kidding ourselves. Hanging out is for friends and you two are far past friends. I’ll make sure your boyfriend doesn’t nail his own hand to the wall or something. And I’ll make sure it’s all done right.”

“I don’t know,” you countered, really not wanting these people to think you were just using them or something. 

“I do know. So, just let me handle it, okay?”

“Fine. Do you need any help?” you asked, remembering what you'd come into the kitchen for in the first place before you got distracted with his kitchen.

Steve glanced around the kitchen, “You want to mix up the pasta salad?”

“Sure.”

You hopped down from the stool, coming around the counter just as Steve opened a high cabinet. He stretched up onto his tip toes, his hand reaching, causing his shirt to rise up, exposing a strip of the skin along his abdomen. You audibly gasped when your eyes caught sight of the pale scars that covered it, perfectly matching the scars that Eddie had on various parts of his body. 

Steve’s eyes shot over at your gasp, following your line of sight down to his stomach. When he realized what you were looking at, he dropped down onto flat feet, pulling his sweatshirt down quickly but the damage had been done. There was no unseeing what you'd just seen, no putting that Pandora back into the damn box. How could he and Eddie have the same exact scars?

“Steve…how did you get those scars?” you asked, stepping into him as he stepped back into the counter, eyes widening with panic when he realized there was nowhere to run or hide from your question.

“What? I…oh…uh…” 

His eyes darted around the kitchen like a wild animal desperate to find an escape. You took a step closer, your own eyes narrowing in suspicion, refusing to let him out of this. You were so sick and tired of all the secrets and lies. If you were going to be a part of this group, the way he claimed you were, the way they all claimed you were, shouldn’t you know what the hell had happened? If they really wanted to be your friend, why didn’t they trust you enough to be honest? Every time you thought you could be okay with not knowing, had put it all in the back of your mind, something else reared its head, reminding you, pestering you. You couldn't stand it.

“The scars,” you repeated. “Where did they come from?”

“Eddie told you about the raccoons, right?”

Your eyes slipped closed, a long, aggravated breath escaping from your lips, because you knew it was bullshit. All of it was bullshit. You'd known it was bullshit from the moment Eddie had told you about the raccoons but tried to accept it, but only an idiot would keep accepting these flimsy claims. There was no way raccoons did that to two grown men. How many of them could there possibly have been? Steve and Eddie maybe would have gotten bitten once, twice, but they would have kicked or thrown those little bastards. There was no way Eddie would have the amount of scars he did from some little woodland creatures. 

“Can you please stop with all the bullshit?” you pleaded. “I know you’re all lying to me. I just don’t know why. The disappearances, the toxic chemicals, the lab, the mall fire, the murders…none of it makes any sense. Don’t try to tell me raccoons did this to you too because there is no way.”

“Sam…” Steve warned, shaking his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to go there. Just let it go.”

 “Why? Why don’t I want to go there? Eddie said he wouldn’t tell me because he wouldn’t put anyone else at risk. What does that even mean? Why would telling me put me at risk? Is the murderer still out there? It’s been a decade. How is that possible and if it is, shouldn’t I know if some psycho is running around Hawkins? Did he come after you two? Is that where your scars are really from?”

Steve’s head dropped, large hands covering his face, the muscles of his arms tense. You knew you were pushing him and maybe you should feel bad about it but you couldn’t manage it. What could possibly be so bad that they couldn’t even talk about it? It happened ten years ago. Some of it happened even longer ago than that. Why were they all still so scared to speak about it? Why did Eddie think it would put you in danger? Why did they feel the need to lie?

“It’s not that simple,” Steve said, his head lifting, eyes finding yours, willing you to just forget you saw anything, to just walk away. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you. Trust me, you don’t want to know. I promise you. You can’t unknow it once it’s said. You’d run straight out of this town as fast as you could if you knew. Either you’d be terrified or you’d think we all needed to be committed.”

“Why do any of you want me around if you don’t trust me enough to tell me, to believe you? You keep telling me I am one of you, that I am part of this group, but you keep secrets and you lie.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you. I swear. Shit. I wish I could tell you. I wish we could just be honest. None of us likes lying but there’s no way to explain this so that it makes sense to you.”

“Then just explain it. Where did those scars come from?”

“Bats.”

“Bats?” you asked, even more confused than before. Bats were just a different animal. Same story, different mammal. “So instead of rabid raccoons you expect to believe that rabid bats attacked you two?”

“It’s true. The bats were…not like your normal bats.”

“Why? Because they were affected by the toxic chemicals?”

Steve’s eyes widened and he nodded emphatically, as if you'd just given him the out he was looking for, “Yeah. Yeah. Those chemicals were really bad, you know? They killed Barb.”

“They killed a fully grown human but not the bats?” you interrogated suspiciously, folding your arms over your chest, fully aware that you were just being bullshitted all over again. “What was so special about the bats that they survived exposure?”

Steve shrugged, mouth pursed, hands out in front of him, the strangest sound coming from him, a cross between a whine and a grunt. Jesus Christ. None of them were ever going to tell you what was actually going on. You were always going to be on the outside, the one who didn’t get to know, the one they kept in the dark. 

“Steve!” you yelled, slapping your hands down on the counter so loudly that he jumped. “Come on! Do you all really think I’m an idiot?”

“Whoa, what’s going on down here?” asked Nancy as the girls made their way back down the stairs. “We heard yelling. Is…” She paused, looking between you and Steve. “Is everything okay?”

The front door opened, Max and Lucas stepping inside. Lucas looked properly chastised but both of them were also looking between the two people in the kitchen, clearly having heard your outburst. Then the back door opened and closed as Eddie, Jonathan, and Argyle came down the hallway and into the kitchen. Shit. You'd just managed to get past one very public, crazy meltdown and now you were in the middle of another. 

“Is someone fighting?” asked Argyle. “We got more stuff if someone needs to chill out, man. No need for tension. Tension is not allowed in the sacred circle. Just let Puff the Magic Dragon take you on a wave of relaxation.”

“Everything’s fine,” you muttered, glaring over at Steve who flinched. You snatched the bowl from his hands, slamming it down on the counter. “I’m just helping get the pasta salad together.”

“Oookkkaaayyy…” came Eddie’s voice from behind you. 

“Steve?” asked Robin with concern.

“It’s fine Robs,” he said, grabbing a container of pasta, a cucumber, olives, cherry tomatoes, and Italian dressing from the fridge and placing them on the counter next to the bowl. “Just a conversation that got a little lively. That’s all. Seriously, it’s fine.”

“Doesn’t seem fine,” Dustin argued, eyes narrowing. “She was definitely yelling at you. What did you do?”

“Henderson, why do you always assume I’m to blame?”

“Shit, it’s just nice it’s not me for once,” chuckled Eddie. 

You seethed, dumping the pasta in, trying to focus on your task. Not a single one of them was going to tell you anything so what was the point? They wanted you here, at least they acted like they did, but then they all lied to you all the time. You grabbed the knife, chopping the cucumber with force, each slice feeling satisfying, a release of the tension and anger that stirred within you. 

“Hey, princess,” Eddie said softly as he slipped up behind you, his hand coming around to cover your wrist, stopping your motions. “You okay there? I don’t know what that cucumber did to you but the way you’re chopping it feels kind of personal.”

You closed your eyes, inhaling slowly through your nose, feeling the rise of your chest, the way your belly filled. You focused on the warmth of Eddie, this man you would never truly know, this man you were already falling for. Shit. Your eyes shot open. No. You couldn’t be. It didn’t happen that quickly, right? 

Devastation coursed through you because you knew it was true. No matter how much you'd tried to fight it, tried to deny it, to tell yourself he was a jerk, you'd fallen for him. When had it happened? Had it been that first night, those deep brown eyes burning into you from through the fire? Was that even possible? Love at first sight? That was nuts, right?

Did it even matter? How could anything between you ever be real when there would always be this part of him that he kept locked up from you? How could you ever have something true when you would never get to know all the parts of him? The person you were with should be your best friend, the person who knew you better than anyone else, but you could never be that person for him. And you'd stupidly told him that you could accept that so how could you demand it of him now?

Swallowing down the sour taste that was creeping up your throat, you rolled your shoulders, forcing your body to relax. Pulling your wrist from his hand, you dropped the knife, spinning in his arms to offer him a smile that you hoped appeared genuine even if it was anything but. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry.”

Eddie’s head tilted to the side, his mouth curving up on one side in that little smile you loved so damn much, the backs of his fingers running down your cheek, metal cooling your flushed skin, “You sure?”

“Yep. Totally fine. Just going to finish this salad, okay? You guys pick out a game?” you loudly asked the girls, trying to change the subject to anything but how insane you were acting. Because that’s what it was. You were insane. You had completely lost your mind trying to figure out what they were all hiding and if you didn’t get it under control, you were going to lose all of this, everything that had made you so happy this past month.

“Yeah, uh…pictionary,” Nancy said, looking as if she didn’t believe you in the slightest. 

Well, that was fine. Let her see how it felt to be lied to. Maybe that was mean. Maybe you were being an awful person right now but you couldn’t help feeling a little vindicated. If they weren’t going to tell you what was going on with them, then you weren't going to bother telling them what was going on with you. You couldn’t anyway because if you did, then it would just create more tension, tension you couldn’t handle right now.

“Okay, but then we are playing trivial pursuit because I am going to wipe the floor with all of you,” Dustin announced. 

“You are the king of Trivial Pursuit. No one can beat him. My Dusty Bun’s big brain is what made me fall in love with him,” Suzie cooed, her hand coming to his chest, cheek against his arm. 

“Uh…yeah, okay,” Eddie snorted. “Because knowing a bunch of useless facts is a real life changer.”

“You’re just mad because you never win,” Steve teased.

“Never win?” asked Mike. “Last time, he didn’t even get one piece of pie.”

“Shut it, Wheeler. You only had two,” Eddie countered. “Don’t act like you’re so much better.”

You listened to all of them arguing as you sliced the tomatoes in half, adding them in, along with the olives before opening the dressing and pouring it over the top. Grabbing Steve’s salad tongs, you tossed the mixture around, focusing on the task, the repetitive nature, telling yourself to let it go, to not rock the boat. You were happy. You were in a new relationship. You had friends. You were starting a new life. Getting angry wasn’t going to change anything or help in any way. 

“Salad’s done,” you said simply, handing the bowl to Steve. 

“Thanks,” he replied, giving you a smile you didn’t return. He cleared his throat. “Hey, while you guys argue about who is the king of some dumb board game, I’m gonna go get the burgers going.”

“I’ll help you, man,” Eddie offered, trailing behind him, the other guys quickly following. 

You stood in the kitchen awkwardly, nibbling at your lower lip, the rest of the girls looking at you anxiously as if you were a rabid dog about to attack at any moment. Clearly, you weren't doing the best job of pretending everything was fine but it was getting harder to do with each lie, each denial, each refusal to tell you the truth. 

“You sure you’re okay?” asked Nancy.

You lifted your head, smiling wide, “Yep. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just seem…angry?” Max offered. “I mean, Lucas and I could hear you yelling from the front porch. You drowned me out and that’s saying something.”

“Did you tell him off?” you asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“I mean, yeah, I absolutely ripped him a new one. I don’t know why the hell he would even consider starting our life off drowning in debt. But that’s besides the point. Why were you yelling at Steve?” 

“I know he can be a dingus,” Robin laughed, “but why were you asking him if he thought you were an idiot?”

“It doesn’t matter, okay? None of it matters because no one is ever going to tell me the truth. There’s no point in rehashing it. I asked him a question and he lied to me just like everyone else. I asked Nancy and Jonathan about the murders and they lied. Eddie flails in his sleep, whimpering and crying out, and he lies to me. Steve has scars just like Eddie’s and when I ask, he lies. It’s all lies. Clearly none of you trust me and none of you want to tell me so it’s fine, okay? I’m done bringing any of it up. You can keep your secrets.”

“Oh, I…” Nancy said sadly, pressing her lips together. 

“It’s fine, Nance. Really. Clearly, whatever happened is between all of you. I wasn’t here and it’s none of my business. I’m the one in the wrong. I shouldn’t be pushing to know things that have nothing to do with me. Can we please just drop it because I can’t take any more lies or half-truths right now?”

“Okay. Yeah,” your friend agreed with a nod. Of course she did. Nancy was more than happy to drop it. She probably wished you hadn’t ever picked it up. “So, are you and Eddie like…together now?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I think so. I mean, he told me he’s not going anywhere so I assume so.”

El smiled, “Well, that’s a good thing, right?”

You couldn’t help but return the girl’s smile, “Yeah. It is. I really like him. Lord knows why but I do. I mean, it’s all new. We’ll see where it goes but for now, it’s really good.”

“Good,” Robin stated, her arm coming around your shoulder, cheek resting against the side of your head. “You both deserve some happiness. I’m happy for you and we’re all really happy you’re here. Really, we are. Regardless of everything else, please know that. Now, how about we go check on those burgers, huh? I don’t know about all of you, but I’m freaking starving.”

A murmur of assent rose from the girls so you all made your way out into the backyard. Damn, Steve was quite the handyman. You stepped out onto a beautiful wooden deck, the guys just down to the right, standing around the grill that sat on a stone patio. Eddie smiled at you, cigarette in his hand. Out in the middle of the yard was an above ground pool. 

“Steve even has a pool?”

“Yeah,” Max grinned. “That’s why his house becomes the designated hangout in the summer. He bitches about how much we’re all over here but he actually loves it. He had shitty parents and no siblings, so he really likes all the chaos. He just has to act grumpy to save face or something but he really loves the family we’ve created.”

“He does. Why else do you think he installed the pool? The guys helped him with it a couple summers ago, along with the deck,” Nancy added. “He’s done a lot to this house.”

“Speaking of which,” Steve called from where he was manning the grill, adding cheese to half of the burgers, “our girl here has a really old kitchen and I told her we could probably help with that.”

“Oh yeah!” Dustin exclaimed. “We all helped Steve. We’re like kitchen restoration experts now.”

“I am a pro with a nail gun,” Lucas stated proudly. 

“Don’t let him fool you,” Max whispered conspiratorially, “there was an incident with about thirty nails in one spot because he couldn’t get it right so he just kept adding more.”

You giggled, “Oh boy.” 

You made your way down to stand next to Eddie and he instantly pulled you into his side. You snuggled in, inhaling the scent of him, letting it ease all the tension from your body. This should be enough. Good friends who were willing to help you, a beautiful man who made you feel things you didn’t even know you could, and a fresh start. Anyone else would be satisfied with this, would stop digging and causing problems. Why were you your own worst enemy?

“All good, sweetheart?” he inquired, lips brushing over your forehead.

“All perfect,” you assured, arms coming around his waist because it was. It really was. You just hoped it stayed that way. 

Chapter 18

 Taglist

@tlclick73 @bebe07011 @eddiesguitarskills @witchwolflea @nailbatanddungeon @emilyslutface @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @corrodedcoffincumslut @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @katethetank

#eddie munson #eddie the banished #stranger things eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x femreader #eddie munson smut #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson lives #max mayfield #hawkins #ongoing #fluff #angst #smut and fluff #fluff and angst #enemies to friends to lovers #post divorce #falling in love #second chances #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things 4 #jonathan byers

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update 02/25/2024

Nerdie! You saw it right! He won! *hugs tightly*

Yes he did! 🥰 We're all so happy for him! Finally!

We're also buzzing about how he looks like he's on the cover of a romance novel. Maybe on a ranch, maybe in the 1800's. It's a pretty versatile look. He likes his deep V's....

As we all should. Also, I'm taking notes on that. *scribbles*

Anything new besides, well clearly pirate adventures?

Pirates have scurvy and Pedro is well nourished so none of that. Other ideas for his characters. Ezra and Pero might have scurvy though. I did manage to write some this week. It's been busy. 👀 Ugh...real life stuff. Nothing major. Just needs to be done.

Nerdie's fics:

Guiding Light (Ezra one shot - I was chatting with @lady-bess and had the idea for this. I always have Ezra in some crime. 😎)

Lunch is happening right? (Part two of my summer romance Javi G fic. Not sure how many parts.)

He told me his name (Din Djarin x plus size female reader) I wrote it after reading a new Din fic by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (will be listed below. I'd still call it moody because despite writing, I still have trouble with my vocabulary. 🤣 It is pretty though. I'm working on a follow-up since people asked 👀)

Can't win carino (Javi G one shot - for @i-own-loki because she gave me the idea and the moodboard so I ran with it.)

The Man Next Door (Jake Lockley one shot for @megamindsecretlair because she kinda asked, more like I asked her what she wanted in it. She asked for action and smut. I might try more action in fics later.)

Get a room you two and BONE (Part two of my Tim Rockford comedy series which now has romance? I binged too much B99, watched a bit of Castle and a few episodes of Kojak with my mom. The insanity will only increase with part three but maybe there might be some growth between Tim and Doc? Or a hippo.)

Nerdie I thought you said you were busy....that's six fics...

I was and some of them I had been working on for a while. I also had some insomnia (that lead to parts two and three of the Tim Rockford fic). Anyway, on to the main event! 😘

Nerdie's fic recommendations! or things I read this week. 😄

14 x kisses by @trulybetty (Jack Daniels x reader) Part of her 29 days of valentines for February.

Sorgan Girls Are Easy - Solo Din Djarin by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (the fic that inspired my Din - her Din has 100% more smut)

Half of you - chapter 3 by @foxilayde (Santiago Garcia x fem. reader) Slow burn series - love it and trying to read it slowly to savor it.

Falling for you by @toomanystoriessolittletime (Javi Pena x fem reader) A bittersweet read that had me wonder what was next but I was hopeful.

Sunday Naps by @javierpena-inatacvest (Frankie Morales x fem reader) More proof that cuddling with Frankie leads to wonderful things.

Poe Dameron falling in love with his shy best friend (GN reader) by @i-belong-to-the-stars What one hopes for if you're shy and you're in love with those curls...er Poe. 🫣

Mystery Strain by @rebel-held (Dieter Bravo x GN reader) All kinks are valid and who doesn't love Dieter with a belly? 😘

Bulletproof by @laurfilijames (Jax Teller x fem reader) She wrote poetic porn with feelings. I was overcome, titllated and confused.

A girl walks into a bookshop by @oonajaeadira (Ezra x fem reader) Soft Ezra with a bookshop, yes please! 😄

Beneath the mask by @saradika (Din Djarin x fem reader) A medieval knight Din...so where does one pick up the velvet dress?

Loneliness by @sirowsky (Pero Tovar x GN reader) Pondering Pero in your local Park? Highly recommended for Valentine's Day.

15 x cashmere by @trulybetty (Joel Miller x GN reader) What thread count was it that encouraged Joel to hop in bed in such a state? For my personal file. 👀

He sees you by @maggiemayhemnj (Joel Miller x reader) This writer will tell you she just loves words. I would argue that the words love her in a unique way that makes you see the things. 💜

16 x dance by @trulybetty (Tim Rockford x reader) I pictured him dancing with the reader in his trench coat. @secretelephanttattoo (El) is to the holsters as I am to the trench coat. 🤣 In my mind.

Quiet Moments Collection by @secretelephanttattoo (various Pedro characters x reader) It’s the small instances that you think don’t matter, that are the most meaningful.

Plus One by @always-andromeda (Frankie Morales x fem reader) Always a fan of two idiots in love, even with their spat.

A Strange Fate by @youandmeand5bucks (Silva x fem reader) Two people who came together because of life circumtances. Are they really satisfied?

A Beskar Valentine by @firstofficerwiggles (Din Djarin x female reader) Awesome username, it makes me giggle. Din will be ten steps ahead and still fifteen behind when it comes to matters of the heart. My guy is an overthinking champion.

Seven by @lokischocolatefountain (Javier Pena x reader) A simple discussion about children leads Javier to a drastic solution.

To be Explored Later by @legendary-pink-dot (Frankie Morales x fem reader x Santiago Garcia) aka Ms. Curls if ya nasty! 😘 Somehow I missed the gem of a sandwich. How the reader was able to think about anything is beyond me.

Red Light Glow by @missredherring (Lucian Flores x fem reader) This man has me and @rhoorl keeping track of his silk shirt and gold chain. We would accept his call. The guilt would go away too quickly if we felt it at all. 😌

Incarnadine by @iamskyereads (Pero Tovar x fem reader) This Pero has me swoon with his care toward the reader, his love of baths (I just want him to soak and relax - he's been earning coin!), and his word choice. This is another person that words appear to favor. 💜

Not like I fangirled over these writers this week or anything 👀

What on the docket for this week Nerdie?

Part three of the Javi G summer romance

Maybe...Roc & Doc part three I don't like sitting on finished parts but then I whine about having no motivation for the next part. 👀 I make no sense.

March is toward the end of the week so my March Spring Prompts will start! I scheduled the first six days I think. I got anxious about getting behind (which isn't the point of doing them but anxiety doesn't care) and did some in advance. I like how they're coming along and that they're short. Unlike this update. 🤣 They won't have summaries, but will have warnings, tags and notes.

And because I hear series and I think "I should start another one!" I decided to write an Ezra series. How did I happen upon our favorites prospector/scoundrel/reluctant father figure? I've been reading works by @morallyinept @maggiemayhemnj and @magpiepills

Ezra intimidated me because of his language, but actually, I think I'd get along with him because he puts on a persona with a great deal of performance. It's the audience's job to figure out if you're serious or not. Or at least that's how I approached him. 🤨 This could go badly. I stuck him on the bayou with an air boat and I want him to cook gumbo. *full delusional achievement unlocked*

Special shout-outs to @connectioneverywhere and @soft-girl-musings for sending me lovely asks this week.

Also to @inept-the-magnificent who called Tim Rockford her sidepiece and I am still very tickled. 🤣

This update was long 🤗 Hehe

Love Nerdie ❤️

#weekend update #Nerdie #Nerdie's update #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #joel miller #frankie morales #dieter bravo #the mandalorian #nerdie fic rec #pero tovar lovers unite! #pero tovar #ezra prospect #Ezra #jax teller #javier peña #javier gutierrez #tim rockford #jack daniels #Lucian Flores

[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 5

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.    

Rating: E for Explicit. 18+! Word Count: 9.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Sexy shower time, a whole truck load of anger, fisticuffs, a bunch of angry people being upset with each other. Summary: A blissful morning becomes a whirlwind nightmare when Tequila sees your tattoo. But the biggest revelation doesn’t come until you’ve gotten all the way back to Louisville. Notes: Guys, I just...this chapter happens very fast and there is a *lot* of stuff going on. And I just love absolutely everything about it. 😂

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Sunlight streaming through the curtains is what wakes you, traffic on the busy Boston streets leaking into the beautiful calm of your room and heavy arm around your waist anchoring you to the mattress. Tex is curled around your back like a huge koala, holding on and nuzzling into the back of your neck in his dreams. The general lack of clothing and ache between your thighs would be telltale if you had been drunk when everything happened, but you since you weren't it's just a lovely reminder. Every second is catalogued away in your memory, right down to the moment you both collapsed, sweaty and satiated, and fell asleep in each other's arms within minutes.

Humming, Tex is aware the second you wake, stirring from his own deep and satisfying sleep. "Good morning." He grins and kisses the back of your neck without even opening his eyes. "Did I manage to convince you?" He asks playfully, telling you last night before falling asleep he was going to demand an answer on if you preferred cowboys in the morning.

"Got a secret for you," you mumble, turning over in his arms to curl into his chest. If not for the damn family brunch you're supposed to be at this morning, you would be very happy not to move from this bed. "I've always liked cowboys."

Tequila barks out a sleep rough chuckle and pulls you closer, rolling onto his back so that you are sprawled out on top of him. "That so, cowgirl?" He huffs playfully.

“Always.” The nod you give him is solemn, even if your grin is playful. “Watched Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid the first time when I was eleven and never got over it.”

You would make a perfect spouse for a Statesman agent then. Tequila knows he can't tell you about things until it becomes more serious, but he winks at you. "Well then, I guess you're in luck." He teases, leaning in and kissing you while he reaches up to grab his hat off the bedpost. He pulls away and sets it on your head.

“It’s about as subtle as a heart attack.” His hat shades you like a beach umbrella when he pops it on top of your bed head and you laugh, dopey on attraction and good dreams. “I like it though. Might have to get one of my own eventually.”

“No need to be subtle.” Tex grins at you and rolls his hips up, letting you feel the very unsubtle thing that is hard between you. “Not when I’m showing my hand.”

“Good.” When you look down at him again you hum a little, bowing your head to steal another kiss. “I hate games. One hundred percent honesty all the way.”

He would pull you against him for another round, but he got a copy of the itinerary, same as you, and he knows that you need to be there for the brunch. “How about we explore in the shower while we get ready?” He poses, smirking against your lips as he squeezes your ass.

“Sexy and responsible. I like it.” You sit up reluctantly, knowing that it will have to be a quickie since you’re supposed to be downstairs in the dining room in half an hour. “C’mon, cowboy. I’m sure the shower has enough room for two.”

“I made sure of it.” Tex sits up as you scamper off the bed. Hating that you are walking away from him, but admiring the way your ass shakes. “Plenty of time to make sure your knees tremble when you walk.” He growls confidently before he throws himself out of bed to chase after you.

“Planning on seducing me, were you?” Even though you make it to the bathroom first, his long arm reaches past you to turn on the shower head and you smirk at him over your shoulder. “Have I been seduced?”

“Have you?” Tex winks at you and grins. “You tell me.”

"Fifty-fifty," you decide, after giving him a good, long look up and down. Tex isn't shy about anything, least of all his body, and he gives you a flex for good measure. "Call it a mutual seduction."

"I can't deny that." He chuckles and glances down pointedly at his groin for good measure.

"If you want more, you gotta get in here." One step backward and you're in the shower, tipping your head back to luxuriate in the fierce spray of hot water. "Otherwise we're gonna be late."

"Wash first, play after." Tex promises, sending you a wink and ducking his head down to lick a line of water off your chest, perilously close to your nipple.

"How is that after?" You whine, gasping at how close he comes to where you wish he would have directed that troublesome tongue of his.

He chuckles again and straights up, sending you a small wink. "You don't want me to wash you?" He asks with a play pout.

"Well...if you're offering." The nearby facecloth is in your hand immediately, getting soaking wet under the hot water to hand over so he can lather it - and you - up.

Taking the washrag, Tex smirks and motions for you to turn around. "Back first." He tells you, reaching out to slap your ass when you obey him.

"Yes, sir." Giggling, you shake your ass for him before stretching your arms and giving a contented sigh. This is pretty close to a perfect morning, as far as morning after scenarios go, and you're planning on enjoying the hell out of it.

He tucks his tongue between his teeth and starts to wash you. Just because he's copping a feel here and there - okay, a lot of feels - doesn't mean he isn't going to wash you properly.

It's nearly hypnotic, aside from the distracting hands grabbing and squeezing and making both of you giggle or moan, alternately. When he finally gets to your other arm, he starts rubbing at it like he's trying to scrub your skin clean off and you laugh again. "Sometimes the makeup gets smudgy before it comes off," you explain, having entirely forgotten that you covered your tattoo in the first place. There were different, much more fun things to think about. "I got the heavy-duty stuff a while back. Like what they use on movie sets for actors."

Tex frowns, not commenting as he works the layers of makeup off your skin. Thinking that the placement is odd as he swipes at it with the cloth. He doesn't want to hurt you but there is a knot of dread that is starting to build as the ink starts to slowly become visible under the flesh colored makeup.

"You don't have to be timid about it." Turning half around, you reach for the cloth but see the utter dismay on his face. "Don't tell me you're against ink?" That would be...extremely inconvenient. But it's not like you have Eat Me written above your cunt or something. Although that would be fucking hilarious. "I know everybody at Statesman is into the clean-cut look, but I've had this for years."

Tex shakes his head, unable to explain why this tattoo has him floored. "I—I don't." He murmurs softly, standing up and stepping back from you. His heart aches and he hates that he's seen it. Wishing he didn't know who else sported this tattoo. "I—shit." He shakes his head and closes his eyes on a sigh.

"What's wrong?" He looks like he's seen a ghost, which makes you cringe a bit and suddenly wish you weren't both standing naked in such an intimate setting. "I—I don't...have a soulmate. If that's what you're worried about. I used to have a bunch more tattoos and a couple of weeks ago they...they just disappeared. And that only happens when...when your soulmate dies. So don't think you've got, ya know, competition or anything."

His jaw rocks when he realizes you don't know. You don't fucking know. Confusion mars your beautiful face and he knows that you are going to be hurt. Hell, he's hurt. Jack didn't fucking let him know and he knows that motherfucker was aware of his interest in you. It wasn't like they hadn't prowled around together enough to know when the other had taken a shinin' to a particular woman.

“I’m really gonna need you to say something.” He looks angry and it’s unsettling in the very worst way, making you tense up and cross your arms over your chest in a protective stance. “Like now, please.”

"I've - I've seen that tattoo." Tequila admits, hating how the weekend is now over. Of course it is. "Recently."

“What?” Standing still and perfectly stable, you nearly fall over from the way that seemingly simple news rocks through you and makes your heart skips beats on its way up into your throat. Second soulmates are supposed to be a fairy tale. “On who? When?”

"I—I can't tell you." Tex can't say anything, not without getting into the classified details and Champ's already riding his ass for being 'too lax' with classifications. "Not yet."

“Well that’s un-fucking-acceptable.” And definitely makes you think he could be lying or creating an excuse to get out of seeing you again when you get back to Kentucky. Which is both hurtful are extremely fucking disappointing. You had thought Tex was a better man than that. Of course - you had thought Jack was a better man, too. Maybe you’re just a shit judge of character. “Second soulmates are impossible. If you saw my tattoo on someone then maybe my soulmate didn’t die. They just…had plastic surgery or something?”

You're her. The woman that put marks on Jack's body. The same one that your soulmate was killed by Jack just a few weeks ago. No wonder Jack kept running from you, guilt written on his face. "I—I'm sorry, darlin'." Tex shakes his head and swallows harshly, aware that you are pissed. "It's…it's classified."

“What the fuck does that mean?” It’s too much to digest, after how much fun last night was and how much Jack disappearing into thin air hurt you earlier in the week, to think that Tex is just wriggling his way out of things after getting what he wanted.

He doesn't like the hurt on your face. Not at all. Reaching up, he cups your cheek and stares into your eyes. "I promise you that I'm not trying to hurt you." He chokes out, his heart clenching and he fucking hates that he ever suggested a goddamn shower. He could have been blissfully unaware of who's soulmate you are. "It— it'll make sense soon."

Instinct takes over, making you recoil and slap his hand away the second it touches your skin. The tears are hot and angry, pressing against the backs of your eyes like prickling needles when you shove him out of the way to get out of the shower - half-clean and half-mortified. “If you wanted a one-night thing I would’ve been fine with that,” you tell him flatly, even though it’s a fucking lie. You don’t look back as you pull open the door of the shower and step out, grabbing for the closest towel to cover up with. “You didn’t have to be fucking mean about it.”

"I'm...” Tex sighs and his head drops down between his shoulders. "That's not what happened." He whispers as you march out of the bathroom.

******

Brunch is excruciating, making excuses for his absence to your family because you hadn’t wanted to spoil the morning after your cousin’s wedding with being outwardly angry. Instead you simmer all morning with too many mimosas, and on the plane with your headphones jammed into your ears staring stock forward so he doesn’t dare try to talk to you on the way back to Kentucky.

No more cowboys. You lecture yourself sternly, hauling your weekender bag up onto your shoulder the second you deplane and speed walking away from the broad-and-tall frame of the cowboy who had driven you both to the airport. You’ll take an Uber, thank you very much. Now more cowboys and no more putting your heart on the line. Getting it bashed with a proverbial sledgehammer twice in one week is plenty enough to learn your lesson.

Tequila sighs, jogging up to you and grabbing your bag. While he understands you hate him, he can't let you go off on your own. Not when he knows who your soulmate is. It's a security risk and he wonders if that's why Jack sent him to the wedding with you. "Come on, you don't have to talk to me, but don't be dumb."

“Give it back.” Fury doesn’t usually last this long for you, but you’re seething with it to cover up how disappointed and hurt you are.

"No." Tex shakes his head, pulling it back out of your reach. "Get in the damn truck." He tells you. "I'm gunna get you back to Statesman unharmed. Then you can never talk to me again."

“Why do you even care?” Considering he’s taller, faster, and stronger than you, it’s not like you can overpower him and get your bag back, so you stare him down instead.

"Because I care about you." He insists. "You might not believe that, but I do."

“Bullshit.” Still, you pull open the door of his enormous pickup truck yourself because it will annoy him that you didn’t wait, and swing yourself up into the passenger seat. You’re mad enough to you’ve moved over to spiteful, but at least he hasn’t seen you cry. “Just take me home.”

"I will." Tex clenches his jaw as he climbs into the truck and his fist curls around the steering wheel hard enough to make the plastic groan. "Bet your ass I will."

Fucking dramatic ass cowboys. You sink down in the seat and squeeze your eyes shut, desperately wishing you were going home to New Hampshire to sit with your sister or out to New York City to hang out with your brother. Anything but the little house halfway in between the two men who have kicked you to the curb like last week's garbage.

As the truck barrels its way towards Statesman, the anger inside Tequila builds. Pissed at Jack for what he's done. The selfish son of a bitch caused you to hate him. He stews with every mile that the tires eat up, nearly red faced by the time that truck turns onto the road that leads towards Statesman housing.

As soon as he pulls into your driveway you jump out of the truck, grabbing your bag from the cargo bed and heading straight inside. The sooner you can get into a bath with an army of scented candles and a bottle of something much stronger than watered down mimosas or airline nips, the better. You can just wash away the horrific memories of this weekend and never speak of it again.

The moment the front door of your cabin slams, Tequila throws the truck in reverse, the tires squealing from how hard he stomps on the gas. Fury making him sling the truck around and gun it as he throws it into drive. Hearing the engine roar with a grim wince of satisfaction as the V-12 lurches forward.

******

The door to Jack's office slams open under his palm, a satisfying creak and groan of heavy wood mirroring the stomp of Tequila's boots. His vision is so tunneled by righteous anger that he doesn't see Champ lounging in the armchair off to the side of Jack's heavy desk - only focused on the man he came to confront. There's no hesitation in his step, singularly motivated by the boiling in his blood when he storms forward and swings, connecting with Jack's jaw with flawless precision. "You son of a bitch!"

Jack goes sprawling to the floor, shocked but he's quickly bouncing back. "What the fuck!" He shouts, picking himself up off the floor and glaring at his friend. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"Have you?" Tequila spits back, slamming his fist into Jack's desk next. The crash is satisfying in an entirely separate way. "How could you not tell me?!"

"Tell you what?" Jack demands, frowning and shaking his head to look over at Champ. "What the fuck didn't I tell you?"

"Her!" Tequila bellows, towering over Jack with a red face and hurt eyes as the older man gets back to his feet. "Did you think I wouldn't find out she's your fucking soulmate?"

Shit. The anger drains out of Jack's face and he stares at Tequila. "She's— it's a mistake." He chokes out. "I'm not – I can't be her soulmate." He insists, begging the younger man to believe him. "You know that."

"I saw her fucking tattoo, Jack." He doesn't even notice that Champ has jumped up to slam Jack's office door shut, containing the noise as well as the news. Tequila is too wrapped in his own fury to notice anything at all. "You knew and you didn't say a fucking word and now she's furious with me because you went and shoved your head in the goddamn dirt."

"You didn't have to fuck her!" Jack shouts back, anger surprising him although he had known what would happen if the other agent went with you. He had known that Tequila was attracted to you, but he had ignored it. "You coulda kept your dick in your pants for once in your goddamn life."

"I wouldn't have if you had said something!" The outrage on both ends is obvious, but Tequila feels it twisting in his guts like something ugly. "I'd have kept my damn mouth shut and kept her company and kept my fucking feelings to myself if you had just said something."

"Feelings?" Jack scoffs and shakes his head. "Since when is horny a fucking feeling?"

"Fuck you." Tequila bites out, but Champ grabs his arm before he can wind up for another good hit.

"Cut the shit, both of you." He orders, tone short and sharp and brokering no insubordination. "What the hell happened?"

Jack snaps his head around and blows out a breath, realizing that Champ is the room still. He had completely forgotten about the older man after Tequila busted into the room like a pissed off bull in a china shop. "I don't have a fucking clue." He spits, glaring at Tex and nods towards him. "Why don't you ask the hot head?"

"Agent Chicken Shit backed out of taking his soulmate to a wedding this weekend and asked me if I could take her instead." Tequila wrenches his arm out of Champ's firm grip, feeling like he's been caught breaking his brother's nose by his father all over again. "Knowing goddamn well that I—I'm in love with her." Saying it out loud makes him wish he could just storm back across the Statesman campus and explain everything to you. To beg you to believe and forgive him. But it's not his place. Not at all.

Jack snorts and rolls his eyes. "Wantin' to fuck ain't being 'in love'." Jack spits back, furious to hear those words out of his mouth and worse, he wonders if you feel the same way. It pisses him off and he wants to punch the righteous fucker in the nose for touching you.

"When have I ever punched you over wanting to fuck the same girl?" It's not as though they hadn't, after all, but Tequila still glowers at Jack across the desk.

"Can't recall you ever even using the word 'love' before," Champ comments, interested to see exactly how red in the face Jack is going to get.

His teeth are about to crack he's clenching his jaw so hard. Nearly growling at the way that Tequila flusters. Breathing heavily as the younger man turns towards Champ with a shrug of his shoulders. "Because I ain't felt it before." He admits, shaking his head. "But there's somethin' about her."

"She does seem to be a point of fascination." Champ's no fool. He hasn't missed Jack's attentions being centered on you, or Tequila's stolen glances. He hadn't missed the flirting - both intentional and not - and he had listened diligently to what Diana told him without over-divulging or betraying your confidence.

"She's a shiny new toy." Jack hisses, puffing up his chest and glaring at Tequila, ready to throw a few punches of his own considering what he's done. "He'll get tired of her, just like every other woman he's ever taken to bed."

"Look who's goddamn talking," Tequila hisses back. "Barely took you a week to get sick of her and without even the good manners to tell her you why."

"I was trying to PROTECT HER!" Jack roars, his own fist slamming down onto the table as he lashes out. Picking up the bottle of '87 and throwing it against the wall, shattering it and splashing whiskey over the walls.

"Alright, the both of you!" Champ doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to. The disapproval and the anger in it clear without needing more volume. "Tequila, you take your ass up to my office and you stay there until I come talk to you. I want both sides of this and it ain't gonna be clear with you shouting over each other like beasts."

Jack glowers, staring down Tequila as he marches out of his office and hisses as the door rattles on its hinges from the force of him slamming it shut behind him. "She didn't need to know." He defends roughly. "She doesn't need to know."

"What the hell happened?" Champ turns his eyes on Jack, knowing Tequila will do as he's been told and wondering what catalyst had pushed Jack to run the way he had. "You got embarrassed that Diana caught you in an amorous moment? That's nothin' to be ashamed of."

"She's NOT my soulmate!" Jack shouts, fury making spittle fly out of his mouth and his voice cracks in his desperation for someone to believe him. To convince himself.

"That's up to you." And Champ won't push him to admit otherwise. "But she's human. And she deserves a damn apology. Di said she was beside herself upset at you walkin' out, even if she hid it well. I can't imagine Tequila spurning her now is going to make her feel any better, although it ain't your fault the boy lost his nerve when he realized."

"He wants a soulmate." Jack mumbles, his shoulders rounding at the reminder that he had treated you abysmally. They had done a lot more than just been each other's wingman for picking up women over the years. There had been plenty of serious conversations between women and glasses of whiskey. "He's not going to be with someone else's if he knows them."

"So you thought letting him discover it on his own would...go smoother?" He's not even going to go into how jumpy Jack is being about his own attraction to you.

"How was I suppose' to know that the fucking idiot didn't know?" Jack huffs defensively. "I showed him the damn mark on my skin. It's not like the fucking things on her tit. I thought he saw it on her."

"Alright, alright." Champ shakes his head and groans, feeling like everybody's damn father and not for the first time. "I'll go deal with him, but you..." He could just order him to apologize. To walk over to your house right now and make things right. But he knows that won't actually help things, it will only make Jack dig his heels in harder. "Whether you're ready to tell her or not, she still deserves an apology."

"For what?" Jack spread his hands up helplessly before he props them on his hips. "For killin' her soulmate? For her being stuck with me? For kissin' her and running away? For keepin' it from her?" He asks, not sure which sin he has to ask forgiveness for.

"You gotta decide that yourself." He had just meant the bit about running off, but as long as Jack is willing to entertain the idea of actually telling you the truth, he's not going to discourage it.

"She deserves better, Champ." Jack murmurs quietly. "Better 'in me. Hell, better than the kid."

"That's not up to you to decide." Champ's voice is just as quiet, but far gentler. "It's up to her. And if she's rightfully pissed at the both of you after this week, then that's that. But at the very least, she should know that you didn't run off because of anything she did. Y'all are actin' in her best interest as far as you're concerned, but all she can see is two men makin' her feel good and then acting like she did wrong for following down the paths you set."

"Shit." Jack closes his eyes, pissed off at himself for being a fool and giving Tequila the opportunity to hurt your already bruised feelings. He should have just taken you.

"Clean up this mess," Champ points to the broken liquor bottle on the floor. "And then go clean up the one you made with her. I'll deal with Tequila."

Jack stares at him for a moment, nodding quietly before the older man turns around and leaves the office. Leaving Jack in the wake of the mess he had found himself in.

Champ heads down the hall with purpose, shaking his head at the ridiculous state his two agents have made of things. He knows he brought you here to be protected, but apparently he should have been protecting you from their dumb asses as well. Thankfully, Tequila is waiting in his office like he was ordered, leg bouncing with nerves but no damage done. "Alright," he huffs, shutting the door behind him. "Your turn."

"Now Champ..." Tequila springs to his feet, aware that he should have handled things better than he had, but he's mad. "Whiskey didn't tell me she was his soulmate. I wouldn't have gotten involved with her if he had of."

"Don't think I know that?" The boy's sense of propriety is usually aces, even if his common sense can lack. "That's not why you got put in time out, Tequila. I can't punish you for makin' a fool of yourself with a lady. Either of you. Even if you deserve it."

"Then why am I here?" There is an edge of defiance in his voice, residual anger from the entire ordeal.

"Because you attacked a senior agent without provocation." Champ tells him flatly. "And I can't be sure y'all won't piss each other off enough that it will happen again."

"He fucking deserved it, and you know it." Tequila argues, standing up and putting his hand on his hip.

"Not the point, son." He can't make a judgement call on this if he ever wants it to get resolved. "It's insubordination and you know it."

Tequila rolls his eyes and huffs before he begrudgingly acknowledges that what Champ is saying is true. "So what's my punishment?" He asks. "Week scrubbing the warehouse?"

"Manual labor ain't gonna prove a point to you." Champ knows that. The kid comes from honest labor and hard work. It rolls right off his shoulders. "You're gonna take an assignment for me. Give you time to cool off and separate yourself from our fascinating lady so you can cool the hell off."

Opening his mouth in protest immediately, he manages to catch himself before he says something. Closing his mouth and just standing there. He knows he deserves it, even if he doesn't say so.

“Kingsman proposed an agent swap about a month ago.” Moving around him, Champ motions to Tequila to sit before plopping down in the large wingback chair behind his desk. “Been debating who to send. Looks like you just gave me my answer.”

"What am I gonna do in London, Champ?" The Texan whines, giving his boss a horrified expression. "They don't know the first thing about ropin'."

“So you’ll teach ‘em.” The side drawer of Champ’s desk holds the folder of papers from Kingsman as they rebuild, and Champ flips it open to skim through the paperwork. “Change of scenery and company might do ya some good, Tequila.” He glances up with one eyebrow half-raised. “After an apology.”

"I'm not apologizing to that fucker." He doesn't care how long Champs sends him to 'Merry ol' London', he will never apologize to Whiskey for belting him like he deserved.

"Not to him." Champ nearly laughs, but he catches himself. He's meant to be angry. A disciplinarian. At least for right now. "To her. She didn't ask for any of this shit."

"I can't apologize without telling her why I backed away." He reasons with Champ. "If that asshole had just manned up, this wouldn't be an issue."

Seeing as he can't actually argue with that, Champ sits back in his chair and eyes Tequila for a second before he lets an approving nod escape. "At least tell her you're goin' and that it has nothin' to do with her. Don't let her hear it third hand and wonder what the hell she might have done to make both of you run." He's gonna have to pay a visit to you himself, he thinks, and make sure you get something nice for the restaurant or let you hire a second-in-command, or something. Anything. Just to make sure you don't resign and he loses the ability to protect you.

Tequila nods and shuffles his feet slightly. "I'll go over there now and explain." He mumbles. "But it might have to be through a door. She's really fuckin' mad at me because I wouldn't tell her where I'd seen her tattoo."

"Can't say I blame her." Hell, if he were a woman, he'd have given them both far more hell than you seem to. "Do what you gotta go tonight. You're on the jet no later than 0900 tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir." Tequila nods once and turns on his heel. He needs to apologize to you before he goes; and put these feelings that he has for you to bed. There can't be a future with you. Not when Jack wears your tattoo.

******

The bath was a good idea, and you bundle up in clean pajamas after crying your damn eyes out and throw on an extra sweatshirt for comfort. You toss a bowl of leftover chili into the microwave and hunt down the bag of tortilla chips to eat it with, figuring you’ll turn on a movie and try to forget that the rest of the world exists.

Tequila decides that it would better to walk over to your place rather than pull up in your driveway. Walking along the way until he is standing on your porch and sighing softly. Hesitating for a moment before he reaches out and knocks on your door. Anticipating that you won't even answer.

“Fucking hell…” Muttering under your breath all the way to the front door, you check the peak hole before opening it and end up groaning. “What do you want, Tex?” He’s the actual last person you want to see right now, but if he’s got an explanation you want to hear it.

“I—” Tex shifts on his heels and reaches up to rub the back of neck in embarrassment. “I owe you an apology.”

Yes. He certainly goddamn does. You pull open the door halfway and look up at him expectantly. “How about an explanation, while you’re at it.”

"That's where you're gonna be mad at me." He bites his lips and shrugs. "It's not— I can't tell you who but I can tell you that I've seen that mark on someone I know. And I—I didn't know when I went after you."

“Unless it’s one of your brothers or something, I can’t see what the big deal is.” Having decided, over the course of the last few hours, that he’s probably lying to try to get out of a relationship, you just shrug your shoulders. “Fine. It is what it is.”

"Believe me...I wish I could tell you." He sighs. "I— I came to apologize because I'm being punished." He grunts. "Being sent overseas on an assignment."

“What did you do to get punished for?” That intrigues you enough to step back, leaving the front door open for him to come inside. He’s rowdy, sure, but you can’t see him being brash enough to put his job in the line. He loves his job.

"I punched someone." Tequila grumbles quietly, his brow furrowing, and he won't admit that his hand is aching. Jack Daniels has a fucking jaw of steel. "In front of Champ."

“And he’s banishing you to another country for it?” First of all, it’s news to you that Statesman even operates in other countries. But who the hell could garner that kind of punishment for something that— It’s like the entire world stops spinning for a second, screeching to a halt as you stand in your foyer next to one frustrating cowboy realizing the entire conversation just turns back around to a second one who is even more frustrating. Your eyes snap up to Tex’s, wide and full of so much shock that it’s nearly embarrassing. Because the second you put the pieces together, it couldn’t have been clearer. “Jack…” His name is barely better than a murmur, but it’s firm. “It’s Jack. Isn’t it?”

Of course you would figure it out. Not only are you funny, beautiful, and talented in many, many ways; you are also smart. Probably a hell of a lot smarter than he is. Your eyes betray your feelings, the stunned anguish in them, and the hurt that you are feeling shining out at him. It makes him want to pull you into his arms and comfort you. But it isn't his place to do that, and he's already hurt himself by getting involved with you. It would just make it harder to let go of you. "I can't tell you who." He shakes his head and sighs. "Just please, please believe me. I never wanted to hurt you."

You never wanted to think he was lying, but now that you know who it is that’s wearing your mark, you can see why he backed off immediately. That’s his mentor. One of his closest friends. And while Jack running off might have been a shitty thing to do, that now makes a lot more sense, too. “Maybe when you come back, we can try hanging out again?” It’s a weird situation for anyone to be in, but you do enjoy his company. “Just as friends?”

Tequila swallows, knowing that it might be hard for him for a while but he nods, giving you a small smile. "I'd like that darlin'." He admits softly. "I-I wish it could be more, but I know you woulda gotten tired of my ass." He jokes, not wanting to make it awkward, but he does want you to know that he had been serious with his intentions. "I'm sorry for ruinin' the brunch."

“I told everybody you were too hungover,” you smirk, already knowing that that is the ultimate blow to his manhood as a Statesman employee. But you were plenty mad this morning and didn’t care.

"Shit." Tequila hisses, shaking his head as he absorbs that blow. "I deserve that, but damn, you pack a low blow."

“Not sorry.” And you won’t pretend to be, either. You meant it when you told him you don’t play games. “But…it does suck that you’ll be gone for a while. Try not to fuck up too much shit wherever you’re going, okay?”

"I'll be alright, darlin'." He boasts confidently. "They should be worried about me."

“I’ll be sure to call and warn them, then.” You laugh softly, shaking your head, and one hand unconsciously rests on your front door.

He's smart enough to take the hint, nodding politely at you and takes a step back. "Well, I'm gotta go pack and I'm sure you're wantin' your peace back, so...I'll see you, darlin'." He offers, tipping his hat to you at the edge of the stairs.

There’s no use telling him that you had fun before this morning. If he actually liked you it will just be cruel and if he didn’t it just makes you sound clingy, so you say good night and shut the door, sighing to yourself as you pace back to the kitchen. That bowl of chili is already getting cold after being heated up, and you’re going to need several drinks to digest the information you’ve just been handed.

Jack.

Jack is your soulmate. Your second soulmate, which is supposed to be impossible. Why? How? Who the fuck even has answers to something like that?

******

Jack moves slower than molasses as he starts to clean up the mess he had made with his temper. The mess he had made of your life was going to take a little time and finesse. He doesn't know what to say. The anger and jealousy swirling in his gut at learning that you had slept with Tequila had surprised him, but he can't fault you when he had practically thrust the boy into your arms. Taking an hour to make his office spotless again, Jack leaves the Statesman offices to start walking back to the cabins to talk to you.

After dinner you stack up the dishwasher and grab one of the key lime tartlets from the test batch you made on Friday, curling up under your blanket on the couch with the second half of your movie and a second glass of spiked lemonade. Relaxation won’t come no matter how hard you try, though, and as if encouraged by your own restlessness - the doorbell rings again.

“Coming.” You call out, grumbling to yourself as you get up, only to deflate when you open the door. “Jack…” You hadn’t expected this, honestly. You thought it was Tex again for some unknown reason or other. “H—hi.”

"Hey, sugar." It's a chicken shit move, to pretend like nothing happened, but the way his eyes light up when he sees you isn't something he can control. "How are you doing?"

“Um…well, honestly I’ve been better.” Shifting in your doorway, you step to the side to let him in and clear your throat before cautiously pointing to the bruise blooming on his jaw. “But I think you have it worse at the moment.”

Jack snorts and shakes his head. "Nah, barely felt this." He lies, his jaw aching and he swears that Tequila loosened a few teeth. He shoots you a grin that is less confident than it appears and scrubs his hands up and down his thighs. "Can I come in, talk?" He doesn't blame you if you say no, but he wants to at least try.

“That’s…probably a good idea.” While you doubt that Tex went back and told him that you might have figured things out, you want to hear it from Jack. Either confirmed or denied, whatever the truth is. This man owes you the truth and an apology and that is the very least of it.

Jack steps into the cabin and lets you close the door behind him. Nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, he turns towards you to see where you want to do this. He's in your territory and is willing to follow your lead.

"Do you want a drink?" It's a compulsory thing, always feeling like you should at least offer a drink to someone who's going to stay more than five minutes.

"I don't think you want to give me a drink, sugar. But I appreciate it." He would actually love a stiff drink, but he's not going to impose on you more than he has to.

"If you came to apologize, you get a drink." The nervous way he shifts has you worried, but you smile despite your churning stomach. "If not? I guess...just say what you came to say? I don't know, Jack. This whole thing is very awkward and I'm trying to figure out how to make it less so."

"Then I guess you better pour us a double, sugar." Jack mumbles, not quite meeting your eyes. The eyes that have haunted him for the entire week that he's stayed away from you.

"Come on in." Nodding to the living room, you disappear back to the kitchen for a second to grab a glass and the open bottle from your counter. He idles by the armchair beside your couch so you put the bottle down on the coffee table after you've poured him a drink, and hand him the glass. Your own drink is sufficiently spiked, you hope, for whatever he has to say. At least Tex already accidentally dropped the biggest bomb that might come up in conversation.

"I— hell." Jack takes a nervous gulp of his whiskey and sighs. "I owe you a large apology, sugar." He starts out. "I've acted like a tee-total ass and I regret that. I've hurt you; I know I have and I never meant to."

"Well...thank you." It being the second time tonight that you've heard something like that, you have to admit that the hole in your heart made by Jack's cruelty was much larger. Maybe that's something you ought to be ashamed of, but it's just how you feel. "I feel like there's more, though?" Even if you didn't know there was, the way he shifts his eyes all around the room to everywhere but you would have been a giveaway.

Damn you’re intuitive. Or Tequila ran his big fucking mouth. Both of those could be true. He sighs and taps his fingers against his knee and contemplates what to tell you. "Yeah." He admits quietly. almost inaudible.

"Do you...maybe want to start with why you ghosted me after we kissed?" After grappling with that one for an entire week on your own, you'd like an actual answer. A real, honest, from him answer.

"You scare me." The words fall from his tongue easier than he imagined them. Tumbling out quickly and earnestly. Truthfully. He rocks his jaw and nods. "You scare me, sugar."

That makes you huff, shifting in place on the sofa nervously. "Can't quite see the logic in that," you admit, tapping your fingers on the glass in your hands and smearing the condensation in ugly patterns. "Since you kicked the asses of a half dozen bikers the day we met and I couldn't even do that in my wildest dreams."

"Not that kinda scared, sugar." Jack chuckles at your logic, unable to find the fault with it and is a little pleased with himself for that fight still. "I'm meanin' that it's— it's complicated." He settles for that. "I didn't mean to hurt you because of it though."

"Jack..." The sigh that escapes you is nearly a groan. Or at least something bordering frustrated. "I don't think it's a secret that I like you, okay? I wouldn't have kissed you back if I didn't. I just...even if this - whatever this was - ends here? I just need you to be honest with me. Whatever the truth is, whether it's hard or easy or complicated or simple. I just...I need you to show me that much respect."

"Okay." Jack agrees to that easily enough, nodding his head and waiting for you to continue.

"For the record." The shifting seems to be endless, and you close your eyes for a second against the nerves. "Tex didn't say anything. He kept his mouth shut and protected you. I put two and two together myself." Glancing up at him, you have to remind yourself to breathe. "Will you show me your arm? Please?"

Jack's mouth is suddenly drier than the Sahara desert. Closing his eyes for a moment before he nods and stands up. He will have to roll up his sleeves or take the damn thing off. He shrugs out of his jacket and unbuttons his sleeve. "You are smart, sugar. Don't doubt that."

"I never do." It might be the wrong time to be sassy, but the response is automatic. Your mouth is dry as dirt by the time Jack rolls up the sleeve of his plaid shirt, and it's only partially because watching a man roll up his sleeve is like having a woman put on a push up bra as far as sex appeal goes. The first glimpse of your own tattoo on his skin steals any breath you had left in your body, and you swear you're lightheaded at the actual sight of it. Your mark on someone else's body. It's enough to make you break right down and cry, but you have a feeling that wouldn't exactly help the situation.

The cat is out of the bag, and Jack shows you the marks that are on his skin briefly before he starts to roll his sleeve down again. "Now you know why you scare me." He is leaving a hell of a lot out, but it's a truth you might be able to swallow.

"It's supposed to be impossible." Even with evidence, you have to keep yourself from reaching out and touching his skin just to prove to yourself that it's not make up or Sharpie or something.

"It is impossible." Jack tells you, shaking his head at the entire situation and reaches for his drink.

"Obviously not." It definitely does explain some things. Like the way the two of you can't seem to stay away from each other even when he was obviously not wanting to be around you.

"It damn sure is when I killed your original soulmate." Jack snaps out without even thinking about how those words would land.

"You what?" The glass in your hand goes crashing to the floor, cracking and spilling bourbon and lemonade in every direction but you can't do anything but stare at him: wide eyed and terrified and more confused than you've ever felt in your life. "Wh-wha—you—?" The tears pricking at your eyes are a surprise, but only because you never considered that this would ever be a sentence you would hear in your life.

"Fuck." Jack hisses, realizing he's stuck his ass all the way in the fire and the only way he's going to get out is to tell you everything. "Sugar, I— Statesman— is an independence intelligence agency. I am an agent. The last op I was on, he - your soulmate - was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Innocent bystander." He tells you bitterly. "I killed a civilian by accident."

The blatancy of it nearly knocks you over, to the point where the tears spill over unfiltered. "Fuck off, Jack." You hear your own voice, full of anger for the second time today. "I asked you to be honest with me."

"I am being honest with you!" Jack growls, pissed off that you don't believe him. "How do you think I took on a half dozen men without a scratch? Do you need to have it confirmed?"

"Sure. Confirm it for me. Why the fuck not." You might as well be rolling your eyes at him, and maybe it's childish, but you're sick of being disappointed. Especially so many times in one week.

"Ginger." Jack speaks up, knowing that saying her name will activate his communication link in his watch. "Lock down my soulmate's cabin." He orders. "Code Orange."

There is a brief pause and Astrid's voice comes through the built-in speakers in your cabin. "Roger Jack, Code Orange." Immediately, the soft lights of the lamps switch off and bright emergency lights flicker on. The door lock flips and there is a mechanical whirling as solid metal shutters roll down over your windows and door. The bookcase that you have stuffed with cookbooks in the little breakfast nook pops open, showing an opening behind it that will lead to a safe room.

"What the fuck?" Jumping backward further into the sofa, you curl in on yourself as the lights beat down on you and the windows cover with steel. The bookcase in the corner makes you flinch again, and you look around like you're trying to figure out where the cameras are that are filming this prank. "W-was that...Astrid?"

"Astrid's codename at work is Ginger Ale." Jack tells you. "Just like my codename is Whiskey. Agent Whiskey. It's also the reason why I have no tattoos or scars on my body. No identifying marks."

"Because you're..." Searching for the word, you can't even find a real-world scenario in which you've ever said it before without referring to fiction or a game. "A—a spy?"

"I guess that's the easiest way to look at it." Jack nods.

"What's...that?" The door behind your bookcase is a special kind of scary. That shit only happens in movies or when it's a bomb shelter.

"It's a safe room." Jack provides. "A place where you can go in the case of an emergency. So you are safe from harm. Nothing short of a nuke would get you in there."

Stock still with equal parts shock and the need to process all the information you've been given in the last three minutes, you gulp inelegantly and wipe one hand down your face. "So..." It's a whole lot all at once and you stare forward when you open your eyes again. "You...after..." Deep breath. "How?" You ask finally, not really knowing how to ask about someone's murder.

"Your real soulmate was a chef." Jack tells you quietly. "He was on the loading dock of the Whitney smoking a cigarette." He knows you will recognize the hotel as the one you had just left. Another reason why he couldn't go to that damn wedding reception since he had just had a shootout there. "I saw a gun and I just...reacted." He admits quietly, staring down at his hands because he can't look up and face the blame he knows he will see in your eyes. "There were two men on that dock, one innocent and one trying to kill me. And I took them both out."

"So you just...got it? Just like that?" It doesn't make sense, but it's not like anyone really knows how soulmates get chosen in the first place. "Y-you shot him and got me as a prize?"

"I'm guessin'." That part has him stumped so he just gives a small shrug. "Lucky you."

"Shit..." Neither one of you can look at each other, but the flood lights and steel shutters are sure to attract attention, and you clear your throat softly. "Can you...um...make it go back to normal?"

"Oh shit, uh yeah." Jack shakes his head and speaks again. "Ginger, Code Green. Repeat, Code Green. All clear." He knows that she knows that there wasn't an emergency, but it was still protocol to use the codes.

"Thanks." The weight of reality feels exhaustively heavy on your shoulders, but you press your thumbs into your eyes and sigh. "So..." It's getting to be too much to process but the conversation just isn't anywhere near over. "So, what does this mean?"

“I don’t understand.” Jack admits, not sure if he’s getting what you are asking. “What does what mean?”

"Well, we're—we're soulmates." Whether either of you likes it, or the circumstances, is beyond the point. It is what it is and all you can do is deal with it.

“You don’t want to be my soulmate, sugar.” Jack promises you. “My soulmate has been dead and gone for a long time.” The guilt of her death weighs heavily on him.

"I'm not trying to replace her." The thought actually appalls you, knowing that plenty of other people might try to do just that. "She was your wife, I just—" When you finally muster enough courage to look at him, he won't meet your eyes. It's all at once that any hope you might have had shatters, and you remind yourself that he killed the man you were supposed to love with all your heart. "I just want to know if you're gonna keep ignoring my existence or not."

“You’re here, aren’t you, sugar?” Jack answers glibly. “If I was going to ignore your existence that wouldn’t be the case.” He doesn’t mention that Champ was the one who found you and brought you here. “You’ll be safe.”

"Safe isn't the same as—" You shake your head before that word can come out of your mouth. "Okay. I'm safe. And you won't ignore me. Fine." The wave of bitter disappointment that rips through you is angry and you hate it, but it's overwhelming. "So why exactly did you scare Tex off if your top thought is safe?"

“I didn’t scare Tex off.” He is immediately pissy at the idea that you would want that boy. “He came in yelling about marks and punching me in the jaw when I damn sure showed him the new fucking marks on my body.”

"Yeah, you showed him, but you didn't tell him who I am." That might be what stings the most. That he didn't acknowledge you in any way whatsoever until he was forced to. "He nearly had a panic attack in the shower this morning and I got to cry my eyes out for the second time this week."

The pain of knowing he made you cry is like a swift, sharp knife to the chest. “What was I supposed to tell ‘im?” Jack demands. “The girl who will hate my guts when she learns the truth is my soulmate? Or better yet, the universe decided that despite me being unable to protect my real soulmate it’s given me the soulmate of the man I killed as a laugh.”

"Right, but I'm safe here?" Just because you have no idea what he's talking about doesn't mean you're not still upset, and you can fire back just as nastily as he can. It makes you feel like you're being torn apart at the edges, so why not just lash out? Surely that will help.

"Yeah, you are." Jack huffs, not sure exactly what you expect from him. "You've got a job you said you always dreamed of, a house to call your own, and all the security that Statesman can provide you." He holds his arms up and then drops them down onto his hips and stares at you. "What else do you want?"

“Someone to spend my life with.” It’s what you’ve always wanted. More than anything. And getting every other dream in the world without someone to love who loves you with equal ferocity just feels like a slap in the face. You have a career and security, but not love. And that makes the other two things just seem lonely.

"I like you, sugar." Jack admits quietly. "I really do. But that ain't me." He doesn't say anything more than that, knowing it's not necessary. His life ended the day it began ironically enough, he's just been a dead man walking ever since.

“I’m starting to get that.” He’s clear and honest about it, you have to at least give him that. But it still feels like he picked up that broken glass from the rug and sliced your chest straight open to get at your heart. Like the universe replaced your real soulmate with a security guard, not a partner. And you still don’t even know why the fuck you need a security guard.

“I’m sorry.” Jack tells you, hating the way the light has just vanished from your eyes and he wants to rush across the room and pull you into his arms. But he doesn’t move. “I wish it could be different, but…” he shakes his head again and stares at his belt buckle. “We don’t always get what we want.”

“Clearly.” The word is choked and bitter, you know it is, because what you want is sitting right in front of you telling you that you can’t have him. This could be easy. Or at least less complicated. It could be so many things that aren’t this. Instead, Jack is sitting there telling you that you’ll never have the most basic and cherished thing in the world. Love. “I’ll just…try not to get in your way, I guess.”

“I’d like us to be friends, sugar.” Jack shuffles slightly and manages to look up at you. “But I understand if you can’t.” You don’t answer him and the ache in his chest gets heavier, prompting him to move towards the door. “I’ll let you be. I’m really sorry.” He whispers. “For everything.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around.” It’s a dismissal. Maybe even a cruel one. But right now you’re feeling so defeated that you don’t even care. You just want to be alone - a state you’re apparently going to have to get used to.

Out on the porch, Jack wonders why you taking his refusal so easily stings. Wondering if he wanted you to fight, even though it would do nothing but hurt you. He knocks on the front porch pillar as he starts down the stairs slowly to walk to his own house. “See you around, sugar.”

The floodgates open as soon as the door shuts behind him, giving you the freedom and the privacy to weep as openly and as long as you need. As horrifying and complicated as everything is turning out to be, you would have been so glad to love Jack. To get to know him and grow with him and find out what smooths those sharp edges. You would have loved to love him. To have that privilege would have been extraordinary.

But you’ve been dumped before you ever knew what you had. So who knows what will happen next?

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73    

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au #love triangle #Tequila x reader #Channing Tatum

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 14. sucker for pain

chapter tags/warnings: misogynistic! naoya. pet names ("bimbo"). dirty talking. nonconsenual undertones. infidelity/adultery. strong language. humiliation. classism.

word count: 3.8k

notes: i published this story for the first time in october 2021 on wattpad, and i'm so thankful for and overwhelmed by the support and love that sex therapy has received over the past year. thank you for watching me and my story grow. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Eat. Sleep. Fuck. Repeat.

This would be the mantra Naoya would live by tonight.

The little date he was taking you on was merely a prequel to the chain of bedroom events he had schemed for the evening. Because warming up first was important, no?

As a wonderful husband, Naoya took his precious wife out to dinner at Shibuya’s Cé La Vi, a top-floor restaurant that may not be as vertigo-inducing as its famous Marina Bay Sands counterpart in Singapore, but offered a menu and skyline views second to none.

He had even requested an outdoor table under the fairy lights for the romantic atmosphere, where both the amber hues and soft jazz washed the vicinity with warmth and peace. Exactly what Naoya also needed after his last twenty hours filled with hurried negotiations with publishers, a long flight back to Tokyo, and many private lectures from his outraged father.

At least that was all done now.

Sighing, Naoya gestured at a nearby waiter, who disappeared and returned with a glass of expensive tequila several minutes later. Eight in the evening might be far too early for Naoya to down his third shot of Don Julio, but he needed to reward himself for completing a hectic itinerary without a wink of shuteye in between.

With the drink, he quietly soaked in the low hum of chatter that mingled with the gentle clinking of cutlery. The ambiance was so miraculous that Naoya didn’t know why he hadn’t taken you here earlier.

Now that he thought about it, when was the last time he had taken you out on a proper date anyway?

Oh, when he took you out two weeks ago to skydive in…

No, wait that was with Mari.

He was only two and a half glasses in, but the liquor was already messing with his memory.

So when…?

“We haven’t done anything like this in a long, long while,” you commented when you must have noted his extended silence at the dinner table, although Naoya found it quite funny that you seemingly read his thoughts instead.

He swirled the liquor in his glass but decided against another sip. “You think so?” he asked as harmlessly as possible. “When was the last time?”

Cutting into a scallop on your plate, you bit your inner cheek. “Our…honeymoon.”

Holy crap, that Caribbean trip was months ago. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you deadpanned.

Oh.

Okay, he might have thought a lot more about spending time with his mistress, and he hadn’t exactly been keeping track of every single date he went on with you, but he certainly did not expect to have such an abysmal track record with his own wife.

Not that he felt guilty about his absence in your life.

Besides, you had the money to entertain yourself as you wished. Whether because you were blinded by sheer stupidity or his bank account, you thankfully didn’t complain much either. All Naoya had to do was to keep you happy and ignorant because—to paraphrase his father’s own words—if Naoya flopped this marriage with the COO's daughter, he would not be welcomed in the Zenin household again.

The difficult part, however, was that you were hard to please.

That was what happened to little girls who grew up spoiled by daddy’s money, Naoya supposed. Mari, on the other hand, would have absolutely been overjoyed in your position. Hell, even Naoya himself—who merely grew up as a spare heir—would have shown some gratitude.

“Sorry that I’ve been so occupied.” The Zenin CEO had to inject whatever sympathy and sincerity he had into his apology before sampling his risotto. “I’ve been buried in work ever since I joined the executive suite earlier this year. I’ve had a lot to catch up on.”

“I know,” you responded very matter-of-factly. “And I understand. You’ve been busy with meetings.”

Right. Meetings with his board in addition to his, well, other more discreet ‘meetings’ where he pounded his paramour into oblivion (but let’s not talk about that, shall we?).

As he pushed the thought away, he placed his fork down in exchange for his drink. “That’s why I invited you for dinner—to spend extra time with you. I’ll make things up to you even more later.”

You glanced up from your meal, blinking rapidly but the ambivalence apparent in your gaze. “Really? Like how?”

Sex, you motherfucking dimwit.

How much more obvious did he have to be?

Of course, he instead replied with, “You’ll see.”

He hadn’t told you his idea to rail your brains out because he didn’t feel obligated to, but if he wanted to a) get his father off his ass and b) be a baby daddy by morning, he had quite the mission to accomplish. Besides, if he calculated the numbers correctly in his head, today was still within your fertility window. A later day in the schedule, but still a fertile time for his wife, nonetheless. This was the perfect time to focus on you, particularly since he wouldn’t be distracted by Mari for some time. Perhaps arriving early from Mexico wasn’t too much of a bad thing.

Tonight, the deed didn’t seem too difficult to do either, thanks to how provocatively you dressed. Since when did you wear off-the-shoulder mini dresses? Was this from your New York fashion haul three months back?

“It’d be nice if you could apologize to me first.”

Naoya froze with his glass by his mouth at your unanticipated comment. What were you even going on about? “Didn’t I already say sorry for not spending time with you?” This was what he meant by how ungrateful you were.

Curling your lips inward, you inhaled sharply. “That wasn’t what I was—”

When the conversation was unexpectedly interrupted by a buzzing at the table, Naoya reached for his phone only to be greeted with a blank screen. Rather, he looked up to see you wiping your hands and staring at your device, mirroring Naoya’s own confusion as your brows creased at an unsaved number.

“Spam,” you concluded and pushed the device away once the caller eventually reached voicemail. “What I was saying,” you began even as your face contorted momentarily with reluctance, “was that you never told me you were away from Japan. I didn’t even know where you were or when you would be back had I not called your secretary.”

Wow, that was what you wanted an apology for?

What an entitled brat.

Admittedly, Naoya should have texted you before he vanished into thin air, but a homemaker like you certainly had no business in his personal schedule. Had he truly had an investor conference to attend, Naoya was certain you would have been just as meddlesome, which was why he found the situation even more sardonic when you confirmed his suspicions by adding, “Sending me a text isn’t too difficult, you know.”

Just who the hell did you think you were?

Don’t think he had not noticed how confrontational you had been as of late, criticizing his actions and then dishing out instructions as though you were anywhere near the place to do so. This change from your typically submissive nature was uninvited, to say the least. Like, at the bare minimum, you could look at your own husband as you spoke, and Naoya wondered if your actions were simply a phase in the relationship or a reveal of the real you. Whatever the reason, he wanted his good and obedient wife back.

“Well then, my apologies." His eye twitched as he spoke, and nothing now could hide the contempt rising in his tone. “Next time, I’ll make sure my assistants send you my entire itinerary from when I sleep to when I use the restroom to—"

Naoya couldn’t even think through his annoyance because, at this point, your phone was ringing for what must be the third time and that irked him even further.

“Please!” he scoffed, his vexation bursting through his voice. “Just excuse yourself and pick that shit up, good lord!”

At least that much you listened to. You pardoned yourself, stepping away just as Naoya pinched the bridge of his nose. On the one date he finally organized with his wife, you just had to ruin his mood with your shit attitude and table manners. Fantastic.

After one long huff, Naoya swung around in his seat and caught the attention of a nearby waiter.

The fuming executive then pointed at his glass.

“Another shot, ASAP."

As much as you were guilty of self-deprecation, you were not masochistic enough to simply swallow your husband’s insults over dinner.

‘Sex, you motherfucking dimwit.’

Simply thinking back to that line sent tiny pricks to your chest.

Did Naoya really think that, just because he mumbled that to himself under his breath, you wouldn’t hear him? What made you even more upset was that, when you asked for an apology, he could not even recognize his wrongs. There was more that you hoped to confront him about, too—particularly about the rumors of his extramarital affairs—but you had half the mind to shut up given his splenetic fury.

Whoever called you, however, thankfully provided you with a reason for reprieve.

You rushed out of the main restaurant venue as you curiously stared at your phone, noticing the missed calls from an unknown number. When the same contact information appeared on your screen in its fourth ring, you pressed the ‘Accept’ button only for the other line to greet you first.

“I still have your dress, kiddo.”

Kiddo.

Only one person called you that.

“Choso?” you nearly shouted in disbelief, unintentionally garnering the attention of some bystanders.

“That’s me alright,” the therapist answered, his reply cool and composed as though he never questioned the fact that his hands landed on your phone number. “I was just about to give up on reaching you.”

Overwhelmed, you sighed. “Sorry, I’m rather busy at the moment.”

“Right, right,” he mulled, a faint rumble sneaking in his tone. Choso then clicked his tongue against his teeth, and you could almost picture the blasé manner in which he would recline in a seat as some shuffling echoed over the line, which would have normally been irrelevant until he added, “Well, I’m downstairs.”

“What?!” was your first reaction. Now, you were certainly getting weird stares. Downstairs, as in, where? “Are you in—”

“Yes, Shibuya. You’re at Cé La Vi right now, aren’t you? Take the elevator down to the first floor. My car’s parked right outside the building’s main doors. That Dolce & Gabbana outfit I made you change out of before the club, I didn’t have a chance to return that since you stormed out of the meeting last night.”

You shut your dropped jaw. “The dress I remember but,” your gaze then narrowed, “how do you know where I am?”

The call suddenly grew quiet, the lull stretching for what must be an hour as Choso carefully contemplated his next words. “When you’re in the right business,” he hinted darkly, no doubt making a reference to his underbelly occupation, “information isn’t hard to come by once you know the right people.”

An assassin with eyes all over the city, huh?

Well, that explained how he got your number as well, albeit you would not be surprised if he had dug through the therapist office’s database for that instead. Sometimes, you had to wonder how an upper-class lady like you got entangled with a man like him, but a five-minute round trip to the first floor could not possibly hurt, right?

“I’ll meet you, then,” you eventually replied and ended the call.

Catching the first elevator car down, you had no trouble spotting the iconic blue Corvette convertible that stood outside the building’s entrance. Upon your approach, Choso rolled down his window and stuck his head out. This evening, his jet-black strands were pulled back into one low ponytail rather than two, his prominent jawline appearing even sharper against the nighttime backdrop.

No wonder this man had a whole harem in the club.

“Hey,” he hummed as his inky eyes ran down your figure, his gaze lingering a little longer on your exposed collarbone before traveling down to your legs. “I like your style.”

At the compliment, you looked away, feeling a bizarre prickle in your stomach. “I’m on a dinner date.”

“With Naoya?” Given how the therapists have recently revealed their disdain for your husband, you were not surprised to see Choso grimace. “Why…would you do that to yourself?”

Great question. “He’s paying, so I can’t complain.”

Choso pressed his lips outward, nodding when he could not argue against that. “I see.”

During the silence that ensued, you clicked your heels together, too busy floundering in the burning presence of your companion that you almost forgot the reason you were here in the first place. “Do…you have my dress?”

Nonchalantly, the man pointed to the back with his thumb. “In the trunk. What? You’re in a rush or something?”

You nodded slowly. “Naoya doesn’t know I’m down here," you explained but, given the psychological pain that your husband had inflicted on you, there was no good reason for guilt to be tugging at your lungs.

Even Choso narrowed his eyes. “You’re going back to that asshole?”

Another great question.

Without saying much, Naoya already made clear that his intention with you tonight was grounded only in sexual gratification, that he viewed you as nothing beyond—as he had put it—‘a motherfucking dimwit.’ Despite the pain, you never failed to find a reason to crawl back to the husband that lashed at your heart.

“Naoya is already angry at me,” you eventually remarked, twirling the edges of your dress. “If I don’t get back...”

“Then what? Even more of a reason to ditch him, to be honest. Maybe that will teach him a lesson for all the times he left you.” Choso was not the type to talk much, but he inevitably had the uncanny ability to leave you dumbstruck once he did. Oblivious to your state (or not), he then casually adjusted the braided bracelet at his wrist. “Better things to do with your time than stay with him.”

Funny that your first instinct was to defend Naoya again. However, even if you were to dutifully return to your husband, he would internally welcome you with apathy, his only goal to leave you smitten as a kitten just so he would have a pussy to play with.

Abandoning Naoya also came with one other problem, though. “There isn’t much else for me to do.”

How pitiful was that?

Sure, you had a stack of invitations to various charity dinners and networking parties, but—even with all the riches and respect in the world—you found those events pretentious, repetitive, and dull.

You half-expected Choso to mock you. (Because, really, who were you to complain about first-world problems?) However, the man just paused slightly, a dash of sympathy running over his expression as he then motioned to the empty shotgun seat.

“I could take you out for a ride.”

Your brows shot up. Tempting. “Where to?”

“Since I’m free tonight, I was going to take myself somewhere by Tokyo Bay—one of my favorite spots around,” Choso explained as he ran both his hands through his hair. “Although, if you’re interested, I could show you the area, too.”

At the proposal, you tried not to smile too obviously. Who knew that a hardened part-time hitman actually had such a soft spot?

“Then I’d love to.”

Choso drove off the second you jumped into the Corvette, the convertible greeting you with its familiar ashy honeysuckle scents and a The Neighbourhood tune. With a long exhale, you sank into the red leather seat and stared out the window, watching the nearby scenery transform from skyscrapers to highway signs.

Quietly, you relished the soothing silence in the car that was a refuge from the charged cacophony over dinner, reflecting on the steps that brought you to this moment. What a twist of fate, how the man who had detested you weeks ago was now a warm beacon that offered light in the merciless sea, providing you more comfort than you'd like to admit.

When you unconsciously turned in his direction, you tried to not stare too obviously at the metal on his ears, the piercings gleaming as they caught beams from bypassing streetlamps. You might have had a rough start with Choso Kamo, but you still found him ridiculously attractive with his oversized white sweater and black jeans, hiding his athletic physique underneath.

“Need me to pull up Google Maps?” you asked upon realizing your extended ogling.

“No,” he shot back. “I know this city like the back of my hand.”

And Choso sure seemed like he did.

He was focused solely on driving, his palms clasped around the steering wheel as his fingers drummed to the bass of ‘Sweater Weather.’

This close to him, you noticed how his hands were rough and calloused—almost definitive sign of working out. Right where he rolled up his sleeves, veins also weaved beneath his forearm tattoos, the inked vines something you never had the chance to examine extensively either.

This time, you weren’t too discreet given that he caught your gaze. “What?”

Oops. “Nothing.”

You turned away to look ahead, trying to calm your frenzied heart by observing some uninteresting cars on the expressway. A proper lady like you knew better than to gawk at someone for a prolonged time, yet you still got caught red-handed. How embarrassing.

Slumping further into your seat, you pouted as your weird way in mitigating the internal humiliation. “Just…keep your eyes on the road.”

While Choso did as he was told, he held back a low chuckle. “And you could keep your eyes on me.”

“But I wasn’t—!" A complete lie, but you still shouted with flailing arms, defenses hopeless.

Yet, what really disarmed you was Choso’s faint smirk.

One minute, you were frustrated and flustered; the next, you were simply stunned at the amused tilt in his lips, all because his smile was so rare. There was something enchanting about the cocky way Choso grinned as he stepped on the accelerator, the maniacal gleam in his eyes as he stared ahead, the bright colors of the Tokyo evening that glittered behind him.

“Jesus, take the fucking wheel,” you muttered like a starstruck teenager.

“What’s wrong?” he asked harmlessly because this man definitely heard you over the music. He threw you a quick glance even as the smile on his lips stayed. “I mean, you could keep staring if you want to, bimbo. I won’t judge.”

Mouth opened to back talk, your ambitions immediately got cut short as Choso moved a hand from the steering wheel to your inner thigh. While you hid your gasp at the unexpected contact, you only hoped that he did not notice the way you tensed under his searing touch.

But Choso noticed, alright.

“Hm, why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” Choso pressed again, his focus still on the lane as though he was not caressing you, massaging you, his thumb running in hypnotic circles centimeters away from the dull throb between your legs,

How he managed to maintain his composure in such a situation was a mystery given that you, unlike him, gripped hard at the side of your seat.

“Because…” you hissed after mustering all effort.

Then, you stopped.

How could you respond while completely distracted by the tightening in your stomach, practically holding your breath as his hand crept up higher? It was not helping that his fingers were so thick, that he had a small dagger printed by a knuckle, that his scent was reminiscent of burning maple leaves during a New England fall.

“‘Because…?’ Because what?” Choso asked, knocking your thoughts loose momentarily because he—on the other hand—did not miss your incomplete answer. His nails dug into your skin, nearly making you yelp at the incredible burn. “What’s the issue? I don’t remember you being this shy with the other therapists around.”

The steeliness that underlined his tone…

Was Choso still hung up about your frisky flings with Toji and Sukuna? Even though you should have never gotten sexually involved with them in the first place, you never would have thought that Choso would hold such a grudge.

In response, you cautiously observed his side profile. “Are…you jealous?”

He closed his eyes momentarily at the question, indescribable salaciousness etched on his lovely face, and he shuddered slightly. His eyes opened back as a sharpened glare, Adam’s apple bobbing as the result of a drawn-out swallow.

“Oh, baby,” he growled, and it was the backward tilt of his head that left your mind spinning, “you have no idea.”

Traveling beneath your dress, his hand roamed a little higher, then higher again, his pinky finger brushing at your panties’ seam such that if he decided to travel up any further, he might just feel how miserable and soaked you were.

Just hurt me, you begged silently, legs squeezing together subconsciously as you feel a delicious heat churning through your body, biting back a moan when Choso gripped hard at your thigh before smacking at the flesh.

“Harder,” you accidentally pleaded out loud, immediately clamping your hands over your mouth.

Unsurprisingly, your insanely handsome driver turned to you. When you met his gaze, you only wished that you hadn’t because Choso had a gaze that left you weak in the knees, the murky pool in his eyes enough to leave you whittled to a frantic and blubbering mess.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

“Well, I'm curious what your husband would say,” he interjected, debauchery bleeding in his tone, “when I send you home my handprints on your ass cheeks?”

Wow, that really took you aback.

“‘When?’” you bleated. Not ‘if?’

“Yes, ‘when,’” he confirmed with a hoarse thrum. His overflowing confidence clouded your head with something heady, something intoxicating. As much as you think you should tell Choso to stop, words were lodged in your throat once he forced your legs apart with one firm pull, and while you found pleasure in the pain, it was his next suggestion that sent sweet vibrations straight down your spine: “Because I wonder what would happen once I spread you over the car hood and took you right there.”

last chapter || next chapter

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#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk smut #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #naoya x reader #naoya x y/n #naoya x you #choso x reader #choso x y/n #choso x you #sukuna x reader #geto x reader #toji #naoya #sukuna #geto #choso #anime #anime fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #tokyometronetwork #downtownroppongi #jiminjamms #jamms.sextherapy

[addledmongoose]

Good Omens Fanfic Friday (05 Apr 2024)

Almost everything this week is canon-compliant/adjacent. For a change there's only one human AU.

Nice And Ominous: a reluctant eschatology of the Second Attempt (series) (84K currently; Rated T/E)

Every so often there comes along a week where I'm absolutely ecstatic to recommend something. I spend all week in anticipation of sharing it with everyone in the hopes they'll love it as much as I do. This week, it's this series, a three-part post-S2 that definitely deserves way more kudos and attention than it currently has.

Part I (rated T) is from Crowley's POV and focuses on him slowly healing from the heartache of losing his angel. He learns to be friends with Maggie and Nina, becomes like a big brother to Muriel, and even gains an almost-friendship with Eric. The story isn't as angsty as it sounds, though Crowley doesn't always have the healthiest coping mechanisms (a tendency to drink and drive across the world). The author does a great job of not putting all the breakup blame on Aziraphale. You can always tell the difference between Crowley blaming Aziraphale in a story and the author blaming him.

Part II (rated T) is from Aziraphale's POV. This story is definitely more angsty that Part I. Aziraphale's up there doing is best, but with only one real (human) friend back on Earth to rely on and trust, he's mostly on his own. Just as with Part I, the author doesn't put the entirety of the blame for the breakup on Crowley any more than he does Aziraphale. Be warned that it ends in a cliffhanger.

Part III (mostly rated T but some E) is still incomplete, but the author posts weekly and the story is already written, so I feel confident we'll see the end. I can't say much about the plot of this one without serious spoilers, but if you read the first two parts you'll definitely want to read Part III. It hurts at times. A lot. If you need mostly fluff right now, this isn't the one for you. (The rest of today's list is pure fluff, though, because I needed it after obsessing over this story).

If you don't like to be left hanging on a story, read Part I, but hold off on Part II until Part III is complete. It won't be too long; the author has already released two chapters since I started writing this note (7 of 14).

This series is incredibly well-written. It's almost certain to make my year-end best-of list, as it's easily one of the best "what happens next" after Aziraphale leaves for Heaven. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all week.

***

Break the Rules (1.4K; Rated G)

Aziraphale has a beard. Crowley loses his mind.

***

In Love We Rise (11K; Rated E)

One of two AJ_Constantine stories on my list this week filled with fluff and gorgeous writing. It's Easter Sunday and Aziraphale is feeling a little down about the holiday. Crowley decides to cheer him up.

***

Bad Communications (series) (15K; Rated T)

Funny post-S2 three-part series where Crowley and Aziraphale are made to realize (by Nina/Maggie and Muriel respectively) that they might not have communicated with each other as clearly as they thought during the Final 15. I particularly love how Muriel is written here.

***

Heaven On Wheels (3K; Rated M)

Aziraphale buys a Scoopy moped and convinces Crowley to go for a ride. The author, CopperBeech, describes it as "a sappy, happy, old-fashioned s1-compliant (and s2-defiant) post-Nopocalypse getting-together fic."

***

Caramel Delight (16K; Rated E)

Human AU. Another wonderful bit of fluff from AJ_Constantine. Crowley is delighted when his terrible neighbors move out and even more delighted when he sees his new neighbor is a gorgeous blond man. The neighborly thing to do would be to bring over a jar of his Nan's caramel sauce as a welcome to the neighborhood gift, of course. Crowley is really dense here; hilariously so. The "they share one brain cell" tag would be appropriate, but Aziraphale is the only one using it.

#good omens fanfiction #fanfic friday

[paperbackribs]

The Gift (15 of 15)

previous: Chapter 14 The Boy Next Door Ao3 Link

Last chapter, the boys finally hashed out their feelings with Eddie revealing that he had been in love with Steve from the very beginning. This chapter, Robin just wants to watch their film in peace but a vision from the ethereal finally reveals the missing pieces about the mysterious origin of the connection.

Chapter 15 La Vie En Rose (Final Chapter)

“It’s black and white,” Steve explains, worried that Eddie won’t want to watch the film if it’s not in colour.

“I get it, like The Twilight Zone,” Eddie catches the M&M that Robin throws at him with his wide mouth, his teeth chomping shut in a way that is disturbingly attractive to Steve.

Robin cheers from Steve’s living room armchair and then throws a tan-coloured M&M in the air to herself, only for it to bounce off her cheek and fall into the crease between the cushions. She frowns while digging it out.

Steve pushes his hair back before pushing the VHS into the player. “No, it’s a romance. But a classic,” he quickly adds.

Eddie eyes him from the right side of the couch, “I like romance. Why else do you think Sam followed Frodo all the way to Mordor?”

“Uh, because the world was going to end?” Steve answers, confused. Did they watch the same movie?

Robin snorts, “Even I got the undertones, Steve. How’d you miss it. Following your ‘friend’ to the ends of the earth; that practically screams gay yearning.”

Steve throws himself onto the couch, bouncing against Eddie. Feeling happy to press the length of his arm and hips against Eddie in a way he hadn't dared to only weeks ago. “I just figured they were best friends.” He points at her, “I even thought that I would be your Sam.” Eddie shifts his arm to drape across Steve's shoulders, pulling him into his embrace.

Robin screws her nose up, “No, thank you. Though,” she says, showing her hivemind loyalty. “It is easier to read the subtext in the books rather than in a kid’s film with weird voices.” Steve claps his hands in appreciation and she points back at him in acknowledgement.

“Stevie,” Eddie interrupts, fond exasperation evident in his tone. “Yes, I love The Lord of the Rings, but I kept trying to get you to watch films about friends who could be lovers.”

He nods at Robin as she sings out, “Ben Hur and his former bestie.” She catches the M&M this time.

“Or,” Eddie adds clearly thinking of Conan and Rocky, “About hot, shirtless men to see what your type might be. I was trying to feel you out.”

Steve mentally compares his reaction between the two movie nights, wondering whether his interpretation of Frodo and Sam may have been different if he had watched it after he realised his feelings for Eddie.

It’s not like he’s any more queer now that he’s with Eddie than he was before, but perhaps his pushing back on the idea of romance at their own end of the world had skewed his willingness to see the clues in front of him. For sure what that’s happened, he reflects, considering that he hadn’t seen the dance he was doing around Eddie until the visions had started connecting them.

Steve and Eddie had had enough conversations since their confessions that he no longer felt so stupid about his cluelessness. Eddie had been wary of pushing for more and Steve hadn't realised how much more he had really wanted. But that was in the past, so Steve accepts how unaware he'd been about Frodo and his buddy slash potential lover with a relaxed shrug before deciding to turn this to his favour.

He shuffles into Eddie's side, nudging Eddie's long hair out of the way with his nose to murmur lowly into his ear; the delicate curve reddens under his hot breath, “I told you exactly how I wanted to ‘feel you out’ during Rocky Horror.”

Eddie licks his lips and Steve feels his gaze draw down heavily, as if weighted by gravity to focus and lock onto that slicked pout. Eddie notices his distraction and his eyes slowly heat; he sways a hairs-breath into Steve's space as if to pull him down into that gravity and draw him into a sweet, heavy kiss.

Steve considers, just for a moment, cancelling movie night. That is, until a candy covered chocolate beans him at the back of his head, snapping him out of the charged moment he was sharing with his tempting boyfriend.

“Hey!” He whips his head around to scowl at Robin who smiles blandly at him and says, “No Horny Olympics; you promised.”

“Where’s Vickie,” Steve asks in retaliation, sneakily reminding her of the embarrassing incident when he’d walked in on her and her girlfriend in the breakroom two days ago.

She scowls back at him, “She’s coming next week.”

Steve is considering the value in pointing out the slight blush covering Robin's cheeks when Eddie calmly interjects, “Remind me about the plot.”

Steve turns back to Eddie. “Okay, Audrey Hepburn is this beautiful girl who falls for, like, the worst shit rag all because she’s got this narrow vision of what she’s allowed to have, right?”

Eddie hums in agreement, eyes crinkled in amusement.

“But then she gets to experience the world and comes back as this sophisticated woman. And she was already lovely because, come on, it’s Audrey Hepburn, but she comes back and she’s breathtaking, right? And the shit rag gets all caught up in chasing her, even though he has a fiancé.”

“Like a cheating horndog,” Robin interrupts.

Steve points to her in agreement before returning to Eddie, excited to share about the film that he’s come to love. “But it’s all getting in the way of the family business, which is when Bogart gets involved.”

“I like Humphrey Bogart, he's handsome,” Eddie says mildly, a hint of fondness etched at the sides of his indulgent smile.

“He’s okay,” Steve agrees. “But the romance is in watching him fall hopelessly in love while he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. I won’t give away how it happens, but it’s satisfying to see him fall all over himself for her.”

Eddie tugs a lock of Steve’s hair before gently smoothing it behind his ear. “Sounds nice, let’s watch it, shall we?”

They press play, but in an eerie echo of weeks past Eddie abruptly points to the screen as Sabrina moves to close the French-style windows of her Paris apartment, “What is that song?”

Steve and Robin’s heads fly to look at each other, mouths open in shock.

“Why,” Robin asks, slowly.

Eddie watches them like he knows that something is wrong. “I’ve had this song at the back of my head for ages. And I haven’t been able to work it out. I mean, listen to it, it’s not exactly metal, right?” He pauses to listen further, “It is nice, though.”

“It’s Le Vie En Rose,” Steve shares. “I’ve been hearing it in the ethereal ever since I brought you back.”

Eddie frowns, “Is this about the connection?” Steve had explained his experiences with Eddie’s vision, which had resulted in some delightful experimentations. But he hadn’t bothered to talk about the music, other than to mention the humming, as he figured it was a matter between him and the ethereal, not anything to truly do with Eddie and their shared sight.

Steve flops back into his seat, staring blankly at the television. “It must be.” But he doesn’t know how or why. “It’s not dangerous,” he says with a conviction that comes with Knowing, “It just...”

He holds his hand up to them to give him a minute and allows his eyes to become further unfocused, sinking deeper into a muted world that opens up before him.

The music that no longer plays on the paused tape rises from the screen, transforming from what was once tinny and small to a collection of notes and melodies that feel physical as they weave around his body. The sun is warm on his back and the smell of herbs hang reassuringly in the air.

“You did well, Stevie.”

He looks down as Nana releases his hands from the box-step they are practising, her head only reaching his shoulders. She is wearing a peasant dress that hangs to her knees with wide prints of carnations and daisies stretched across it. Her feet are bare. Nana reaches up to pinch his cheek gently, but firmly.

“Ouch, Nana!” He says reflexively, rubbing at his face even though it doesn’t sting.

“It took you long enough. Look at you, big enough to fill a room but not yet smart enough to look into the ethereal and just ask.” Steve is uncannily reminded of his mother’s tone when she had grilled him about making The Sacrifice.

“I looked at the tapestries,” he protests.

“Hmph,” Nana moves over to the old wireless, turning the knob to lower the sound of Le Vie En Rose as it starts to play again.

“Where are we?” Steve asks.

“Where we were,” she responds simply.

“I told you, a long time ago, Stevie. That you could make your own steps, but I Saw you waffling on so badly that I made sure you would have me to guide you when the time came. You were very slow,” she continues to scold, getting further into her huff, Steve thinks.

She points a wooden spoon in his face that wasn’t in her hands a moment ago. “I do not huff,” she grumbles.

“Your Nonno used to say something similar, but that does not mean he was right. You two, so stubborn. No matter how many times I told him not to eat all the ricotta before the ravioli was made, he would still get sick.”

“I don’t get it,” he objects, “What am I so slow about?”

Nana eyes him with a loving exasperation unique to family, “To accept the path of love, you silly boy. How long did you spend staring at your eye wondering about how handsome you are or what kind of person you will be with your powers before you moved forward and embraced that nice boy.”

Steve’s mouth makes a small ‘oh’ as what Nana is saying seeps into his brain. “It wasn’t like it was years,” he tries, smiling winsomely at her.

“It could have been. If at all,” she scolds, unimpressed.

The realisation of what she is saying feels like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over him, sobering in the chilling understanding of what he has now avoided. Steve steps forward, gratefully holding onto her small hand, “Oh. In that case, thank you, Nana.”

The cloud over her expression clears and Nana smiles in satisfaction before squeezing his hand back, “There you are. That is the nice boy I raised. Good, you know what I did then.”

“Is the connection going to last?” He asks, determinedly not thinking about the way he and Eddie have been using it recently.

“That is up to the two of you. I tweaked your path myself, back at this point in time, but this is the extent of my meddling.” She lets go to place her spoon gently on the island full of cut and dried greenery. “You did well in taking action and now it is up to the two of you on how you will continue.”

He hasn't even had the full moment to worry before Nana is abruptly next to him as she raises a gentle hand to his cheek. She cradles his face like he is a newborn babe in her arms again, “Do not look so concerned, you have done well so far, have you not?” Her tone is as clear and efficient as ever and, as ever, he can hear the love beneath her brisk manner.

Steve nods, thinking at how he has been trying to be better at thinking and acting on what he wants in life. And Eddie’s getting better at speaking his mind. Eddie always has, he reflects, just not about Steve to Steve. Not until he thought he was allowed to.

“You’re right,” Steve leans into the warmth of her hand, cherishing this final comfort from her. “It could have taken years. Or maybe never.”

She hums in agreement. “I usually am. Now, tell your mother that I love her very much.”

“I will,” Steve promises, knowing that even his earth-bound, stoic mother will be moved by a message from her long departed mama. Even slyly looking forward to blowing her mind a little at their usual Sunday phone call.

“And I love you to the moon and back, my boy.” The skirt of her dress waves around her knees in a non-existant wind, the swaying movement echoed in an uncanny billowing of the day's light and the solarium's walls. The background behind her wavers as does her face and body, becoming fainter in every moment.

Nonetheless, he steadfastly reaches out to fold both her hands into his own clasp, “I know. I love you too, Nana.” Steve's heart is full of gratitude. To his Nana for her intervention. To the ethereal for allowing him to see her this one last time.

Her expression is as compassionate as her tone as she frankly says, “You never know what will happen, Stevie. Now go back and give your boy a kiss from me so he knows that he has my blessing.”

Steve folds her small, round body in his, taking a moment to take a deep breath and take in her powdery scent once more, to feel the weight of her full body in his arms. She rests her cheek on his chest and Steve feels a steady sense of family and purpose behind her touch.

He is loved and he is cared for; family, whether alive or not looks out for him so that he is not only safe but happy, cherished as a beloved son. He presses a kiss down at her faded, silver hair, imbuing the gesture with every sense of affection that he can. He can't see it, but he feels her answering smile.

His sense of touch and smell fades until his arms are empty and he is sitting down as he looks out onto his mundane living area, the film still paused, and the two most important people in his life staring trepidatiously back at him.

“It’s okay,” Steve smiles. “It was a gift.”

He leans over and presses a soft kiss to Eddie's cheek, “That’s from my Nana, she says you have her blessing.”

“Okay?” Eddie says uncertainly.

Steve looks over at Robin, his expression serene. “I was right, The Sacrifice was never supposed to create a mixing of the senses.” He grabs Eddie’s hand in his, squeezing. “Not our eyes or even sound.”

“It was Nana,” he continues, feeling a sense of contentment and a deep relief at the road not taken. “There was a good chance that we never would have talked about our feelings,” he adds to Eddie.

Steve reaches out to stroke a gentle thumb across Eddie's cheek, grateful that he chose a life where he can show the tender feelings he has for the beautiful, creative man across from him.

He smiles at Eddie's wavering expression, “You would have kept feeling confused and uncertain, unwilling to break the peace, and I would have continued to be a dumb asshole who thought my feelings were the natural platonic extension of a guy I’m clearly obsessed with.”

Eddie’s lips quirk up, “And Nana did what? Beaned you from the other side?”

Steve nods wryly, “Sort of. In a mystical type of way. She chose a moment in time to guide me and made sure it would activate at the moment that I took action to save you back in the Upside Down. I, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck abashedly, “Maybe just didn’t ask the right questions when I looked at the patterns."

Embarrassed at having failed at such a basic lesson that his Nana had taught him years ago, Steve looks away from the both of them to concentrate on a speck on the wall as he explains himself, “I think I was too caught up in freaking out about being the guy who creeps on his friend that I didn’t think to just ask the ethereal.”

Robin’s head is in her hands and her shoulders are shaking. Steve doesn’t even bother to think she’s upset, not for one second. There she is, he thinks, rolling his eyes as she raises her head to reveal tears of laughter streaming down her face.

“You absolute idiot,” she crows. “You had the power to ask all along and you forgot? Because you were pining for Eddie so hard you couldn’t get your head out of your ass?” Her laughter peels brightly across the room.

Steve’s cheeks flush and he doesn’t want to see the judgement that must be on Eddie’s face too, but he risks peeking at him.

Eddie looks pensive as he gestures a finger between them, “We wouldn’t have…?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Steve grimaces. “Nana said possibly years, but she hinted at never too.”

Eddie’s hand squeezes him tightly and he brings a hand up to draw Steve into a soft kiss, resting his forehead to Steve’s. “Thank Christ for Nana,” he breathes with conviction.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, voice thick with the faith of a love sincerely found and followed. “She’s pretty smart. I, apparently, am a knucklehead.”

Eddie's eyes are bright with tenderness, “She must have loved you very much.”

“She does. She did? I’m not sure where she is right now, but she was good at Knowing, at looking into the tapestry of destiny as well. I know she would have wanted me to have the best version of my life. And that must be with you.”

Eddie lights up and Steve silently thanks Nana again, for helping to add another brick that shores up the wall convincing Eddie that he is worthy, that he is deserving of sincerity and compassion.

Eddie had told him, ever since that conversation in the kitchen when Steve had been so convinced about the terrible impact of Eddie’s death, that he had been working on believing in it. In allowing himself to have faith when people tell them that they love him.

Eddie demonstrates his resolution to keep trying too when he chews on his lip for a moment before saying, “Let’s make sure it’s a life well lived then. You try thinking a little deeper, yes; but I’ll speak up more and make sure that I say what needs to be said.”

Steve nods and presses a kiss to Eddie's forehead, not too alarmed but nevertheless warmed by his determination.

They’ve both been working on being more open in their communication since they had uncovered a pattern of misunderstandings following their confessions. Tangled threads that had been small at first but becoming stronger knots; enough to distract them from the happier life open to them, if they only chose it.

Like the radiant path that Steve had Seen available to Eddie in the grassy clearing, before they had gone on to battle Vecna. An option he could have Seen for himself if he had not been blinded to it, Steve suddenly comprehends.

The first prediction he'd had of a bright life where Eddie loved deeply and was loved passionately in return - it had been Steve’s path too. But he'd been unable to look past the devastating impact the darker path would have on Dustin and hadn't thought to look further. He hadn't Seen beyond the darkness to realise that Eddie's path was also Steve's.

Steve, never suspecting that his own fate could be so throrougly intertwined into a tapestry of devotion with a boy that he had just started to have a deeper bond with and tentative feelings for. Yet, through his powerful intervention and by the grace of his Nana's gift, Eddie is alive here and now, his arms wrapped around the man he will love forever.

He lets his head fall onto Eddie's shoulder, the warmth of his cologne and the heat of his body grounding Steve in the present. Chuckling into Steve's embrace, Eddie continues to watch Bogie chase after Sabrina.

Robin fondly rolls her eyes at them, even as she sends a quick wink Steve's way. He feels her support to the very marrow of his bones: Robin never lies to him and Steve will rely on that gift in the future when he inevitably, as any human does, messes up. Just as he will return the favour to her.

Eddie pressses a kiss to Steve's hair and in the gesture he feels a promise. They will both work hard, for themselves and the other. And, in doing so, they will continue to weave their own destiny, creating a life full of joy and love, an unwavering light that will shine brilliantly and fiercely in their hearts.

Together.

If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!

Thank you so much for reading along with my story, it means a lot to me. And if you shuffled a comment my way then you need to know how much you moved me and made me feel seen. Thank you, all. I love you.

💜💙💚💛🧡❤️

Taglist

Thank you to my own little community of people who wanted to be tagged and often shared my little fic with their own friends. MVPs, all of you.

@a-gae-af-racoon

@a-lovely-craziness

@aly-reads-alot

@bestwifehaver

@bookworm0690

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@ellietheasexylibrarian

@everyrandomthing

@finntheehumaneater

@geekymagicalpotato

@goodolefashionedloverboi

@hallucinatedjosten

@ilikeititspretty

@just-a-tiny-void

@ledleaf

@littlewildflowerkitten

@lostonceandneverfound

@manda-panda-monium

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@mightbeasleep

@nburkhardt

@newtstabber

@obliosworld

@oliver-sykes

@platonicbesties4life

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@rajumat

@scoops-stevie-archive

@spectrum-spectre

@swimmingbirdrunningrock

@whackyrach

#witchsteve #steddie #platonic stobin #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #paperbackribs writing

[bless-my-demons]

I just wanted to let you know that I am WAY too hooked on Redamancy that I keep just being like I wanna read angst? Oh, it's time to read Chapters 14 and 15! Like, come on, how can you take these okay characters from a weird ass series and turn it into something like this? I honestly think you are doing better than smeyer did! I also hope that soon things get to chill out, and we can see some half fun times with Jas and Emmet! Stay hydrated and well fed!!!

Omg when I tell you this ask made my heart SOAR😭 I’ve loved this series since I first saw the movies in high school (I just aged myself, RIP), but I always imagined them… different than SMeyer did; I’m re-watching the movies this week and I keep noticing what I would’ve done differently. Also, sparkles? You’ll never catch me mentioning that lmao honestly I just take her baseline for the characters/story and make it make sense in my eyes. And honestly I think it’s just the difference in vibes from 10 years ago to now - what we want in romance, perception of paranormal (not that anything about this is realistic, but making it more believable), and having time to criticize the saga.

Jasper is my Roman Empire, he is such a complex character - they all are! They deserve better storylines and just more overall, I just love writing my thoughts with him. But it’s like a coin, the other side is the wolves - more specifically Paul👀 oh my god I don’t even know where to start with the wolves, there’s so much. And I do have a doc started for Paul for after Jasper (there might not be a true and final ‘after’, but like once I crank out BD part 2) for when I can focus my energy on that instead of trying to split it with Redamancy, it’s full of ideas, things I wished we had gotten - especially with imprint relationships. Ugh and then I have that pre-vampire Jasper WIP that’s unrelated to Redamancy🙈 how the fuck do people organize their thoughts to do multiple series at the same time lol

The last part of your ask I’ve been thinking about since I posted Ch29, do you guys like the in-between? Like, the stuff between the timeline events that’s not in the books/movies? I’m always so worried about those parts, because if improperly done, I’m worried you guys are waiting for me to get to the point-to the shit you know is going to happen. Like the grad party, the newborn army fight, big plot points like that; versus the little injects like spending time with Quil, or Emmett, or reader’s mom, those things? I promise those little things have meaning down the road (some for the plot, some to just add angst/fluff/or to just fix SM’s holes) but I’m curious about your guys’ opinions! I’ve definitely read some fics that have had plot fluff that I’ve skipped because I just wanted the meat and I don’t want to bore you guys with that shit if I’m not writing it correctly enough😅

I also just love asks like this that make me think deeper about the story, because it definitely influences and inspires my writing lol thanks love🫶

#ask me anything #ask me questions #i love asks #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #redamancy series #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #bless-my-demons #ask bless my demons #jasper hale #female reader insert #twilight

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (19/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.2k

More of Feyre settling into her place in the Night Court and understanding exactly what it means to be Lady of Night. Some dialogue and text is lifted directly from A Court of Mist and Fury.

Read on AO3 or you can find the nineteenth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11 - she underestimated just who she was stealing from | ch. 12 - no amount of freedom gets you clean | ch. 13 - stay stay stay | ch. 14 - call it what you want to | ch. 15 - even when you're sleeping, keep your eyes open | ch. 16 - you drew stars around my scars | ch. 17 - do you remember all the city lights on the water? | ch. 18 - and it smells like me | ch. 19 - your mom's ring in your pocket

The next morning, I ate breakfast standing in the space between Rhys's back and his wing, peering over his shoulder as we both read the latest report from Azriel. The spymaster's words were short and to the point—I understood most of it, and Rhys answered my questions about what I didn't.

The conclusions were clear enough. Despite Azriel's extensive network of informants, there was no new evidence of the attackers' identity, and the Cesere trove had been completely looted. Nothing had turned up for sale on the black market. And strangely, a complete accounting of whatever had been inside of the temple was impossible to find. No survivors meant nothing but dead ends.

I was still finishing my tea when Amren arrived with a stack of books that was nearly half her height. Slips of paper with handwritten notes were shoved between the pages of all of them, and some of the titles were in languages I didn't recognize.

Amren dropped the stack unceremoniously onto the kitchen table. "Research. As requested before you leave for Illyria, Rhysand."

"Research on what?" I said.

"On you, girl. And whatever power has been thrumming in your veins since you were Made."

I downed the last of my tea—I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about whatever remnant of the Great Rite still lived within me. It was something I tried not to think about. In the past couple of months, I'd gotten used to ignoring it, though the echo was still constant.

"And I assume you found something, or we wouldn't be having this conversation," Rhys said.

"I have theories, but books aren't enough to prove anything—we'll have to run tests."

I set down my empty cup, and Rhys rested a hand on my lower back. If Amren hadn't been there, I would have leaned into his touch.

"We don't have time for dramatics today. Please explain," Rhys said, and it was the closest anyone, even a High Lord, ever got to barking an order at her. From the way Rhys stood a hair closer to me than usual, I could tell it stemmed from protective instinct.

"Feyre has been claimed by the Night Court, and she's mated to its High Lord. It stands to reason that she's a creature of Night. But at the same time, her Making was a boon from Spring Court magic after taking Tamlin's place in the Great Rite. She may be…something else entirely."

An oily knot of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. "If Tamlin thinks I stole power from him and swore fealty to Rhys on Calanmai…" I said.

Perhaps being the Cursebreaker wouldn't be enough to keep Tamlin from hunting me and seeking revenge if he thought I'd worked against him. Saving all of Prythian might not matter in the face of the feud between Night and Spring.

Rhys let out a low growl. He must have been thinking along the same lines.

"Agreed," Amren said with a curt nod in his direction, "and because treasure troves with objects from both Spring and Night are few and far between, it's time to stop stalling. You have a promise to keep."

"Find another method," Rhys said. Darkness began to leak from him, the inky whorls stretching in my direction. Tendrils wound around my arm but didn't squeeze.

"Feyre has to go claim it anyway."

"She's already proven more than enough."

"Spare me, Rhysand. We all know what you were thinking when you put that bargain tattoo on her finger."

A muscle feathered in Rhys's jaw. Amren rolled her eyes.

"Tell me what you're talking about this before this comes to blows," I snapped, shrugging Rhys's hand off my back.

When he glamoured me, Rhys kept the bargain tattoo visible on my ring finger now that we were back in the Night Court. He'd never actually promised me that the morning after Calanmai wouldn't be the last time we saw each other, so it had never faded. In truth, I'd grown a bit fond of it. But if there was something I hadn't been told about it…

Amren looked at Rhys, and there was something almost amused about the way the silver in her eyes swirled. He took a deep breath, clearly gathering himself. I crossed my arms and waited.

"There's a ring," Rhys said, and each word sounded as if it were ripped out of him. "An heirloom of my family, passed down from female to female. My sister wasn't born yet, so my mother gave it to me when I was a boy. A reminder that she was always with me, even during the worst of my training, and I safeguarded it with preserving spells, the way our kind do for anything valuable. When I reached my majority, she took the ring away and gave it to an ancient, wicked creature called the Weaver, who added it to the collection of treasures she amassed over millennia."

A hoard of spelled objects from all over Prythian, the perfect setting to test what magic matched the echo still within me. Assuming, of course, that I could avoid the monster guarding it.

There was one aspect of it I couldn't quite follow. "Why would your mother give it away?"

Amren's answering serpentine smile made my blood run cold, though I doubted the look that Rhys shot her in response could have been any more murderous.

"Another test. If I were to marry or mate, then the female would either have to be smart or strong enough to get the ring back. And if she wasn’t either of those things, then she wouldn’t survive the marriage. I promised my mother that any potential bride or mate would have to pass, but I think if she were still here…she'd agree that you've already done more than enough."

I froze. And nearly forgot to breathe until I blurted out, "A wedding ring?"

My wedding ring, really. It sounded so human. Rhys was my mate, my soul-bonded partner—husband didn't even begin to cover it.

"Yes, but you're under no obligation to—"

I cut him off; a horrible thought had just occurred to me, and I needed to ask, even though Amren was growing impatient. "You— You haven't…sent someone after it before me, have you?"

"Cauldron, no," he said, horrorstruck. I felt a bit better, though, knowing that there wasn't some poor female who'd died attempting to marry Rhys a few centuries before I was born.

"And this isn't— You're not…proposing?"

For a moment, Rhys just stared at me with the wide-eyed expression I'd last seen Under the Mountain when I'd told him I was nineteen. Amren rapped her nails against the table.

But a pounding against the front door saved him from having to answer my question. Cassian, Azriel, and Mor had arrived, and there were more urgent matters at hand. The door unlocked with a gesture from Rhys, and Amren muttered something about leashing his dogs as we made our way to the sitting room.

Cassian wasted no time reporting on everything he'd learned about the rogue war-bands—their numbers, their movements through the forest, who in Windhaven sympathized with them. I wasn't familiar enough with Illyria to follow all of it. But I still listened carefully, waiting for a chance to suggest I go with.

The conversation turned to exactly what to do with the ringleaders. It was obvious enough that they couldn't be allowed to live, not after they'd supported Amarantha. Killing them in woods would be most efficient. But it would be out of the public eye, a missed opportunity to send a message, albeit a bloody one.

Perhaps it was the question of how to claim my wedding ring still being fresh in my mind, but a thought struck me. It might have been ridiculous—I wasn't entirely sure what sort of creature the Weaver even was—but it seemed worth considering.

"If we need to make a statement to keep control of Illyria," I said, cutting in, "then we could give them to the Weaver and kill two birds with stone."

Five pairs of eyes landed on me, all with naked shock.

Rhys was the first to smile. "Are you suggesting that we allow a death-god to eat a few rogue Illyrians in exchange for the return of your wedding ring?"

I couldn't tell if he was mocking me—it did sound ridiculous when he put it like that. In truth, I didn't care enough about the ring that I was willing to kill for it, but the Illyrians who'd gleefully bowed to Amarantha would be put to death anyway. And years of hunting had taught me to wring every last ounce of utility from a kill.

I lifted my chin. "Amarantha refused to free her human slaves. I'm the Night Court's resident human. What better way to punish them for supporting her than turning them over to me?"

Azriel's brows flicked up in approval. After our conversation in the training ring yesterday, the sight of it made me feel a bit more sure of myself.

"If we're cracking a few wing bones, Feyre might as well get a turn," Cassian said. Breaking an Illyrian's wing bones—ideally leaving enough jagged edges to tear holes in the membrane—was one of their most severe punishments, I'd learned, a favored way of preventing prisoners from escaping to the skies.

"It's Illyria, not Velaris, so word will get out, which we can spin in our favor. Distaste for slavery instead of petty revenge against those who supported the bitch who made Rhys her—" Mor said, choking back that last word with a grimace. Her throat bobbed. "The bitch who hurt him."

"I'll never be offended by you telling the truth. Even about that," Rhys said softly.

On the other side of the sofa, Mor took his hand and squeezed it. "No one reasonable would fault you for slaughtering your rapist's supporters. But for the unreasonable ones…it's also true that involving Feyre could help dispel the rumors that Prythian's savior is a pawn you intend to discard."

"Assuming the Weaver is willing to bargain, it's not a bad plan," Azriel said.

"Hell of an assumption, though," Cassian added. He crossed his arms, the siphons on his hands glinting in the sunlight streaming in through the window.

My eyes slid to Rhys—I had their support, but as High Lord, this would be his call. If he wanted me to stay out of it and find another way to get the ring…I'd understand.

"All of it is your choice, Feyre. If you don't want to risk leaving Velaris, no one will force you," Rhys said.

I hadn't thought of it like that. I'd been so prepared to prove myself useful, ready to argue that a human wouldn't slow the rest of them down or get in the way. But Rhys's concern was the burden it placed on me.

Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised—after Calanmai, he'd told me that if nothing else, I needed to understand there was a target on my back. I was safe behind Velaris's wards, hidden away in an untouched city like a gem in a vault.

No one would blame me for staying behind. I'd nearly lost my life countless times since Tamlin dragged me over the Wall, and continuing to push my luck might be a bit…insane.

But when Rhys's mother had left that ring with the Weaver, it had been a message. The test wasn't about whether I was worthy of her son—after all, the Cauldron itself had matched us—but rather a statement about what it meant to share your life with the High Lord of the Night Court, hard-won wisdom wrapped up in a challenge she'd designed to outlive her when the worst came to pass.

Lady of the Night Court wasn't just a title…it was a mantle to take on.

"I'm not shying away from any of it. I'll go," I said.

There was a flicker of pride down the bond, identical to the one I'd felt the first time I'd landed a hit to Rhys's jaw. And apparently he wasn't the only one who felt that way—from where he'd been leaning against the doorway, Cassian reached over and mussed my hair. I hissed, batting his hand away.

"Send your mate and your dogs out to the yard if they insist on playing, Rhysand. The adults still have matters to discuss," Amren said.

Cassian's smile turned predatory. "Amren, if you wanted to play—"

"Can we not?" Mor said with a groan. "We're supposed to be working."

To his credit, Cassian said nothing after that, just smoothed my bangs back into place apologetically. Rhys watched for a moment, expression soft, before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

Amren had a point; there was plenty to plan with Rhys being away from Velaris for a while, the priestesses still in need of support, and more information about the state of disarray in other courts filtering in daily. We were at it for a while, making plans and setting priorities.

It was another early night, followed by another early morning.

For the first time since Calanmai, I strapped a quiver to my back, a hunting knife to my thigh, and slung a bow over one shoulder. The familiar weight made my stomach churn. Even though I'd eaten breakfast, fear that the food would run out came roaring back, and for a moment, I felt as if I were still starving in the winter woods.

I forced myself to breathe. That part of my life was over. I wouldn't let it get the best of me now.

Dawn was breaking when I met Rhys in the foyer. His wings were still too weak to manage the long-haul flight from Velaris to Illyria—we'd winnow most of the way, then land. With the bow and quiver, it was a bit awkward, but Rhys scooped me up in his arms easily.

My unease disappeared, so quickly that for a moment I thought he might have pushed past my shields and slashed it with a talon. But no, I just…felt better with Rhys holding me. The scales of his leathers brushed my cheek as I pressed myself closer.

I felt a rumble in his chest as he chuckled, low and soft. "Good morning to you, too," he said.

"We have somewhere to be," I grumbled.

Rhys kissed my temple as the world disappeared into smoke and shadow. In an instant, we were high above the ground, falling fast. I yelped and held on tighter as his wings snapped open.

We pitched forward, and the wind died down as we settled into a smooth glide. The air smelled strongly of pine, and I breathed it in deeply as I lifted my head and beheld Illyria for the first time.

This high up, the tents and buildings were little more than dots on the mountain. And we were far from the only ones in the air—everywhere, winged males were soaring to and from Windhaven. Two of them drew closer, and flashes of cobalt and crimson in the morning sun were enough to identify them as Cassian and Azriel.

As curious as I was about Illyria, there wasn't much to see as the ground rushed up to meet us. Fire pits, the grey stone of the mountain, a few squat permanent buildings. Not much else.

Rhys's wings flapped occasionally, enough to keep our descent slow and controlled. With my arm hooked around his shoulders, I could feel the strain in his muscles. But he was managing—and making it look effortless.

Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel landed in perfect synchrony, with the ease of seasoned warriors who'd trained to fly in formations. Rhys set me down, and I found myself wishing there was a more graceful way to stand up after being carried.

Because people were staring.

The High Lord had returned after fifty years Under the Mountain, with a human girl cradled in his arms. I drew myself up to my full height and met their stares. There was no warmth here, no joy. But there hadn't been much of that in my ramshackle village below the Wall, either. I might have been the only person without wings for miles, but in a way, Illyria seemed familiar.

An older male approached, flanked by a small group of warriors with their hands near their weapons and their wings tucked in tight. As they took in my Illyrian leathers and the ash arrows peeking over my shoulder, I tried not to fidget.

"Your dog," the male said, indicating Cassian with a jerk of his head, "already completed camp inspections yesterday. Don't tell me you've brought a human to check for dust in the barracks, too."

He'd said human, but from the way he spat the word, he might as well have called me a cockroach instead.

"After fifty years away, it's good to see your sparkle hasn't dimmed, Devlon," Rhys drawled. "Feyre Cursebreaker is a member of my Inner Circle, and she wouldn't be here to clean up a mess if you'd kept a tighter leash on your men."

I didn't feel much like a threat, not surrounded by winged warriors twice my size. But I knew better than to let that show. With practiced ease, I pulled an ash arrow from my quiver and gave them a small smile as I tapped it on my thigh.

Devlon hated Rhys—I'd knew that much from all the planning we'd done the day before. I wasn't sure if he was bold enough to call his High Lord a whore to his face, though. From the way he'd narrowed his eyes, I could tell he wanted to. My grip on the ash arrow tightened.

"These last fifty years have been difficult for us all," he said through clenched teeth.

"I'm not interested in hearing your excuses. The current state of your camp is pathetic, and if I see one more misstep, you can consider yourself court-martialed."

Rhys turned and started walking towards the tree line, not bothering with a dismissal. Azriel, Cassian, and I followed without another word.

There were more stares as we crossed the camp, not just from the warriors, but from Illyrians who'd clearly been in the middle of chores or going about their business, too. If Windhaven was anything like my village below the Wall—and I suspected it was—word traveled fast. I focused on matching the quick pace Rhys was setting with his stupidly long legs, lest the gossip be about Prythian's savior jogging to catch up and falling on her face.

It wasn't until we'd stepped into the forest that Rhys's wicked amusement slid through the crack I kept open in my shields for him. Stupidly long legs? But you look so delicious framed between them.

"Save it for when we're back home, Rhys," I muttered, and I could've sworn I heard a snicker, either from Cassian or Azriel. We reached the edge of the camp not long after that.

There had been days those first steps into the woods had taken everything out of me. Days I'd been weak from hunger, exhausted from hours on my feet, but alive and determined to stay that way. To ensure my family stayed that way.

Enough food and rest made a difference, but the weight of memory was a heavy one, something that had lodged itself deep in my bones. It might still have dragged me under. But I had a lifeline, an unbreakable cord to grip, and for once, I was working as part of a team.

The work ahead of us might be grisly, but nocking the arrow in my hand had never been easier.

#feysand #feyre archeron #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home

[pisupsala]

Of All The Stars in The Sky | 14 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 7.9k

Index | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Library

Chapter 14: Shadow Waltz 

Bradley sinks into his seat before his legs might give out from under him. What did he just see? 

His breath comes out in short bursts like he can’t fully draw a breath before it forces its way back up from his lungs. 

It’s like his throat is being constricted. Why didn’t he call out? He could have jumped. Pulled the emergency brake and jumped out. Ran to you. Warned you.

The thoughts are coming and going in quick succession, nothing fully taking hold. Burying his head in his hands, Bradley tries to calm himself. Eyes screwed shut, he replays that moment over and over. The figure closing in on you. You’re oblivious. Why didn’t you turn around? Didn’t you hear the footsteps?

Why didn’t he call out?

He could have done something. Helped you. Saved you. The doomed scene replays in cutting sharpness every time he closes his eyes, leaving his insides quaking. Every heartbeat is like a sledgehammer coming down. 

Bradley doesn’t know how long he sits there, hunched over on the hard wooden seat, backpack weighing him down. Everything is distant like he’s not really there.

He is stuck in the moment you disappeared.

“Don’t draw any attention to yourself once you get on the train,” Your voice is so close and clear that Bradley is suddenly back in that small room, in bed with you. A moment in time when this was all just a plan. A rough sketch. Bradley’s reality was entirely between those four walls. You’re laying on top of him, naked, soft breast pressed against his chest. Even now, it feels more real than the jerky cadence of the train. Fingers gently caressing the quickly forming scars on his face, your tone is distressingly businesslike. “It’s your one chance, Bradley.”

“I’m sure I can manage,” He replies easily, leaning into your touch, lips brushing against your fingertips. Your hands are warm.

But you never said it would be at the cost of you. The thought shoots through him like lightning, distorting the peaceful scene and drowning it in panic. Your giggle sounds strange in his memory, the once beautiful sound.

Time passes strangely; Bradley has no sense of how many stops the train has made, how many people flittered past him. Everything is a blur. The city is far behind him now, replacing the colorful buildings with green hills and lush forests. 

The train should take several hours before it reaches its destination. You told him so. Finally, Bradley’s breath evens out. It’s not the first time he’s seen someone seconds before their demise. Hell, he’s been the cause of those doomed final seconds plenty of time. He’s seen his brothers-in-arms go down in a ball of fire. 

He remembers all of them.

But it was never supposed to be you. No matter how blasé you were when you told him you could have died many times over already. How bravely you faced danger. Because Bradley remembers how softly your voice was when you admitted you didn’t want to die. 

No matter how much he tries to calm himself, focus on his breathing, and steer his mind to here and now, the strange tension won’t leave Bradley. It’s like a cold hand wrapped around his neck, setting him on edge. He is far from safety and should focus on the task at hand. Your sacrifice—the icy fingers tighten, constricting Bradley’s breath for a second as the realization that you might be dead sets in a little bit deeper—he cannot let your sacrifice be in vain. 

He is alive because of you.

He needs to go to the coordinates that you got for him. Find his contact. Get instructions. And get out.

It’s deep in the afternoon when the train stops in a nondescript town near the southern border. Most people have gotten off in the last large city about an hour ago—when Bradley looks up, only two other people are left in the wagon.

This is the place.

Getting up, his muscles and tendons creaking in protest, Bradley disembarks. He’s been sitting the whole journey but feels like his body has been through a marathon. Tiredness is seeping into his bones, overflowing from his brain. 

He looks around. The station is no more than a concrete slab and a small abandoned building in the middle of the forest. A single dirt road leads up the forest—the only sign of life is a sliver of smoke billowing up through the trees. There must be a house there.

“The station is here.” Your voice is eerily close again. Leaning over the table, one knee on the chair, your finger prods the map. Bradley leans closer. The map is slightly too large for the small table, with one side hanging off the edge. His compass, which he didn’t even realize you had, is in your other hand. 

“From there, you need to head…” You narrow your eyes as you think. The little crease between your eyebrows suddenly becomes evident again. “South-west.” You conclude.

“That will take me in the opposite direction of the path,” Bradley observes, his fingers brushing against yours as he traces a route over the green fields of the map. Nothing indicates there is anything for miles in that direction.

“Look for a game trail,” You look up, your face so close to his. Even now, Bradley can smell your soap. “A small path in the high grass, an opening in the underbrush.”

Your fingers follow his toward the small ‘x’ you’ve drawn on the map, the exact spot of the coordinates. On the map, it’s in an indistinct area in the middle of the forest. There are no marked paths or landmarks around. It has to be. It’s a delicate balance, as it needs to be a spot where you wouldn’t wander past wholly by chance but is also not terribly suspicious to be waiting there. 

Bradley will know when he sees it.

As suddenly as you appeared before his mind’s eye, you are gone again. Not even the smell of your soap lingers in the spring air. Opposite the dirt road, a trail of flattened grass disappears into the forest. Just like you said there would be. 

As he starts walking, he tries to remember how you looked as you did the mental math, trying to figure out how long he would be walking, figuring out which train to get. Your lips were pursed, still hunched over, fingers tapping against the map quickly.

“It should take me about 90 minutes,” Bradley offers. Your eyes flash, almost defiantly, as if you’re determined to prove him wrong. Mouth open, like you’re about to say something, he can practically see you do the math in your head.

“Yeah, 90 minutes sounds correct.” You finally admit, although not without difficulty, pulling away from him. It makes him laugh—you’re so determined to figure it out and do everything right. To eliminate every variable, be ahead of everyone and everything. But distance and speed calculations are daily chores for Bradley. There’s a surprising amount of math involved in flying—had he known that before he enlisted, he might have paid closer attention in school.

The track doesn’t stop when he reaches the forest. There are no markers, but the path between the blueberry bushes and ferns is clear. Now that he is sure no one is around him, he digs his compass out of his pocket. Heading south-west. Ninety minutes. 

Bradley glances around. It’s quiet—no one seems to be around. Although he’s only a few meters into the forest, it’s secluded.  Quickly slipping the backpack off his back, Bradley digs through the neatly packed contents. You’ve taken so much care getting him everything he’ll need; you had it all thought out. For a moment, Bradley’s movements slow. No. He needs to be on time. From the bottom of the backpack, he pulls his carefully wrapped gun. It feels strange in his hand, even though it’s his—he hasn’t seen it since you took it from him months ago. Unwrapping it, Bradley inspects the piece. It’s clean, and it’s still loaded. 

He desperately hopes he won’t have to use it. He has no spare ammo—it’s a tool of last resort. Choosing not to dwell on it, he double-checks the safety before tucking it into the waistband of his pants on his back. 

There is still no sound but for the forest. It doesn’t bring him any piece of mind.

Looking back, Bradley can barely remember the hike. Let alone the train ride. It already feels like everything happened in the past—a different lifetime. He’s lived so many now. The small room under the roof in Prague is just as far away as his barracks room in England. But the anxiety stays—it wanes in moments, only to come back full force suddenly as his thoughts inevitably turn back to you. You’re so intricately woven into every aspect of his life in the past months; almost nothing doesn’t remind Bradley of you.

The sun is streaming through the pine trees. In the forest, the air is cool despite that. Bradley needs to keep pace. Glancing at this watch, he knows he should soon be coming up to the rendezvous point—just ten more minutes.

His stomach growls. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, too distraught to eat anything on the train. Everything is still just passing by him. Bradley isn’t hungry. When he was in boot camp, fresh out of high school, he was never hungry either—so much was weighing him down. His mother’s death, Mav, and the horrid reality of boot camp. But Bradley also knows it’s not about being hungry; it’s about survival.

A clearing appears—although clearing might be too much credit for the sudden widening of the path. It’s just a few meters across where the ground has been walked bare to the mud. Overgrown with moss, a large log peeks out on the edge of the clearing.

This should be it—nothing strange about a weary traveler sitting on a log to rest. 

Bradley sits down heavily. The hike wasn’t strenuous, and the weather is pleasant, but the ever-present tension and the feeling of being caught between fight and flight are steadily sapping his energy. Unwrapping some of his provisions, he chews mindlessly. The bread, the cheese—everything tastes like nothing to Bradley right now. The water in his canteen isn’t in any way refreshing; it instead feels like it’s a stone on his stomach, weighing him down further.

Sitting there, the sounds of the forest suddenly intensify. Bradley can hear how the wind picks up through the crowns of the trees. Leaves rustle, branches creak—something small is scurrying through the underbrush. A mouse or a squirrel, perhaps. Bradley focuses back on chewing. The food still tastes like nothing.

From here on out, he has no idea how long or far he has to go. He has provisions to last him several days, hoping it will be enough. Sitting on a large log in a quiet forest on a sunny afternoon is strange—Bradley feels like he should be running, fighting, doing something. Anything. Not just sitting here, waiting. 

But right now, he can’t go back. Neither can he go forward. Bradley is precisely where he needs to be right now, and it’s out of his hands. Truly, everything had been out of his hands the moment that night fighter tore his fuselage to shreds with a well-aimed salvo of bullets. 

It was easier to just go along with it when you were by his side. It distracted from his doomed fate well enough and for long enough. But now, Bradley feels more powerless, more aimless than before. Despite all the precautions, it might not have been enough for you. To save you.

For all you did to save him.

Deep inside, the cold rationale of years of training, years of seeing comrades die, and the many decisions Bradley has had to take are clear. Going back for you would mean you both die. It would render everything you’ve done for him useless. You fulfilled your mission. Now, he has to fulfill his.

He doesn’t want to think about that now.

Bradley swallows heavily, trying to get the acrid taste out of his mouth. You were not just part of a mission—he is pretty sure it was not just a mission for you anymore. It wasn’t for him.

A pack of cigarettes is tucked into one of the backpack's side pockets. Just when he reaches for it, tension creeps up his spine. Bradley is not alone anymore.

The man appears suddenly like he just materialized in the clearing. Not a twig that snapped under his boot, not a rustle of leaves as he moved. His face is tan; the skin is weathered from this sun, aging him. He looks at Bradley top to bottom—the man is dressed like a tramp in old and faded clothes, patched up with mismatched fabrics, holding himself awkwardly, almost as if he's injured, but his eyes are sharp. Discerning.

When Bradley observes him a bit closer, he notices the man's boots are outfitted with new soles despite his overall shabby appearance. 

Grinning, he tips his hat.

“Flash.” His voice sounds raw, like he hasn't spoken out loud in years.

“Thunder.” Bradley replies automatically. The man grins a little bit wider but doesn't say anything else. Bradley waits for him to say something, to introduce himself, or to start a conversation. However, the man seems comfortable in his silence, simply grinning at him in a friendly manner, beckoning Bradley as he starts walking off the path into the thick of the forest.

He passed the challenge; this man is the contact, of that, Bradley is as sure as he can be under the circumstances. And while it's not like he expected this to be a hike between friends, the clearly self-imposed muteness of the man is unsettling.

Quickly repacking his rucksack, Bradley leaps up, following the man. 

They walk, with only a drink break, until dusk. The hilly terrain is turning more rugged, with boulders sticking up from the forest floor higher and higher. When the man finally stops and motions for Bradley to sit down with him, pulling out a tin of beans from his pack, Bradley cannot help but ask.

“Where are we going?” 

The man, focusing on prying off the lid of the can, ignores him, scarcely looking up to acknowledge Bradley even said anything. Hesitantly, Bradley starts unpacking some of his own food—bread doesn't sound so bad now. The long hike hasn't done much to make him any hungrier. But he needs to eat. And bread is better than the cold beans the guide seems to be spooning down without blinking, anyway.

After what seems to be a much too short time, they are up on their feet again, walking through the dark forest. He sets a relentless pace for all the posturing the guide does to appear awkward or injured, he sets a relentless pace.

Bradley can't help but try again.

“How long do we have to travel?”

No reply.

“Are we going to walk all night?” He grumbles under his breath, annoyed now. The guide is the first person he has spoken to, besides you, in months. The only other people he ever saw were your fellow resistance fighters—the officer from the signal corps and his angry sidekick. The disconnect from everyone and everything around him is a constant irritation, like a weeping wound.

“Patrouille.” 

The sudden, raspy reply has Bradley snapping his head up.

Pointing west, where the sun is rapidly setting, he continues: “Kaserne.”

The guide simply turns around and resumes his path as if that explains everything. German wasn't exactly on Bradley's curriculum, and languages weren't his strong suit. You would know. And if you didn't know, you would probably figure it out, if only to to outsmart him.

You would never fully admit it, but the reason you really didn't like doing crossword puzzles with him is not because you couldn't take on the challenge—it's because he would always guess the answer faster than you. And as it turns out, you are an adorably poor loser regarding intellectual pursuits.

What Bradley would give to see you frown at him again, just knowing you were safe.

So they travel at night. It’s cold and dark—the ground uneven and slippery, as you warned him. When dawn breaks, they hide in the undergrowth or caverns scattered through the mountainside. Bradley feels like he hasn’t slept in days, but neither has he been fully awake. He is sure he can hear your voice somewhere between dreams and waking. It’s always so close like you’re next to him on the cold ground—your breath ghosting over his skin as you whisper to him. He can hear but can’t see you; he’s scared to look around, only to find nothing. 

The small square of cloth stays securely tucked in the breast pocket of his coat. Close to his heart. Bradley’s hands are so dirty he’s scared to even look at it. Sometimes, he brushes his hand over the pocket, imagining he can feel the folded edges through the thick fabric. Imagining you are still with him, however intangible.

He scratches off the wax from a match with shaking fingers before lighting it. The faint light from the burning tip is the only clear shape he can see. Everything else is formless, different shades of dark. In the absence of snow, like when you led him down the mountain, there is nothing to reflect the starlight. It makes the forest feel emptier and darker—the sound echoes louder, and strange noises travel.

His mind is leading him in circles, down a well-worn path.

By now, Bradley has replayed those last few seconds of you on that platform so many times in his head, he’s not even sure anymore what he saw. Were you grabbed? Did they run past you? Did you turn in time?

He’s not sure if his brain is playing tricks on him through the sleep deprivation, or his heart is trying to protect him in the most horribly cruel way—but the memory that was once so clear, seared into his mind’s eye, is playing out just a little bit differently every time he thinks about it. You turned. You moved out of the way. Dashing past the figure, you hid in the winding medieval streets you know so well. You would be alright. 

You have to be.

The cold rational pierces his heart, but Bradley knows he has to accept it. He made the right choice. He shouldn’t have turned back—you wouldn’t want him to. Every time he thinks about it, the knife twists a little bit more, not allowing the wound to heal. Somewhere, he doesn’t want it to. He deserves to suffer. If - if something happened to you, it’s because of him. The pain should be all his. 

As the days and nights melt into each other on the way to the airfield, Bradley is less and less sure of what he actually saw. Just existing is sapping him of every bit of energy now. The food you have packed for him is running low, and Bradley would kill for a hot coffee by now.

The guide doesn’t answer when Bradley asks how much longer. Whether he doesn’t understand or chooses not to understand is moot. It’s not like Bradley has the energy to argue with him. He just wants to get out of here.

Three nights in, Bradley feels like he's at his limit. The dark, the silence, and the uncertainty grate him to the bone. But he has no choice but to carry on. Gritting his teeth, he keeps walking. His feet hurt. His head hurts. His heart hurts.

The torch's strange moving light, deep at night in the cold mountain air, gives Bradley more time to think than he is comfortable with. There is nothing to distract him from himself. People pay good money for a hiking holiday in Europe, but Bradley can't help but be bored. It's like every emotion is slowly getting filed down to a stump. 

It didn't take him all that long to figure that "patrouille" was German for patrol—freely inferring that "kaserne" is a base or stronghold of some sort, which is the reason they travel at night. Barely enough of a challenge to keep his mind occupied.

When you are continuously exposed to danger, when your fight or flight instincts are constantly kicked into high gear, everything becomes dull. The tension and anxiety are always there; they are just so constant they are now background noise.

Sometimes, when Bradley wakes up and he sees the open sky above him, his heart clenches. Like he expected to wake up somewhere else. Like he wanted to wake up in that small room again. At the same time, it fills him with dread. Making his heart race in panic. The idea of being locked up in a small room again terrifies him.

Another long day and an even longer night go by.

It’s late, pitch black all around, when Bradley feels tarmac under his boots for the first time in months. It’s a strange feeling. He has no idea where he is or what day it even is, but the tarmac and the vague smell of jet fuel lingering in the air feel familiar. 

As they emerge from the forest, Bradley looks around in awe. This is an airfield. In the middle of the mountains, shabby and clearly long abandoned. But an airfield. 

This must be it.

At the far end of the runway, he can make out the familiar, terrifying shape of a German warplane. 

A man disembarks from the cockpit of the plane, waving them down.

Bradley walks around the plane, inspecting it with fingers trailing over the body. He's been up close and personal with many makes of enemy planes, but never like this. It's fascinating in the most morbid way.

The men are talking to each other in low voices. Circling the plane, Bradley sees it's a one-seater.

“Am I flying?” He asks, interrupting the tête-à-tête between the two other men. Finally, he receives a full verbal reply—although it comes from the other man, a rather young-looking and even younger-sounding man, and not the guide.

“With me, yes.” As he steps closer to Bradley, he can now see he is dressed like a pilot. A German pilot, specifically, the iron cross displayed prominently on the collar peeping out from this thick lambskin jacket. His accent, however, is very precisely British—too precisely, it’s almost caricature-like.

Bradley doesn't get time to dwell on it, or ask any follow-up questions, as he is quite unceremoniously and forcefully helped into the hold where bombs are normally stored. The pilot hands him another jacket and together with the guide, they slide an oxygen bottle into the hold with Bradley.

“It gets quite cold, I'm afraid.” Everything the pilot says sounds strangely rehearsed, like he never held a conversation in English before. “Put on the mask when we reach altitude.” He adds.

Bradley just nods. The guide is grinning at him again, simply tipping his hat in greeting. 

“Thank you.” He replies, nodding back at the guide just before the hold closes.

It's safer for everyone if no one knows everything. Not even names. That also means you will never know who you owe your life to.

Oxygen mask clutched in his hand, Bradley closes his eyes. The sound of the engines, the smell—it’s like coming home. Not the home where he wants to be, but the one he knows best. Despite his nerves—this is the most dangerous part of the journey, relinquishing the last bit of control that he had—he starts dozing off.

Bradley is exhausted, physically and mentally. It’s bitterly cold.

He can feel your weight draped over him as he slips out of consciousness. He can smell your soap. Bradley’s fingers brush over his breast pocket. 

“Bradley, my love,” Your whisper floats through the air. The slightly lilting syllables of his name—only you say his name like that—still send shivers down his spine. It feels so familiar. 

The engine's drone fades into the background, warping into a soft hum. 

It’s not cold anymore. Bradley can feel the sun on his face, and he knows, without opening his eyes, that he is home. It’s high summer, and he’s sprawled out on the beach. And you are here with him. His heart soars at the realization—but his eyes are so heavy.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Your sweet voice sounds distant and incredibly close at the same time. Bradley blinks heavily against the burning sun. You are leaning over him, your hair blowing around your face. The sky behind you is cloudless, such a heavenly blue. 

Bradley’s limbs are heavy; he feels like he can’t move. He can barely keep his eyes open, but he wants nothing more than to see you. He can see you again. He still wants to tell you so much—the words stick in his throat, tongue paralyzed. You’re smiling down at him fondly. The summer sun is bathing you in a warm light, casting an ethereal glow around your body. 

“Shhh,” Your fingers trace over his lips. “You need to breathe.” 

Bradley blinks slowly. He is breathing. Like you can hear his confusion, you giggle—the teasing sound wrapping around him in impossible patterns, like it’s carried on a gust of wind. 

“You need to breathe,” You reiterate, grin still on your face, hands cupping his face. Brushing your nose against his, Bradley allows his eyes to close again. He’s fighting to stay awake. He wants to stay here with you. 

“The air is getting thin, my love,” Your voice sounds strangely distorted, overlapping like an echo without a source. His thoughts are sluggish, struggling to comprehend what you could be talking about. 

“You need to breathe.”

Your voice sounds more urgent now. Bradley peels his eyes open; you’re still smiling down at him, your face not betraying any of the urgency in your voice. Reaching out, his fingers trace over your bare shoulders—your skin is so warm from the sun. The silty sea air is crisp, brushing through your hair. Bradley shakes his head, still lacking the strength to say anything. He shouldn’t have to; all you need to do is lean closer and kiss him.

As if you can hear his thoughts, you move toward him again. Your lips are brushing against his tantalizingly. Why do you insist on teasing him so? Don’t you know how worried he has been? How much he has missed you?

He reaches out for you, limbs heavier than lead, intent on closing the space between you. Bradley is not in the mood for your games and teasing—not right now. He needs assurance you are okay. You are laughing, so light and carefree, but he wants to feel you. His fingers tangle through your hair, pulling your face to his.

“Put on the goddamn mask.” 

The sudden loudness of your voice, callous and commanding, like it’s been amplified to an almost deafening volume, forces Bradley’s eyes wide open. His heart is racing. It makes no sense; you’re still smiling above him. The blue sky is flickering with darkness, like someone is playing with the lights. 

Suddenly, Bradley’s neurons start firing again, and he forces the mask clutched in his hand over his face. As the oxygen fills his lungs, it’s like he’s waking up: the strength returns to his body, and his vision sharpens.

Unfortunately, all he sees is the darkness of the hold. 

It’s bitterly cold again. 

***

“Let me go!” You jerk yourself back so violently, desperate to free yourself from the iron grip in your arm, you nearly send yourself keeling backward, pulling your assailant with you. Stumbling, he pulls you back harshly, using his much more extensive and heavier form against you.

“Don’t make a scene!” He barks at you.

You never liked Jan. But now you hate him.

“Make a scene?” You hiss venomously, digging in your heels. “You’re dragging me through the train station like livestock.” 

You know people are watching, although they hurry past you without a word. People don’t like getting involved—no one wants trouble. You’re dressed for a day out in the country; Jan is wearing an old, ill-fitting suit. You make an odd pair if you were just walking down the street, but arguing like this, you’re practically a sideshow.

A man in a dark coat passes, staring at you both a little too long, disapprovingly. The moment Jan’s grip loosens, you yank your arm away from him, clearly awkward under the man's stare.

“Stop being so goddamn difficult,” He bites at you. “And start walking.”

You want to tell him to go fuck himself, turn on your heel and leave. But there’s a reason he made it out here. After the decimation of the resistance network, the survivors split off—some staying in the city if it was safe enough, like you. Others reformed as partisan fighting groups because their identities were leaked to the authorities, and they couldn’t reintegrate into society like Emil, or simply because they saw that as the way forward, like Jan.

As much as you hate to admit it, as much as you despise thinking about it now, Jan’s sudden appearance means something is happening. It’s probably urgent, but it’s undoubtedly important.

For five seconds, for five fucking seconds, you want to not think about the war. Whatever message Jan has for you should wait. You want to crawl into bed and cry, mourn having to say goodbye to Bradley.

Because you will never see him again.

You can wish, you can dream—but realistically? If you both make it out alive, god knows how long the war will be. He will have forgotten about you by then. 

You always knew this; you felt it in your bones, especially in the last few days. You set yourself on fire to silence that nagging voice in your head, so determined to experience everything about Bradley that you could, to the point you allowed yourself to believe him. Truly believe him, even just for a few days. Because no matter how much you want to soothe your hurting heart with his sweet promise, the illusion that he will come back, you need to face reality. The world didn’t stop. People are still disappearing, still dying. Every day, you still wake up in a country under brutal occupation. And Bradley is gone.

But you’re not even getting a chance to feel sorry for yourself, you think angrily. Crawl into bed and cry, drink too much with Eva, and probably cry some more—normal things.

Except you haven’t had a normal day in years.

Blinking rapidly to stop the tears, hands jammed deep into your pockets; you follow Jan like a child being led to detention. He walks several meters in front of you, stride confident, weaving past people—you follow, trailing, practically dragging your feet. To the outside observer, you are two strangers just going in the same direction. The streets around the station are busy; trams are thundering, cars are honking, and people are pushing past.

Shoulders pulled up; you stare at the tips of your boots as you walk. You can feel the corners of your mouth pulling down. At this point, you can’t even pretend to look neutral. You notice Jan turning into a side street from the corner of your eye. The narrow alleyway leads into a backstreet, connecting the city center to quiet residential areas. Sighing, you follow. 

However, he takes another turn, legging it to the park behind the national museum rather than veering further up the hill, away from the crowds. Jan doesn’t look back at you once, assuming you’re following.

Your curiosity won’t allow you to turn away and go home. So, with a face like thunder, you shuffle after him. It’s a beautiful day. You hate it.

It’s good for Bradley, though. It shouldn’t be cold tonight. And at least it won’t be raining as he hikes to the rendezvous point. You hope the weather stays mild; you hope he stays safe.

Your heart sinks further as you realize you’ll probably never find out. Bradley filled your head and heart with so many dreams; perhaps the kindest thing you can do now is dream for him. He’ll make it out. He’ll be safe. He’ll return to Virginia Beach and live out his days in peace.

Maybe one day you can find peace in that.

The gravel of the park path creaks under your boots. You wonder how much further Jan will walk to ensure you’re not being followed—it’s making you impatient, but you know better than to stop him or start looking around to confirm that no one is actually following you. Glancing at your watch, you realize it’s not even noon yet. The day feels so much longer—the rollercoaster of emotions seems to have expanded time. It feels like you’ve lived full days in just a matter of hours.

Jamming your hand back into your pockets, you descend the pedestrian underpass leading out of the park under a busy road. The rolling thunder of cars, trams, and trucks resonates through the walls of the underpass, almost overwhelmingly so. Jan stopped walking halfway through—he is lighting a cigarette, waiting for you to catch up.

The further you walk down the stairs, the louder the noise gets—it’s practically shaking the walls. It’s like stepping into a liminal zone, the sparse artificial light looking strangely ominous, with no trace of the sunny spring day outside. And the stench. God. Stale alcohol and piss - it’s so penetrant you swear the air feels heavier, like a haze, as you arrive at the bottom of the stairs.

You swallow heavily, unsure if you want to keep breathing through your nose but also not really wanting to open your mouth.

Sauntering up to Jan—the smell of the cigarette amplifies the underpass's stench in a wholly new, disgusting dimension—you send him a suffering look.

“Really?” You force out, unable to keep the disdain out of your tone.

The way Jan is moving has a measure of frustration to it; the way he flicks the ash off his cigarette is a little too fast, his shoulders squared, and his movements a little too sharp. He ignores your rhetorical question.

“The Gestapo is looking for you.” Jan doesn’t look at you, keeping his gaze averted toward the end of the empty underpass.

“What?”

It’s like a bucket of ice suddenly dropped down your stomach. Your heart is suddenly beating a mile a minute. Panicking, you grab Jan’s sleeve, forcing him to look at you.

“What do you know?” You demand forcefully, trying to keep your voice stable, but the panic is rolling off you in waves.

“Someone saw you -” He jerks back, but you don’t let go of his sleeve. “Look, I don’t know. All I heard was the Gestapo was looking for a cleaner of your description who works at the Ministry of Interior.

“Why?” You’re desperate now, grasping at any straw to get in control of the situation. “And who told you that?

“You know I can’t tell you that,” He sounds contrite, gazing down for a moment, taking a drag of his cigarette. “But you need to get out of the city before they arrest you.”

Stunned into silence, you finally let go of his sleeve. Jan’s round face looks pained, his eyes darting around the underpass. You are breathing hard, the noise from the underpass in your head now, roaring and pounding. You can’t think. The stench is burning your nostrils, choking you. 

“Go stay with your parents out east.” He adds, not unkindly. “Just until this all blows over.” 

You shake your head.

“I need to go home.” You can’t articulate why, but you need to go home. You need to get clothes. Pack. You need to burn your false identities before they search the place. Yes, that’s it. Home. 

“No!” Jan grabs your shoulder, shaking you out of your reverie. “Don’t go home. Get the first train out of here.” 

Where is this sudden urgency coming from? It’s not like he just led you on a walk away from the central station. You feel a strange twinge in your stomach, but it’s so slight you barely acknowledge it. 

“No,” You force out. “I must go home first—I can’t just leave.”

“Yes, you can.” 

“I can’t!” Your sudden exclamation echoes. Jan, whose face is growing red splotches from frustration, clamps his hand over your mouth, silencing you. Tearing yourself away from him, you bite your tongue not to scream at him again. He throws up his hands before digging out another cigarette. He doesn’t offer you one but focuses his angrily shaking fingers on striking a match.

“This isn’t a game.” Jan cuts at you. He keeps his gaze averted like he’s too furious even to spare you a look. You are just shaking your head like you’re trying to shake your thoughts into place—to start making sense out of the chaos. In any other situation, you would never let any comment like that from anyone, but especially not Jan, go without defending yourself. Fuck.

“I’m going home.” You leave no room for argument, turning on your heel. 

“Is he still here?” 

The question makes you stop dead in your tracks, the blood rushing in your ears drowning out the noise around you. You feel that twinge in your stomach again, stronger this time. One thought suddenly looms large over the chaos in your brain, silencing everything: you can’t make sense of this because it doesn’t make sense.

“I can help-” 

“The mission was completed.” You cut him off flatly, not turning back to face him. Don’t elaborate. Biting your lip, your mind races to put the puzzle together. Something is off. You can feel it in your gut. It just doesn’t quite fit.

How did Jan know you were at the station? 

If he knew you were there, he must have seen Bradley.

And if he didn’t see him, what did Jan think you were doing there?

Slowly, you turn to face Jan again, blinking, face wiped clean of emotion. His movements are sharper now, like he’s going through the motions forcibly, never looking anywhere for more than a few seconds. He’s shuffling in place, like he wants to run from the situation, but is rooting himself in place.

As you finally take the time to observe Jan, you realize his movements don’t look like frustration. They look like nerves.

Now that the maelstrom of emotions and panicked thoughts in you has finally stilled, you can feel it. The weight of the realization is crushing—it’s just not adding up.

Trust your gut.

It’s like the world suddenly jerks into movement again. The noise is picking up into a deafening roar, the stench so heavy it’s misting over your eyes. Your body sets in motion before you can fully rationalize what you are doing. You need to get out of here.

You’re halfway up the stairs out of the tunnel when you hear Jan screaming at you, his lumbering footsteps closing in. Now is not the time to stop—lungs burning, heart pounding in your throat, you push on. You have a head start, which is your only chance to outrun Jan, who is larger and stronger than you. Nearly tripping over your own feet in your mad dash to get away from him, you cut through the shrubs surrounding the park, branches whipping against your body. When you think back to the moment later, you have no idea how you summoned the strength to scale the iron-wrought fence, nearly pivoting off the top as you tried to avoid the pointy spears decorating the top.

Don’t look around. Don’t look around.

You have no idea if Jan is still following you, but looking around will slow you down, and you can’t afford to lose a single meter of your head start. Blind panic is your fuel now. 

The main street is busy. It’s nearly lunchtime, and people are filing out of offices into shops and restaurants. You’re attracting attention, dressed so casually, running like mad—but you can’t stop now. A tram is just leaving the stop, bells ringing loudly. If you go a little bit faster, if you push yourself a little bit harder—desperately, you reach out, your fingers only brushing against the open balcony's metal handle for the departing tram.

You are breathing so hard, your focus singular, to get out of here; your heart nearly stops when you hear Jan calling out your name. He’s so much closer than you anticipated.

Straining, a strangled sound escaping your lips, you push harder. The tram is speeding up, you only have seconds left.

You can’t miss this tram.

It one final burst of energy that you didn’t know you still had in you that propels you forward just enough to grab onto the metal bar. Using your momentum, you jump, crashing onto the rear balcony unceremoniously, bashing your head and elbow against the dirty floor. 

You stay down for a moment, your mouth completely dry, spleen aching, head throbbing.

It’s a good thing Bradley left today. If the Gestapo really is looking for you, you couldn’t protect him anymore. Now, all you can hope is that he makes it out. 

He will. He has to. 

Sitting up, you roll your shoulder back to give your lungs more space as you catch your breath like Bradley showed you. It’s a good thing he isn’t here anymore, but… who can you tell now what happened? It’s like only now you realize that Bradley is not waiting for you at home. It hurts.

He’s no longer there to kiss you, ease your mind, and help you navigate this situation. Despite your ceaseless attempts to convince yourself that everything about your time was temporary, a lightning-in-a-bottle moment between two lonely souls and nothing more would ever come from it, the realization is dawning on you that you’ve grown accustomed to having him around. 

The only person that you could speak freely to. The only person who could truly see you. 

Bradley was the only person that knew you—the person you are now, the person you’ve been forced to become.

And he accepted you.

Suddenly, you feel like crying again. Sitting on the dirty tram floor, people staring down at you as they pass—you feel so incredibly alone.

Finally getting up and dusting off your pants, you enter the tram, trying to blend in with the crowd. A part of you wants nothing more than to go home, crawl into bed, and forget this whole goddamn day.

But you can’t ignore what Jan told you—his story doesn’t add up, but surely he wouldn’t lie about the Gestapo looking for you. It’s not even a question of why; plenty of things you have done could get you arrested at any point. Stealing, forgery, break-ins, harboring a fugitive… 

So it’s a question of what—how much do they actually know? And how much more information will they want to extract from you?

Your head is still throbbing—from the impact, the confusion, and the tears you’ve been holding back the whole morning.

Whatever happens next, you need to get rid of any evidence. If the Gestapo wants to pin something on you, they will find a way, but the line ends with you. You will not give them anything that could lead them to the others.

That’s the least you can do.

The closer you get to home, the worse you feel. It feels like lead is being poured into your boots, making every step harder. You are completely unsure of what to do now. After you get rid of the evidence, what will you do? Should you stay with your parents like Jan suggested? Wouldn’t that put them in danger?

You can’t even think about that right now.

Your stomach is churning by the time you unlock the heavy wooden door to your building. Something is wrong, and if your head weren’t feeling like it was about to explode, you would probably have stopped to examine your gut feeling. But you don’t have time. The quicker you get this done, the better.

Blindly, you make your way up the stairs. Voices of neighbors are echoing through the halls—it’s strange for so many people to be out of their houses. You are not in the mood for building gossip, so you hope you can slip into your apartment without any nosy aunties catching you. As you reach the first landing, you hear someone call your name. Can you pretend you don’t hear them? You keep your head down, legging it to the next flight of stairs at the far end of the landing. 

However, before you even make it to the first steps, your downstairs neighbor blocks your way—despite her being old enough to be your mother, she exudes so much class it’s age age-defying today her normally carefully coiffed blonde hair is… well, messy. Flyaway hairs are sticking out of the casual bun on the back of her hair. The sleeves of her normally crisp ironed blouse are wrinkled as she rolled them up in a hurry. It’s certainly not how your appearance-conscious neighbor, in all her vanity, would ever show herself.

“Anna, don’t go upstairs,” Worry is etched on your neighbor's face, her piercing blue eyes imploring you to stay. She is holding you by your shoulders. It’s an almost motherly gesture—it’s possibly the strangest part of an already confusing situation. You’ve known this woman for the majority of your life—she lived here before your family moved in. But you think that in all those years, you may have at most shaken her hand.

You don’t have words. Unceremoniously, with an incredulous frown, you pull away from your neighbor, pushing past her on the stairs. You break into a jog going up the stairs.

Today can’t end soon enough.

Something changes in the air the moment you reach the top of the stairs. Your neighbor’s voice still echoes through the hall as she screams out your name. Her frantic footsteps are coming after you. The second-floor landing is unusually crowded; more neighbors are looking at you in shock. 

It’s like you walked on stage for an audition, unprepared. Eyes are on you from every angle, staring. 

Why is the door to your apartment opened?

You should have stopped walking at that moment. You should have listened. Turned around.

But you speed up. You need to know. You need to find out exactly what happened.

Tearing through the doorway, you immediately slip on the soaked wooden floor. Clumsily, you break your fall by planting your hand on the floor. Your palms take the brunt of the impact, the ache ringing all the way up through your shoulder, your hands getting coated in the sticky liquid covering the floor as you scramble to get up.

But you cleaned up all the coffee this morning.

There is commotion behind you, but it could be on the other side of the world as far as you are concerned.

Because across from you on the floor, in the semi-darkness of the apartment hallway, Eva’s lifeless eyes are staring at you accusingly. 

She’s wearing your skirt, the rusty color blotted with the blood flowing from her head.

note | sorry i was going through some shit and stuff and I literally just finished writing the missing scenes - sorry for any oddities, it's almost 1am here, I will revise this tomorrow again but I also felt bad for taking so long

taglist |@katieshook02 |@gretagerwigsmuse |@yanak324 | @helplesslydevoted | @benhardysdrumstick | @chaoticversion | @cherrycola27 | @roosterschanelslut | @notroosterbradshaw | @eli2447 | @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog | @m-1234 | @phoenix1388 | @galaxy-moon | @indigomaegrimm | @annathewitch | @kmc1989

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[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

to ashes, in memoriam

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Summary: the third anniversary of the snap thaws some of the tension between the two of you.

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,570

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Days Since the Decimation: Three Years

Springtime in London might have been lovely, had it not been for the blanket of solemnity hanging over every square mile of the city. The third anniversary of the Decimation had been looming over you, over everyone, for weeks now. And now that it had arrived… you had spent much of the day locked away in your room, hoping to simply sleep through it.

Clint had stayed, and the two of you had returned to old routines, making your way west until you’d finally found yourselves on the outskirts of London. If possible, the two of you communicated even less than before, and you found yourself avoiding him just to make it easier to ignore the tension between you. The longer it went on, the more frustrated with your situation you became. Much of your time seemed now to be spent expelling the energy building inside you.

So, when Clint knocked on the door to the room you had claimed when you’d found yourselves an apartment on the outskirts of the city in a building too rundown for the city to relocate locals into, you were surprised. You sat up in the bed, pushing hair out of your eyes.

“Come in?”

“Hey,” he said gruffly, averting his eyes as if you were in some way indecent. It was almost normal to you now; you swore the only time you ever really felt his eyes on you was when yours were turned away. “Did I wake you?”

You shook your head; you’d been laying there for the last two hours, staring out the window at nothing but the sliver of sky you could see between the curtains. But that didn’t feel like something worth mentioning. “What’s up?”

“Get dressed. We’re going out.”

You frowned, pushing the blankets off of your legs. “You’ve got a target?”

“It’s not work,” he replied, his tone unchanging. “Civilian clothes.”

“…Okay.” you said, confusion furrowing your brow. “Okay, just, uh… Just give me five minutes.”

***

Hyde Park was crowded, throngs of people choking the pathways that led to the lake. Lingering in any one place with this many people made you feel exposed in a way that you’d come to loathe over the last three years, and you tugged the baseball cap you wore a little lower on your brow.

“What are we doing here?” you asked quietly.

Clint shrugged a shoulder as though his leading you out that evening had been no more than a whim. But despite his reluctance to talk, to even spend time with you outside of a hunt, this was where he’d brought you. “It’s a memorial.”

Daylight was beginning to ebb as you approached Serpentine Lake, and the lights that marked the edges of the path the two of you were following were starting to glow against the soft light of dusk. The crowds around you collected in smaller parties, and the atmosphere that hung like a mist around the park kept their tones hushed. Reverent. The result was an almost hypnotic hum, and you found yourself stepping closer to Clint’s side at the noise.

He didn’t move away.

You didn’t understand quite what he meant until you finally reached the Lake proper. And your breath hitched.

Countless lights bobbed along the surface of the lake, slowly moving in and out of view between the bodies lining the shore. Each light was carried by a delicate paper lantern, the underside waxed against the water. As you drew closer, you could just make out the lines marking the sides of the lanterns still in the hands of the people ahead of you; the names of those they had lost.

“Clint…”

He didn’t say anything; and you didn’t know how you were supposed to finish that sentence. Booths had been set up about thirty feet back from the shoreline, and you followed Clint wordlessly towards one of them. The table was carefully piled with paper lanterns and tealights, and after collecting two of each from a kind-faced woman, he led you to an unoccupied patch on the shore.

The sound of water shifting joined the soundscape around you, the scent of it at the edge of your mind. Clint knelt down on the grass, handing you one of the lanterns and a marker. You paused after taking them, running your fingertips over the dense paper before you joined him.

You wrote their names slowly, carefully, turning the lantern so the letters formed a morbid crown around its head.

Wanda… Sam… Bucky… Vision… Hill… Fury… Peter… T’Challa… Shuri…

You hesitated for a long moment before following their names with two more words.

I’m sorry.

***

The crowds grew so slowly and steadily around you that you barely noticed it before you stood and found yourself surrounded by bodies. Clint’s arm brushed against yours as he straightened too, the two of you holding your lanterns carefully before you. Your fingers tightened briefly on yours as though it would be ripped from your hands; wax slid under your nails.

Your eyes dropped to the near-identical lantern in Clint’s hands. His thumb stroked over the rigid paper almost idly, and you turned away again before your eyes could focus on the words that he had written on the side of it. Instead, you shouldered your way through the people crowding the shoreline until the toes of your boots were kissed by the soft ebb and flow of the water.

Once again you felt Clint’s presence by your shoulder, and you resisted the urge to lean back into the warmth of him. Instead, you turned to face him, swallowing as you took his lantern gingerly. You held them steady, your eyes meeting his in brief, flickering moments as he lit the candles within.

And the two of you set the lanterns down on the water, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as they ever so slowly bobbed out to join the others to reflect golden light on the mirror’s surface.

***

It wasn’t long, despite your best effort, before you lost sight of which lanterns were yours, eyes blurring with the pinpricks of light in front of you. Clint still stood by your side, and the more time stretched out before you the more the sounds of murmured conversation and the acoustic guitar someone played nearby fell away. It all fell away until all that anchored you to reality, to that spot you stood on, was the soft sound of Clint’s steady, calming breath.

The crowd moved around you in the same kind of slow ebb and flow as the water; the two of you standing sentinel on the edge of the lake. The sky darkened above you, and the lights on the lake warmed as the water turned to ink. Someone was speaking over a microphone, a grave voice intoning a eulogy to everyone that had been lost.

What you noticed of the speaker’s words soon turned to messages of hope and ‘togetherness in the face of adversity’, and Clint’s own voice broke you out of your revery.

“Hey,” he said softly, his hand touching the middle of your back. “Come with me.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself as he led you away from the bulk of the crowd. You found yourself needing to fill the silence that hung between you, and you spoke quietly. “How did you hear about all this?”

“There was something on the news,” he replied, an almost forced casualness to his tone. “I thought… I thought this might be good for you.”

You raised a brow in touched disbelief at his concern, a small, snide smile blooming at the corner of your lips. “Just me, huh?”

You saw his own smirk flash over his features beneath his hood despite himself, but he didn’t reply.

“Thank you, Clint.”

He nodded; his eyes still turned ahead of you. A part of you wondered what if would take for him to meet your eye again. He’d shaved, for the first time in weeks, and you cursed yourself silently even as you considered briefly what it would be like to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips.

A shoulder knocked into yours – a passerby unaware of either of your identities – and you stumbled slightly. It was only for a second, but it was enough to separate the two of you for a brief moment. And you looked down in surprise as Clint turned back towards you and caught hold of your hand with his own.

You watched his hand slip around to take yours, his fingers lacing with your own. His palm was warm and softer than you remembered. He tugged you back into step beside him gently, and something selfish in your chest flipped when he didn’t immediately let go.

***

Clint led you to the bridge that overlooked Serpentine Lake, tucking his hands into his pockets as you stood against the rails. He’d later, when he’d heard your breath shudder, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you in against his side. You hadn’t questioned the change in his demeanor – the anniversary had granted the two of you a brief reprieve in his staunch avoidance of you – you’d just let your head rest against his shoulder.

It was hours before you left that spot, long after the last mourners had gone, and after the very last candle had gone out.

.

.

.

tags:@trekkingaroundasgard@lovely-dreamer19@wittyforachange@wefracturedmotivation@january-echoes@glossyloner@capitalnineteen@youclickedthislink@s0ftness@castieltrash1@drakelover78@queenoftheunderdark@lol-you-thought@akumune@xxboesefrauxx@enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies@youralphawolf72@maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky@melaclintbartoncorner@loki-is-loved@whovianayesha @bradfordbantams @alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics@ace-fandom-dumbass@kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa@earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86@darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #clint barton x you #clint barton imagine #clint barton x oc #clint barton x ofc #clint barton fanfic #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton reader insert #mine: fanfic #hawkeye #hawkeye x you #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye x oc #hawkeye x ofc #hawkeye imagine #hawkeye reader insert #hawkeye fanfic #hawkeye fanfiction #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu reader insert #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel reader insert

[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 11

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 13.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* So much cursing because Sophia is a menace, but Jack is even more of a menace because he goes commando. Oral sex (f and m receiving), outdoor sex, public sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, cream pie, cum play. Unaltered and pure as fuck fluff.  Summary: A girls’ night out with Sophia and Gabi collides with guys’ night out for Jack with Tequila, Ginger, and Rye and results in shameless shenanigans. Followed by the big opening night for The Rabbit-Hole that you’ve has been working toward for months! Notes: Of course I cried writing and editing this chapter. Don’t look at me like that. 

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

In the week since Tex and Sophia arrived in Louisville, it's been nearly impossible not to spend time with them. Jack and Tex might not be trolling for women together anymore but they're still causing mischief on the campus, and Sophia has been right along with them at each turn. They pop by the restaurant for lunch or just to say hi, they come by for dinner from time to time or to invite you and Jack to go out with them for the night. Tonight is a little different, just by virtue of it being a Saturday. Champ and Diana are entertaining a corporate retreat with live music and a specialized tasting, but they hadn't wanted to do food with it so that left you free as a bird. Tex, Jack, and Astrid are at Shootouts with a few of the other agents and you and Sophia have decided have a girl's night out all your own.

“Are you ready?” The door to Jack’s house swings open and Sophia darts inside. In the week since she’s been here, she’s made herself at home and that extends to coming in when you had told her to come over. “Show me the sights? We can take wagers on how long before Whiskey shows up where we are!”

"You think the boys won't be able to stay away?" You snag your jacket from the hook and shrug it over your shoulders before grabbing your purse. "Honestly, you're probably right. Dinner first and then we can bar hop our way around downtown?"

“I have never seen a soulmate who has to be close to their significant other like Jack.” She muses. “Not that it’s a bad thing.” She quickly adds. “It’s sweet.”

"He's protective of me." That, unfortunately, is an understatement, but you steer her toward your car in the driveway without it becoming a point of conversation. "It's different than the way Tex is so proud of you. He knows you can take care of yourself."

“I don’t think Jack believes that you can’t take care of yourself.” Sophia reasons. “But…why don’t I show you a few things?” She offers with a grin. “Kingsman are a bit more…elegant than our counterparts when we fight. Bit of soulmate bootcamp?”

"Now that's a thought." Your little car is a zippy thing, and there's distance between the two of you and the Statesman campus in no time. "I took a self-defense class in college, but that was long enough ago that I've forgotten most of what they taught."

“It’ll be fun.” She immediately bounces slightly in the seat. “Especially when you are snogging and you take Jack by surprise by flipping him on his back.” She giggles. “Ask me how I know.”

"Tex is not an easy man to flip." The both of you know that firsthand, and you have to appreciate that she doesn't seem to mind your history with him in the least. Actually, it seems to amuse her endlessly.

“Quite.” She murmurs with a very self-satisfied grin on her face. “Your Jack seems to be of the same measure.” She predicts. “Which makes it all the more fun.”

"A little surprise for him, like you said." The twist of a smirk on your lips sends you both into a fit of laughter. "Alright. After I get this restaurant open, a little bit of soulmate bootcamp is in order."

“Fantastic!” Sophia cackles and claps her hands together. “You and I are going to have so much fun ganging up on Tex and your Jack.”

"So how are you liking the States so far?" Hopping onto the highway to head into downtown, you glance at her again out of the corner of your eye. "I know the last Kingsman agent that was here had trouble adjusting but you seem to be having a great time."

"Oh, Danny is such cunt." She rolls her eyes and blows out a breath to tell you exactly what she thought of the last Kingsman agent here. "Of course he wouldn't last. He takes the piss too much."

"Okay, not a fan of his, got it." You snort a little, stifling a laugh. "So you're telling me that Kingsman sent him just to be rid of him for a while?"

"Only way I can see it." She snorts. "He drives Galahad mad. Thinks he knows everything and he's been an agent for two seconds."

"Guess it's only fair that Tex got sent as punishment then." It still makes you a little embarrassed, everything that happened a few months ago, but at least no one is hanging on to grudges. "Hopefully this will work out a lot better. You seem to be doing well here and Bobby is such a good kid."

"I have to thank you." Sophia realizes. "If you didn't have the golden pussy to cause Tex to knock Jack on his ass, who knows when we would have met?" She huffs, almost chuckling as she thinks about it. "Could have never met."

"You would have." It's almost daunting to think that you were part of the reason they met, but you swallow thickly when you realize that she's sort of right. In a very weird way. "You would have been transferred here, or him there, eventually."

"Might not." Sophia can't imagine her life without Tex in it and her fingers play with the ring that is on her hand. "Either way, I get to be with my soulmate and become friends with the woman who arranged it all." She reaches over and slaps your thigh playfully. "All comes out in the wash."

"Speaking of arranging." You click off the radio completely, eliminating even the soft background noise as you cruise road the road. "Do you guys have any thoughts about what you want for the wedding yet?"

"Honestly?" Sophia smiles softly, immediately adopting the magical glow of a bride to be. "I would love to do something at Statesman. On the grounds since Tex loves it so much." She had also fallen in love with the country air and the charming, rustic appeal of the distillery.

"Well, we can certainly do that." It was, after all, what you and Diana wanted to do more of in the future. Tex and Sophia would be the prototype, apparently. "I'm sure Champ would give you the run of the grounds. Whatever and wherever you wanted."

Sighing dreamily, she seems to drift off happily on the thought. "What about you? What would you do for your wedding?" She asks, keeping Jack's request in mind.

"I don't really..." A slowly exhaled breath keeps you from sounding like you're trying to ramble out an excuse, but you shrug anyway. "I don't know that Jack is interested in being married again. So I haven't really...I don't think about it." It’s sort of a lie, or at least a lie of omission, considering you do think about it. You just never admit to thinking about it.

"So think about it with me." Sophia twists her in seat and looks at you seriously. "Just because your soulmate may not want to get married again doesn't mean you shouldn't want it. One, you need to talk to him about it. Two, why can't you get what you want? You shouldn't just give him what he wants."

"I haven't thought about it much..." Alright, don’t flat out lie. And it makes you tilt your head slightly when you realize it. "I haven't given it a lot of serious thought, is what I should say. Just little things."

"Like?" Sophia prods. "Come on, give it to me. I might want to steal it." She teases with a wink.

That seems to unlock something in your inhibitions, making you laugh and relax as you drive. It's just girl talk, after all. Jack would never have to know or feel pressured by it. "We had talked...ya know, off and on, about some things. My mother's dress and his family veil. But...you obviously know I have my tearoom and I love that whole vibe. Like a classy little garden party but with party music, if that makes any sense?"

"That would suit you." She smiles, happy that you are starting to think about things like that. "I can see you liking Jack in a tuxedo and his Stetson." She teases playfully.

"He wouldn't even have to wear a tux if he didn't want to." Sure it's traditional, but it's a little much for a garden party, and you just shrug. "Just a gorgeous suit and his Stetson and freshly shined boots. He'd look like a dream." He looks like a dream no matter what, but that image is going to live rent free in your head for a long time.

Sophia snorts and shakes her head. "You're going to jump him tonight, aren't you?" She predicts with a grin. "I can tell from that little smile on your face."

"Oh yeah." You're not even going to deny it or play coy. Why would you? "Doesn't even matter that he woke me up with it this morning. I'm already missing it."

"I'm surprised he didn't get some while he was there for lunch today." Her filthy chuckle is pure sin. "He looked like he was hungry for more than a crawfish salad sandwich."

“You’re such a bad influence.” Regardless, you smirk so hard that you start laughing. “Jack is…well, he’s my soulmate. So it makes sense that he’s everything I’ve wanted in a partner.”

"That's the dream, right?" Sophia hums and her expression turns thoughtful. "I was worried about it. My mum and dad were horrid together. Toxic. But they stuck it out because they were soulmates." She shudders and shakes off the memories to give you an encouraging smile. "I'm glad he's what you want."

“Things can get in the way. Life and stress and illness, or a thousand other things.” Or other people. Like what happened with Tex or even with the Rollins brothers. You’re lucky that you were able it patch things up with him and move forward. “I’m glad you have someone so sweet, then,” you tell her honestly. The exit you want is up ahead and you head for downtown. “Tex is an angel.”

"Sometimes." She grins and squirms in her seat slightly, biting her lip. "Other times...he's the fuckin' devil, ain't he?"

“I can only speak from my very limited experience.” You smirk at her and smother a few dirty giggles. “But yeah. He definitely can be.”

"That's my Tex." She hums and pumps her fist. "If he hadn't taken care of you properly, I would dress him down."

“You can dress him down for any ol’ reason you want.” A smirk and a wink are tossed Sophia’s way as you pull off the highway, and it makes both of you giggle. “He was a perfect gentleman when he should have been, and devilish when the time called for that instead. I have nothing but great things to report about your Tex.”

"If it's weird, just let me know." Sophia knows that she doesn't think like everyone else, some would say that she should be standoffish towards you just because of the weekend date you had with her soulmate. Even though it was before they knew about each other. "I know I can be a lot."

“Honey, no.” Your free hand clasps hers tightly as you drive. “I love that you��re so free and proud and loud about being happy and caring for people. That you’re so easy-going and so enthusiastic. It’s fantastic. And I hate that anyone has ever made you feel that being a lot of so many good things is bad in any way.”

“Alright.” Even though she’s an agent, she’s still a woman with complex emotions and she has come to view you as a friend. She would hate to lose that because of things that were out of her hands. The past cannot be changed. “Anyhow, let’s go critique your competition!” She jokes.

CASK isn’t hard to get to, and the crowd on Saturday nights is almost mixed clientele owing to the great food. The two of you grab a table after only a brief wait and dive right into the heavily Southern menu. Sophia had said she wanted to go someplace authentically American tonight - well this is it.

“What is a…grit fritter?” She asks, looking up at you over the menu, her brows furrowed. “Grit isn’t something you eat.”

“It is in the South.” You flash her a grin to counteract her bewilderment. “It’s cornmeal, basically. A cornmeal…I guess the closest comparison is porridge? It doesn’t sound good when I describe it like that but I promise they’re delicious.”

“Oooookay.” Her skepticism is very obvious on her face, but she’s determined to try quintessential American food, so she will give it a whirl. “What the hell? We eat beans on toast after all.”

“Yes you do.” And even though you love typically British food, that one never quite made sense to you. “Fried green tomatoes are another classic. Those are one of my favourites.”

“Want to share?” Sophia asks, raising a brow at you with a smirk. “Twice the choices.”

“Oh, we’re over ordering and snacking on leftovers tomorrow.” You nod immediately, only pausing when the waitress comes over to take your first round of orders.

The appetizers and main courses are ordered and Sophia grins when you request to keep the menu at the table to peruse the desserts. “I wager your key lime pie is better.” She teases as the waitress walks away. “I’ve never had something like that and I quite enjoyed it.”

“It’s Jack’s favourite.” That is definitely a bragging point for you, and you loved that you could introduce Sophia to it as well. “That, and my coconut cake.”

“Have you ever thought about making it a cheesecake?” Sophia asks, for purely selfish reasons. “I think it would be marvelous.”

“I certainly could be persuaded to do that.” It sounds like it would be incredible, and you know that Sophia, Tex, and Jack all love cheesecake so there would be people to test it out on. “Would that be an alternate dessert you might want to offer at the wedding? Key lime cheesecake or wedding cake?”

“Ohhhhh.” She’s intrigued by the idea and smirks as she thinks about it. “I think that would be lovely.” Some people don’t like traditional cake, so it would be a very lovely alternative.

“I think it would be really special.” And you point a little at her ring with a grin. “And I can make sure it’s got a fun shade of green to it, if you want. If green is going to be a wedding color, I mean.”

“You’ve noticed that I prefer green, have you?” Sophia grins as she looks down at her green dress and then back at you. “How?”

“Oh, just a lucky dress.” You snort, picking up your cocktail to enjoy the aptly named I Can’t Taste The Alcohol In This, which is delicious. “I’m guessing the bridesmaids will be in green? Or will you throw everything on its head and wear green yourself and have the bridesmaids in white?”

“Now that would be interesting.” Sophia tilts her head and her eyes sparkle with absolute glee. “I honestly love that idea and it would be cheeky as hell when people see the bridesmaids in white and think that is a faux pax.”

“I catered a wedding once where the brides wore color and their bridesmaids all wore white with a little color accent. It was beautiful.” It’s just an idea, but Sophia is exactly the kind of unconventional bride that would be able to pull it off gorgeously. “You think Tex would go for it?”

“Tex will go for whatever I want as long as he gets to strip me out of my dress.” She boasts, although it would be a serious conversation she has with him. She’s not the type to believe that it is just her wedding.

“They’re all just thoughts.” And you would never presume to help her make decisions. That’s not your place. Especially not when she hasn’t officially asked you to be involved in any way. This is just girl talk. “But it would be beautiful.”

"Of course it will be." Sophia smirks. "I want to see Jack's face when you walk down the wrong aisle in white towards him."

“Oh gosh…” You wonder instantly if that would freak him out, but there’s still a smile creeping across your face. “Does that…mean you want me to be a bridesmaid?”

It's adorable that you think you wouldn't be one of her bridesmaids but Sophia just nods. "Of course. Not going to not have my first friend in the States in my wedding." She snickers quietly. "Although maybe we'll put you in a red dress. Just for shits and giggles."

“Ha—ha.” The exaggerated laugh and eye roll is totally dignified, but you sip your drink again in amusement. “I mean it’s accurate, but if you want all the women he’s fucked to show up in red dresses there are going to be a lot of us.” You shrug though, not wanting her to be uncomfortable. “Same for Jack, though. It is what it is.”

"Teasing." She winces slightly and reaches out to touch your hand. "Seriously, I would be honored if you would be my maid of honor?" She asks quietly. "You've been so kind and I feel like we are going to be close for many years to come."

“Soph, of course I will.” Both of your hands squeeze hers tightly and you grin happily. Having been so worried and proven so wrong about how things would go when Tex came back with his soulmate, you’ve been delighted to call her a friend so quickly. “It’s my honor entirely. I promise.”

“Great.” She breathes out a sigh of relief. “I hated all the girls I went to uni with.” She admits breezily. “And between you and Gabi, Astrid and Diana, it feels like I actually have friends now.”

“Moving here is the first time I ever had best friends beyond my siblings.” Pausing to thank the waitress when she delivers your appetizers, you shrug a little and wave it off. “I adore my siblings. But there’s something about people who accept you entirely without having genetic reasons for it that I’ve really come to love.”

“It’s different. But I can’t even claim that.” She shrugs. “Only child.”

“Well.” Holding up your glass with a smile, you sit up a little taller in your seat. “Let me be the first to say it, then. Welcome to the family.”

“It’s an odd family.” She acknowledges with a grin and picking up her own glass to tap against yours. “So I think I’ll fit right in.”

“There’s…a dress shop…” You’ve only gone the one time, just once months ago, with Jack, but you tilt your head at Sophia now. “It’s not a bridal shop, technically, but it might be good for bridesmaids, or if you go looking for something other than white. They’re very good to Statesman employees and Statesman soulmates.”

“Ohhhhh maybe you can take me sometime?” She asks. “I do love a good dress shop.”

“Why don’t we go after you talk to Tex about colours?” It would be a hell of an outing, and you wouldn’t miss it for anything.

“Done.” She grins and leans back in her chair. “Thought it would be a hell of a lot more difficult to convince you to stand up with me.” She confesses.

“Never.” You shake your head and start doling out your appetizers onto two plates to share. “You’re fantastic, and Tex is fantastic, and hell…he already asked Jack to be his best man, so it’s all just a package deal.”

Sophia holds up her drink again. “To everyone being fantastic.” She offers with a wink. “Including you.”

******

“You’re beating around the bush!” Astrid argues, ready to pull rank as the only woman present. “I know Jack wants to know too. He’s a damn softie like me.” She grins, pouring out another round of shots from the bottle that the Shootouts bartender simply handed over when the crew of them walked in. “Tell us how you proposed!”

Tex chuckles and lifts his glass and in mock salute before taking a large swallow. “Asked her in the middle of a mission.” He confesses with a grin. “Slap damn in the middle of a brawl.”

“Oh God,” Ginger groans, despite herself. “Why is that actually cute? That shouldn’t be cute!”

“Hell yeah it should be.” Tex puffs up his chest, offended at the idea that it’s not supposed to be cute. “Woman had just beat the shit out of eight different men and I just—” he shrugs. “I couldn’t keep the question to myself. Dragged her to me, kissed her and demanded she marry me.”

“And you know she’s the right woman for him because she took down eight men and was still willing to say yes to putting up with him,” Rye chuckles, taking a long swig of his beer. “You could’ve gotten decked, too.”

“Damn.” Jack shakes his head and chuckles. “Sounds like a hell of a story for later on down the road.”

“I’m sure she’s tellin’ your girl right now.” Tequila grins broadly. “She likes havin’ a cowboy. Somebody manlier than she was meetin’ before.”

Snorting, Jack leans back and lifts a brow. “That’s rich, boy.” He teases playfully. “Didn’t you just start shavin’?”

“Measure of a man ain’t the hair on his face but the mettle in his heart.” Tequila pronounces, heavily paraphrasing but proud nonetheless.

“Whatever you say, Tex.” Jack huffs, grinning behind his glass and shaking his head at how happy the other man looks.

"I do say." The younger man puffs up like a proud peacock.

“He’s gonna be impossible now.” Jack predicts, looking over as Astrid and Rye. “You know that, right?” He chuckles and sighs. “Head was too damn big before he went over the pond, surprised he could get it on the damn plane comin’ home.”

“It’s sweet,” Astrid laughs, remembering when any little compliment from Gabi would make her feel like she was flying. The early stages with your soulmate are always amazing.

Jack can’t deny that and just settles for another huff that is more like a chuckle as he sips his whiskey. “Wonder what the girls are up to.”

Text checks his watch with a flourish. “A whole thirty-two minutes,” he announces to the table. “That’s all it took for the lovestruck Jack Daniels to miss his woman.”

Everyone laughs but Jack isn’t ashamed of it. “Hell, I was missin’ her when I walked out the damn door.” He jokes.

“She’s a hell of a woman.” Rye had actually gotten a chance to talk to you last weekend and had been impressed with how normal you had been about everything. As if the previous weekend hadn’t even happened.

“Yes she is.” Jack won’t deny that, “tough as nails and pretty as a picture.” He brags. Jack has never been shy about talking up his soulmate. Abigail had been showered with compliments and love and he’s going to do the same thing to you.

“And keeps us well-damn fed.” Rye agrees. He had thoroughly enjoyed the lunch that he had had in your kitchen, finding little sandwiches and soup to be more of an indulgence when they were expertly prepared.

“We’re gonna have to increase our workouts.” Jack chuckles, rubbing his hand over the slight belly that has gotten softer since you’ve come to Kentucky. “By a lot.”

“So I should expect to see you for an early gym time?” Tex teases, knowing that Jack would never get up as early as he routinely does to work out before having to be in his office.

“Shiiiiiit.” Jack huffs, shaking his head. “My work out that early is a different kind of workout. Cardio based.” He winks, grinning at how he had woken you up this morning.

"You can do both, old man." The good-natured joking and prodding between them has returned full force, and Tex belly laughs as he reaches for his drink. "Only person at this table not getting their cardio in is Joe," he chuckles, nodding to Rye beside him. "And maybe we can fix that with a pretty bridesmaid."

Rye chuckles and shakes his head. “Nahhhh, I doubt it.” He swallows down his whiskey and holds out his glass for a refill. “All the bridesmaids are gonna be taken.”

"Well, I don't know who all she's asking, but I know the maid of honour is spoken for." Tequila waggles his eyebrows at Jack and smirks.

“She’s gonna ask my sugar?” He can’t say as it’s surprising but to some outsider it might be. If they knew the history.

"Mmhmm." The younger man nods proudly and sips his drink. "Gonna ask her tonight. Those two are thick as thieves already. We're gonna be in trouble."

“Gonna have to make a pact.” Jack laughs. “Whoever gets in the doghouse lets the other use their spare room to crash.”

"We'll be doing flashlight signals across the neighborhood." Tex laughs, thinking of how ridiculous that would be in the age of cellphones.

“Maybe we need to build a treehouse to sleep in.” Jack adds, leaning into the completely juvenile ideas. “They can’t dump a cup of water on us while we’re sleepin’ if they can’t reach us.”

"Your gal has two siblings and mine is an agent." It has Tex chortling like a madman, and Astrid and Rye join in, shaking their heads in amusement. "What makes you think Soph wouldn't just scale the treehouse and have us under attack all over again?"

“You’re right. They might set the damn thing on fire.” Jack huffs, grinning at the image the banter is producing. “We’re just gonna have to keep ‘em happy, that’s the bottom line.”

"Suppose that's gonna have to be the way we go." Tex raises his glass to his friend with a dopey grin on his face, thoughts obviously trained on his soulmate even as Jack meets his salute and they both drink. "Wonder if she's asked her yet," he muses, also wondering where you've decided to go together and what you're doing.

Jack grins, shaking his head. “Admit it, you’re missin’ her too.” He accuses teasingly. “I just said somethin’ first.”

"Of fuckin' course I am." It earns a sort of dreamy shine to his eyes, and maybe even a blush in his cheeks, but Tex doesn't care. He's got the girl of his dreams - his soulmate - and they're gonna spend the rest of their lives together. It's all he's ever wanted and now it's his reality. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me."

“I’m proud for you.” Jack murmurs quietly, serious for a moment, “proud of you too.” He adds. “You took what could have been looked at as a punishment and turned it into the best damn thing that could have happened to you.”

"It was absolutely a punishment." He might be on the younger side, but Tex isn't a fool. He knows exactly what he did and why he was sent away. But he doesn't regret it. A slight overreaction? Sure. But it led him to Sophia, and that's all that matters. "But things work out the way they're supposed to," he looks his best friend in the eye and meets his seriousness. "Even when it looks like something's gone wrong in the process."

“Plus…” Jack spreads his hands out and gives the boy a grin. “Don’t know if I woulda had a chance against you if you’d have stayed.” Things might not have reached their boiling point and while he could have done without you being kidnapped, it had opened his eyes to what he really wanted.

"Who knows what might have happened." Astrid looks between the two men - her dear friends - and offers them both smiles. "Although I'm sure everything would have turned out alright."

“Like I said.” Jack nods. “Water under the bridge. We just need to get Tex and his lady hitched before she realizes how much he farts in his sleep.”

The table laughs good-naturedly, but Tex fixes Jack with the most intense look imaginable. "I've met my match," he tones seriously, before bursting out into a torrent of sniggers. "Woman's a menace," he admits. "Goddamn I love her."

“That settles it.” Jack slaps the table, tears in his eyes from hooting in amusement. “I’m gettin’ you one of those air purifiers for your bedroom as a weddin’ gift.”

"Scented candles," Rye is laughing through tears as well, slapping the table between belly laughs. "Incense. Anything."

“Don’t show up at their house too early in the morning. Give the place a chance to air out.” Jack adds.

“That’s true love.” Astrid snorts. “Bodily functions that could take down an elephant but he’s got hearts in his eyes.”

“I don’t know if there is a more true expression of love than to put up with someone’s shit.” Jack chuckles, sending Rye into another fit of giggles.

“Thank you, thank you,” Tex is nearly howling with laughter, but has his hand over his heart in mock seriousness. “I am the luckiest man on earth, thank you very much. And I’ll let y’all know my gas mask size after I get fitted.”

It’s amazing that a group of deadly, highly successful agents are giggling like ten-year-olds over body functions, but Jack doesn’t remember the last time he was this lighthearted.

"What do you think about..." Tex looks around the group when their laughter finally calms down, snorting one more time and finishing his drink. "What do you think about crashin’ girls' night? All of us?"

Rye shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “Whipped,” he teases. “You are both whipped.” He shrugs his shoulders and belts back the rest of his drink. “I’m game.”

"If we can't get him a bridesmaid, maybe he can pick up a date wherever the girls are," Astrid suggests with a smirk. She knows exactly where you are, since Gabi had texted her that Diana was babysitting the kids for the rest of the night so she could go meet up with the two of you.

“I like this idea.” Jack muses, slapping the back of his hand against Rye’s chest. “All Champ’s best agents deserve to get laid tonight.”

"I was gonna tell y'all tonight." Rye looks around with a grin on his face. "I'm transferring back to Louisville. Gin asked for the New York office as a reward for her last mission."

“Hot damn.” Jack chuckles and shakes his head. “The band is back together again.” There was a lot of hell raising the last time everyone at this table was together, he expects it will be the same - only with soulmates to add to the mix.

"They're on their way to Tin Roof." Astrid reports with a grin, waving her phone in the air. "Gabi's sister's band is playing tonight and the girls are meeting her there." She knows the answer already, but she still asks. "Should we hustle and get there before them?"

“What are we still doing here?” Jack demands, shooting out of the booth and looking at the other three.

******

"This is it, right here." The club that you're supposed to be meeting Gabi at isn't one you frequent but it's noisy and crowded, and you love the energy from the outside as you park the car down the block. Sophia has the GPS pulled up on her phone in the passenger seat and she's been texting with Gabi. "Is she already inside?"

“Yes!” Sophia chuckles and twists the phone so you can see the picture of Gabi holding a ridiculously blue drink. “She must be ready to get snockered tonight. Without the kids for an entire night?”

"This is her sister's band." You fling off your seatbelt and grab your purse from the backseat, ready to continue the night in this second location. The impromptu invitation from Gabi was a great idea. "I've seen them play once before and I had a blast, but yeah. She's definitely getting blasted already. Love her to death, she absolutely deserves it."

“Well, I want to try whatever she is drinking.” Sophia had eaten too much and would probably regret it, but she has every intention of dancing the meal away with her new friends and getting smashed enough that Tex will have to pour her into bed.

"I've heard this place has a killer drink menu, so we're gonna have fun." You flash your IDs for the bouncer, who has your names on a list, and tug Sophia inside by your intertwined hands. The place is dark and loud and ready for a party, and Gabi nearly screams when she spots you across the bar.

"Babes!" She bounces over with her drink in her hand, throwing her free arm around both of you as well as she can. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

“We’re glad you invited us. This place is wicked!” Sophia gasps, grinning ear to ear as she soaks in the heavy music and swaying bodies in the strobe lights.

"Drinks?" Gabi flashes you both a grin, wanting to at least get you started for the night before revealing the surprise that walked in the door five minutes ago. "Maybe a tequila drink and a whiskey drink, respectively?" She laughs delightedly at the pun.

Sophia snorts and grabs Gabi’s drink playfully. “If that’s the case, you get to stick to ginger ale tonight.” She teases, holding the drink back from her friend for a moment before handing it back to her.

"Not on an actual night out." Gabi's laugh is infectious, and all three of you go to the bar to get drinks. Sophia gets another of the bright blue drinks like Gabi has and you come away with something neon pink. "I've been hanging out on the side, right over here," she tells you and Sophia, leading you to an alcove with a large table. It's not until you turn the corner, though, that you see the table is being occupied.

“Well look who finally decided to show up.” Jack drawls as he leans back in the booth and grins at you. “Hey sugar, trouble’s blown into town.”

“Jack Daniels, as I live and breathe.” You squeal with delight seeing him lounging there and practically bolt forward to throw your arm around him. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

“Tex dragged us here.” He lies with a grin on his face, knowing that he had wanted to be here just as bad. “Shoulda seen it, it was pathetic how he was mopin’ and moonin’ over.”

“Oh yeah?” He makes room for you, and you sit down in his lap at the wide, circular booth. “I bet you weren’t excited at all to haul ass and come over here to surprise us.”

“He damn near broke our necks getting us here.” Tex throws him under the bus easily. “Tried drivin’ the Bronco like it was the Pony Express.”

Jack huffs and cuts his eyes at Tex. “Just because you drive like your Drivin’ Miss Daisy don’t mean I’m a fast driver.”

“You do drive kind of fast, baby.” He does almost everything fast, and you’ve been enjoying the hell out of that ever since the ‘everything’ he does included you.

Jack snickers and shakes his head. “Nahhh, y’all just can’t keep up.”

“Whatever you say.” Sophia snorts, cuddling into Tequila’s side. “I’m just glad you decided to join us.”

Jack pulls you close and presses a kiss to your jaw. “Have I told you how incredible you are lookin’ tonight, sugar?”

"Only about three times before I left the house." You hum into the moment, turning your head so you can slant your lips against his. "I think this might be your new favourite dress."

“If you could only hear the things I’m plannin’ on doing to you in that dress.” Jack drawls quietly in your ear.

“Oh yeah?” One eyebrow quirks curiously at him as you get comfortable in his lap. “You planning on having your wicked way with me?”

“Sugar….” Jack growls and his teeth scrap over your jawline. “If we weren’t in a crowded club, I’d have your dress up right now.”

There’s no way he doesn’t feel the shiver that rolls through you at that promise, or see the way your eyes flit around the space before coming back to land on him with mischief and lust written in your expression. “I see some dark corners to hide in, if we get impatient…”

“We could always go get something out of the Bronco.” Jack suggests, sliding his hand over your knee and to the hem of your dress.

Ever since the…unexpected revelation of being excited by the idea of getting caught, it’s stuck in your head. It’s slipped into your dreams. It’s been at the forefront of your fantasies. And you really just can’t shake it at all. “We definitely could,” you murmur back, shifting in his lap and feeling the unmistakable dampness in your panties that always follows the fantasies. That rush of lust never fails.

“Yeah?” Jack chuckles quietly. “I think we need to get that coat you left in there.” He teases quietly, his cock twitching against your ass.

“We do.” The emphatic nod you give him is laced with a disbelieving giggle. Are you really about to do this? “I’m a little cold…silly me for wearing a sleeveless dress…”

“Silly rabbit.” Jack smirks and dips his fingers under your dress, enjoying the way your flesh breaks out in goosebumps. “You’re cold sugar,” he announces loudly. “Let’s go get your coat out of the Bronco.”

“Back in a minute,” you hum to no one in particular, taking a large drink of your cocktail before hopping off Jack’s lap and grabbing his hand. Are you really about to do this? Asks the voice in your head again, but the rush of heat in your core is absolutely on board.

Jack tucks your hand in his and hustles you out of the club. He knows the wristbands will get you back in, but right now, he’s chuckling as he guides you past the queue to get inside and out towards the nearly deserted parking lot.

“You’re such a bad influence,” you giggle under your breath as Jack makes a beeline for his truck. You would never have considered this with any other partner before him – never. But with Jack you just can’t seem to get enough.

“Me?” Jack huffs, grinning as he pulls you forward and lets go of your hand to slap your ass. “You’re practically begging me to fuck you in that dress.” He teases.

“Do you want me to beg?” Shaking your ass at him just a little, you grin and turn to face him with a pout painted on your lips as fast as a light switch. “Does my Jack have a little bit of a dominant streak in him?”

“Sugar, I thought you knew that.” Jack huffs, even though you had already said he was something more along the lines of a ‘service top’. He hadn’t looked that upset to see what it meant, because you had been whimpering praises when you had said it.

“I must love being a sub then.” His hands are on you, holding you fast against the side of the Bronco, and your legs tremble a little in anticipation. “I’m learning so much about my sexual appetite from you.”

“Yeah, Sugar?” Jack smirks as he presses his thigh between your legs and lifts, so he is firm against your core. “You wanna be my good girl right now? Scream my name as loud as you need to and let anyone around here think you’re bein’ mugged?”

“Fuck.” There’s something about the way he says good girl that makes you ever wetter, core clenching and thighs tightening around his as it presses into you. “I—shit— yes. Whatever you want, baby.”

“Right answer.” His hands slide your dress up, aware that his body is blocking anyone from seeing too much of you, but you like this. Your cunt is already soaking his jeans through the poor excise of panties you have on underneath them. “Do you want me to rip off that lace or wear them after I’m done with you?” He demands, kissing up your throat.

“Need then to keep your cum inside me all night.” Jack had, at least, taken to your preference for cum play with eager indulgence. With an IUD in place, you’re welcome to play as much as you like, and Jack seems to love it.

“Good girl.” He groans against your clavicle, cock jumping in his pants, and he starts to pull them down. “Step out of them for me, sugar.” He orders, pulling his thigh away to kneel down in the gravel parking lot.

“Jack.” Just a gasp of his name comes from your lips in the night air, but you’re obedient in stepping out of your panties for him to shove into his jacket pocket temporarily. When he doesn’t stand up again right away you almost tease him, but he dives forward in one fluid movement to duck his head under your dress and taste your dripping slit so quickly that you can barely clap your hand over your mouth to stifle a moan.

His chuckle vibrates against your clit, smile curving up as his tongue dives into your core for a brief taste and slowly slithers though your folds before he sucks on your clit softly for a second. He would take his time if there wasn’t a group of people waiting for you back inside, but he couldn’t resist a taste as he pockets your panties.

“Oh fuck, baby.” Coming on breathy gasps instead of your usual loud moans because you are out in public, your hips follow his tongue and tilt forward to give him everything he wants even for the single minute he’s on his knees. “You’re so fucking good at that, holy shit.”

Kissing your clit again, he pulls away and shuffles to his feet. “Next time, I’m going to make you cum with my tongue.” He promises, licking your essence from his lips. “Right now I need to be inside you.”

Four hands fumble for his belt, desperate to get the buckle and his jeans open while you slide your tongue into his mouth and groan at your own taste in his kiss. You’re always so eager. Jack loves it, knowing that it’s still new but you’ve not once turned him away when he needs you. Just as eager as he is and it makes him feel like he is the only one in your orbit. “Fuck.” He groans, shuddering when your hand plunges into his jeans to wrap around him. Once again not wearing boxers pays off for him.

“So impatient,” you tease with a throaty chuckle, keeping your voice quiet as you nip at his bottom lip and pump his cock in long, luxurious strokes. There isn’t time for a lot of this, but he deserves a little attention after paying you the same courtesy.

“Fuck you’re so good to me, sugar.” He’s breathless, thrusting into your grip and his own hands flex around your hips. “Put me inside you.”

Shifting back so you’re sitting on the Bronco’s hood, you glance around quickly and feel the rush of adrenaline as you line him up at your entrance and hitch your leg up on his hip to let him sink inside you.

“Fuuuuuuck.” It gets better every fucking time. The way your body accepts him is nothing short of miraculous and he loves the way your walls give to let him in. “So good.”

“Quiet, love.” You remind him, whimpering under your breath and swallowing a gasp as he starts to move. You’re going to have to force yourself to keep your eyes open, but you don’t know how much good it will do when you’re facing a wall.

“Let ‘em hear.” Jack grunts, pulling his lip between his teeth has he starts to work his cock in and out of you. Knowing he needs to do this quick, but not caring as he punches deep and feels your body react.

Immediately your mind protests that you don’t want to get arrested for fucking in public, but the next stroke of his thick cock hits so deep that you forget to care, moaning out loud for the night to hear. Every sound you make for him is perfect, spurring him on as if you are commanding him for more. It’s hot and dirty, filthy in the best possible way and he reaches down between you to rub your clit because he knows he won’t last. “Cum for me sugar,” he growls. “Need you to be a g—good girl.”

It’s the most gorgeous symphony of sinful sounds you’ve ever heard in your life and the place makes you cling to him so that you won’t miss a single sensation. The throbbing veins lining his cock seem to pulse out both of your heartbeats and you whine out an agreement to his command as best you can before finding his lips again. If you can’t pour yourself into kissing him as you cum, you really might scream out in pleasure.

Jack moans against your lips, feeling the liquid rush of head that give him permission to cum. Letting go and gasping as he pours himself into you.

“Fucking hell, baby.” Gasping at the feeling of him spilling inside of you and clutching his leather jacket even as you lay back to feel the cool metal of the truck’s hood on your back.

Jack pants out your name, hunching over you so he can rest his head right in your stomach. Trying to catch his breath. “Warm now?” He chuckles.

“I think we just worked off the calories from dinner,” you joke, giggling breathlessly and running your fingers through his hair.

“Happy to help, sugar.” Jack looks up at you and as much as he would love to stay just like this for the rest of the night, he had to get you back. Pulling back and reaching into his pocket to pull out your panties with a grin.

As soon as he’s slipped then back on, you shimmy into them and sit back up. “C’mere,” you insist, slipping off the Bronco’s hood to bend over and slip his softening cock into your mouth, savouring the flavor of your combined juice and cleaning him up just a little so his jeans won’t be a mess when he tucks himself away.

“Shit.” Jack is spent, but still he moans quietly at the feeling of your mouth around his cock. Loving how you shamelessly want him. “Okay sugar, I need a break between rounds.”

Your satisfied hun makes both of you chuckle, and when you stand up again you feel light as a feather. “I better see if I actually have a jacket back there,” you shrug your shoulders and grin guiltlessly. “For appearances sake.”

“If you don’t, we’ll just say we couldn’t find it and I had to give you mine.” Jack reasons, smirking as he shrugs out of his jacket. He knows you don’t have a jacket in here.

“You just like seeing me in your clothes.” The first time you’d worn one of his old button-up plaid shirts around the house he’d almost pinned you to the nearest surface on sight — and you loved it.

“What can I say, sugar?” Jack grins. “Might be a little possessive.”

“Just a tad.” With both of you redressed, you snuggle into Jack’s side and head for the door again with a jubilant smile on your face. You can’t help it. He just makes you feel incredible and you’re not about to deny yourself the giddiness of it.

Back inside, none of the group has any doubts where you have been, or wheat you’ve been up to. Tex and Rye grin, the former whooping loudly for everyone to hear and slapping Jack on the back. Gabi hands you your cocktail back with a smirk, and you just set yourself down in the booth as innocently as possible before Jack comes to rejoin you, one arm thickly protectively around your body to keep you close.

“No coat in the truck?” She guesses, batting her eyelashes to you in Jack’s jacket.

“I guess not.” Your innocent shrug is fairly lame and you know it. “That’s okay, Jack doesn’t need his.”

“She knows I’ll always give her my jacket if she needs it.” Jack muses, taking a sip of his own drink with a smug grin.

Sophia nearly chokes on a laugh at that, not needing a road map for Jack’s comment in the least. “Very generous, mate,” she snorts, smirking at him and then Tex.

Jack winks at Sophia playfully, tugging you closer with his free hand and looking over at you. “I think so, wouldn’t you?”

“Extremely generous.” You agree with a solemn nod.

“Alright.” Ginger rolls her eyes at all of you like the long-suffering mother she is. “Horny bastards.”

“You are the one who told me I needed to get my head out of my ass and realize what I had.” Jack reminds her with zero shame. “Just took your advice.”

“I wish you’d take all of my advice so literally.” She shakes her head at him but readjusts her arm around her wife. “So much domesticity all at once. It’s like someone cast a spell over Statesman.”

“Something must be in the air.” Jack chuckles, leaning in and kissing your cheek. “Must be the scent of her coconut frosting.”

******

The day of the Rabbit-Hole’s opening party is the biggest piece of organized chaos that you’ve seen so far in your entire life. Bigger than either of your siblings’ weddings or any that you had catered – and bigger still than the last restaurant opening you worked through when you were just the pastry sous chef. Now, with the entire kitchen under your command, you’re just grateful that Diana is coordinating the party so you can focus on your food.

The cake case is full is bursting with every flavour, the decorations are as over the top as you could manage and still have the place feel cozy and inviting. There’s room for the bandstand on the patio, so that the open French doors will let music flow through the restaurant and anyone who wants to dance can be inside or out. Every single seat has been reserved and about a third of the guests have put in their reservations that they would like to partake in the tea service menu or have one of your signature soufflés as a part of their meal. And on top of it all - only three small disasters have happened today and each of them was resolved relatively easily.

Now, at four in the afternoon, you’ve run home to shower the flour out of your hair and the sweat off your skin, and to change into fresh clothes and a clean chef’s coat for tonight. Jack is back from the office early so he can meet your family at the airstrip, and you couldn’t be more grateful that he’s so willing to jump in and help.

“Hey.” Jack grins at you, excited for your gift that he has for you. “Are you ready?” He asks cocking his head slightly. “You look like you’re missing something.” You are freshly showered, in clean clothes but he gives you a playful grin as he leans in to kiss your lips.

"What?" A quick inventory of your outfit - appropriate pants and shirt, new slip-resistant boots, bracelets from your sister and from Jack, even the earrings shaped like teacups that your mother had sent you - says you've got everything in place. Even your hair and makeup are appropriate, if simple. You would sweat off anything elaborate in the kitchen. "No? I'm pretty sure I have everything. Unless—" Your hand flies to your belt loops and you sigh in relief. Your keys are where they should be. "No. I'm good."

Jack chuckles at your efficiency and shakes his head. “No, you’re definitely missing something.” The elaborately wrapped box is thanks to Astrid. Jack couldn’t wrap his way out of a room and he wanted the gift to be perfect for you. “I think this is what you need.”

"Wh—what is this?" Your eyebrows rise when he holds the box out to you, but the second it's in your hands you're eager to tear the bows and ribbon off. Jack's tendency toward gift-giving is usually smaller things - like a perfectly made cup of coffee in the morning. But this is not small by any means. You nearly giggle tearing the wrapping away, and carefully lift the lid of the box to reveal a layer of tissue...which surrounds a brand-new chef's jacket. Crisp white with The Rabbit-Hole's logo embroidered in red and black, with Chef and your name in the same style and colours underneath. "Oh my god," you gasp, feeling tears in your eyes immediately. "You didn't have to do this baby, but oh my god, it's perfect!"

“Of course I did.” Jack huffs, proud that you are touched by the gift. “No chef can attend the opening to her own restaurant without the proper wear, sugar.” Jack teases, sliding forward to unbutton the plain chef’s coat you have on right now. “Want you to remember tonight as the day all your dreams come true.” Later on will be another dream, he hopes.

"I'm so nervous." The jacket fits you perfectly, and you smooth your fingers over the embroidery with a watery smile of pure pride. "I'm terrified, honestly, but also excited. Like I have enough anxiety and adrenaline that I could vibrate into space."

“We are all here behind you.” Jack assures you, reaching up and squeezing your shoulders reassuringly. “Just let me know if you need anything, sugar.”

"Right now all I need is a kiss," you're beaming at him, unashamed to claim that prize and give him a squeezing tight hug. "And for you to pick up my family from the airstrip. I know they're only in for the one night, but I'm so glad they could all come."

“As soon as I leave here, I’m off to get them.” He promises, pulling you close and kissing you. “The jet is already starting to descend so they should be landing in ten.”

"Thank you, baby." One more kiss and you have to pull yourself away, admiring the embroidery on your coat all over again. "I have to run back to the kitchen, but I'll see all of you tonight." The opening is due to start in just two hours, and there is so much to do, but you actually - miraculously - feel ready.

“Break a leg.” Jack jokes. “Or a dish.”

"I love you." You squeeze his hand and shoot out the door, ready to get your hands dirty for the first few hundred people to ever eat at The Rabbit-Hole.

******

Meeting your family at the airport is nerve wracking. Not because of any changes of opinion or because you aren’t there to provide a buffer, but because of what your father is bringing Jack. Sending him a picture, Jack had bought a band to be an accompanying piece and would be completed by the wedding band to come. Anxious to see the ring in person and to put the pieces together so he can ask you to be his wife tonight after you have had one hell of a launch.

"Jack!" It's your little sister who jumps forward on the pavement first, ready to hug it out and enjoy the hell out of a weekend without the kids. "How terrified is she? Freaking out? Shaking in her stylish yet affordable boots?"

“She’s shaking in her custom embroidered chef’s jacket.” Jack accepts the bone crushing hug with a laugh. “But she’s got nothing to worry about, she’s going to kill it. You should see the place.”

"We will." Sherry steps up to be the next in line for a hug and is much gentler when she puts both arms around her daughter's soulmate. "In about a half an hour. How are you doing, honey? Work is good? Moving her in went okay?"

“Everything is floatin’ along perfectly.” He assures her, hugging your mother with a bit more restraint and smiling as he pulls back. “She’s all moved in and says she’s happy as a lark. I think that’s because she’s gotten used to me wantin’ to make her rest when she gets home. Ask her when she gets tired of eatin’ off the grill.”

"It'll take a long time for her to get tired of that." Stepping up behind his wife, your father puts his hand out to Jack with an approving smile. "But it's good to hear things are going well." He clears his throat and glances around as his family starts moving toward Jack's Bronco. "Still feeling good about tonight?" He asks Jack quietly.

“I am.” Jack nods, looking into your father’s eyes seriously. “I have your permission to ask your daughter to marry me?” It seems important to make sure, even though everyone knows it’s been leading to this. He respects the man enough to ask again.

"Yes." Jeff chuckles quietly, appreciative of the respect but knowing that you would do what you damn well liked with or without your father's permission. The ring box in his jacket pocket is Jack's now, and he offers it to the younger man easily. "I hope you don't mind, but I told them this morning. My wife wanted to know why I was going into the safe, and it seemed okay to let it out."

“Absolutely.” Jack chuckles as he opens the box and smiles down at the simple, yet gorgeous ring that had been your grandmother’s. “I have the first part of the wraparound here.” He tells him, pulling out his own small box to open, showing the band he had designed to fit around it. The wedding band would go on the other side in time.

"Oh, it's beautiful," your mother gasps with delight, inspecting the delicate details on the wrap band that Jack had picked out. "Honey, she's going to love it. I just—" She's a little misty-eyed, but who can blame her. "I'll save the congratulations for later, but I'm so happy for both of you."

“I hope to make her happy every day,” he promises Sherry. “I know I won’t succeed every day, but that’s the goal.”

"Never go to bed angry, son." That's her best motherly advice, and she hands it out with a sage nod. "That's the key to everything. No matter which one of you gets stubborn, always work it out before bed."

“Honestly, I don’t know if I can sleep without her in my arms.” Maybe it’s a little too much information for your parents, but he doesn’t mean it in a sexual way. Just the comfort of you in his arms helps him sleep.

"Oh god, they're happy," Matt groans, making gagging noises and playing his essential role as older brother. "Absolutely disgusting," he deadpans, grinning broadly at Jack.

“Completely disgusting.” Jack agrees wholeheartedly, chuckling at the way your brother likes to tease. “You should see Tex with his soulmate if you think we’re bad. She’s a Brit with a mouth that is fouler than a sailor’s and a love for him as big as Texas.”

"He found her?" Sherry clasps her hands over her heart and practically does a happy dance as the group of them climbs into the Bronco. "That's such good news. He's a nice boy. Are they going to be at the opening tonight?"

“Of course they are.” Jack climbs behind the wheel and turns the engine over. “They have become fast friends. To the point where she’s gonna be Sophia’s maid of honor this summer.”

Matt and Jeff let out an identical whistle from the backseat that sends everyone into a soft laugh, and Sherry nods her approval in the passenger seat beside Jack. "Everybody's happy. Just the way it should be." After all, she'd liked Tex when she thought that he was her daughter's soulmate, she doesn't like him any less now that he is someone else's.

“Everyone’s happy.” Jack agrees, smirking as he pulls away from the tarmac. “Let’s go down the Rabbit-Hole, shall we?”

"To The Rabbit-Hole." Sherry aims one finger in the air like the call of a charge and laughs again, excited to see the restaurant that was barely beginning to take shape the last time they were in Louisville.

By the time Jack pulls up to the distillery, the parking lot is already starting to fill up. “Oh boy, here we go.” He chuckles as he jumps out. The grand opening banner has been draped over the entrance and he beams at how everything looks. “It’s all come together.”

"Hot damn." Jeff pops out of the truck with a grin. "She's really done it, hasn't she? The whole place is hers."

"Dad, we're not even inside," Eliza laughs, pulling her husband along with her in an eager attempt to get to the door ahead of the rest of her family. "Daniels, party of six," she tells the hostess at the stand just inside the doorway. There's music pouring softly through the building and the smells from the kitchen are completely divine. "Oh my god, look!" She squeaks while the hostess is checking in their reservation, pointing at the pastry case. "The coconut cake is front and center!"

“She wanted to make that a permanent part of the menu.” You have too many ideas to have a permanent menu without some rotation, but some items were going to always be available. “I think that is the star of The Rabbit-Hole.”

The six of them follow the hostess out into the dining room, the whimsical decor and rich colors grounded by walnut-stained tables and chairs and brass accents. Soft white linen tablecloths give a feeling of elegance, and your mother can’t help cooing at every detail as they’re seated at one of the larger tables.

Jack beams as he looks at everyone taking in the atmosphere, snapping photos and looking excited as a line of servers show them to their tables. You had even gone so far as to have the party name engraved on heavy card stock and placed in the middle of the tables for a touch of whimsy and practicality, making the best use of the configurations for ease of seating. “She’s outdone herself.”

“It’s perfect,” Eliza breathes as she sits down, twisting her head to see all around the dining room and as much of the patio as she can. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

“The menu is specialized for today.” Jack boasts as he looks at the elaborate scroll of the paper.

“Everything sounds good.” Your brother-in-law groans, knowing it will be impossible for him to make a decision.

“Can I recommend the meatloaf?” Diana flashes everyone a grin, appearing at Jack’s side with the proud glow of a happy friend. She’s been pointing out to absolutely everyone that the menu says Diana’s meatloaf and glowing over it.

“I still can’t believe that you gave her your prized recipe.” Jack knows that the special will only be a once a week offering, but it’s a point of pride for him to see her so happy about it.

“If I was ever going to share it outside the family, it would only be for someone like her.” She greets your family with hugs all around, sharing in the excitement of opening night. Everyone is bubbly and jittery all at once and it’s making the restaurant feel so active.

“How is she holding up?” Jack asks quietly, having promised you he wouldn’t slip into the back while the work was going on. You were too busy for distractions.

“I heard her laughing in the kitchen just before you came in, so I think we’re okay.” Jack gets the biggest hug, of course, and Diana pats his back soothingly.

“Good.” Diana knows that he is planning on proposing after the opening is done. Making sure that there is plenty of champagne for more than just the after party.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him quietly, knowing that he must be nervous. She would be, anyway.

“Honestly?” Jack surprises himself. “I’m feeling great.” He knows you will say yes. His only worry is that he will disappoint you by proposing on your big day.

“Good,” Diana’s smile widens, overtaking her face. “Ride that wave, honey. It’s going to be great.”

“She’s going to love it, right?” Jack looks around the table at those who know you best. No one has argued with his plan, so he’s taking that as a good sign, but he wants to be sure. “Proposing tonight?”

“Absolutely.” Your sister has no hesitations about Jack’s plan, and offers her soon-to-be brother-in-law a nod of encouragement. “My sister is many things, but quiet about her happiness shouldn’t be one of them. The grand gesture is the perfect plan.”

“Good.” Jack deflates, relieved to be reassured that he’s doing the right thing. “That’s damn good.”

“Just give me a signal so I can film it,” your mother insists, always being the documentarian of the family. It’s because of her that there is such a complete photo history of your childhood.

“Of course.” Jack nods, grateful for your family’s support. “Diana, you have her dress here?” He knows you wouldn’t want to be proposed to in your chef’s uniform, so he had arranged for Diana to bring one of your favorite dresses, knowing the older woman could convince you to change for the little after party without arousing too much suspicion.

“It’s all set up.” She promises him. She had also arranged for the band to do a little rendition of the Elton John classic Your Song after you say yes, but that’s a surprise for both of you. “Don’t you fret, honey. We have everything taken care of. Just enjoy your dinner and be proud of your soulmate.”

“You know I’m going to.” Jack nods to Diana as she slides away to greet another table and he grins at everyone. “How about we order us our first drinks?”

They all knew the food would be good. They knew the food would be great, even. But whatever you’re doing back there in that kitchen tonight is magic because this might be – according to your father between giddy bites of fried chicken – the very best you’ve ever cooked.

“Whatever is in this, it’s gotta be illegal,” your brother groans, when not a single speck is left on his plate.

“And yet?” Your sister is beaming, soufflé and pork erased from existence and sitting happily in her stomach. “I can’t wait for dessert.”

“She’s been busting her ass to make sure that everything is perfect. You don’t know how many times she’s thrown out a recipe and started from scratch for tonight.”

“Sounds like her finals in culinary school.” Eliza groans happily and sits back, patting her stomach. “I think there’s just enough room for dessert.” She flashes Jack a grin. “And champagne.”

“Always room for champagne.” Jack contends. “Especially when you have to know this woman has even made an after-party menu.”

“She didn’t?” Although why your mother is surprised is anyone’s guess. Of course you went overboard. “That girl, I swear.”

“To thank the staff for all their hard work.” Jack shrugs, accepting that you do too much.

“Accidentally catering her own engagement party sounds pretty on point.” Matt chuckles at it, knowing you’ll get a kick out of it when you think about it later. “Get ready,” Diana sweeps by the table with an excited aura radiating from her. “I’m gonna go make sure she’s changed up and ready to give her ‘thank you’ speech.”

Tonight was just going to be one seating. It wasn’t going to be an all-night affair. It was the beauty of this because every table was saying they needed to book another reservation now. “It’s time.”

******

“Di!” When your friend appears in the kitchen you’re in your element, executing the last few desserts to go out and wiping sweat from your forehead with a kitchen towel with a giant grin on your face. “Is it time already? Shit…I completely lost track.” One glance at the clock shows yes, you’ve completely lost track of the hour. It seems like the night only started ten minutes ago. “How is…do they—do they like it?” You ask, almost afraid to hear her answer.

“Babe, you can guarantee that your tearoom will be packed from here on out.” Diana laughs, throwing her arms around you. “They are already asking for reservations to come back.”

“Really?” It would enough to have you in tears if you weren’t flying on so much adrenaline. Instead you hug Diana back fiercely. “Okay, let me just make sure we have the buffet trays ready for the after party and I’ll change.” The idea for the rest of the night is to be informal, and to let your staff join the fun. All you’ll do later is clean up the dining room. Doing the last batch of dishes before lunch service tomorrow will be a snap.

“Go change, I’ll take care of that.” Diana shoos you away from the table where the staff party supplies are sitting. “Go on. I can handle this part.”

The dress was Diana’s idea, and she had somehow magically managed to convince you to pull the vintage party dress out of the back of your closet that you had only worn once before. The little blue number was perfect, she insisted over and over until you gave in. Now you come out of your office after cleaning up and changing your clothes feeling a little silly. “It’s not too much?” You ask her, uncertain.

“Honey, it’s perfect.” Diana gushes, nearly tearing up but she knows that would make you suspicious as to why she’s crying over your launch party dress. “You deserve tonight.” She tells you honestly. “Every bit of it.”

“If you say so.” The speech of thanks and encouragement was given to your staff at the beginning of the night, and you’ve been giving them so much praise as they worked their asses off for this dinner service, and even now you flash them a big double thumbs up from one end of the kitchen. “Time to wind down, guys!” You tell them loudly, absolute giddiness clear in your voice. “Get your stations cleaned up and come out to join the party!”

Diana is just putting the finishing touches on the table with Eliza’s help while Champ and Jack start pouring glasses of champagne into flutes for all the staff. Jack wants to let you have this moment first, to bask in the success before he steals the spotlight for a moment. Matt, your father and mother are all setting the dining room to rights, giggling over the fact that every single table had taken the menus and their place cards home with their to-go pastries from the now completely wiped-out case.

The friends and family that have stayed behind for the party are all doing their part, and when you walk out of the kitchen with your staff behind you, the applause is deafening. These people – these wonderful people – are on their feet for you immediately. Cheering and whistling as they put their hands together for your efforts. And it has you nearly in tears as you take the seemingly long walk to the center of the dining room. “Well that was unexpected,” you laugh, holding the microphone that the band leader hands you away from your face when it gives you feedback. “I—thank you, everyone, from the bottom of my heart. Tonight was a dream thanks to all of you and the amazing staff of The Rabbit-Hole. Please give them another round of applause because they executed flawlessly tonight.” A second round of cheers and clapping deafens the room for a second as your staff cheers right back, already accepting flutes of champagne from Diana, Astrid, and Sophia as they walk around with trays. “Most of you probably think of this place as being three months in the making but the truth is that it has been my entire life. Some of these recipes have been handed down through my family for generations only to end up in the hands of this amazing crew of cooks and I could not be more grateful or proud. It’s—” You laugh when the first tears escape, and shrug your shoulders, because it was inevitable.

“My grandma Jane, whose coconut cake is the crown jewel of our dessert menu, used to always tell me that I could do anything. ‘Beautiful girl’ she would tell me whenever I was discouraged or afraid, ‘you can do the hard thing’. And I have lived my life with her words as my voice of encouragement. So tonight is dedicated to Grandma Jane, with all my gratitude, because I would never have gone into culinary without her. To my staff, with all my thanks, because this is going to be an amazing place that we will make a must try experience for anyone in Louisville…” Your head turns, eyes finding Jack standing just a few feet away, and you smile. “And to my soulmate, with all my love, for all of his support as I became an increasingly crazier woman as we got closer to tonight. Thank you, Jack.”

Jack ducks his head and grins as Matt whistles and decides that now is the perfect time for him to come up beside you. He can see the way you cock your head and what you don’t know is that he has a microphone already clipped to his jacket so he can be heard throughout the space. He thanks Diana silently as she reaches over and takes the microphone from your hand to give it back to the band. “Sugar.” Jack takes your hand and kisses the back of it, “I’m mighty damn proud of you.” He declares as he grins up at you from where he’s bending over your hand. “You deserve every second of tonight. And I’m hopin’ to end the night on a high note for you.”

At first you don’t put the pieces together. Why does Jack have a microphone on? Why is he coming out and acting like he’s going to make a speech? Why is your mother still recording? And then it hits all at one as Jack bends over just one of your hands when he always takes both. “Oohhh my god…”

Jack shuffles to one knee and sends you a mockingly reproachful look. “Hold on now.” He chides with a grin. “Lemme get my speech out.” He huffs, reaching into his pocket with his other hand to pull out the velvet box your father had given him. “Now sugar, every person in this place knows we’ve had a rocky road to where we are now.” Jack won’t deny that, and he wants to be honest. “But we are here and I don’t know if I ever want to be lookin’ at a future that doesn’t involve you. You’re my soulmate.” That phrase alone is very symbolic to both of you and he squeezes your hand gently as you stare down at him in shock. “Never thought second soulmates existed, and now I thank God every day that they do, and you’re mine.” Jack has to pause, clear his throat as he gets a touch emotional before he continues. “You drug me down the rabbit-hole. Where I learned to love again, that I was capable of it, and to accept that I had a future far beyond my past. I love you with every fiber of my soul, sugar. Will you marry me?” He opens the box to show you the two rings. “Your Grandma Jane also had a hand in this too. I hope you don’t mind getting two rings.” He winks at you as he waits for your answer.

The way you squeak out “Yes” is barely audible to anyone but Jack, but your emphatic nodding through a curtain of tears says all it needs to. The room has narrowed down to just Jack and you, and you pull him back up to standing again with shaking hands. Never in a thousand years would you have expected this - especially so soon - but your tears have turned from proud to ecstatic in an instant. “I love you so much,” you murmur, forgetting the microphone will pick up anything you say, and you can’t help but laugh when you hear it loud and clear across the restaurant.

“I love you, sugar.” Jack promises you, taking the rings out of the box very carefully to slide both of them on your finger. “Perfect fit.”

“Yeah.” You hold into his hands tightly, admiring the rings for a moment before you look back up at him. “We are.”

Jack leans in and presses his lips to yours, making another round of applause go up as he holds you close and the band starts to play.

“I love you.” Someone, probably Diana, thankfully cut Jack’s microphone, and you can whisper safely in his arms as he starts to move you around the middle of the dance floor. “More than anything in the world.”

“I love you too sugar.” Jack promises. “I want the rest of my time on this earth with you.”

“And you’re going to get it.” The giddy giggles that well up inside you have you grinning all over again and your hands against his chest make the rings - plural - sparkle every time they catch the light. “So…was this what you and my dad were talking about the last night they were here?”

“Yeah.” Jack grins. “Along with the ‘what are your intentions’ questioning.”

“Well I know you got his approval, because he gave you my gran’s ring.” It’s such a giddy thing, and you lean in to kiss him as you turn together. “She would have loved you. And she would have loved the idea of two rings…I’m assuming that was your idea?”

Jack nods. “I couldn’t just give you your grandmother’s ring.” He explains quietly. “There’s another band to wear as a wedding ring. Fully surrounding her ring.”

“You’re the sweetest man in the whole world, you know that don’t you?” He always goes above and beyond. You know that about him, and you love what it says about him and the depths of his caring. “I honestly…I would have been okay with it if you never wanted to get married again. But I’m a tiny bit excited to be Mrs. Daniels.”

“I know you hadn’t let yourself imagine it.” Jack huffs sadly. “It’s why Sophia had standing orders to make you think about your own wedding.”

“I have a secret for you.” It’s sweet that they had enlisted Sophia’s help, but you bite back a shit-eating grin. “I’ve imagined a lot. I just kept my stash of bridal magazines and website bookmarks secret so you wouldn’t feel pressured.”

“Yeah?” Jack chuckles, grinning at you and shaking his head. “Next you’ll be tellin’ me that you’ve already decided what names the kids will have.”

“I might have ideas,” you admit sheepishly. “But I would never decide anything without you.”

Jack chuckles quietly and leans in to kiss you. “Sounds good, sugar.” He murmurs against your lips. “I want you to dream with me.”

“For the rest of our lives.” That sounds like a very good amount of time. “I promise.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide​ @elegantduckturtle  ​

DtRH: @haileymorelikestupid @spishsstuff @missmarmaladeth @axshadows @a-gay-cryptid @sgt-morgan @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @flowers4copper @ghost-timelord @the0racl30fd3lphidos @all-the-way-down-here @bobafvcker @ficsbynight @dinoflower @supernaturalgirl20 @xdaddysprincessxx @bobawh0re @amiee-mitch18 @darkhairedmenrule @heyyimlaynna @strawberry-f4iry @3zm33atzbuss33 @whataghost @cyber666slut @nobody-000 @eddiemunsonsgirlfriendirl @lucciolaraven @powergirlsupremacy @secondsistershelby @dreadmars @androgynoushellscape @soytomatecherry @cheesecake-massacre @mylifeisbasedonashow @idiotickiddo @tomfeltonisbae @maratheidiot22 @im-nada @everybirdfellsilent @deepdarkdelights @brokenwhitegirl384 @ur-honey-child @caseket @copperrose15 @we-could-have-been @valkyries-ride @scarletmunson @strawberriricemilk @ghost-timelord @galactigoos @floridawaters @cutiepie6473 @pinball-vance @theslytherinwriter @scorpioswonder @stankyleg05 @fxdsketches @sad-innit @coffeyorky @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @starlordsonlywife @aura626 @mistresskei @marv3lwhor3 @sadimusprimee @yourwonderbelle @sgt-morgan @spot116 @milybaby018 @loserk1nks @artfulthoughtswp @aavw @babyrunsforfanfic @faceache111 @midnight-huntress @asimpleraccoonqueen @marki-moo0 @pages89 @rawr-bitches @rebel-fanfare @soooosha @luna-is-out-there @im-sylien @timpletance @certifiedhunter @ellenmunn @littlethief78 @tinalbion @eddy-y @tikibabi @whyidkok @bearcoon1666 @littlebirdsbookshelf @a-gay-cryptid @disaster-ahaha @viridiesa @axshadows @purplerain04 @karmarouge @holycyclehomo @sainteredhood @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @the-wishmonger @theliferuiner @raptorclaw24 @asp1r1ngm1lf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @st4rl1ght444 @litholithium @tusk89 @youjustneedatherapist @nekodemon73 @iceclaw101 @lightningsface @shakespeareanwannabe @jasminemunson @spideysimpossiblegirl @wannabedaphne @sammus-white @jazzieomega @88dragon06 @ishabull @raquel-rial @tuquoquebrute @hotleaf-juice @dantaku @youokhoney @thisiswhyibleedsstuff @maximumkryptonitegladiator @jediknight122 @gadsgikklesen @movievillainess721 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @the-strawberrythief @spishsstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @haileymorelikestupid @gooddaykate @missredherring @abyssal-zone-stares-back @supernaturalgirl @winterandstars @severewobblerlightdragon @missmarmaladeth @noisynaia @saintbedelia @algressman16 @eaks0710 @mina2000alex @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @akaleelanie @mishasminion360 @amneris21 @roxypeanut @lunarcatbun 118 @frasmotic @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @lovelychaos420 @1432690 @no1pornstachefan @thegrimreaperbitch @esmeensheep @izz-ayes-world @kittycatcait219 @loveyou3000tonystark @tintinn16 @igenerallytrynottogiveagoshdarn @motheroftorches @phoenixhalliwell @the-dazzling-urbanite @coffeyorky @trickstersp8 @victorian-cherub @julissadunn @clarysthing @the-girl-that-loves-many-fandoms @mastersurf @theghostofutopia @ncsls0515 @seraphinaivy @hiyorinatsuki @ghostofaboy @yn-hamato @elfwriter1088 @sunnygrey99 @lexinicolenix @lazyemisfandomtrash @curiouskeyboard @qualityearthquakes @spider-284748 @unnecesarysstuff @sgt-morgan @love-affair-with-fandoms @lunarcatbun @kstar770 @kykymarty @supergingerlocks @hell0kittybimb0222 @a-birds-fin @loidforgerishotashell @mythical-writer @ghostshalo @avengersimaginesfan @sccialcasualty @lordecult @petalo-dropsart @i-quite-like-eating-carrots @svudetective @hasta-la-pasta-bb @manicpixiedreamgirly @destinydog @skeppycarnation @anaisweird @critters-beware @fruityforcocoapuffs @linnnniie @spideyromantic @paupeach2024 @faithxyu @fxramir @legomyeggo @jjggdfvvy @hi-my-name-is-riley @kasaikawa @lost-ghost-thats-sleepy @callmegkiddo @2dead2function @generallysleepdeprived   @failingclassesinmygucciglasses @thebeesknees42 @moonmoon007 @wi0na @cilliansangel @lostinsideourminds @angstismydrug @elvenmother @bilibiche @kettlekatie @preschoolispunk @djarinsstuff @generallysleepdeprived @love-affair-with-fandoms @jay-ghostly @wowieitbeme @fanofverymanythings @josephquinnswhore @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive @djarinsstuff @justherebecausesafarisucks @cedricbitch @rebel-soldat @madisonred88

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniel x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au #Agent Tequila #Agent Tequila x OC #Agent Tequila x female OC