#First-ever Sound of Driving on Mars

[8housevenus]

3rd house placements and your voice!

hii, i wanted to do more of a light & fun themed post that goes over the kind of voice you have, the type of communicator you are, and other things as well according to your 3rd house placements. if you do not have any placements in your third, check out the house ruler and apply it accordingly, ex; my third house is ruled by pisces, apply the neptune features to it!

sun in 3rd house - talk about thinking out-loud!! sun in 3rd people are such great communicators, they get things across loud and clear. never ones to hold back, natural conversationalists, and you have a voice that often sounds younger. when you talk it's heartfelt and you feel that half-assings in conversations is just not you! sometimes, your age is mistaken due to your lengths of knowledge and the ability to express your inner child through your interests. you use your hands often when you speak! often have such a memorable voice and this placement is a strong indicator of being a music artist too; justin beiber, jay z, drake, britney spears, all very household names and all are always getting their voice impersonated by other people interestingly enough!! there's versatility that spews through these people, not hard at all for them to improvise, standup, debate, etc. can be gossipy though and involved in dramas very easily because of this.

moon in 3rd house - mental clarity goes crazy here. your emotions give you all the drive you need- creatively and you don't hold back on that. they intellectualize their emotions and can formulate feelings into words very well. the kind of voice they have is much softer, eloquent, and comforting. they're the kind of people that send you a voicemail and you listen to it over and over again because it's endearing. "say it with your chest," type of people, as the moon is mostly fixated in the chest-stomach region. they have a good discernment of their environment, walking analysts, know when to intervene, etc. celebrities with moon in 3rd; jennifer aniston, megan markle, margot robbie, etc.

mercury in 3rd house - very fast-paced talkers, versatile in the way they communicate. also uses their hands while they speak, has a witty and sarcastic tint to them when they speak. often very humorous people and naturally highly innovative. for these people ideas flow into them at fast rates, often giving them plenty of projects to work on. placement of high intelligence, and great at mirroring. "excuse me, may i interrupt," types of people. love adding on to others and i notice with 3rd house mercuries as they get older, they do become a lot quieter and keep ideas to themselves. celebrities with this include; jim carey, nikola tesla, stephen hawking, etc. (like i said super wise and funny thats a dub for sure)

venus in 3rd house - first thing that comes to mind is glamorous voice. often times they talk about their love-lives (yes they always have the craziest stories about others or themselves in love). just like the sun, these people have a notable voice too. one that can even get them famous. often these people have strong followings, or crowds that really like listening to them. highly influential and lowkey some party heads. might have some commitment troubles, but other than that they have good projecting voices- soothing, and has good posture too. celebs with this; cristiano ronaldo, taylor swift, kris jenner, etc.

mars in 3rd house - i like to say they have some of the most electric voices ever. seriously. they know exactly how to spice up conversations and they move a lot when they talk. they inspire others to take course of action, usually very good individuals at gaining crowds as well, but what differentiates venusian people and mars people- is the attitude. mars gain people's attention through their eccentric-ness. other people find mars in 3rd house bundles of expression, always on the go and actually very good manifestos. usually has raspiness and deepness to their voices because they tend to shout a lot. celebs with this; miley cyrus, harry styles, katy perry, etc.

jupiter in 3rd house - these people have a love for languages. usually very diverse linguistically, and always the guy that knows a guy. very good at developing acquaintances in their environment. usually has more high-pitched voices, slow and even sensual, but clear. they like knowing a bit of everything while they can. sometimes, these people can attract things out of thin air, and receive many comments on their voice or abilities to make their life experiences sound a lot less gruesome than it really is. kind of in their own little world and has open demeanor. often times you see these people unexpectedly associating with others that "make no sense" for them or in environments that "make no sense for them". side note: the biggest struggle these people will face is people trying to mold them to be somebody they're not. they love to expand wherever they can. celebrities with jupiter in 3rd; lana del rey, lionel messi, jim carey, and gordon ramsey.

saturn in 3rd house - mean big business ok!! let me tell you, these people are amazing at using their environments for their endeavors. they're very humble speakers, reserved and kind of talk when asked to. they are great at explaining principles of underlying things, usually seems older than what they really are. they stick to one thing at a time, and they are actually easy to read while talking to them. their body language is more telling than their words sometimes. watch a saturn in 3rd house's jaw clench when they are stressed, or crack their knuckles while thinking heavily. celebrities with this placement; steve jobs, kylie jenner, bjork, zoe kravitz, etc.

uranus in 3rd house - "you can't outdo the doer," is what i get from this placement. highly intellectual people, makes significant shifts into the world. when they speak, they're actually very good at impressions, get told they don't look like how they sound, or will attract many "haters" because they challenge status quo mentality. they will never stand down when communicating their deepest interests. they seem quirky & nerdy, however highly reliable and feels a strong sense of "these people need me." as they become older, they are more cherished, while they are younger they might seem air headed. their voices are so unique to them, that you cannot easily be reminded of them by others. they are completely in their own lanes. one of a kinds. celebrities with this placement; albert einstein, elon musk, celine dion, michael jordan, etc.

neptune in 3rd house - has a deep understanding of the environment they're in. they are very quiet and timid. these people really like to connect to people based off their souls and not their physical forms. and when they speak, they have a genuine tone and strive for genuine connection. sometimes, these people think many people they cross paths with are meant to make them feel good, feel bad, question, etc. highly accepting and others can admire this person too. seems ditzy, but on the inside is a whirlpool of feeling and emotions they sense. sometimes they can get abnormal praise, simply for the way they express themselves. i notice with these people they love to make facial movements when speaking, like very dramatically sometimes. you can always tell when these people are nervous too, watch how many times they shake their feet to soothe themselves. always seems very introspective wherever they go. celebrities with this placement; al pacino, leonardo dicaprio, beyonce, kendrick lamar, etc.

pluto in 3rd house - bringing pluto into this mix, wherever they go they love to change what they can in their environments. they want to change things for the better, and usually really find interest in talking about things that isn't so typical in conversation. they are very serious people when in discussion. they hate to say a lot without leaving impact. these people will sound much older and have a profound tone. often they bring the collective darkness to a collective lightness. i notice they love using metaphors, talking in 3rd person, and dropping their egos a lot in conversations. makes undeniable changes to societal norms or social structures. these are life changers and add some humanitarianism to everyday encounters, really love dropping a lot of their own lore too! celebrities with this; angelina jolie, martin luther king, adam levine, kylian mbappe.

thank you so much for skimming through this i appreciate it as always, let me know if you relate, disagree etc. super interesting in seeing what you think, let me know if u want me to do more like these <3

[singmyaubade]

Cindy Lou Who

james potter x slytherin!female!reader

summary: you and lily have been polar opposites from birth, disconnected in everything. but when the one thing she has crosses the bounds, you can't avoid it even if it destroys you.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing , jealousy

a/n: it's part 2! no, its not a dorcas and y/n love story.

i hope you enjoy and you can fw it or not, not my issue.

—

The journey to James's parents’ cabin had already been a nightmare in the making, but the fact that you somehow found yourself stuck in the car with the Marauders made it feel like the universe had personally conspired against you. It was as if Lily was trying to send a message to make you never speak to her again.

Ten minutes earlier:

You stepped off the train, dragging your suitcase behind you, and made your way toward Lily and her usual entourage. You could already feel the tension between you and the rest of the group, but at least Lily was there to distract you.

"Ah, Y/N!" Lily cheered, her arms suddenly wrapped around you in a hug. You stiffened slightly, offering an awkward smile as she pulled back to look at you. Her grin continued to grow, "We were just discussing seating assignments," She explained, glancing at the group, which was all standing around and debating loudly.

"I voted for apparating. It's quicker, and no one has to listen to Sirius whine the entire time," James grumbled, shooting an annoyed look at Sirius, who was lounging against the wall with an exaggerated sigh.

"Well for one, your apparating skills absolutely scare me," Dorcas chimed in.

Mary snorted. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure we'd show up without a neck if either of you tried to apparate us," She said, resting her head on Dorcas’s shoulder, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked over at the two boys.

Sirius immediately recoiled, "Excuse me? Leave me out of this, my apparition skills are impeccable if you ladies must know," He said, puffing out his chest and sticking his tongue out at both of them.

Marlene chuckled, chiming in, the sound light and teasing as she looked at you. "Yeah, I think we need someone with actual skill, not just a big ego." She glanced at Sirius, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Sirius shot her a playful glare, but his lips twitched as though he might actually be enjoying the banter. "You wound me, Mar. But I’ll have you know, I’ve never left anyone in a heap of twisted limbs," He said, half-defensive, half-proud.

You sighed, clearly tired of their antics as Dorcas spoke again, "Okay, okay, if you two are done with the theatrics, how about we get someone who actually knows how to apparate without leaving us in the wrong century?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow dramatically, looking at you, "Well, actually, someone insists that ‘bonding time’ means suffering in cramped cars with people you barely know, which is really quite charming," He said as if everyone was meant to agree with his sarcasm.

James shot a playful look at Lily, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Don't blame my little Lily-bear for her big heart," He teased, only for her to stomp on his foot, causing him to yelp.

“I don’t even understand why we discussed apparition in the first place,” Lily huffed, annoyed, “We are driving and that is final.”

You snorted at the sight, feeling momentarily distracted from the impending doom of the ride. Mary, ever the voice of reason, cleared her throat. "Ok Mother, back to the cars. Who's in which?"

You raised an eyebrow, scanning the group with mild skepticism. "Can any of you actually drive?" The question hung in the air, and for a split second, the group fell into silence, as if your voice had been the last thing they expected.

"Well, Remus and I can," Dorcas answered with a grin, clearly amused by your audacity. "And James already asked his parents to send over two cars," She added, her eyes twinkling.

"Wow, loaded with money, Potter?" You teased, turning to James, who shot you a mockingly smug grin.

"Don't act like you didn’t know," He replied with a wink as if he always knew how to make your sarcasm work in his favor.

"And how many people can each car fit?" Mary asked, eager to move things along.

"Four each, including the driver," James answered, his voice laced with confidence.

"Well, this is perfect!" Lily exclaimed happily, her voice full of relief. "Peter can't make it anyway, so Y/N can take his spot!"

Your stomach twisted. "Excuse me?" You nearly gagged, your face contorting in disbelief.

Lily’s eyes softened with an apologetic look. "Oh, don’t worry! They won’t bite, I promise," She assured you, gesturing to the Marauders, who were now standing off to the side like a haphazardly formed band of troublemakers.

You couldn’t hide the disgust that flashed across your face as you looked at the group. The thought of being stuck in a car with them—all of them—felt like some cruel twist of fate. “Can’t you just ride with the boys?” You asked, crossing your arms and giving Lily a pleading look.

Lily hesitated for a moment before offering a sheepish smile. “I could, but I kind of want you to get along with them, Y/N. I really don’t want to force you into anything, but they’re good people underneath the mess," She said sincerely, rubbing your palm comfortingly.

You felt the pressure building. On one hand, you wanted to be a complete brat and insisted that you’d rather take your chances with a single, less painful car ride with the girls. But on the other, you knew this trip wasn’t about you. It was Lily’s weekend, and you couldn’t spoil it just because the Marauders were a walking headache.

"Actually, Lily, it's fine," You sighed, rolling your eyes. "It’s just a four-hour car ride. I’ll survive."

Lily looked at you, her eyes full of sincerity. "Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable—"

"Yes," You groaned dramatically, cutting her off. "But if you ask me again, I will change my mind."

Lily’s face lit up with a sweet, relieved smile. “Thank you, Y/N,” She whispered in your ear, pulling you into another hug.

You smiled faintly despite the dread that churned in your stomach. You lightly pushed her off, trying to hide the weirdly sentimental feeling. "Let’s get this over with, then," You muttered, grabbing your luggage and marching toward the exit.

As you walked out of the station, you could hear the sound of the Marauders’ footsteps trailing behind you, their chatter and laughter loud enough to make you wince. Your fate was sealed, and you had no choice but to endure the upcoming car ride with them.

But who knew? Maybe the next four hours wouldn’t be as bad as you were imagining.

--

Thirty minutes into the car ride, and you were already questioning every decision you’d ever made in life.

For one, Sirius and James hadn’t stopped talking since you left the station. It was like they were competing to see who could out-talk the other, their voices blending into an incoherent mess of loud jokes, sarcasm, and the occasional burst of laughter. You swore you could hear Sirius’s voice every five seconds, but it was impossible to tell what he was even saying.

The only bearable one in the bunch was Remus—the designated driver, who for the most part, was quietly focused on the road. He had a way of staying out of the chaos, and you were thankful for that. If he’d joined in, you might have just jumped out of the car.

Unfortunately, luck had not been on your side, and James was sitting right next to you. Of course, he was. As if this trip hadn’t already been your own personal hell, the universe had decided it would be even more fun if you were forced to endure James’s company.

The luggage was shoved behind you both, making the car feel cramped in every possible way. And somehow, the small space between you and James seemed to grow more suffocating by the second.

It wasn’t like you hated him—well, maybe you did a little bit right now—but he wasn’t exactly your favorite person to be sitting next to. Especially in a tiny car where you had no choice but to pretend that everything was fine.

And to make matters worse, James had been sneaking glances at you every couple of minutes. You could feel his eyes on you, even when you kept your focus fixed firmly on the road ahead, your chin resting in your palm as you leaned against the cool window, trying to ignore the constant pounding in your skull.

You tried your best not to react. You weren’t about to make eye contact with him or give him any reason to think you wanted to engage. The last thing you needed was him making some stupid comment about how uncomfortable you were being, as if that would make it any better.

But no matter how much you ignored him, you could still feel him there, like a weight pressing on your chest.

You wondered—truly wondered—how you had managed to get yourself stuck on what was likely the worst trip in the history of trips. It wasn’t even like you’d had a choice in the matter.

You were thinking that perhaps you should've grabbed a book from your bag or even your Walkman from home.

Anything to avoid the chaotic, uncomfortable mess that was currently your reality.

But then again, you still wanted to make Lily happy. It was her weekend, and you knew how much this trip meant to her.

And you knew you had to endure this for her, even if that meant suffering through endless hours of loud barking and James Potter’s stupid glances.

But you were starting to develop a newfound dislike for the countryside and for the stupid cabin you were heading to, and especially for James Potter and his stupid face.

You were stopped in your train of thought by the loud crunching in your ears as you looked beside you in disgust to see James eating Sour Cream & Onion chips loudly.

You had hoped that James would choke on the chips he was shoveling into his mouth right then and there, but he was luckily immune to your silent prayers. Instead, his eyes flicked over to you as he extended the bag in your direction, his mouth still full.

“Want some?” He asked, chewing loudly, completely oblivious to the venom in your stare.

You groaned, slumping back in your seat and closing your eyes, hoping that maybe—just maybe—you could escape the situation by sheer force of will. But no. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to get rid of James Potter. You could still feel his gaze on you, heavy and unrelenting, like a hot spotlight.

“You know,” James continued, completely oblivious to your very clear displeasure, “You could be a little nicer.”

Before you could respond, Sirius—who had been quietly enjoying the chaos—turned around in the front seat, his usual shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Slytherins are incapable of that. It’s not in their blood.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could snap back, Remus muttered a resigned “Sirius,” trying to rein him in.

You leaned forward, making sure your voice was dripping with sarcasm as you met James’s gaze, “And Gryffindors are incapable of not being complete and utter twats.”

James’s eyes lit up with amusement at your choice of words. You could see the smug little grin forming at the corner of his mouth, like he was proud of his ability to get under your skin.

“Ah, she speaks!” He said dramatically, as if this was some huge victory. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes and groaning. “I was beginning to think you were either deaf—or perhaps a robot.”

Your eyes narrowed as you leaned in just a little closer, meeting his gaze, keeping it steady. “I believe you’ve got something right here.” You moved in slowly, and you could see his face flush just slightly, his lips parting as if he was about to say something.

You didn’t give him the chance. “Right here…” You muttered, keeping your eyes locked on his, before quickly flicking your finger against his forehead.

James immediately shot his hand up to his forehead, wincing as though he’d been hit with a particularly nasty spell. You couldn't help but smile brightly, crossing your arms triumphantly. You were winning.

Sirius, of course, couldn’t help himself. He started laughing so hard it almost sounded like he was barking. “Wow, Y/N—1, Prongs��0!” he whooped, throwing you a thumbs-up from the front.

You heard the nickname, but your victory felt too sweet to care about it right now. You were too busy basking in your small but satisfying win. Maybe it was the most minor of triumphs, but seeing James’s smug confidence deflate for even a moment was pure, unadulterated joy.

James, still rubbing his forehead, pouted dramatically. “Good to know," He muttered under his breath, though you could hear the faint hint of amusement in his voice. “That’s what makes you happy.”

You leaned back in your seat, your grin never wavering. “You have no idea, Potter,” You said, crossing your arms again, feeling very much like you’d won the game.

You suddenly decided to just take a nap for the remaining two hours of the trip, head leaning against the cold window.

At least then, this trip will be bearable.

--

"Aww, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes?" You heard a voice mutter, and your eyes blinked open to see Sirius staring down at you with that signature smirk of his.

You hummed in confusion, realizing that your head was no longer against the window but resting on the broad canvas of a shoulder and jaw.

Your eyes widened as you quickly snapped up, inadvertently knocking your head into James's chin. He groaned in protest as you hissed from the pain in your own skull, rubbing it with one hand.

Sirius barked out a laugh, the sound loud and unmistakably amused. You shot him a death glare. James whined like a child. "Couldn’t you have just gotten up softly?" he asked, tending to his chin as if it were more damaged than it likely was.

"I was repulsed," You said bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest.

James smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Didn’t seem that way with your head on my shoulder," He teased, and before you could stop yourself, your fist landed squarely in his shoulder. He groaned dramatically.

You hated how easy it was for him to tease you, it was almost as if he didn't hate you as much as you hated him.

"Shut up, Potter," You muttered under your breath, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Finally, Remus got out of the car, and you were beyond relieved to be able to stretch your legs and get out of the cramped space. As you stepped out into the fresh air, you were hit with the sight of the cabin—a massive wooden oak structure that dwarfed most houses you had seen. Of course, it shouldn’t have been a surprise with James's family wealth, but it was still impressive.

"Admiring something?" James’s voice called out from behind you, and you turned to see him watching you with that grin of his.

You stepped toward him, eyebrows furrowing. "We were trapped in a car for four hours together, and you still want to annoy me?" You asked, annoyed.

James’s grin only widened, something almost unreadable flickering in his eyes. "It’s just so fun," He said sweetly, his tone laced with something that made you furrow your brows deeper.

He moved past you with that same self-assured confidence, and you couldn’t help but watch him for a moment, your mind swirling with an odd mix of curiosity and frustration.

What an odd boy.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of loud cheers, and you turned to see Lily and the other girls finally arriving at the cabin. Lily immediately rushed over to you, throwing her arm around your shoulders. "This is going to be so fun!" She exclaimed excitedly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Your expression remained indifferent as you shrugged off her arm. "Sure it will, Lils," You said, barely hiding the boredom in your voice as you moved past her toward the cabin entrance.

Inside, the cabin was everything you expected—grand yet homely. Fairy lights twinkled on the ceiling and wound their way along the railings of the stairs, casting a warm, soft glow. A beautifully decorated Christmas tree stood in the corner of the living room, and the fireplace was already crackling with flames, filling the air with the comforting scent of wood smoke.

You couldn’t help but admire the place, its charm undeniable.

Okay, maybe you were admiring it a little more than you wanted to admit.

As much as you wanted to keep exploring the cabin, you couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming desire to just collapse into a bed and escape the chaos for a bit.

The car ride had been long—four hours spent crammed between the Marauders and Lily, with Sirius and James' constant bickering as background noise. You could already feel the tension in your shoulders from it.

You made your way up the stairs, eyes scanning the doors with name cards carefully placed next to them. It was so Lily to do something like that—everything organized to the tiniest detail. When you reached your door, you saw your name beside Dorcas’s.

You hadn’t spent much time with Dorcas, but from what you’d gathered, she was a bit of a mystery.

She was quiet in a way that was similar to you, but then, the next moment, she was all sharp humor and a wild streak of extroversion. It was interesting to watch her switch between the two.

You just hoped she didn’t have any issue with Slytherins. You’d heard whispers from some Gryffindors, and while you liked to think you were nothing like the stereotypical Slytherin, you still didn’t feel like being judged by a new person.

James and Sirius were already enough of a headache on that front.

You pushed the door open and stepped into the room, instantly relieved by the sight of two beds with nightstands and soft lamps. It was cozy—nothing too extravagant, but warm. There were two separate closets as well, and a part of you actually sighed in relief. Privacy. That was something you valued deeply.

"Thank God for separate closets," Came a voice from behind you, and you turned to find Dorcas already standing in the room, “Sharing a closet can drive me absolutely nuts, I need the privacy,” She added. You hadn’t even heard her come in. Her eyes were fixed on the closets, and somehow it felt like she’d read your mind. "As do you," She added, her voice light and as if she head read your mind.

"I—I do," You stammered, caught off guard.

Something about Dorcas always made you feel a little out of your depth, though you weren’t sure why. She had this way of being so at ease with herself, and it was hard not to be a little intimidated.

Dorcas just shrugged, as if your reaction was nothing new. She walked over to the bed, settling herself against the headboard with a relaxed sigh. "Honestly, I’m glad we’re rooming together. That car ride was chaos. I’m not sure I’ve recovered yet."

You chuckled awkwardly, the tension still clinging to your limbs. "Agreed," you muttered, fiddling with your bag as you unpacked some of your things into the closet. You felt Dorcas’s eyes on you, but when you looked over, she was giving you a teasing smirk, as though she could see right through you.

"The Marauders weren’t too insufferable, I hope?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

You laughed dryly. "Well, Remus was a saint," You said, trying to keep it light. "Black and Potter, though? Bloody migraines." You sighed, shaking your head as you hung up a few shirts. "I don’t know how they do it. They thrive on being insufferable, I swear."

Dorcas let out a soft laugh, a mix of amusement and sympathy. "That’s their usual act," She said, as if it were the most predictable thing in the world. "Don’t worry—you’ll get used to it. Or at least, you’ll stop being surprised." She shifted, lying back and staring up at the ceiling, her hands behind her head.

You looked at her, unsure if you were ready to get used to them.

It's like she could read your expression or your thoughts in general.

Dorcas gave you a quiet smile. "You’ll get there," She said with surprising wisdom for someone who seemed so carefree. "Just don’t take it too seriously. They’re all talk."

I hope I never do, you thought, but kept it to yourself.

You couldn't help but think of how you would ever survive this entire trip. In all honestly, you would rather have spent it with Petunia degrading you.

And you were incredibly worried that the tension in your spine would always still there.

You looked at Dorcas questioningly, "Do you think this trip is going to be fun?" You asked, your voice quieter now as you paused in the middle of unpacking.

Dorcas rolled over onto her side, propping her head up with one hand as she looked at you with a thoughtful expression. "I think it'll be interesting. Not sure if 'fun' is the word I’d use. But you never know. It’s a change of pace, at least." She smiled. "One thing’s for sure: it’s going to be memorable."

"Let’s hope it’s the good kind of memorable," You muttered, smiling slightly despite yourself.

"Trust me, I’ve got a feeling this is going to be one for the books," Dorcas replied, giving you an amused look.

You gave Dorcas a slight smile as you both suddenly heard a thump downstairs and several voices of laughter as Dorcas stood, smiling, "Think I'm gonna check up on everyone down there, wanna come?" She asked, looking at you.

You fake yawned, stretching out on the bed. "I think I'll actually take a nap, feeling quite drowsy," You said, trying to keep the tone casual.

Dorcas gave you a smile, but there was a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "Okay," She replied softly before turning and heading for the door. She closed it behind her, leaving you alone in the room.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. Dorcas was nice, but you really didn’t feel like hanging out with the whole group right now. It was just too much.

You reached for your backpack, hoping to lose yourself in time with a book. But when you opened it, your stomach sank. No books.

"Fuck," You muttered, frustrated. You never forgot your books. You always packed them, even for short trips.

You flopped back on the bed, groaning. This wasn’t going how you’d planned.

After a few moments, you grabbed your toiletries and towels.

Screw it.

A shower would help clear your head.

You turned the tap, and the hot water came on quickly. Stepping into the stream, you let the heat wash over you, hoping it would erase the tension from your body.

The noise of the water filled the bathroom, and for a moment, everything felt quiet.

You sighed deeply, letting go of the frustration. It wasn’t ideal, but you’d figure things out later. For now, you’d let the world outside the bathroom fade away.

After a nice, long shower, you slipped into a soft nightgown, figuring you wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. The warmth of the cabin made it easy to settle in, and you were content with some peace and quiet.

But as you put your things down, you suddenly heard Lily’s voice ringing out from downstairs.

"AAAAAH!" Her scream echoed through the house, followed by frantic footsteps.

You froze, heart racing. Was she hurt? You quickly rushed out of your room, ready to help. The moment you reached the top of the stairs, though, you saw her laughing hysterically in the living room.

"I told you she would come down!" Lily called, gleefully looking at James and Sirius, her hand outstretched for galleons.

You blinked, your heart slowing as you saw the grin on her face. "What the hell?" You muttered, out of breath.

James was looking at you in wide-eyed awe, but you couldn’t help noticing how your nightgown was just a little too revealing—way more than you’d planned for. The last thing you needed was to give James any more ammunition.

"Really, Lily?" You scoffed, already turning to head back upstairs.

"Wait!" Lily rushed to you, her eyes pleading as she grabbed your arm. "Just come hang out for a little bit!"

You immediately thought 'Fuck no!' but then you thought,

It's her trip.

You glanced at her, and despite everything, her puppy-dog eyes got to you. "I suppose.." You muttered, giving in.

Lily squealed, her excitement infectious as she pulled you downstairs. "We’re about to start the puzzle!" She said with a huge grin.

You raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to laugh or groan. "A puzzle?" You teased. "Are we in fourth year?"

Lily pouted. "Stop being such a buzzkill."

Marlene leaned over from the couch with a smirk. "Lils always makes us do something childish on the first night. Gets it out of our system before the real fun starts."

"Exactly," Mary added. "A bit of innocence before we dive into the chaos."

"And so she doesn’t feel guilty when we get wild later," Sirius teased, his grin mischievous.

Lily stuck her tongue out at them. "I do it because it’s fun! And once we finish, we can glue it and hang it up. Isn’t that cute?"

James groaned dramatically. "But Remus and Dorcas always do the best work, and the rest of us just give up."

Lily shot him a look. "Not this time. This time, we all finish it fast."

Well, that didn’t turn out to be the case.

Lily had, of course, accidentally bought a 900-piece puzzle, and it was much more complicated than anyone had expected.

You, Remus, and Dorcas were the only ones making any real progress. You were surprisingly good at it, which seemed to amuse everyone else. The three of you worked mostly in silence, with you passing pieces to Remus and Dorcas helping out when necessary.

Meanwhile, the others had either given up or wandered off. Lily, Marlene, and Mary were baking cookies, and Sirius was napping on the couch, his loud snoring filling the room.

But, as always, James was not one to leave you alone for long.

"How are you guys still working on that?" He whined, popping up beside you and peering over your shoulder. "It’s annoying and difficult!"

"Just like you," You muttered with a sly grin, not looking up from the puzzle.

James’s started smirking. "Sorry, what was that?"

You scoffed, "Just like y-"

Before you could finish your sentence, James was behind you, fingers digging into your sides, tickling you mercilessly. You yelped, trying to push him off, but he only laughed louder, his hands relentless.

Dorcas and Remus exchanged amused glances, clearly entertained by the scene unfolding.

"Say it again!" James demanded, his voice obnoxiously loud.

You gasped for breath, trying to squirm away from his grasp. "Stop it, Potter!" You barely managed to keep your voice serious, but it came out more like a laugh.

"Okay, say I’m the most brilliant person at Hogwarts!" he pressed, his grin wide.

"I will never say that!" You laughed, finally able to wiggle out of his grasp.

"Come on!" James pushed, tickling you more.

"Okay, okay!" You cried, laughing helplessly. "You’re the most brilliant person in Hogwarts, now get off!"

James finally relented, sitting back with a smug smile. "That’s what I thought."

You quickly adjusted your nightgown, your face flushed with embarrassment. You couldn’t believe you just got into a tickle fight with James Potter—of all people.

Lily appeared, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "What just happened out here?" She asked, her voice teasing. "I heard you laughing."

You turned away, trying to hide your embarrassment. "You didn’t hear anything."

"Actually—" James started, but you punched him lightly in the knee, making him wince.

"—I heard nothing," He corrected quickly, his voice strained as he rubbed his leg.

Lily flashed a knowing smile. "Sure," She said, winking at you before heading back into the kitchen.

You groaned inwardly. This was only the beginning, and already Lily was convinced you were best friends with her friends.

Your mind drifted back to earlier, to James’s behavior and how Lily always seemed to indulge him. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

"I'm heading up," You said abruptly, not waiting for an answer as you made your way to the stairs.

"But the cookies aren’t ready yet!" James called after you, his voice almost pleading.

"Enjoy them when they are," You snapped, already heading up to your room.

As you reached your door and flopped onto your bed, you let out a long, frustrated sigh. This was going to be a weird trip.

[pastryfication]

love at first crash | ollie bearman

part of the love at first . . . series

pairing: oliver bearman x reader note: idk if they trust ollie with a ferrari but just run with it.

the impact is sudden, a violent jolt that sends your car careening off course, your heart leaping into your throat as you struggle to regain control. the world spins around you, a blur of colors and sounds, until your car finally screeches to a stop, the silence that follows almost deafening.

for a moment, you just sit there, gripping the steering wheel with trembling hands, your breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. you force yourself to unbuckle the seatbelt, pushing open the door with shaky fingers, and step out onto the pavement. your legs feel weak beneath you, barely able to hold you up as you survey the damage.

your car is a mess, the front end crumpled beyond recognition, but it’s not the wreckage that sends your heart into a fresh wave of panic—it’s the sight of the other car. a sleek, red, and undoubtedly expensive ferrari. your stomach twists into knots as you realize just what you’ve done, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes trace the scratches marring the once pristine paint.

“oh no, oh no, oh no,” you mutter under your breath, your hands flying to your face as the reality of the situation sinks in. “i hit a ferrari. i actually hit a ferrari.”

before you can spiral any further, the door of the other car swings open, and out steps the driver—a young man, tall and lean, with dark, tousled hair that falls into his eyes. he quickly scans the scene, his eyes finally landing on you. for a brief moment, you’re caught in his stare, the world narrowing to just the two of you, and despite everything, you can’t help but feel a strange, magnetic pull towards him.

but then reality crashes back down, and all you can think about is the fact that you’ve just crashed into his ferrari, and your car is totaled, and there’s no way you can afford to fix this.

“are- are you okay?” he asks, his voice fighting hard to stay steady despite the obvious concern in his eyes. he moves toward you, but you’re too wrapped up in your own panic to register anything beyond the guilt gnawing at your insides.

“your car,” you stammer, your voice high and shaky as you look back at the ferrari. “i’m so, so sorry. i didn’t mean to- i don’t know how this happened. i just-”

“hey, it’s okay,” he interrupts gently, his voice already seeming to be calming down, the soft tone feeling almost reassuring as he steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “i mean, it’s just a car. i’m alright. what matters is that you’re okay. are you hurt?”

his words take a moment to sink in, but when they do, you can’t help but stare at him, utterly dumbfounded. “just a car?” you repeat, incredulous. “but it’s a ferrari! it’s not just a car- and- and my car-” you glance back at the wreckage, the panic swelling up again. “i completely smashed my car. i’m so sorry. i don’t know how i’m going to-”

“hey, breathe,” he says, and this time, he gently places a hand on your arm, the touch warm and grounding. you don’t know how he manages to stay so calm. a man around 20 driving a ferrari and being completely calm about ruining it. not something you’d ever think possible. “we’ll figure this out. cars can be fixed or replaced—and i have an insurance.”

you nod, trying to take in a deep breath like he says, but to your horror, it catches in your chest, and before you know it, tears are welling up in your eyes. it’s all too much—the crash, the shock, the overwhelming guilt of damaging something so expensive. you’re on the verge of breaking down right there on the side of the road.

“hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing as he steps even closer, forcing himself to stay calm as his hand comes to still, resting gently on your arm. “you’re in shock. i think that’s normal. just- just take a deep breath.”

his presence is oddly calming, despite the slight waver in his voice, and you focus on the way he speaks, trying to match your breathing to his. after a few moments, the trembling starts to ease, and you manage to blink away the tears, finally looking up at him through blurry eyes.

“i’m so sorry,” you whisper, your voice still shaky but a little steadier now. “i can’t believe i hit your car.”

he smiles, soft and reassuring, and it’s like the weight on your chest lifts just a little. “it’s really okay,” he says, his eyes shining with kindness, understanding, and maybe even something deeper, something that makes your heart skip a beat despite the situation. “i promise, i’m not worried about the car. i’ll get it fixed. i’m just glad we’re both okay.”

you look at him, really look at him, and there’s something almost surreal about this moment—standing here, on the side of the road, next to a wrecked ferrari, being comforted by a stranger who should be furious, but isn’t. instead, there’s a connection, something electric in the air between you.

“i’m ollie,” he says, offering his name like it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if you’re not standing in the aftermath of a car crash.

you give him your name, your voice still shaky but stronger now, and he repeats it softly. “nice to meet you,” he says, and the words feel almost absurd given the circumstances, but also strangely fitting.

you exchange insurance details, though your hands are still trembling slightly as you write. the whole time, ollie stays close, his presence comforting in a way that feels almost too natural, too easy, as if you’ve known each other far longer than these few minutes. he talks to you, his voice a calming undercurrent to the chaos around you, distracting you from the panic still simmering beneath the surface.

when the tow trucks finally arrive, you both linger, neither of you in a rush to leave. there’s an unspoken connection, something that feels too important to let go of just yet. ollie seems to sense it too, hesitating before he speaks again.

“you know, we could always grab a coffee sometime,” he suggests, almost as if he’s testing the waters. “maybe talk about something other than cars?”

“i’d like that,” you say, your heart lighter now, the earlier panic fading into something else entirely.

he smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes you believe in things like fate, like maybe some things are just meant to be. “great,” he says, pulling out his phone to exchange numbers. “i’ll call you.”

you nod, watching him closely as he taps away at you phone. his hair falls softly in front his eyes and a goofy grin is spread across his face.

you just crashed your cars, experiencing something possibly traumatising together, but he’s smiling goofily, and you can’t help but smile too. because who would have thought that your day would go like this?

guess you could call it love at first crash.

[covenha]

Synopsis: perv!roommate!yeosang can't stop thinking ungodly things about his best friend. Pairings: Perv!bff!yeosang x fem reader Genre: smut, mdni Warnings: smut (duh), yeosang in grey sweatpants bc that should be a warning WC: 746 a/n: this is filth that has been backlogged into my brain the minute that yeosang posted *that* black and white photo on ig so you know what's up. this is purely fiction so the this does not portray his character irl in any way shape or form. this is my first time writing smut so if it's poorly written or sounds like it came from those weird alpha tiktok shorts i am so sorry. its yet another self-indulgent fic so lmk how it is. as always, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated and my inbox is open for any requests!

just imagine pervy bff!Yeosang, you guys have been roommates for a few months now as the both of you just started college together and thought that living in an apartment together was better than living in some dingy university dorm room with strangers. he thought the idea was fine then, but he didn’t realize just how hard it was living with someone he had a massive crush on. 

you guys have always been comfortable with each other. you guys wore your more… questionable loungewear around each other. but you not wearing bras around him was a new thing. when you asked if it was cool to not wear bras around the apartment since they were uncomfortable to wear all day, yeosang agreed immediately stating that he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable in your living space. but he couldn’t help but get turned on. 

the bustling city’s humid weather was a hellscape compared to the cooler temperatures you both were accustomed to back in your seaside town. this meant that when the sun was at its highest, the apartment you guys shared was like a microwave. and this also meant that you would wear lighter clothing. those thinner tank tops that showcased your chest so well, those crop tops that showed off your midriff, and those fucking pajama shorts that did nothing to cover your legs. sometimes he manages to get a glimpse of your cotton panties peeking through. All of these things adding up would damn near drive yeosang to insanity. 

the sight of you wearing clothes that left nearly nothing to the imagination sent blood rushing straight to his dick. he’s lost count of how many times he’s had to rub one out quickly in his room to the thought of you. it was starting to get out of hand if he was being honest, he might start shooting blanks and get an electrolyte imbalance.

and the dreams were the worst part. he really thought that phase was over. the awkward wet dreams he’d have at night with some unknown female living out his sexual fantasies. but he was wrong. and they’ve come back stronger and more vivid than ever. and what’s worse is, you are always the star of these dreams. 

on some nights he’d have you face down, ass up, your hands held behind your back as he fucked you to oblivion on your bed with your plushies facing the wall. on other nights you’re riding his dick whining about how deep he is inside you that you can feel him in your stomach. and other times he has you splayed on the kitchen counter as he eats you out for so long you start shaking violently and squirting on his pretty face. 

on this particular night he has you on his bed, your neck marred with red splotches of his love bites. you whine about it being too much, and i mean who could blame you? he had been going at it for 3 rounds already and he didn’t show any signs of stopping. with your thighs on his shoulders, he was practically folding you in half and the aches of his passionate love making were starting to seep into your poor body. but yeosang persisted, mumbling something about how he was almost there. and it truly felt like he was. 

your spongy spot had been abused beyond belief and your whines of his name were the only things coming out of your mouth at this point.

“Sangi….”

“Sangi….”

“Yeosang!” 

and he comes so hard in one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had in his life. 

“Dude, get up!” 

he’s groggy as he hears your voice. he’s laying on his front, face plopped down on his pillow. he groans as he wakes up from your shaking. 

“We’re gonna be late for the bus, Sang. You have like 20 minutes to get ready.” you shake him some more to snap him out of his sleepy state. 

he just hums in a sound of agreement before he breathes a sigh of relief as you walk out of his room and close the door. he can feel the spurts of come in his sweatpants sticking uncomfortably around his now soft dick. his grey sweatpants were stained a dark grey in the groin area. he came so much that he felt it dripping down his leg when he stood up. man, how was he supposed to survive 4 more years of this torture? 

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

ope.. i got brainrot while driving into work again so here's a rockstar!eddie steddie blurb that goes with this song.

cw for possible refrences to suicidal ideation depending on how you interpret the lyrics (more literal or more metaphorical)

pairing: steddie | word count: 840 | rated: M

The first time Eddie tells Steve he loves him, it’s while they’re awash in the afterglow; Eddie’s still half sprawled over Steve’s bare back with his finger tracing patterns idly over his skin.

“I could trace enough constellations on you to get from here to Mars.” he says as if voicing a thought rather than to Steve.

“Oh yeah?” He snorts.

“Mmhm. And I’d love you from here to there too.”

The steady movement of Steve’s back shudders to a stop, his breath faltering. “Oh yeah?”

A new featherlight touch grazes the skin between his shoulder blades. Eddie’s lips. “From here to Mars, sweetheart.”

Mars becomes a thing between them, and between them alone; “Love you to Mars, Stevie,”, “I love you all the way back home, Eds.” or after some bigot gives either of them grief over their relationship, “Let’s just run away.”, “To where?”, “Hmm. I dunno, maybe Mars?”

So when Eddie has enough of Hawkins, when he does run, and his note is devoid of any reference to their neighboring red planet, it’s crushing.

Steve finds out from Wayne that Eddie and the boys had gone to New York, a two album contract for their band too good of an opportunity to pass up.

He’s jaded and hurt for a long time. Well into Corroded Coffin’s rise to worldwide stardom, and the feeling lasts until a headline in the aisle of the grocery store catches his eye. It screams ‘CORRODED COFFIN’S NORTH AMERICAN TOUR CUT SHORT.”, but there are more: “Frontman Eddie Munson checks in”, and “Eddie Munson: More substance than substance?”.

He and Robin are in Chicago now, running a small bookstore/coffee shop, and Jeff gets in contact with him.

“He’s okay, he’s already doing better. I figured you’d want to know.”

Jeff says it’d been getting worse and worse until Chrissy (who had long been the Robin to Eddie’s Steve, and who’s now his manager) had had enough and sent him off to get help. “He’ll be back sooner than later, I’m sure.”

The next anyone besides Chrissy hears from Eddie, it’s on the radio. A new song from Corroded Coffin’s Eddie Munson that’s nothing like anyone had ever heard from him. 

Steve hears it first when he’s preparing to open one day, that’s part of the reason why it comes as such a surprise. He has never tuned the shop radio to anything other than the mainstream channels, not wanting this exact thing to happen and hear the voice of the man that broke his heart to pieces.

“Up next, a change of pace from the currently still elusive Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin fame,” the announcer says as the song starts in behind him. Steve freezes at the name. “You heard of this guy? He and that band of his had been making waves in the metal scene for years now; and he’s reportedly been checked out of rehab for a couple months without anyone hearing anything from him. Until now.”

The song starts for real now, the acoustic fading into the background as a voice so unmistakably Eddie, his real southern twang leftover from growing up in Tennessee shining through, breaks through it.

Steve’s so floored at hearing his voice again, that he doesn’t really register the lyrics until Eddie croons out “What if I run away to Mars?”

“Mars.” Steve breathes out.

Eddie is singing about Mars.

Steve had always assumed he was forgotten. That after the years of fame and years without him, that the memories Eddie had of him would be locked away just as tight as Steve’s of Eddie were.

He can’t even continue to think about it because Eddie keeps going, “Would you find me in the stars? Would you miss me in the end, if I run out of oxygen?”

Eddie’s singing on his own, it’s just him and his guitar and his own backup vocals and he sounds so horribly sad.

Eddie’s not okay. Eddie’s not okay! Where is he? Where did he go after getting out of rehab?

Steve whips his phone out of his pocket, leaning heavily on the front counter now for support, and searches frantically for Chrissy’s number.

He’s hoping she hadn’t changed it when Eddie’s voice comes back in over his guitar, “I can't tell which way is home, I've been gone for so long..It's an empty world up here“

Steve freezes again.

He listens to the entire rest of the song there. Phone in hand, thumb hovering over the call button, and heart however many miles away to where Eddie is.

“Three, two, one, I miss you..I'm sorry I got issues” Eddie sings.

Steve finds himself thinking ‘I miss you too’ and ‘It’s okay.’

Eventually, the song ends with Eddie’s voice only. No backup instrumentals, only his voice crooning harmonically with himself 

“Would you miss me in the end if I run out of oxygen? When I run away to Mars..”

He presses the button.

“Steve,” She says in a surprised greeting, “Hi!”

“Where is he?”

star divider is from @saradika

short little part 2 here! | also on AO3

[medusaesque]

Lt. Kim Kitsuragi and the pale-

Warning- it's insanely long.

1. After life, death

One of the first thing you can learn about Kim is that he would hurl himself in death's way to save you. From the very first moment, Kim is related to sacrifice and death, it follows him wherever he goes-

The slaughterhouse.

He lost his parents at two years old. He worked a year in Processing (here's good post about that by @renmorris and @spilledkaleidoscope). He lost his partner, Eyes. People have taken a bullet that was meant for his more than once. His survivor's guilt is insane. He's killed six people. He's afraid of killing recklessly, and has a deeply unhealthy relationship with his gun (made another embarrassingly long post about that).

Kim also hears pale 'ghosts' on the police radio all the time, and talks about it like it's normal, and says he doesn't believe in ghosts.

If harry is with Noid during the Moralist dream quest (more on it later), Harry can even wonder if Kim is a ghost, prompting this beautiful exchange-

And he's not entirely wrong. When Harry gets shot, after Kim fulfills Espirit's promise he'll stand in death's way for him, you can ask as you fall into darkness what will happen to you-

It's the living who are ghosts. You can leave them behind and rest. Go into the wild pale yonder, along with everyone else Kim has ever cared about. Or at least you can try to.

When death is at the door, you have two options-

2. After death, life again

Kim might associate himself with death, but Harry associates him with life again and again- Death is darkness, Kim has a light bulb halo. Death is a sunset, Kim is a sunrise. Death is where you are when the game start, it's ready to take you, and then- a clarion call, the sound of a motor carriage, a detective arriving on the scene, and you open your eyes.

The game is very clear about Harry being a ceaseless agent of the world (here's a good compilation by @junawer) but he's not the only one. Harry stands at death's door twice, and Kim is his way back to the world both times.

3. After the world, the pale

So what is Kim's relationship with the pale?

As casual as he might try to appear, Kim is clearly uncomfortable with the pale, attempting to protect Harry from it. When Harry brings up the pale, he intervenes, genuinely worried for the fragile stability of his mind.

It's no more terrifying than water or death or that we're stuck behind our eyes for all eternity?? Sounds pretty terrifying Kim...

The key is in the moralist vision quest, When Harry attempts to each the Committee of Responsibility, and he hears the pale crosstalk coming through the radio, when suddenly-

"Pale is a shroud of memories and it doesn't really distinguish to whom those memories belong to. You could hear anything." You could hear anything, but you hear Kim. If he isn't with you, Soona even says that the odds of us hearing him, out of all the voices in the pale, are astronomically low.

We know the past has not been harmless to Kim, we know it's full of ghosts and cold winters, but that's not the thing that's eating at him-

Kim is afraid of forgetting. He's constantly writing, he thinks through his notebook, always recording, so he wouldn't lose anything. That's why the pale is so terrifying.

4. After the pale. the world again

The world is what it is. God is in his heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

Volta do mar is a skill unique to Kim, according to the stats of this pilot jackets-

It makes sense, seeing how the only real advance in pale transit is the speed with which an aerostatic craft can pierce it.

His Black jacket is a bit more complicated-

DISTANT ENEMY OF HIMSELF?? kim.... The connections to Seol is intriguing here, considering how Kim tries to distant himself from it. I'm also not sure what 'sitting down for volta' would mean in this context, would love to hear some of you guys' thoughts.

It's driving me crazy to think how Kim wanted to be pilot as a kid, and is walking around dressed like a pilot as an adult, to give himself the ability to navigate the pale. To return from the sea and fulfill the role he has to play in the world, the thing Harry thought about a million times-

But we know Kim has a bigger role to play, he's trying to do his part right now, convincing Harry to stay-

His connection to Harry can keep him on this world once again. Keeping the two of them together. Your real work is down here, both of you-

Kim was right, each of them has a role to play in the world, but it's not a minor one. Him and Harry are Revachol's only hope. If they stick together they could keep her on this earth, stop the end of the world.

UNITY AMONG THE RANKS IS PARAMOUNT.

I NEED YOU. YOU CAN KEEP ME ON THIS EARTH. BE VIGILANT.

I LOVE YOU.

[v3nusxsky]

Hey how you doing mars! ✌🏼I got a ask that I hope you do. This ask is not smut, but it is a little bit of angst and fluff!

Basically Larissa is married to reader (reader’s pregnant) and there sleeping on their bed when Larissa wakes up sweating and tears streaming down her face. Then she look beside to check if reader is safe and sound (they sleep with a little light) and when she sees reader is sleeping beside her peacefully she signs in relief. Larissa then cuddles into her wife’s back and begins to gently touch reader’s baby bump tenderly waking reader up. Reader asks her what’s wrong and Larissa buried her face in reader’s neck and tells her she had a horrible nightmare; in her nightmare reader was driving to her home when she got into a horrible car accident, which they called Larissa in her work to tell her the news and Larissa desperately drives to the sight when they tell the horrible news that her wife and unborn baby died on impact and that she was alone now. Larissa basically blabbers in tear her horrible dream and reader turns around in her arms and hugs Larissa and Larissa hugs her back with all her might as reader calms her down. From there you can write anything you want just please can you do a happy and fluffy ending with reader, Larissa and there unborn baby girl.

Lost in the dark forest

*Authors note~ part 3 for you are my world🩵 to answer, in fine darling, sorry this took so long. Also guys I have more brain children that could be a series’s for Lenora and Larissa 🫣 or just one let me know what you want to see*

Trigger warnings~hurt and comfort! Nightmares panic attacks car crash mother and unborn child death. Angsty but will be fluffy at the end. Larissa being a bit of a dick in her nightmare ngl

Prompt~ see ask^^^^*

Tag list

“You’re reckless. You don’t put our child first, and yet you put her first. What’s she got that’s more than our family!” The principal practically bellows at you as you’re haphazardly throwing some essentials in a bag. “It’s not what it looks like Larissa!” You practically snarled back, knowing her past it’s not hard to understand why her brain has concocted these wild accusations but hormones and hurt feelings aren’t a good mix. “Oh! Do tell me then dear” her tone harshly spitting the term of endearment at you, “it’s not like that, you would never do that. I’m the only one for you? No, more like you got bored of the freak principal and think that Adeline can be your saviour. That’s my baby too growing there, I made love to you and created that beautiful life not her, so I’ll be damned if I let you throw it away to act like a common whore for her!”

Ouch. Tears immediately spilled down your cheeks like mini waterfalls. Larissa and yourself have had disagreements, hell what couple doesn’t, but never have you heard such vile words thrown in your direction by her. Loving Larissa is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever had the pleasure to do. Never, even when your stubbornness takes over, even when you feel suffocated by her protective nature did things ever spiral to this. Adeline had merely been helping you find the right flowers and colour scheme to reveal your baby’s name. That’s all. Adeline, was informing you of her latest date, one that seemed promising. In your happiness for your friend you scooped her into a hug as you wished her and Nora the best for the future. Plans to meet her being set for after you were no longer pregnant. Seeing that awoke deep fears within your blonde lover and now this was the result.

“Let me go Larissa” you demanded, choking back sobs as you made your way to the door. “Thats right, run away, straight to her no doubt” she sneered not even bothering to watch as you left to your car. Her office becoming her cage as fear spilled from every pore in her body, anger seeping out and forcing her limbs to move. Not a care in the world for what was destroyed in this process. What does it matter? Her hearts shattered, gone, blackened and broken. Self loathing kicks in as her anger fades into the abyss.

For hours now, you’ve been gone, regret, guilt, disgust and shame clouding the woman you once knew. Nothing would pull her from this dark place. Her mind being a forest of thrones that she’s forced to walk through, powerless as the thorns shred her pale skin. Crimson streams flow down her now opened skin as she tried to fight her darkness. Larissa should’ve known that the more she’d struggle the worse this would be. The more she would fight the tighter the thorns would dig into her sensitive body, her body now matching her heart.

But that’s when she got the call. Sheriff Galpin informing her of something, while her ears rang. You, car, hospital, blood and your baby. “Principal Weems?, are you there?” His gruff voice seemed to bring her back to reality. This morning she had everything she’d ever wanted and now she’d face losing you both. “Hospital?” Her monotone word seemed to weight her down as multiple possibilities ran through her mind. She’d fucked up. And now everything was gone? Well could be gone. She needed to see you, so that’s what she’d do.

Hanging up on the sheriff, jumping into her car with tears blurring her sight as she made the journey to Jericho Hospital. Red lights didn’t matter, to her they are all green now, the cars beeping got an undignified middle finger flipped in their direction. Nothing would stop her from getting to you, to apologise, to hold you, to love you. All the woman could do is prey you held on with all your stubborn nature, she had hope.

Hoped. You’d died on impact, a drunk driver crashing into the drivers side of the car as you were at a red light. “Principal Weems, we are sorry. They are gone, is there anyone you’d like us to call?” The nurse murmured sympathetically only to be interrupted by a pained scream and the normally professional woman crumpling to the ground. “Give me a minute to hold my girl! Just one more. My girls! I’m- I need to see them.” From there, Larissa was took to say her goodbyes, there you lay motionless, your own blood smothered your face, your child’s home being destroyed and dis formed. The once spherical home being more like a zig zag. You’d gone. Both of you.

She felt like she’s dying. That’s the first thing she registered, shaking limbs, tears streaming down her face and her heart? Well that’s working triple the time. Sweat soaking her body and sheets as she blinded rapidly to adjust to the small light in the corner of the room. There you lay, slow lazy breaths as you slept blissfully unaware of what her lost forest contained tonight. Larissa always named these dreams as the lost forest, a world where nothing makes sense, containing her deepest and darkest fears, secrets and past horrors. But never in her life had she been in one like that.

For a while all she could do is Starr as your chest steadily rose and fell in rhythm, like it should. Light snores filling the room as you slept on, oblivious to her sigh in relief at your state. With a dissatisfied groan you worked to turn your growing body onto its side, there laid your small baby bump poking out from the shirt you wore. You’d always steal the t-shirts the principal always swore weren’t hers as they are simply not her style, seeing your bump poking out always filled her with pride and joy. You’d made that beautiful creation together. A product of love, she couldn’t wait to meet the little minx who had you craving pickles in chocolate at three in the morning. You’d just started to feel the baby move in the past few weeks and like any expecting mothers it immediately became the best feeling in the world. Your baby.

Larissa had joking mentioned one night as you laid tangled in sheets that you would simply look stunning pregnant with your child, and she was right. You do. Her hand sneaking to rub soothing circles into your child’s temporary home. “My girl” you heard Larissa mummer. “Or boy” you grunted trying to sit up in bed. A sad chuckle left your lover as she agreed, truthfully Larissa had a hunch that baby Weems is a stunning Princess, but you swore on everything that your baby would be a Prince.

“Darling? What are you doing up?” Was all it for the lost forest dream to resurface and tears to build in her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. Her words choking her as you observed her state. “Darling, you are shaking, come here my love” you whispered shuffling to let the woman rest her head above your chest as your hands found their way to her silver curls, an action she adores. “Were you in your lost forest, love?”

No verbal answer was necessary the sobs that wracked through her exhausted form were enough. “Y-ou both died” she hiccuped as ungrateful as ever, her sobs soaked with her pain from those images. “I was cruel, left me and gone” she whimpered clinging onto your body, a hand holding your swollen stomach as if she didn’t believe you were real.

“Look at me Isa. Eyes up here pretty. I'm real. Hold my hand if you need proof, rest it above my heart if you need. I'm real and your dream wasn't. Me and this little minx are well and here my darling.” You reassured the older woman gently, although you didn’t know what she’d seen, what her mind had thrown together, you knew that she needed you more than anything else in the world right now. The room was bathed in silence for moments, ending by desperate whimpers of, “Please don't leave me." You swear your heart broke into a million pieces at how much she reminded you for the scared child she once was. “Never, honey. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Well… “Isa? My girl?” You mumbled shyly, the baby seemed to move and press on your bladder meaning you were going somewhere. “I need to go to the bathroom love, just a second” causing the woman to look up at you looking no more than a frightened child in this state, “you can help me yeah?” To which she nodded and immediately scurried to help you up and to the bathroom where she paced the bedroom floor waiting to walk you back to bed. It seems you were needed more than you thought, Larissa was never this clingy unless she had a dream about her parents or past, she needed you and you would always provide that.

Settling back into bed was not an easy task, your once comfy spot seemingly ran away, Larissa clinging to any part of you she could as you settled in bed on your back. Only then did her lips drop to your stomach, “we are waiting for you darling, our girl we can’t wait to meet you, anything to hold my girls.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, “what If it’s a boy my love?” To which she shook her head, settling into bed, snuggling up into your side with her head on your chest. “With the weird cravings, she’s a she for sure, my perfect girls, can’t lose you ever. You are quite literally my whole world.”

Word count~ 1952

[fishyvamp]

If you’re comfortable with it, I would be honored to get a small, ⟡spicy⟡ Amanda x F!Reader snippet! :) I’m not picky or specific on AU’s, so feel free to do any you’d like, or not at all if it’s easier! <3

Thank you for this opportunity! I’m always looking forward to your works and rambles! - Cozy

I love Amanda, the Saw franchise will always be near and dear to me as it was the first real horror movie franchise I had ever seen. I also love your work and am so excited for your upcoming fics and to be honest I had an outline already for kinktober that I never did with Amanda X F!reader.

As always NSFW 18+ MDNI (sensory depravation, blind folded, Knife play, temperature play)

I hope you enjoy it Cozy!

Your body shivered in the cold, hands bound behind your back as you felt the bite of the icy steel chair beneath you. You could hear the swings of chains around you the scent of decaying meat heavy in the air. "Looks a bit nippy wouldn't you say dear." Amanda cooed the sharp end of her knife dragging up your chest following the curve of your tits, the tip flicking a hardened nipple causing you to gasp, swallowing thickly you looked at the direction of her voice. Leather gloves tracing your hip.

You were only slightly panicked as the knife came back, dragging along to your throat pressing in just enough to feel the start of warm blood dripping down your chest. "God you are just so pretty in red." She purred you could feel the leather of her coat as she leaned in for a better look. Her body tensed as she was fixated on you. Her hands dragging the blood along your chest as she marred your skin with her blade. Not enough to hurt. No, she just wanted enough to just see you bleed. She wanted to feel the way your skin cooled as your own blood sapped the heat from your body freezing to your beautiful skin.

She loved the way your skin seemed to glow when painted this way. Her fingers dipping lower finding your clit, rough fabric creating delicious friction that was driving you mad as you leaned forward moaning into the touch, the killer spelling her name into your folds. "Tell me dear, who do you belong to?" She cooed hot breath against your sending a jolt straight to your core legs spreading further apart. "You," you whine trying to press into her hand to get more out what was happening. You were her's and only her's. A pay thing for her to enjoy and torment. "Such an eager piglet. Such a pretty piglet." She chuckles circling your greedy little pussy. "Bet you just wanna taste me inside you don't you. Want me to warm you up. Save my pretty piglet from freezing." Her hands moving away causing you to involuntarily whine from the loss of pressure. Why had she stopped what she doing? The thought going away in a moment as she shoved her cum soaked glove in your mouth.

"clean me, show me how hungry my little piglet is. Show me what a good girl you are." Amanda barks. Your tongue darting out tracing and lapping at the rough leather, your head twisting as you work every crevice you can. Cleaning what you could taste of your spend on her. This pleased her greatly a purr practically coming from the other woman. She pulled away once more. The sound of shuffling could be heard as the glove was pulled off and tossed some remote part of the room. A warm hand almost instantly finding your folds spreading and teasing them before two very skilled fingers entered you, pressing against your spongy walls. Teasing your sweet spot.

"Amanda!" You moan loudly head falling back as you tugged at the bindings wanting hold on to her to wrap yourself in her warmth. Mind flooded with the feeling of her stretching you, teasing you. As she worked to pull you apart, it was maddening you couldn't watch. Maddening you couldn't see her think. Maddening you couldn't predict what she was going to do next. "More!" You moan greedily, hips bucking into Amanda's hand. She tsked softly shaking her head, "you take what I give you piglet, and if you're not satisfied I can leave you in the cold instead." She threatened even if her fingers didn't falter. A chuckle escaping her, you had clenched around her fingers. The threat seemingly exciting you more, "such a slutty pussy, so hungry to be punished aren't you piglet. That's okay. I'll take my time. I want to make you really suffer."

[real-life-senshi]

PGSM Reinako things I want to yell about, in no particular order (9/∞)

"Mars Reiko"

I feel like this is another one of those Reinako moments/hints that I don't see people talk much about, but I absolutely have been thinking about it since I first watched PGSM. lol

I absolutely loved that PGSM had Minako be the only person to ever give Rei a nickname, and the specific nickname is just... too good to be true?????

I don't mean the "Mars" part of this, since it's so self-explanatory. But the "-ko" in "Reiko"???? Oh boy.....

Some context about the character "-ko" and its use in Japanese:

The "ko" sound in kanji is "子", which usually means "child". But depending on the context, the character could also reinforce a sense of "preciousness" or "endearment" when used on someone with familiarity, since y'know.... children are generally precious and endearing. (Says the OP who doesn't like children... lol)

It's a Japanese diminutive (a "cute" version of a word), more often used in female names (though less often in the present than it was a few decades ago). Case in point - "ko" in "美奈子" (Minako).

While not as commonly used, it does get used in making pet names/nicknames, usually for young kids or girls.

When someone uses "-ko", especially between romantic partners as a pet name, it usually denotes a sense of affection, endearment and possession (in the sense that this is "my chosen person", not as in "I own them" coz that'd be nasty), as if to say their partner is precious to them.

Now, as I said, "-ko" pet names are not the most common, BUT it does get used. And in the original canon (manga), which couple uses this pet name?????

USAMAMO!

Now, Reinako shippers, think about Minako calling Rei "Reiko."

Not to mention you can also see this as Minako choosing to slap a character of her own name into Rei's nickname.

When I think about this fact I just go... ADKADHOR#BJ#@!JFawtjI@J*#Y$#*@B 🤯🤭

Admittedly this is one of my sillier, surface-level posts in this Reinako series, but thinking about this still drives me crazy!

I would love to be able to ask writer Kobayashi-sensei just what exactly was going on in her galaxy brain when she decided on Rei's fake stage name? Like did she even realize this is another Usamamo parallel that she did? Especially coz Mamoru doesn't call Usagi "Usako" in the live-action, as if she just gave that right to Reinako. lol

[blue-disco-lights]

✨ Weekly Tag Wednesdays ✨

Thank you! @mybrainismelted @energievie @deedala @lingy910y for tagging me in this 💕 I like all of these questions!

Name:  Julia

Location: By an open window as we are having an October heat wave

Did you collect anything as a child? Stickers! There was a whole era (80s kids you will recall) that stickers were all the rage and there were themed books where you could collect them. I still kind of have a thing for them.

Do you collect anything now? I promised myself i never would - but yes, i get fridge magnets when I visit a new city.

What random piece of office equipment do you have a weird attachment to? This made me thing of when Jim put Dwight’s stapler in jello. Otherwise, let’s give it up to the 3-hole punch, you must feel so neglected.

Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.  Right arm - the dining room chair next to the one im sitting on. Left arm - my insulated coffee cup, from which I will be drinking for the next 2 hours.

Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?  OK wow you’ve read my mind I’ve always wanted to tell you this story. I love driving. In college, I was on my way to visit a friend’s dorm in another city, and I (very lightly!) crashed into the car in front of me……. while listening to “Crash” by Dave Matthews Band.

You’ve been given $1000 but you can only spend it at one store. which store do you choose?  Spend it on stickers! JK… quite possibly Uniqlo for a full closet of Fall basics. (but the answer is probably Target or Amazon)

What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?  My self-deprecating humor? 

What's your go-to flavor for cough drops?  Honey - but then Cherry

What does your latest text message from someone else say? “It’s also a new moon today 🌝”

What are your preferred pizza toppings? It sounds so fancy, but Trader Joe’s has this Mushroom & Black Truffle one that’s so good.

If you wish to play! 🪄 otherwise, sending you all a sweet treat @palepinkgoat @jrooc @sgtmickeyslaughter @michellemisfit @suzy-queued

@francesrose3 @creepkinginc @ian-galagher @echotrees @thisdivorce

@em-harlsnow @doshiart @spoonfulstar @spookygingerr @gallapiech

@transmurderbug @mmmichyyy @silvanshadow @sam-loves-seb @samantitheos

@tsuga-of-mars @takeyourpillsbitchh @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @crossmydna

@wehangout @i-think-you-mean-reduction @sickness-health-all-that-shit @catgrassplantdad @atthedugouts

[thedrarrylibrarian]

hi!! I first off wanted to say THANK YOUU!! I came across your page abt two months ago when I needed new fics and I use your recs so often!! I was wondering, what are a few of your all-time favorite fics, if you had to choose? (:

Oh my goodness! I'm so glad to hear that you've been enjoying my blog! I can't believe I've been running this blog for 3 years today!

What a fun ask (I've been sitting on this so I could use it for today!) I really struggled to pick fics - or more accurately, not to pick ALL the fics! I picked fics that are my go to rereads - whether it's because they make me laugh or because they pull at my heartstrings, or because they're so hot, these are some of my personal favorites.

Cupboard Love by @shealwaysreads (4,184 words, rated G)

Cupboard Love: the psychoanalytic theory of an infant’s primary drive being food which, when satisfied, leads naturally to a secondary drive for attachment.

Harry’s life, and love, in food.

Still Warm, Still Warm by @tsauergrass (4,899 words, rated G)

Harry is up to something. Why else would he keep giving Draco presents?

Five Little Things by @bixgirl1 (6,197 words, rated T)

Harry was supposed to be good at this.

Headway by orphan_account (7,482 words, rated M)

“It’s called courting,” Draco spat suddenly, livid and red in the face. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand a single thing about it, actually Potter, since it’s formal, and there are rules, and neither of those are concepts you’d know anything about even if they took on human form and kicked you right in the fucking dick.”

The Exhale by spqr (7,506 words, rated T)

Hermione makes a soft, concerned sound. "Harry, look at this." She shows him an article with a photo, but the photo's not moving; it must be a Muggle newspaper. "NASA have just landed a rover on Mars. It's called Curiosity, and look, this is so--I don't know if it's sweet or sad, but--it's all alone out there, and they programmed it to sing itself Happy Birthday."

Nothing is wrong, but Harry starts crying.

Silverpoint by @tackytigerfic (8,836 words, rated E)

It seems fairly simple to you, but you know that you don't really understand love - how could you, after all? You've never known how to talk about it, but you've never had to before. Everyone you ended up loving has always understood. You've been able to show them, by fighting for them, dying for them.

That seems a bit much- after all, Malfoy just wants tea in bed and his cock in your mouth (not usually at the same time).

It's ok to love him, you reason with yourself - he doesn't have to know. No one ever has to know.

Quick as a Flash of Lightning, Unhurried as Eternity by @onbeinganangel and @babooshkart (10,000 words, rated E)

Can you fall in love with someone by simply watching them fiercely love another version of yourself?

The Way These Days Seem to Go (And Go) by @firethesound (15,230 words, rated T)

Stress baking isn’t a hobby Harry ever thought he’d pick up, but he’s surprised to find how much it helps him to get through those long months post-war. It keeps his hands busy, it keeps his mind occupied, and when Draco Malfoy steadily pushes his way back into Harry's life, it helps with that too.

Let him lead me to the banquet by @harryromper (16,066 words, rated T)

The worst part is Harry’s got no idea why Malfoy keeps sending him invites. He’s never replied to a single one. And if the whole dinner is as exclusive and sought-after as the Prophet keeps breathlessly reporting, then presumably the only reason Malfoy wants him there is in his capacity as the Chosen One. So, really, he can fuck right off. Harry doesn’t care about Draco Malfoy’s redemption tour. And he’s certainly not going to help him with it.

Draco Malfoy Absolutely Does Not Need to Be Loved by Harry Bloody Potter by @nv-md (18,153 words, rated E)

It’s not easy to be bonded to your childhood rival, turned fuckbuddy, who you also have extremely uncomfortable but repressed feelings for—just ask Draco Malfoy.

When You Kiss Me (What A Lovely Way to Burn) by @femmequixotic (22,167 words, rated E)

A drag fairytale of New York in which Draco wears red lipstick and Potter can’t get enough.

In the dark, the light by phrynne (32,203 words, rated E)

‘Potter… It’s Malfoy. Do you still want this?’ It started like that. Malfoy’s breath on his ear, his voice low, hot against his skin. Harry shivered, though he could feel the heat from Malfoy’s body just behind him, too close, but not touching him. Even if he could. For the rest of the night, he could do whatever the hell he wanted with Harry.

Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon by @drarrytrash (36,733 words, rated E)

According to Harry’s personal narrative regarding the incident, he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy for purely self-destructive reasons, or out of convenience, or by some unlucky accident. Looking at him, sprawled in the moonlight, Harry is devastated to recall that he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy because he’s hot.

Draco is a secret werewolf and Harry is doing his best and they've got criminals to catch, darn it.

Boiling Point by @goldentruth813 (42,882 words, rated M)

After an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco ends up trapped in a dodgy safehouse with nothing but Harry Potter’s dubious company and a dwindling supply of food. With only each other and the walls surrounding them, they're forced to confront their past and their feelings which have long been threatening to boil over.

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (103,395 words, rated T)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine. Then Malfoy came along with and his flashy suits and fast car making everything seem dull in comparison, and Harry... Harry couldn't just leave well enough alone.

Grounds for Divorce by @tepre (122,217 words, rated E)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

What We Pretend We Can't See by @gyzym (131,086 words, rated M)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Love forever,

The Drarry Librarian

[lksvi]

midnight drives

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎⊹ ༚ death island!leon kennedy x gn!reader

‎ ‎⊹ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎summary — driving on a motorcycle at midnight has to be one of the strangest (and the best) dates you've ever been on

‎ ‎⊹ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎content — fluff, pre or post di, kinda messy, not edited

‎ ‎⊹ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎word count — 1.2k

‎ ‎⊹ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎note — dedicated to my lovely friend @spiderchai !!!! please go check out dolly, their works are amazing!! i hope they enjoy this rushed work hahaha!! also feel like the format might be weird so if it is ignore it please

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎⊹ ༚ masterlist

Gentle hum of a radio, moonlight pouring through glass panes. Lavender a phantom smell across your room, stars twinkling against the vast expanse of the midnight sky. Peaceful moments of these are often fleeting, marred by the troubles of life. You don’t let that ruin you tonight, though. Tonight is special.

A few nights ago, a handsome man at a bar caught your eye. Brown locks framed his face, stubble adorning his jaw and above his upper lip. A tight-fitting t-shirt did little to conceal the muscles he had, broad shoulders that had you wondering what he did for a living. What drew you to him were his eyes, though; blue and all-consuming. A cathedral of everlasting faith.

One drink led to another and soon you were being led out by the man, Leon. You swore you saw him shiver when you tested the name on rose-colored lips. He called a taxi for you, waiting with you outside in the chilly air. With an arm around your shoulders, he kept you hugged into his side, a silent apology for not having a jacket to shield you from the cold.

“If you wanna do this again,” He had said, tugging a pen from his jean pocket. Calloused hands gently outstretched your arm, revealing your forearm to him. He kept you steady as he wrote his number on it, outlining the numbers, complete with a sign of his name. “There’s my number.” A final caress of his thumb on your wrist was the last touch he gave you that night.

You can still smell his expensive cologne. Subtle with citrus scents.

When you had gotten home, stumbling inside, you had longed for another encounter with him. Before you passed out on the couch, you had written his number on a piece of paper and tacked it on your fridge. The next morning, when you woke up with a splitting headache, the first thing you had done was text Leon. Over the course of a few hours, you’d planned a date with him.

Oddly enough, it was at midnight. He wanted it to be a surprise, and ever a lover of mystery, you entrusted your night with him.

Now, you’re almost reconsidering. Anxiety nips at your heels as you pace in the living room, nails bitten down to the quick. The radio does little to quell your cynical thoughts. Before you could reach for your phone, make an excuse and cancel the date, you’re distracted by the purring of an engine. You peek out of your blinds to see a motorcycle sat in front of your house, green detailing standing out against the grey.

The motorcycle is parked, a helmet occupying the handle bars, and another coming to rest on the seat. Standing beside it is Leon, a hand running through his hair. He holds something in his other hand, but you don’t see it. You dash away from the window, patting your hair down and smoothing the wrinkles in your clothes out. A knock at your door sounds like the bells of a church.

When you open it, a smile curled on your lips, you’re surprised to see the flowers in Leon’s hand. He outstretches them towards you, a grin mirrioring your own. “For you,” He says. You fail to hide how pleased you are, a twinkle in your gaze as you take them gingerly. You thank him for the flowers, setting them on a cabinet in front of your window. You peer behind him to stare at his motorcycle, gaze drifting back towards sky-light blues. “You ride a motorcycle?” You ask curiously. An eager grin fades into a confident smirk, side stepping so you can come out and shut the door behind you. “Surprised?” He asks, a chuckle leaving him. He guides you to his motorcycle, a hand on the small of your back. He takes the helmet off of the handle bars to hold it up, smaller than the one sitting on the seat. “I hope this fits you,” He says. “Or we might have to find something else to do, hm?” Before you could answer, much less lift your hands to take the helmet from him, he’s gently putting it on your head. He clasps the buckle together, tightening it until it’s firm but not harsh on your head.

“Thank you,” You say, despite your words choked up in your throat. You hope he doesn’t notice how your words crack. He waves you off, tugging his own helmet on, before sitting down. He motions behind him with his head. “Take a seat, sweetheart,” He instructs you, scooting up slightly to give you more room. “Wrap your arms around me and hold on tight.” You do as he says, arms encricling his torso, nerves nipping your skin.

“There you go,” Leon purrs. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Nothin’ to be nervous about, [Name]. I’m right here.” The engine reverberates throughout your body, purring, headlights flickering on. The drive is nice. He doesn’t go fast, like some other men would, instead taking it slow. The streetlights illuminate the road. You lean into Leon, resting against him. You’re able to feel his chuckle.

Stopping at a red light, he kicks the brake, turning back to look at you. “You havin’ fun?” He asks. Surprisingly, you are. You had been incredibly nervous about this date, but you’ve had nothing but a fun time. “I am!” You answer with a grin.

The red light turns green and you’re on the move again. Leon shows off how fast he can go, with your permission first, the engine roaring to life. Laughter is shared between you two, echoing off the streetlights and the trees. For now, it feels like just you and Leon. You two are the only one occupying the space of the road, able to go as fast as you want.

It goes on like that for a while: Laughing and Leon pulling tricks, telling you to hold on whenever he speeds up. It’s a nice contrast to the boring responisibilities of every day life. It feels over all too soon when Leon pulls into a parking lot of an empty park. He parks the bike, undoing his helmet to hang it off the handles. You undo yours in turn, standing up and setting it on the seat.

“That was awesome!” You gush, a grin playing at your lips. Leon chuckles, running a hand through brown locks, taming the frenzy it became beneath the bike helmet. You’re sure your hair is messy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. “So awesome you would do it again?” He asks with a boyish grin, an arch of his brow.

You don’t even need to think about it. You’ve had such a fun time with Leon tonight, shared laughter and corny jokes, that you would be excruciatingly upset if it never happened again. “Only if it’s with you,” You counter, relishing in the slight pink that dusts his cheeks. His eyes widen slightly, but he quickly gains his composure. “Guess there’ll be another date.” “There’ll have to be.” An arch of his brow. “Is that so?” A glance at his lips. “It is.”

“I won’t disappoint you, then,” Leon says.

He takes a step closer. Your gaze meets his. His hand comes up to rest on your face, calloused thumb caressing your cheek. You lean into his hand. Rose-colored lips part in a question. “Can I kiss you?” Anyone else and you would’ve said no. Anyone but Leon. “Please.”

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

The hills turn crimson as I take your hand in mine (Part 2)

Detective!Shanks x reader. Modern AU. As usual, NSFW!! This is part two of two.

Title inspired by a verse of Left on Mars by Marko Hietala & Tarja Turunen.

Discussion of child kidnapping and child abuse but nothing graphic is shown. Characters deaths (not Shanks or reader), two past and one in the course of the story. Luffy and Zoro are both nine, Shanks is in his late twenties. 

Animanga characters who have not (yet) appeared on the show are mentioned; Shanks is Roger’s and Rayleigh’s son. 

*****

You don’t get car sick, which is certainly lucky for you, since most of the expeditions in the pursuit of the various missing people you had been tasked to find occurred on the road, even if a few times you did have to take a plane, and once even a boat. You still remember Garp’s car, that the commander drove with you sitting by his side and a second vehicle, usually driven by his assistant Bogard and to use in case of engine trouble or accidents, following you; he had bought a car cushion especially for you, since the seats felt too hard on your backside, and he always treated you to tea at the end of every mission, even if you had arrived too late.

You liked Garp. At first, soon after you had been assigned as his partner at the end of your training, you felt quite intimidated by him, but his rank and physical presence, but in time you got to see he was a good man, who actually believed in what you both did, and would have given everything to save, or punish, the people you were chasing. Had circumstances been different, you would have been happy to help him… and you don’t want to believe he’s hiding something from you and Shanks, even if you have to admit the fact that he tasked a former agent to find Luffy, rather than following the normal procedure of the force for kidnapping cases is suspicious.

“Everything alright?” Shanks asks, interrupting your ruminations “I can stop if you need a break.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” you assure him, and you really are. His hair tousled by the wind, his relaxed posture against the car seat, the open collar of his white shirt showing a glimpse of his tan chest… Shanks is more handsome than ever, so attractive that no matter how sincerely worried you are for Luffy, you’re seriously tempted to beg him to park the car in a secluded corner so that you can jump his bones.

If you didn’t have a missing child to worry about, this would be an excellent way to spend a morning: cool air coming in through the car’s window, music on the radio, an attractive man by your side, the conversation flowing easy and relaxed. You can almost pretend you and Shanks are taking a pleasure trip, with no concern save enjoying each other’s company, that you’ll stop for lunch somewhere and then, perhaps, you’ll end the day together at your place or his. It’d be nice; it’d be amazing, really, and perhaps it may still happen one day…

You’ve been travelling for little less than three hours, leaving Foosha City behind you to cross vast expanses of countryside; Shanks drives smoothly, below the speed limit despite the almost empty roads, having assured you he doesn’t mind the radio turned on, and you concentrate on Luffy every few minutes, to make sure he is still where you first picked him up - a place you still don’t have a name, or even a general direction, for, but that you are slowly drawing closer to.

This is how it works, a process that is the same for all Hounds but that you still can’t articulate to describe it to those who have never experienced it. Despite the name, those like you do not perceive the smell of the person they need to find, and the trace has nothing to do with their nose, nor with a sound their ears pick up. It’s a call, an instinct that pushes you forward, as if you and the person you had been tasked with retrieving were the two opposite poles of a magnet, and you were inexorably attracted towards them. 

Have you ever heard of a dog who tracks down his family after they have moved and left him on the highway? Belle-mère told you once, or how birds cover great distances during their migrations, finding their way across the globe? A theory says that like some animals, Hounds can detect the Earth’s magnetic field and we orient ourselves through that, another that it’s a sort of low-level telepathy; maybe we’ll never know, and I don’t particularly care. Maybe this ability we have is proof of the infinite potential of the human mind, an ability only few have unlocked but that is latent in all of us. We have been given this gift, and the least we can do is to put it to good use.

She was right, of course, your trainer, and you’re determined to make the most of her teachings; you’ll never forgive yourself for not realising Makino might have had a good reason to run away, but you won’t make the same mistake twice: you’ll make sure Luffy is safe, whether that means bringing him back to his parents or leaving him where he is. 

You promise yourself. 

“So.” you say in the end, turning to look at the man next to you, full of a new determination “Want to tell me why you dislike Hounds so much?”

You see Shanks tense; he hesitates for a moment, his eyes fixed on the road as you pass a truck, and then he sighs. “I guess I owe it to you; you told me your story, even though it pained you, not to mention those hurtful things about Hounds I said over the phone.”

“Well, I don’t think you owe me.” you precise, immediately regretting your request “And I’m not offended; I just wish we could talk freely, you know… like friends do.”

“Is this what we are? Friends?”

“I’m sorry, you must think I’m very stupid…”

“On the contrary; I think you’re the sweetest woman I’ve ever met. It’s just that I don’t usually do with my friends what we did last night.”

“True.” you admit, and he smiles - breathtaking once more, even if it lasts just for a moment before Shanks’ expression turns serious. “I’ve never told anyone about this; well, except Beck, but we were friends already when it happened and he sort of lived it through me, so he doesn’t count.”

You nod mutely, well aware of the responsibility that confidence entails; Shanks is not going to confess a murder, nor to share with you the launch codes of a nuclear missile, but what he’s about to tell you is important for him, a source of great pain, and that deserves respect.

“I had a friend when I was a child; his name was Buggy, we sat next to each other in class, we were literally attached at the hip; we got in trouble so many times… His dream was to become a clown in the circus; weird, I know, but he had talent. I thought we’d be friends forever; we had sworn we’d be… until one day Buggy disappeared.”

You remain silent, unsurprised when you realise Shanks is pulling over, parking the car in a stopping place at the side of the road; he stops the engine, sighs as he rests his arm on the steering wheel, and keeps talking, without looking at you.

“We were both twelve. We usually left school together, went to his place or mine to watch TV and do our homework together; but that day we had a math test and I hadn’t studied, so I pretended I was sick, and my dads let me stay home. Our classmates remembered seeing Buggy leave at the end of the school day, alone; he never arrived home, and no one ever saw him again.”

You silently reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers; your hand is squeezed gently, but Shanks is still not looking at you, lost as he is in his memories.

“Buggy’s parents did try asking for the Hounds’ help; the best in the country offered their help, but no one was able to find any trace of Buggy, no matter how long they kept sniffing his clothes and his toys. In the end, two months after his disappearance, the Police officially closed the investigation, and no one else gave a shit -sorry- about Buggy anymore, only me and his parents. I cried every night, but they were crushed… and that’s why, I think, they believed that woman.”

It is, unfortunately, a story you have already heard: unscrupulous criminals, without a drop of Hound ability, that prey on the fear and desperation of family and friends of missing people offering to find the spouse, the child, the parent who disappeared - for a fee, obviously. Shanks’ case is partially different though, because the person who took advantage of Buggy’s parents was a Hound, with a respectable career behind her.  

“They were intelligent people, but the disappearance of their son had somehow… lowered their defences. They would have believed anything and anyone for the barest hope that Buggy was alive and could come back to them, and as I said, that woman had already found many people, she wasn’t a fraud; how could they suspect she was lying? The woman had them give her his favourite shirt and pretended to sense him; Buggy was alive, she said, but it would take time to find him, she had so many other people willing to pay for her services, and she needed expensive tools and other things to make sure her readings were accurate… in three months they had given her everything they owned, and even took out a loan on their house to pay; their friends and even I insisted that woman was taking advantage of them, but they didn’t listen, because they still hoped they could find him. And in the end… in the end they did.”

Even though most of them have a maximum distance beyond which their ability stops working, Hounds can, at least theoretically, perceive the presence of another person in any part of the world. Whether their target is still or moving, in a building or out in the open, on ground level or at the fiftieth floor of a skyscraper or deep down in an iron mine, they will be found. You personally helped find the crew of a submarine that had lost contact with the base, and Belle-mère told you she once tracked a child that his father had kidnapped and was taking out of the country by plane.

You can even track dead people, even if that requires some training; what you need is there to be a person as such, and not just an amputated arm or foot, and that, sadly, is the reason why the Hounds hadn’t been able to find Shanks’ friend.

“He had… he had been dismembered, and then his pieces tossed on the bottom of a lake, in a bag with a heavy rock attached so that it wouldn’t return to the surface. Some divers were doing I don’t know what research about the lake’s flora, and they found it. I insisted on going with Buggy’s parents to the morgue, to see th - to see him, and… oh, my God, it was like the pieces of a puzzle, only that it wasn’t paperboard, it was the flesh and bones of my friend…”

Of all the dramatic, gruesome and violent cases you have learnt about during your collaboration with the Police -Garp always did his best to keep you in the dark, convinced as he was that you were too young to witness the atrocities he was by now more than familiar with, while Belle-mère had a higher opinion of your nerves and often discussed her cases with you, in the interest of your training- none has ever been more inhuman, violent and unnecessarily cruel than the scene Shanks is describing; for months he and Buggy’s parents had hoped to see him return, to then be informed he had died, his poor body dismembered to make sure the Hounds could not find him and, as a consequence, his kidnappers. 

He was only twelve; still a child. You don’t even want to know what those people did to him…

“I’m so sorry.” you murmur, well aware of how empty those words sound no matter how intensely you mean it, and Shanks finally turns to look at you.

“It gets worse. The Hound, that… that bitch… she disappeared the day Buggy was found, no doubt because she expected Buggy’s parents to realise she had lied to them and tricked them out of all their money. The Police might have caught her, but Buggy’s parents never even sued her; the day after Buggy’s funeral they… they committed suicide; they took pills, and died together on their bed. I went to their home a few hours later, I thought Buggy would have wanted me to keep them company, and… and I found them. I called an ambulance, but it was already too late. They didn’t leave a note or anything, but it was clear: they had stayed strong until they still had hope Buggy was alive, but they had no reason to keep living without him. A whole family destroyed… and a woman who had gotten rich preying on their vulnerability. I can’t help but wonder… if that day I had gone to school, if I had been with him as he returned home…”

“Shanks, no. It wasn’t your fault, how could you have known?”

He admits that obviously you’re right, and looks up at you, pain and guilt clear in his eyes. “I was wrong to say those things; I was wrong to even just think them, but I can’t help it.” he recognises, voice lowered to a whisper “I was in the force, I know many Hounds generously offer their help, that your powers are real and you have helped hundreds of people; but I can’t stop thinking about that woman, of how she took advantage of the pain and fear of Buggy’s parents to rob them. I would have gladly killed her with my own hands, and I was still a child back then, but I should know better now that I'm an adult; there are rotten apples in every category of people, and you have no fault for the crimes of those like you. I’m sorry, (name).”

“I could never be angry with you; especially now that I know the reason for your resentment; you hated that woman so much, you can’t help despising all those like her as well.”

“Exactly. Very mature of me, isn’t it?”

You opt not to answer, preferring to take the face of the man in front of you in your hands, your heart full of anguish; with a sigh, Shanks rests his forehead against yours, and for a minute you remain like that, sharing your space, Shanks slowly coming to terms with that pain that is still part of him, so many years after the fact, and you doing what you can to comfort him. “I’m sorry.” you murmur once more, and he grins before kissing your brow.

“At least I know you’re different. And had I known Hounds can be this sexy, I would have asked Garp to let me work with you.”

“But relationships among agents, and their collaborators, are strictly forbidden.”

“It’s lucky that neither of us works with the force anymore then…”

Shanks winks at you as he starts the engine once more; he’s pulling himself together, determined to do whatever it takes to stop Luffy from meeting the same destiny of Buggy. “Do you know what percentage of the way we have covered already?”

“I’m not sure.” you admit “It doesn’t work like a car navigator, I can’t say how many miles or minutes away we are; I only know we’re in the right direction, and that Luffy is alive and that he’s standing still - not literally, but as if he were moving inside a building or a very restricted area. I’m sorry, I wish I could be more precise.”

“It’s alright; at least you’ve only given me good news, again.”

You share a smile, the car’s engine roars under you, and you’re back on the road.

You stop again two hours later, to grab a bite at a service station; you insist on paying, since Shanks has gone to get gas. “Ah, if only they had hamburgers!” you comment with a sigh as you observe the menu behind the counter, and the man by your side bites his lip to hide a smile, a slight flush complimenting the red hair hidden under his straw hat.

You depart again with two to-go cups, one of coffee and the other of tea, in the cupholder; the conversation between you and Shanks is pleasant and relaxed, and you both sing along with the radio, but the longer your journey lasts, the closer you come to your destination, you both feel yourself growing tense. It would be a relief to find out Luffy is fine, that he simply ran away from home after a fight with his parents, somehow crossing most of the country by himself without anyone wondering why a nine-year-old is walking around alone, and who will obediently let you bring him back, to his room and toys and favourite breakfast, but if this doesn’t happen… if the child were to be in danger, or if there were a more serious reason for his disappearance, then it’d be up to the two of you to decide what to do, in his best interest. As he promised, Shanks has his gun with him, hidden in its holster under his leather jacket; you know, without the need to ask, that he’ll do whatever it takes to protect you and Luffy, but you really hope it won’t come to that. 

“He’s moving.” you announce suddenly, after two more hours on the road; you have reached a more remote part of the country, large expanses of countryside punctuated with small towns, farms and cultivated fields, and Shanks is telling you about his fathers when suddenly you feel -not hear, not smell, not touch; you feel- something shift, as if the needle of the compass inside you had moved of a few degrees on the side.

“You mean Luffy?” Shanks asks, immediately tense “They’re moving him?”

“Not in the sense that his captors have put him in a car to hide him somewhere else; at least I think, It’s more of a sensation than something I’m seeing or hearing.” you try to explain; you have often reflected than being a Hound is like speaking a language only a handful of other people know, which makes it enormously harder to talk to laymen “He’s walking, very slowly, but I don’t know if it’s because he’s simply taking a walk or because he’s hurt and can’t run. God, I hope he’s not struggling to get away… in any case we’re close.”

“Alright, then…”

“Are you sure?”

“I am now. I can’t say how close, but… it’s not long before you reach him.”

You see tension enveloping Shanks’ shoulders. “Put your seatbelt on.” he warns you; he steps on the gas, and the car surges ahead, devouring the asphalt.

Shimotsuki Town is actually barely a village surrounded by sprawling rice fields, a couple dozens of houses gathered around a tiny square, the sort of place no one living twenty miles away has ever heard of; there are no museums or restaurants or relevant companies in the area, nothing of importance… except for one thing.

“Are you sure he’s here?” Shanks asks. You have left the car in the fields surrounding the town, after which you have led him for a short distance along the main street, the impulse in your mind more and more intense with every step you take; the whisper, subtle but persistent, that you have followed on the way is now a shout, loud and impossible to ignore.

You have found Luffy; he’s alive, thanks to Belle-mère’s training you are absolutely sure, but you have no way of knowing what conditions he’s in, physically and mentally both, and part of you is too afraid to know…

“I am; either in the building or in the back, but we’re… I don’t know, twenty feet from him at most.” you answer confidently “Whatever here is.” 

The door of the old-style building in front of you is surmounted by a banner: Isshin Dojo it says.

“Dojo is a type of martial arts school, a place where you learn to fight either bare-handed or with weapons.” Shanks explains, having noticed the perplexity of your expression.

“How do you know?”

“Well, I studied swordsmanship when I was younger; not in the style of the dojos, but I saw a couple of places like this.”

“You can use a sword!? That is amazing!” you exclaim, not bothering to hide your awe, and Shanks smiles, clearly flattered. 

“Both my dads could, so it was natural for me to learn; I am sort of ambidextrous, but to be honest I have never touched my sword after the accident. Truth to be told I have missed it…”

“Then you should start again.” you comment; a pause, and then: “And then you can teach me.”

“I’d like that.”

Shanks smiles, and you do your best to reciprocate, even though anxiety is eating you alive; you’ve felt more and more nervous the closer you got to your destination, and now part of you wishes you could simply leave, abandoning Luffy to his destiny and taking no responsibility regarding his well-being. You can’t, of course, but you can’t help…

“You’re shivering.” Shanks murmurs; the longer you remain still in front of the Dojo the more you risk Luffy’s captors, if they really are here, to see you, realise you’re looking for the child and take him away, but the man next to you seems unconcerned for a moment - unconcerned for anything and anyone who is not you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing; he’s here, I could bet my life on it, just… I’m scared. He’s just a child, what if something terrible happened and we weren’t here to stop it?”

Shanks softly points out that it would be terrible to discover it’s too late to help Luffy, but it wouldn’t be your fault; he has his gun, and this wouldn’t be the first time he needs to use it on the job, and he’s going to do whatever it takes to protect the child. 

“It’s going to be alright.” he promises, and while you’re not fully reassured the conviction in those words does make you feel better, enough to make you smile, enough to make you decide to throw caution to the wind and press your mouth on Shanks’ for a kiss, ardent and hungry and desperate, a kiss the man in front of you quickly reciprocates, holding you by the waist as his mouth ravishes yours.

“God, you’re amazing.” he murmurs in the end, without fully breaking the kiss, the straw hat he’s wearing once again almost toppled over in the excitement “Absolutely gorgeous, and you smell so good…”

You giggle. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“I really don’t; and I could prove you how sincere I’m being if you came… fuck!”

The expletive, unexpected enough to make you jump, is due to Shanks’ phone, which has just started ringing in the pocket of his jacket, interrupting you for the second time. 

“Is that Garp?” you ask, anxious once again; Shanks takes a look at the screen and shakes his head.

“My partner.” he explains as he accepts the call “Beck? Tell me you have good news.”

“I’m not sure they’re good but sure they are interesting.” his partner comments, and Shanks tenses; he’s known, and worked with, Beckman long enough to know that in his vocabulary interesting actually means shocking. Luffy’s story was not simple and crystal-clear as it appeared to be; there is something fishy behind it, as both he and (name) thought.

“I’ll put you on speaker.” he says, and (name) approaches, as serious as he is “Tell us.”

“First thing I wanted to know was whether a child as young as Luffy could have had a reason to run away from home, or if his parents have enemies of some kind, and at first I found nothing; kid goes to school, mom and dad are a doctor and a bank teller, normal people with a mortgage. Very normal.”

“Too normal.”

“You know it. I dug deeper, and I did find something: Luffy was adopted four years ago.”

“What if his real parents…?” (name) whispers, and Shanks nods; he had the same thought, and this wouldn’t be the first time a relative, desperate for a connection to a child they feel they have lost, resort to extreme measures to have them for themselves.

“I don’t think they have something to do with it; or he does, since the mom died. Dad is in jail. But there’s something else, and Shanks, this is very…”  

“Interesting?” the younger man can’t help but joke; he can almost see his partner, sitting with his feet on the desk, a cigarette as usual on his lips. 

“You tell me. The files are classified, since Luffy’s a minor, but I knew where to look. It turns out that when Luffy was adopted, there was a person who tried gaining custody of the child, even though the judge refused, but was allowed to still be part of Luffy’s life, visiting on the week-ends, a week in the summer and so on.”

It is nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary for an adopted child, but Shanks’s heart is pounding; (name) is clinging to his arm, having equally perceived the revelation will be earth-shattering… and not in a good way.

“Who is it?” he asks, already steering himself; he has no reason to suspect this person is involved in Luffy’s disappearance -yet- but… “Who is this person, Beck?”

His partner hesitates, as if the information had affected him as well - a rare occurrence, for Benn Beckman. “It’s Luffy’s grandfather.” he says in the end, his voice mortally serious “Your old commander, Monkey D. Garp.”

“What do you want?”

It’s a child who opens the door of the Dojo, almost five minutes after he and (name) have started knocking on it, and Shanks’ heart leaps - only for a moment, before he realises this child, who is wearing a gi, might be Luffy’s age but looks nothing like him.

They both stare at him for a moment, flabbergasted, but when the child moves to close the door Shanks leaves (name)’s hand to use his to stop him. “Wait.”

“We’re not buying anything.”

“That’s a good thing, because we’re not selling. What’s your name?”

The child looks at him, resentful and too young to successfully hide how scared he is. 

“Zoro.” he mumbles in the end, having accepted that the two strangers won’t leave “Roronoa Zoro.”

“Alright, Roronoa Zoro. I’m Shanks, this is (name), and we won’t cause any problem, I promise. Can we talk to your parents?”

“I don’t have those; I live here with my sensei, but he’s out for the day.”

Shanks and (name) share a glance; talking to a child without an adult present is often a source of trouble, not to mention they’re often even less reliable than the average witness, but they can’t afford to be selective. 

“Zoro, listen, we’re here for a very important matter.” (name) intervenes, crouching to meet the child’s eyes, who returns the gaze, diffident. Zoro can’t be more than nine but he’s tall for his age, his hair the same green hue of his gi, with the ramrod straight posture so common among swordsmen “We’re looking for a child who we think might be in trouble; his name is Luffy, he’s about your age, he has black hair. He disappeared from his home and his mom and dad are very worried about him.”

“There’s no one with that name here; and I know all the students of the dojo. You sure you got the right address?”

Shanks meets (name)’s eyes, and he sees her nod; Luffy is still there, and while he might have hidden himself somewhere inside or around the dojo without Zoro knowing, Shanks is ready to bet the child knows something.

“You need to leave; the dojo is closed for the day, and the sensei told me not to let strangers in.” Zoro warns them; Shanks notices there is a sword hanging from his belt, the child’s hand closed around the hilt. Then his curiosity gets the best of him: “You guys are Police?”

“No.”

“Then why are you looking for a person who disappeared?”

It’s a very good question, that Shanks keeps mulling over while he thanks Zoro for his help and then turns to leave, (name) following silently; they are both aware of the green-haired child’s eyes following them. 

They call Luffy’s name as they cross the rice fields behind the dojo; the azure of the sky is starting to turn red, the approaching night swallowing the light of the day. Whether they find the child or not, Shanks thinks, they’ll have to find a hostel or some other place, if they don’t want to spend the night in the car. 

“He’s still in there.”

“I know; but I didn’t want to insist too much with a child, we better wait for his sensei to return.” Shanks suggests; he takes (name)’s hand in his once more, his heart fluttering when he sees a happy smile blossom on the woman’s lips; he didn’t lie, she is gorgeous, and a child’s life and safety is at stake, he can’t and mustn’t focus on anything else, but as soon as this matter is closed, hopefully for the best, he’ll make sure (name) forgets any other man she’s ever been with “Let’s have a look around, shall we?”

“Can you feel anything?”

“Nothing; I know he’s close, within perhaps a couple minutes walk, and that he’s standing still, but I can’t narrow it down any further.” (name) explains with a sigh “I’m sorry I can’t be of any help.”

“We will; I’m sure of it.” Shanks promises as they approach a row of trees, the fields empty save for them; the truth is he doesn’t know, he’s tired after so many hours spent driving and even (name)’s powers won’t stop Luffy from slipping away and disappear, but he’s not ready to throw in the towel, not with the child’s life potentially still hanging in the balance “Maybe we’ll even convince Zoro to help us; that boy knows something.”

“Are you joking? (name), we’re halfway across the country, no one would have thought to look for Luffy here! I wouldn’t have known where to start without you; I know we haven’t found him yet, but I really appreciate your help.”

The woman smiles, flattered. “It was a pleasure; I mean… I had missed being a Hound; I was scared to do it again, after what happened to Makino, but it was an important part of my life, and I feel better now that I’m doing it again. I just hope we can find him.”

“I think so as well; even though I’d be curious to know how he and Luffy met, since they lived so far apart. Shanks… why do you think Garp didn’t tell us Luffy is his grandson?”

That is the million berry question, and Shanks still doesn’t know what to think: Garp could have his reasons, but if he kept them in the dark regarding that, what else is the older man hiding? Could Luffy have decided to run away from home not after a fight with his adoptive parents but because of something that concerned his grandfather? Did Garp task them with finding his grandson because he didn’t want his colleagues to stick their nose in a private matter -a superfluous concern, since the safety of a child was at stake- or is there something more, something else he and (name) have been kept unaware of? Is Luffy in danger? 

Are they?

“I don’t know what to think.” Shank sighs “I’ve worked with Garp for three years, we were not friends but I trusted him; that he might be involved with the abduction of a child is… monstrous. Maybe I’m wrong and he’s simply a grandfather worried sick, but…”

“I really hope so; I didn’t even know he had had a child! Maybe it has to do with his job? Someone he helped put behind bars and who now wants to get back at him kidnapping Luffy?” (name) suggests; Shanks opens his mouth to answer, but he doesn’t have the time to. Above his head, a branch snaps… (name) screams… and he’s knocked on the ground.

“Shit…!”

“LUFFY!”

“Shoot!” he screams, scrambling to his feet, and Shanks, felled by the child’s body that plummeted down on him, reflects once more that it’s not easy to quickly get up on your feet when you only have an arm to push yourself off the ground. And Luffy, a red shirt and jean shorts on, is running like the wind, taking advantage of the two adults’ astonishment to get away.

“Get him! (name)!” Shanks cries, unnecessarily because the woman has already dashed after the child, her longer stride quickly covering the distance; she grabs him, locking her arms under Luffy’s armpits, and holds him tight, no matter how desperately the child tries to wriggle free.

“Put me down! Let me go, or I’ll show you!”

“Luffy, it’s alright… we’re friends, we just want to…”

“You want to bring me back, don’t you? Well, I’m not going!”

In the end Shanks is able to heave himself on his feet; his back hurts where the child fell on it, but he shouldn’t have broken anything, including the arm he instinctively used to protect his face as he crashed to the ground. Still gasping, he sees the woman try to calm and reassure the child, and he’s about to offer his help when a gelid kiss touches the side of his neck, a sensation Shanks hasn’t felt for more than a year but that he recognises thanks to the many years he spent training with his fathers… 

“Tell her to let him go. Now.”

He turns slowly, mindful of the blade; it could slit his throat if only he, or his assailant, made a wrong move, but Shanks is not afraid, not when he realises that Zoro, for all the determination in his eyes and excellent posture in holding the sword, looks terrified.

“Put that down, son; you could get hurt.”

“I’m not your son.” the child answers; the appellative seems to have hit a nerve, the tight grip of his hands on the hilt of the sword betraying his anxiety “And you’ll be the one who gets hurt, if you don’t tell your friend to let Luffy go.”

“We just want to help him.”

“Like hell you do. What will you do to him? Did his grandfather send…?”

Shanks acts quickly, taking advantage of the child’s momentary distraction for a feint Rayleigh taught him; a sudden movement, and Zoro’s sword is now in his hand.

“This is an excellent sword.” Shanks says, his tone friendly, as he admires the weapon, while Luffy has stopped squirming in (name)’s arms “And I admire the fact you wanted to protect your friend; but the last thing I want is to hurt him, Zoro, or you. You have my word.”

The child looks at him, wary and embarrassed; Shanks looks at (name), who silently nods and releases Luffy. The child, who could now run away, remains where he is, looking at Shanks with what he could only describe as fascination.

“How did you do that? Zoro is very strong.”

“I’m sure he is; I have just been handling swords a little longer than he has.”

Zoro grunts.

“What happened to your arm?”

“I lost it in an accident.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Only when it rains.”

“Can you still feel it even though you no longer have it?”

“I actually can, sometimes. Luffy…” Shanks returns the sword to Zoro, who begrudgingly accepts it, and crouches to be at eye level with him “(name) and I have a few questions for you.”

“You’re angry because I ran away from home.”

“We’re not angry; we were only very worried, just like your mom and dad are.”

The child’s expression turns dejected; he suddenly looks even smaller than his young age and short stature can account for. “They’re not my mom and dad; they are taking care of me because my grandfather gives them money to do it.”

A moment later (name) is kneeling beside the child, her hand on his shoulder. “Luffy, those people… do they hurt you? I mean…”

“No, no; they give me food and buy me things for school and everything, but… but they don’t care about me. It’s like a job; you do it because you have to, and because you get paid for it.” the child explains miserably; he bites his lip, and then, his voice reduced to a whisper: “And then they force me to spend time with my gramps.”

Shanks’ eyes meet (name)’s above the child’s head; suddenly they’re both too scared to ask.

“Luffy, about your grandfather…”

“The old man hits him.” Zoro intervenes; Luffy gasps. 

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“Is this true, Luffy?” Shanks asks; the child looks at him, both unwilling to trust him -why? How many times have adults let him down already? How many doctors and social workers and teachers have looked the other way, or not bothered to follow their suspicions, on top of the adoptive parents who treated the child in their care with the same emotional attachment of the floors to mop or the bedding to change? How deep must Luffy’s desperation and disappointment have become, for the child to decide to run away?- and desperately wishing he could. Shanks has never been in a situation like his, but he might have, if his dads had not intervened, and maybe it’s because of this that he sees himself reflected in the child’s bright eyes.

“Don’t make me go back.” Luffy murmurs “Please.”

“I won’t. You have my word, you won’t have to go back if you don’t want to.”

It’s a promise Shanks can’t afford to make and he knows it, but he doesn’t regret it, not when he sees the child’s eyes fill with tears - not of pain or anger, but of relief.

“It’s alright, Luffy.” he murmurs gently “You’re safe. Your grandfather will no longer hurt you.”

A moment later Luffy’s crying fills the air; the child has thrown his arms around Shanks’ neck, his body so small and fragile in the man’s arm. Shanks can’t remember the last time he has been close to a child this young, or that he was responsible for comforting one; nevertheless, he must be doing a decent job, because within a couple of minutes the child’s sobs subside. Luffy looks up at him, and Shanks expects him to ask what will become of him, but a moment later the child has taken his straw hat from his head to decisively depose it on his own. 

“You like it? My dad gave it to me, it’s my greatest treasure.”

“This is so cool!”

Shanks smiles; besides the relief to discover the child is safe and not kept prisoner, deciding what to do with him and ensuring his safety will be no small matter, but the last thing Shanks feels is regret for having been involved in that mess. He looks up at (name), now standing with her arm draped around Zoro -who is also crying silently, his face hidden against the woman’s side- and she smiles, nodding slightly. In that smile there is understanding and courage, and no matter how desperately he wishes he could have Garp in front of him to strangle him, Shanks is happy the older man decided to involve (name) - for Luffy’s sake and his as well.

With Zoro’s permission, (name) has prepared some tea for them all in the kitchen of the apartment above the dojo, where the child lives with his sensei. It’s there, while the four sit in front of a small table, that Luffy, perfectly at ease in Shanks’ lap, tells them his story.

That commander Garp, a man well-known and respected for his integrity and righteousness might also be a child abuser, is something both Shanks and (name), who have known and worked with him for years, would have never believed, but that is the sad truth.

Garp is Luffy’s paternal grandfather; he tried gaining custody of the child when his son went to prison two years ago, and when the judge refused, on account of his age, unmarried state and dangerous job, Garp has paid a couple to adopt the child and makes sure to visit often, even more often than the visitation rights afford him… and takes advantage of that time alone to train his grandson.

“He hits me.” Luffy explains matter-of-factly as he lifts his shirt to show the bruises that litter his delicate skin; his chest and tummy, his arms, his back… his little body is covered in them, even though the bastard has been careful to only hit the child where his clothes would cover the signs “He says he does it for my good, that he wants me to become strong. He wants me to join the Police like him, but I’m going to be a pirate, and once I told him and he told my parents to keep me in my room without food for two days.”

It was Zoro who saved him. The child followed his sensei to Foosha City for a course the man had to teach in a fencing school, they moved into an hotel close to Luffy’s home, and the two children became friends, the bond deep enough for Luffy to confide his grandfather’s mistreatment, and for Zoro to decide to help.

When Zoro and his sensei departed from Foosha City, Luffy went with them, hidden in the car’s trunk; he had snuck out of his room taking advantage of his parents’ deep sleep, and he remained there until the end of the trip. Then, Zoro helped him hide in the Dojo’s spare room, bringing him a blanket and candles and food - a lot of food. Undoubtedly ingenious, especially for two children who together are barely old enough to vote. How long they thought they could get away with it, it’s anybody’s guess; but the beauty of being children is that they live in the present, while it’s up to the adults to assure them a future.

“A pirate? Is that your dream?” Shanks asks, amused, holding the child against his body; he dreamt the same when he was that age.

“Hmm-hmm; pirates are free, that is the best thing in the world! I’m the captain, because I’m the strongest, my punch is like a pistol, and Zoro is my first mate, and he’s also gonna be the world’s strongest swordsman…”

It’s good to see the child so calm and serene. Shanks, in turn, is all too aware of the trouble he and (name) have on their hands; they have to find a solution - fast, too, before Zoro’s sensei returns and asks who the three strangers in his house are. 

Once more, their eyes meet above the child’ head; she nods in the direction of the door.

“Luffy, you and Zoro remain here, alright?” he asks gently as the child turns to look at him “We’ll be back soon.”

“Alright; we’ll watch cartoons.”

The two adults remain silent as they leave the room, closing the slide door behind them, and walk to the other side of the corridor, making sure Luffy can’t hear them and, at the same time, keeping an eye on the room in case the child decides to run away again.

“What do we do?” (name) asks, anguish filling her voice “We can’t bring him back to Garp! But he’s going to look for Luffy, and…”

Shanks nods, well aware of how hard it’s going to be. Returning Luffy to his abusive grandfather is out of the question, but Shanks knows well how stubborn and relentless the older man can be; there is no place in the world where Luffy would be safe, as long as his grandfather is still looking for him. The child deserves peace and serenity, to go to school and have friends and play, not to spend the next decade -or until Garp dies, which could be even longer- locked up at home, fearing to find himself face to face with his grandfather every time he looks out of the window.

Going to the Police would be counterproductive to put it mildly, for obvious reasons. What can they do? How can they be sure this child has the life he deserves, or at least some of it?

“Garp is the problem.” Shanks summarises, his closed fist under his hand “If he were to disappear, Luffy would have nothing to fear.”

“You’re thinking…?”

“I am.”

(name) sighs; she doesn’t immediately object, which is at the same time sad and comforting.

“I don’t want it to come to that.” she murmurs “I mean, i could hide him, but…”

Shanks looks at her. “Hide him? How?”

For a moment (name) seems to regret having spoken; then she shrugs. “I know you’ll keep this for yourself.” she says easily, as if she really trusted him, as if they hadn’t met barely twenty-four hours ago, and it’s not naivety or lack of understanding, it’s something deeper and more precious and damn, Shanks is this close to falling to his knees and asking for her hand “The fact is… we Hounds are usually asked to find people, but we’re also capable of hiding them; it’s more complicated, something you have to learn and practice rather than being naturally able to do it, but Belle-mère taught me. It’s a secret among us, that we mainly keep for ourselves; we’re able to… well, to make a person invisible, not in the sense that you can see through them or anything, we just make them harder to notice, you know?”

“You mean… as if they were there, but you couldn’t realise? The way you sometimes don’t notice a person has entered the room until they tap you on the shoulder?”

“Exactly; if I did this, Garp wouldn’t even see Luffy if he crossed the road in front of him, or sat across from him on the bus. He’d be safe… but Garp is still his grandfather, he is legally allowed to spend time with him, and Luffy deserves better than a life spent on the run.”

Shanks agrees; (name)’s solution would work if Luffy was a criminal on the run from the police, or a battered wife who had to avoid running into her abusive husband, but he is neither, the child will sooner or later have to return to his adoptive parents, and Garp will simply have to present himself to their door to demand his grandson for the time the judge has granted him. They could denounce Garp, show someone in charge the bruises on the child’s body and have him explain his grandfather is responsible, but Garp has friends in high places, how can they be sure their complaint will serve its purpose?

“He can’t stay here, hidden; but if we take him away with us, Garp could have us charged with child abduction.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I don’t either.” Shanks admits. He doesn’t particularly relish the thought of ending up behind bars, where he could end up sharing a cell with a few criminals he helped arrest, not to mention he wouldn’t be able to take (name) out since they’d be serving time in different facilities, but taking care of Luffy takes precedence “But we need to decide what to do before taking him away; sooner or later Garp will want to know where we are, and our families…”

According to Zoro, his sensei will be back in less than an hour. Shanks and (name) decide that no matter how dangerous it is, they have to take Luffy away; they’ll find a safe place, sleep in the car, and tomorrow morning, with a clear head, they’ll decide what to do.

Neither mentions how unreasonably optimistic that plan sounds; they hold each other for a moment, gathering strength from each other, and then go back to the children, who both look crestfallen at the thought of being separated.

“You can’t tell anyone about this.” Shanks tells Zoro. Normally he would feel guilty, not to mention nervous, at the thought of entrusting such an important secret to a child, but Zoro is clearly made of sterner stuff than most of his peers, and when the child nods in response, promising he’ll take the truth to his grave, Shanks knows he can trust him “About us, and about Luffy; forget you ever met him, and if someone asks, deny everything.”

“I will.” Zoro promises; he bites his lip, and “So we’ll never meet again? Never for the rest of our lives?”  

The thought is clearly heartbreaking, no matter how short their acquaintance has been. Shanks remembers how it was at that age, how quickly and easily you could fall in friendship with another person and forge bonds that you felt would last for the rest of your life, and sometimes they did. He and Buggy were the same.

“I don’t know, really.” he confesses; he’s kneeling, his hand resting on Zoro’s shoulder “We don’t know what we’ll do; we need to keep Luffy safe, which might mean taking him far from here, but as soon as it’s safe we’ll call you. I really hope you kids can meet again, Zoro; you’re a good child.”

Zoro accepts the compliment with a shrug of his shoulders. “When we meet again, can you teach me that feint you did before?” he asks “That was very cool.”

“Of course.”

Zoro is too young to have a phone, but Shanks has the child learn his - by heart, in order not to leave a potentially incriminating business card with him. In the meantime, (name) has helped Luffy remove all traces of his passage in the house, and retrieve his backpack; it’s almost empty, because most of what the child brought with him from home was food.

“Where are we going?” he asks, sunny and relaxed as if Shanks and (name) were taking him on a day trip; neither of the adults has the heart to ruin his mood. 

“We’ll keep you safe from your grandfather, Luffy; I promise.” Shanks says, and the child stares at him for a moment, as if testing his resolve and sincerity, and then nods, slipping his tiny hand in Shanks’. 

Zoro insists on walking them to the car; they leave the dojo together, Luffy still holding Shanks’ hand, and the moon is already high in the sky as they walk, crossing the fields outside the village. No one speaks, both adults and children aware of the danger they’re facing, especially the youngest member of their little group; the night is warm and clear, the song of the cicada rising from the vegetation surrounding them. A beautiful night, Shanks thinks; if only they didn’t have to spend it running from an abusive grandfather who has forced them to practically kidnap his grandson to protect him, it’d be a really amazing one.

“Alright, here we are.” (name) says when they finally reach the car; while tired she’s smiling, no doubt in an effort to cheer the children up “You need to say good-bye now; it’s going to be an adventure, we’ll have to sleep in the car but…”

“He won’t. He will be coming with me.”

It’s like their worst fears have evoked him. Garp, until now hidden in the shadows cast by the trees, walks unhurriedly towards them, the gun in his hand raised and pointed towards the foursome; he smiles when he sees Luffy who, in turn, screams into the hand he has quickly slapped on his mouth. Zoro, who easily recognises the man even though they’ve never met, grabs the hilt of his sword; (name), white in the face, pushes the two children behind her. Shanks…

Shanks has never felt so stupid in all his life. The old man played them like a fiddle, and he had no idea.

For a whole minute no one speaks; he can feel (name)’s laboured breathing behind him, but he forces himself to remain lucid, because not to boast, because he really isn’t, but he is their only hope of survival and the last thing he can afford to do is lower his guard.

“This has been your plan all along, hasn’t it?” he asks in the end, his voice even “You have used us to get to the child.”

“I have.” Garp admits, or maybe he doesn’t, because admission implies a certain level of reticence, shame or even guilt, and the man clearly feels none of them “I’ve been tracking your phones since this morning; child’s play, when you’re in my position. Luffy, come here.”

“No!” the child screams, he and Zoro holding each other tight, and “No!” (name) exclaims at the same time, outraged; she seems ready to jump on Garp to kill him with her own hands “You won’t be lying another finger on him!”

For a moment there is sincere regret on Garp’s face. “I’m just trying to protect him.” he explains softly; he’s still looking at Luffy, but his gun is trained on Shanks’ forehead “And to prepare him for when he’ll be an adult. I was too soft on his father, too afraid he would hate me if I were too strict, and look where he is now; I won’t make the same mistake again. This is not a kind world we live in; he needs to be strong, to face whatever danger…”

“He’s my grandson; I am responsible for him.”

“The hell you are! We’ve seen the bruises, he’s covered in them. God, commander, how could you?!”

(name)’s scream fills the air around them. “You beat the crap out of a child! What do you expect, an invading army kidnapping him from the schoolyard? You’re insane - you’re a monster! You won’t…!”

Garp shoots. Luffy screams. Shanks feels the bullet fly no more than three inches away from his left ear before it hits the trunk of a tree behind him; that wasn’t a miss, it was a warning, and his old commander is not the sort of man who likes to repeat himself.

“Who’s the other kid?” he asks, sincerely curious for a moment.

Zoro doesn’t answer; he lifts his free hand to show his middle finger to the older man, who sighs. “I see; another brat who needs straightening. Luffy, come here.”

“Luffy, don’t move.” Shanks says; neither man has raised his voice.

“Luffy, if you’re not here next to me within ten seconds, I’ll shoot them all, including your little friend. You know I’m not joking.”

Luffy clearly knows -and is it not disheartening, a child this young well aware that his grandfather would not hesitate before killing three people, including another child?- because he starts walking slowly towards Garp, ignoring both Zoro and (name) who try to stop him. Shanks doesn’t look at him when the child walks past him. “Nuts.” he simply says, and a moment later Luffy is next to his grandfather, the man’s heavy hand on his shoulder, deceptively gentle.

“You had me worried, you know, son? I thought something terrible had happened to you.”

Silence.

“Do you want me to discipline you in front of your friends?”

“No, sir.” Luffy mutters, eyes downcast “I’m sorry, sir.”

“That’s better. We’ll talk some more when we’re home, I’m sure you know what awaits you. Now…”

Shanks wishes he could say he’s surprised when Garp cocks the gun and points it at him once more. “You always intended to kill us, didn’t you?” he asks “You can’t leave witnesses.”

Garp doesn’t smile. “I always thought you were a clever man. Now, on your knees; (name), you and the boy too. I’m sorry, I really am; you know how fond I’ve always been of you, but I can’t let you go talk about this.”

Shanks can almost feel (name) seething behind him, but when Zoro tries to unsheathe his sword to fight Garp, she stops him and forces him to kneel next to her. “Let him go at least.” she says, defiant even though she’s begging, hate and contempt evident in her eyes; although terrified, she’s trying to be strong for Luffy and Zoro and Shanks, who has cautiously turned his head to look at her, knows he’s lost already “He’s only a child, he will keep his mouth shut…”

“Like hell I will! Let me at him, I’ll cut his head off…”

Garp does not budge; Zoro keeps threatening him; (name) tries to restrain him, showing nothing of the fear she feels. Shanks… Shanks looks at the child in front of him, who has voluntarily surrendered himself to pain and abuse to save three people he has known for less than two days.

God, and Garp thinks he can teach his grandson to be a man?

“Luffy.” he says, smiling at the boy “Didn’t you say your punch is as strong as a pistol?”

There is confusion in the child’s bright eyes; then there’s realisation, and even joy, as he lifts his fist, turns, and hits his grandfather in the only place he can reach given his small stature. 

Garp’s scream of pain is excruciating, and highly satisfying. 

“Run!” Shanks cries, as he already reaches for the gun under his jacket, and Luffy doesn’t need to be told twice, but Garp’s distraction only lasts for a moment, and then he shoots, missing Shanks’ head by only an inch this time, and he has no time to thanks his lucky stars because suddenly (name) is crying in pain behind him, Luffy and Zoro desperately trying to stop the blood pouring out of her wound.

The blood. Her blood. She’s bleeding, she’s hurt, and the fault is only his.

Garp is preparing to shoot again, but he doesn’t have the time: Shanks draws his gun and fires two shots, hitting the older man in the forehead. 

Luffy screams. For a moment, despite the relative darkness, Shanks could swear he’s seeing Garp look up to contemplate the hole above his hairline. Then the heavy body is falling forward, and Shanks doesn’t bother checking for a pulse; he’s been in the force long enough to know his bullets have passed through the man’s cranium. He turns and runs to (name), falling to his knees in front of her. “Hey, hey…”

“He shot me.” the woman whispers; she’s in shock, shaking, cradling her right arm to her chest, blood falling on her clothes, on the ground, everywhere “It hurts, Shanks, it hurts so much…”

Inside him Shanks is screaming, but he remains calm as he places the gun safely on the ground; he needs to call an ambulance, and the Police, but first of all he has to take care of her, of them, he wants to, he needs to…

“It’s alright.” he murmurs as he rests his hand on her cheek; he meets her eyes, and he holds her against his chest, while Luffy’s tiny body presses against his, shaken by sobs, and Zoro is crying as he tries to support (name)’s weight since the woman looks ready to pass out “(name), darling, it’s alright, look at me…”

She does, and Shanks kisses her tears away before looking for something to stanch the blood.

Taking care of your appearance is not easy when you only have a working arm, but you’ve become quite adept in the last three weeks and so you feel quite proud of yourself as you observe your reflection in the mirror in your room, your hair and make-up on point. The cast on your right arm clashes a bit with your outfit, but still… 

You spend a minute admiring yourself before the sound of a car horn draws your attention; as you look out of the window your gaze falls on Shanks, breath-takingly handsome as he leans against the side of his car, the straw hat as usual covering his red hair. He smiles at you, warm brown eyes filled with joy and excitement. “Ready?”

“Coming!” 

You are out of the flat a minute later, your bag slung across your shoulders as you stuff your keys inside it; you don’t slow down until you have reached the sidewalk outside the complex, and you throw your good arm around Shanks’ neck, who laughs happily, his own arm quickly raising to circle your waist.

“Is all of this enthusiasm for me, or for the hamburgers we’ll eat tonight?” he jokes. After a couple days in which you have been both too busy with work to meet you finally have some time for yourselves; you’re going to the movies, and then Shanks has promised to take you out to dinner, not to one of the city’s best restaurants, but at the hamburger kiosk you have met at and that has quickly become your favourite spot. 

“I’ve missed you, that’s all.” you reveal without embarrassment, and Shanks beams at you.

“I better make this evening worth it then…”

He presses his mouth on yours, soft but intense like all his kisses are, like everything he does is; your fingers play with the fabric of his shirt, your right arm resting awkwardly against your side, safe from accidental bumps. Shanks said the two of you form quite a pair now, you with your cast and him with his stump, but besides the fear and excruciating pain of that night and the unpleasantness of having to do everything with one hand, you don’t mind it too much: better your arm than Shanks’ head - or Luffy’s. 

He did ask you to start working with his agency, a week ago, which you sort of expected; Hounds can be very helpful for those in his line of work, but you told him you’ll have to think about it. After all Shanks and his partner are paid for finding missing people, they can’t simply dismiss their client if they realise their target is in the same situation as Makino was, and you can’t have another life on your conscience. Of course, he told you gently; you were walking back home after a medical checkup, and Shanks didn’t mind kissing you in a street full of people, the warmth of his mouth scorching and gentle at the same time, take all the time you need. Working with you would be great, but all I need is to have you by my side. 

Good thing that’s exactly where you plan on remaining. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask in a murmur after a couple minutes you have spent in each other’s arms; Shanks’ expression has turned serious, and he sighs as he rests his forehead against yours “Shanks? I thought you’d be happy…”

“I am; but I’m also terrified.” he admits “What if everything we did was for nothing? What if we made it worse for him?”

“Worse than being abused by his grandfather on a regular basis, and raised by people who only considered him a walking paycheck? I don’t think that’d be possible.”

“You know what I mean. The social worker said they’d take care of him, make sure he gets into a good family, but it might take time, and he’s already suffered so much…”

You softly point out that while you and Shanks weren’t allowed to meet Luffy while the Police investigated Garp’s death and his past abuse of the child, he seemed happy and serene when the social workers finally let you talk to him over the phone, and excited at the thought of meeting you again. “That child is young, but more resilient than you’d expect him to be; I’m sure he’ll be alright.”

Shanks manages to smile, but he doesn’t seem fully convinced, and reassured even less. You know he feels guilty, not so much for having killed his former commander -even though he admitted that hadn’t been pleasant, no matter how desperately he wanted to protect you and the children; he had never killed a man, and he would have preferred if his first victim hadn’t been a man he had once respected- but for having put you in danger, and for what could have happened to you, Zoro and Luffy. 

“Even now that he has to live in an orphanage?”

“It’s not an orphanage, Shanks, it’s a group home; I looked into it, even spoken to the parents of a kid who’s been adopted from there years ago; it’s a good place, and I’m sure a child who has already gone through so much will be given special attention and care.”

It’s not your fault, you told him one night as you held him in your arms, his body cold and his mind far away despite the recent passion of your lovemaking still enveloping you, nothing of it is. Garp lured us in a trap, and I don’t regret a single moment of that day; I was not your responsibility, and my arm will heal. We are alright, Shanks, all of us; all thanks to you. You did everything you could and then some, and you deserve to forgive yourself. 

He has started seeing a therapist, someone he knew already from his days in the force, and you pray this will help him heal, and that seeing Luffy also will; the law will not punish him for what he had to do, and both him and the child need to leave Garp’s shadow behind them, otherwise they will never be able to go on. Shanks recognised he was probably not in the right mindset to begin a new relationship, and the last thing you wanted was to force him, but you did begin dating, the instinctive and natural connection you formed that night at the kiosk having developed in something that is more than sexual, more than occasional, and that you both want to last; Shanks has told you that the hours you spend together are among the few precious moments he can forget what happened, and you’re determined to support him every step of the way and then some.

In the end you get in the car; Shanks drives carefully as usual, your hand on his thigh, your gazes meeting in a smile when a red light or a traffic jam forces you to stop. Your destination is just six blocks away, and you both breathe a sigh of relief when the group home Luffy has been living in for the last three weeks appears in front of you: a decent-sized building, more similar to a bed&breakfast than the ominous, derelict orphanages of the past. Someone inside is playing the piano; two kids older than Luffy are doing homework sitting at a garden table in the front yard, a line of rose bushes decorating the gate.

“Seems like a nice place.” Shanks comments, his hand firmly clasped in yours; you share a new smile, and a moment later the front door is violently open, and a child-sized cannonball erupts from the inside, advancing at full speed towards them.

“Shanks! (name)! You came!” Luffy screams, elated; he hugs Shanks’ leg, his smile radiant, and it’s returning that smile that Shanks kneels to look at the child in the face, a hand resting on his dark hair.

“How are you, Luffy?” he asks, the question much less obvious than it might seem. The child in front of him has, after all, witnessed his grandfather being killed, on top of all the abuses he suffered for years at the old man’s hands, events that he can’t simply leave behind and forget to easily begin a new life. But children can be stronger than adults give them credit for, the social worker has told you over the phone, and Luffy seems to have settled well in his new house, is able to discuss what he went through and only rarely has nightmares about Garp’s death. It’s like the shock of that night bounced right off him, as if the child were made of rubber, they said, and while you didn’t exactly see the need for a joke, given the serious topic you were discussing, you were happy to learn Luffy wasn’t once more suffering the consequences of his grandfather’s actions.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you? Really?” you ask, almost fearful to hear him contradict himself, but Luffy nods earnestly, as if you were the ones who needed reassuring - and perhaps you are. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I have to speak to a theparist every monday and sometimes I have nightmares about my gramps, but it’s fine.”

“You know that Shanks had to… to do what he did, right?” you ask gently, and you feel the man next to you tense, as if he feared Luffy could actually reproach him for what he did. Luffy’s expression does grow sorrowful, and for a moment he looks even smaller than he actually is, as he clings to Shanks’ shoulders as if fearing to be swept away by the tide. 

“I… I sometimes miss him, you know? My gramps.” he whispers, with the tone of someone who is confessing a particularly shameful secrets “Not everything he did to me, just… him. I think he did love me, even if he wasn’t good at showing it. And I know it wasn’t fair of him to treat me like that, and now I’ll probably have a new mom and dad and even a brother, but sometimes… sometimes I wish he were still here. Is that wrong?”

Shanks sighs. “No, Luffy; it means that you’re human.” he says gently, and then he holds the child’s body against his as Luffy hides his face against Shanks’ neck, shaking slightly.

“I wish you were my dad, you know?” he murmurs “That you were my dad and (name) was my mom; that way I could come live with you two, and everything would be alright.”

Shanks laughs softly; it’s evident on his face that the child’s words have touched him, just like they have touched you, but he keeps smiling as he gently breaks the hug, takes his beloved straw hat from his head to place it on the child’s dark hair.

“Shanks…?”

“This hat is my most precious possession; my dad gave it to me many years ago, before he died.” he explains softly “If I give it to you now, you’re going to be part of our family as well. I may not be your father, or your brother, but I promise I’ll always be there for you.”

“And I as well.” you add, kneeling to meet the boy’s eyes; a heavy, painful emotion has set on your heart, affection and sadness and protectivity all in one, and you’ve never thought about having children of your own, but it takes you a moment to decide you wouldn’t mind, that you’d be happy, to have Luffy be part of your life, and to be part of his “I’m sure you’ll find an amazing family, but you can count of me, now and forever.”

You embrace once more, long and tight, drying Luffy’s tears and kissing his little face; in the end the child is smiling once more, excitingly telling you about the couple who he has met yesterday, nice people he thinks will ask to adopt him and like they  did with an older child named Ace, and of how he and Zoro have started writing to and calling each other to keep in touch. He seems relaxed and in peace and most of all hopeful - hopeful for the life all children deserve, and that has until now escaped him; he will find a family able to give it to him, if there’s any justice in the world, and otherwise… otherwise you’ll take care of it, you decide. It’s way too early to make plans about your relationships with both the men in front of you, but you know already you care about them enormously, and that healing will be easier, and faster, for both Shanks and Luffy if they can count on each other. 

“Luffy, do you think the social worker will let you come to the movies with us?” you ask then, and the child’s face lights up.

“You mean today?”

“Would you like that?” 

“Amazing!” Luffy cries excitedly “I’m gonna ask them!”

He turns and runs inside, his hands holding the brim of the hat to keep it firm on his head, leaving the two of you alone. “You don’t mind, do you?” you ask as you turn towards Shanks, suddenly unsure; the movies had been your idea, but maybe you should have asked for his opinion first nonetheless… “I’m afraid we’ll have to watch a children’s movie…”

“Cartoons are fine.” Shanks reassures you; he’s smiling broadly, clearly approving of your plan “We can ask if he can have dinner with us too, but then you’re all mine tonight, alright?”

“Only tonight?”

“Hmm, don’t tempt me…”

You share a smile; being close to Shanks makes your heart sing. 

“Oh, right; I have something for you.” Shanks mentions after a moment; he retrieves a folded piece of paper from his pocket, that then he offers you. 

“What’s this?”

“You were wondering what happened to Belle-mère’s daughters after her death; well, her fiancée adopted them both, now they’re living with him. They seem fine, this Genzo guy takes good care of them, but I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.”

You’ll be happy as well, and your heart is full of gratitude for Shanks’ thoughtfulness; having pocketed the piece of paper with the girls’ new number, you circle his neck with your arms.

“I’m sorry you lost your hat, but… it’s amazing what you did for him.” you murmur, and he shrugs, admitting that while it wasn’t easy to abandon his father’s gift, he knows Luffy will take good care of it. He looks at you, his eyes full of an affection you already feel you can’t do without.“You really are amazing, you know?” he murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what caused the shift from gorgeous to amazing -not that you’re complaining, mind you- but you can’t, because Shanks is kissing you once more, and the whole world disappears as you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

[pauking5]

Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 2 🏁

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, spice

Word count: 13.1k+

A/N: Chapter 2 already? Hope you're enjoying it so far. I spoiled you with this one ;) Things are slowly getting heated, both racing wise and a little up close and personal this time around. I'm rallying behind what's hopefully my last uni work this week so hope this one's good. Enjoy lovelies.

Raiko's Playlist: Monster - A7S with Alok, Locked out of Heaven - Bruno Mars, Youngblood - R3HAB Remix, Greedy - Tate McRae, Ocean Drive - Duke Dumont, Into You - 3LAU Remix, She Doesn't Mind - Krmoni, Something On My Mind - Purple Disco Machine & Duke Dumont & Nothing But Thieves, Bad Boy - Chungha & Christopher, React - Pussycat Dolls

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Day 2 of Tour de Tokai

"Rai, take it easy," said Tanaka worriedly over the coms. "The new suspensions will break if you push them too hard."

You would happily take it easy peasy lemon squeezy if the road wasn't turning the car into a fucking death trap, going at over 100 kilometers per hour on the most difficult and curved track in the world.

Any miscalculated sway of the wheel could project you into the ditch at the side of the road, kissing goodbye to any chance of completing this stage. Which unfortunately did happen in the first one this morning.

That bold black lettering spelling out DNF next to your name on the scoreboard was not what you expected after bagging third place on the first day. Bitter wasn't even close to describing how you felt. Sour, dejected, with an ever-growing pit of disgust for this tour sounded more like it.

Frankly, it wasn't even supposed to happen. It was a rookie mistake. One that cost you a bunch of points.

At one turn, halfway through the race, your car hit a rocky mound neither you or Tanaka saw in the pre-race drive. An anomaly that birthed itself from thin air most likely. Coming towards it at full speed with no time to break and avoid it, the car slid over it scratching a big part of the chassis by the loud screech drilling in your ears and the lower back bumper, sending your rear right into a deep ditch.

You revved the engine multiple times to get it out and back on the road but the car simply refused to work with you, wheels spinning in the gravel underneath uselessly keeping the car suspended. You were towed out by the marshals, driving back to the station in shame after hogging up at least ten minutes off everyone else's stage time. The rest of the drivers scowled at you, angrily waving you off the road to get to the start line. Being called a rookie in insult after that and not something else was actually a compliment.

Tour de Tokai was spread out so unevenly and it bugged you beyond prevail because it put insane pressure on the car that was barely out of the factory still. With new components too.

The first day had one long stage over 40 km but it was a full paved track, much more easier to take on, hence the good result you had yesterday. Today on the other hand, consisted of three awful stages around a mix of tarmac and off-road dirt tracks in the depths of the valley, over shorter distances but challenging on every part of the car. You already screwed up one of them in one of the more rougher patches of terrain. It was out of the way. But at what cost? At the cost of my cheerios being spilt on the floor this morning. That's what.

Thankfully, you only had two more stages left for the day. Then the final two tomorrow. If your car managed to stay in one piece until then. Tough life out here.

You were currently on the second stage, driving down a dirt road just like the one that put you out of the race. Tight, soliciting and full of chicanes. You tried your hardest to keep the car on the road this time.

Half of the smooth grey asphalt already ended, leading into a curved forest path, sheltered entirely by dense pine trees on each side. The early afternoon sun peaked out through the branches, blinding you even through the laminated flaps on your visor, further adding to your irritation.

"4 left 50," spoke your co-driver, usually steady voice broken by the jolting path.

Medium corner in 50 meters. A little breather.

"2 right very tight over crest," he shouted, hand shooting up to the safety handle as you ran over a bump.

Very tight corner over the hill.

You accelerated up the hill, going airborne for a few meters before the car landed back down on the ground with a jarring wobble shaking you in your seat.

"1 left 100."

100 meters running up to the tightest corner.

A hairpin section in this hellhole after two taxing corners that pulled the car sideways brutally. Just what you needed. This was a no go drifting portion. The desire to go wide was so overpowering, but you couldn't push the limit. If you went the slightest into understeering the car, it was game over again. Another DNF. More points lost and even more damage on the car the current fund couldn't cover until you did some promotions.

Come on, honey, you rubbed the steering wheel in support, trying to get the car to listen to you. Stay with me. We're almost there.

Sure enough the dreaded hairpin section came into view faster than you could prepare for it. Up ahead, the road dove into lower ground to the right - a sharp C turn - harbored by a high hill lifting into greenery on one side and an excavated one that curled above the road with a few public stands on the other.

You cut the gas and tapped the brake just when you entered the slight curve of the curb, tyres skidding over the coarse gravel. It was tight as hell.

The forces of the momentum you gained on the straight portion pre-corner shoved you back in the seat so harsh you felt that turn with your whole body. Your forearms shook trying to keep control of the wheel in your hands, heaving breaths like crazy. Don Tanaka got squished to the door, belts working overtime to keep you both strapped safely. Your boot pressed to the floor with all your might to keep it near the pedals, rear at the back lifting up in the air.

Exiting the curve, you turned the wheel straight cueing the throttle back in way too fast. The tyres screeched horribly loud behind the car as you lost grip of the road.

"Fuck!"

The car took every incoming bump jerking you in all sides while you grappled with keeping it on course. You were going way too fast on wild ground, untouched by cement. You had to slow down. It would inevitably add more time to your lap that you can't make up anywhere on the rest of the course, but at least you wouldn't crash into a hill at 100 kmph or flip over in an area that was too inaccessible for marshals to come get you. You couldn't risk it.

Fuck this.

It wasn't up to debate. You let the throttle loose. A quick glance at your speedometer and your anxiety was quickly replaced by anger at seeing the speed decrease - 90, 80, 70 kmph. Way too slow. The heaps of bumps and craters scattered to smaller mounds, still threatening your safety, but they were manageable now.

Seething with burning rage, you let the speed decrease till it got to 50 finally gaining back full control of the car, then amped up the speed again, pressing the gas pedal to the floor. The engine roared alive under the hood, pumping fuel like a beast as it propelled you forwards at breakneck speed.

Now we're talking, baby.

"5 right 200 very long."

Easy wide corner in 200 meters.

You had some time to catch up there. Hitting the throttle again to increasing the speed even more you took it like a pro, drifting over the last off-road patch, sliding back on the straight asphalt. The crowd in the stands stood up, cheering loudly over the roar of the engine as you took the straight fast like lightning.

"Last one. 6 left 50. Flat out."

Flat corner in 50 meters. Take it fast Rai. Bring it home.

Taking the corner with a wide drift, the car finally reacted the way you wanted it to for once, gripping the road nicely. You gained an extra 20 on the exit, cutting off at least half a second on your lap time. If that even made up for the rest of the time you lost in those shitty corners.

The cheers got louder than the music booming over the speakers, crowds getting smoked by the dust you raised up in the air with that last drift. Before you knew it, it was all done. This stage anyways.

Who even picked this course? I hope they slip and fall in the toilet every time they go for a wee for the rest of the race weekend.

Driving back to the station, you parked the car neatly in place. Unfastening all the belts to ply your body away from the seat, you slumped against the wheel with eyes closed, letting out a long heavy breath you've been holding in for a while. The adrenaline in your body plummeted so fast it left you panting like you ran a marathon, trying to catch your breath and let out some built-up steam.

That was so nerve-wracking. No amount of training or racing over and over again would prepare you for the obstacles that can just jump at you out of nowhere. Obstacles that can very well end your career that barely even started.

Thanks to your quick reaction time, you avoided a lot of road hazards that could've sent you and Tanaka in flimsy hospital gowns. You did get control of the situation before it was too late, which was great. But some of those calls were way too close for your liking. So, so close.

"Hey," Tanaka piped up, gloved hand patting your back gently. You turned your still helmet-encased head at him. "You did good out there. Others would've let it crash in the side and pay for the damages, but you redressed the car back on track. It takes a lot to pull that off."

You pulled off the helmet, running a hand through your hair in frustration. You did almost crash. But you saved it. Because you had more stages left and no back up car for it. Because your father put way too much money into it to let it smash to pieces and pay for the damages. Because your co-driver's life was in your hands just like yours for that matter. There were so many reasons why you tried so hard to save it. Though none of them calmed that worry in the pit of your stomach that it could've been so much worse.

But you were a driver. Things like these were part of the job description. You can move on for a while but they'll always haunt you.

"Come on," he took your helmet. "Let's go see the scoreboard."

"I'd rather not," you smiled apologetically. "I'll go get some food. I could eat a week's worth of steak right now."

You were hungry as hell. But getting out of the car and away from the track for a bit was more of a priority and you hoped Tanaka would see past it. A therapy session about why shit happens sometimes was not what you needed right now.

"Okay," he chuckled. "Let me know if you need anything, lightning strike. I'll be around."

"Yeah," you nodded quietly more to yourself.

You got out of the car, passing a few smiles in sympathy to the team that got working on replacing the back bumper right away. Some of them patted your back in the same supportive manner.

On your way out of the station you passed by the screen displaying the scoreboard. You tried your hardest not to stop by but your eyes just fleeted there in curiosity. A curiosity that was left better unsatisfied.

Rai Suruki - 12th place - 1.53.07. Out of twenty. Not too bad all things considered.

Dwelling on it for a bit you tried to let it go. At least you weren't in the shoes of the one unlucky driver that ended up with a DNF at the bottom. Poor bastard- Wait. Getting closer to the screen to make sure your eyes didn't betray you, you read the line again in shock.

Naozumi Hiyama - 20th place - DNF.

Before it even registered in your head, the screen changed to replay the scenes right before disaster. You watched the distinctive blue hues on his car whizz by as he got past the first corners like an expert, lap time near perfect midway through the race. Until he drove into the tight corner that nearly broke your car in half. He took it just like you did, tight and miscalculated, unaware of the chaos on the other side.

What happened to you happened to him too - he lost grip on the back, taking on the uneven rocky bumps at full speed. All that knowledge of rally was thrown out the window in seconds as he struggled to keep the car under control. Then something even weirder happened - fumes leaped out from under the hood. Engine failure.

Instead of slowing down to prevent a crash and the engine from overheating more, he accelerated, hellbent on keeping the few points he gathered so far. What the hell was he thinking? The front tyres of his car took a high mound that sent him airborne landing right in the deep channel of the next corner, smashing the front into a hill portion. Nope, he wasn't thinking. That right there is idiocy.

The angry screech of tyres in the station next to yours sparked your attention. You peeked your head in at the side, bending over a tool table watching the chaos unfold. The front bumper cover was smashed into the car, like it just swallowed it up, along with a big part of the hood. Mechanics rushed over, struggling to get the hood open and cool the engine sending smoke through the broken cracks. Other staff ran around with fire extinguishers just in case the car caught fire.

Those were replaceable, already at the ready by the side. What wasn't replaceable was Naozumi's impending wrath about to rain down on the team like metal pikes.

Naozumi got out of the car boiling with fury, throwing his helmet off into the seat, smashing the door shut making the whole car shake at the impact. You looked back with pity at your little blue and gold princess, muttering I would never do that to you. Turning back, you caught him running an angry hand through the mess of his helmet hair, closing in fast on the same man he had a scuffle with just yesterday.

"Care to explain why I got an engine failure mid-race of all times?" he shouted at the mechanic, tongue pushing his cheek impatiently. He didn't really look like he expected an answer, simply wanting to vent off his own mistake.

"I told you not to push it. Not my fault you're too hardheaded to understand simple directions," he shouted back, having had enough of his tantrums.

"There's one more stage left today. If this happens again I will make sure-"

He struck a nerve with that unfinished sentence, making the taller man drop what looked like a new water pump for the engine right on top of the tool box with a loud clatter.

"Make sure of what exactly, your highness? Throwing me off the team? That didn't work the last time you tried, did it?"

Naozumi clicked his jaw and glared at him with all his pent up rage before he stormed off to his trailer to cool down. He didn't give a shit about the looks the people around fixed on him, and they didn't dwell for too long either, everyone scattering back to their jobs.

Seems like no one was taking today that well.

Padding around the vans lined up with all kinds of fast-food only dimmed your appetite. The good ones were closed for a break until the last race, which was in an hour. Your body needed the food so bad, you were willing to drive to a restaurant in the city, which was like two hours away. If only you had time.

Ready to give up, you spotted a nice looking bacon and ham sandwich at a shabby stand just on the side of the food court. Scouring over their window from a distance, it looked like the last one. Better than going back on an empty stomach.

You jogged up to order before anyone else could. Too engrossed in reaching the till you failed to notice someone slide in before you. Too late to pull the breaks, you collided into a hard shoulder, nearly losing your footing and falling face first on the ground. Strong hands gripped your upper arms to keep you upright just like you caught theirs in return.

Looking up, your quick apology got stuck in your throat. Two round chocolate balls gazed down at you, eyebrows raised in surprise. Those eyes could put chocolate to shame, glowing like priceless pralines, the special kind you eat once a year on Christmas.

Dark brown hair framed the side of his face, matted in messy waves. A pair of black sunglasses sat on top of it, pushing the front locks into small curls. Trailing your eyes downwards, you were greeted by two moles on the side of his face, right under his lower lip, stamped like two mini vampire bites. Cute. White fireproofs in darker logos stretched over his broad chest, complimenting his tan complexion so well. You were grateful for the strong hands that held your arms in a firm grip since your knees went a little weak.

Otherworldly was the only word you could find in the empty sea of your mind to describe this man. And not even that one did him justice. Not even close.

He seemed just as entranced by you, trained on your face for a while then swiping down your racing suit that was still done up to your neck, preserving all the heat of your previous ride as well as pulling the outside heatwave into it, turning into a body sauna. Or was it all coming from him? You couldn't tell.

His warm eyes searched your face with concern.

"Are you okay?"

Even his voice is beautiful.

"Huh? Me? Yeah, yeah. I'm good," you finally straightened letting go of him. "Are you uhh... good?"

"I'm good," he said, his palms loosening on you until they slid down, away from you.

"Good."

Placing your hair behind your ears out of nervous habit, you looked back at him, finding a smile so sweet on his face it could give you a sugar rush if you stared too long. Dear heavens.

"I don't think we've met before," he started extending a polite hand to you, smile fully popping with dimples now even though those moles on his chin eclipsed them fully. "I'm-"

"Akira Shinkai," you cut him off breathless, grabbing his hand in excitement. "You've been in Sigma Academy. You're also the youngest of the junior series that got picked to drive at a top team and you hold countless records on track. You're a legend," you said all of that in one breath.

His head dipped, ears going the smallest tint of pink, as did your cheeks at the realization that you were kind of fangirling over him big time. Who wouldn't if they had the chance to stumble upon rally royalty? Dad doesn't count. He's expired already.

"And you're Rai Suruki."

He knows my name.

"I saw your stage back there," he added.

All your excitement washed away at the mention of your near fuck up of a race.

"Yeah," you rubbed the back of your neck. "It wasn't my best."

"Are you joking?!" His chocolate orbs widened at you like you said something wrong. "That was some badass understeer maneuvering if I've ever seen any. You're the legend here."

Oh. That was unexpected. Getting complimented by one of the current best drivers in rally racing like you didn't step into the car just yesterday. It got your heart thundering in your chest, rising the blood to your cheeks once again.

"T-thank you," you cleared your throat looking away. "You did great too," you hit back remembering his insane lap time on the board. His smile only deepened at that.

"They do have some good sandwiches here," he pointed at the van behind you. By the looks of it, he was a regular at the stand. Even the older lady at the till gave him a smile in recognition that he reciprocated just as warmly.

"Too bad they only have one left," you sighed defeated, looking back at the lone sandwich.

"You can have it," he urged.

"No, I'm good," you waved him off. "I was craving something else anyway."

"You sure?" he quipped an eyebrow, not really buying your retreat.

Well, you did bump into him almost decking him over to buy it. Looking back and forth between his brown eyes and the deliciously packed sandwich on the other side of the glass window, bacon and salad leaves hanging so appetizing on the side of the bread, you nodded.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

No, you weren't sure. You were far from sure. But you weren't about to have the who gets the sandwich dispute. Passing him one last smile and another speedy apology for bumping into him, you walked off with your tail between your legs before he could argue.

That looked like the best sandwich on earth. Everything looks delicious to you when you're hungry, Rai. Well yeah, but that one might've tasted heavenly. Too late now.

You roved around the rest of the stands, trying not to breathe in too much of the smell of barbecued meat and fries and salad and all the delicacies that could be in your stomach already but lingered in the air instead. The other stalls at the end of the food court had insane long queues or no food available yet since they were still cooking the late batches.

I'll have more luck in the forest at this point.

A hand grabbed your arm out of nowhere. You were about to sucker punch its owner when you came face to face with Akira once more. He ducked out of the way and caught your fist before it could plant itself in his face.

"What-"

He held up the large bacon and ham sandwich between you as a sign of peace. "This sandwich is way too big for me to eat alone. Wanna share with me?"

"Are you sure? I don't wanna steal your lunch." You lowered your fist down. "We barely get to eat as is."

"Which is why you should have some before we're called back," he pushed it to you again, hopeful that you would accept his friendly offer. Before you could even debate it, your stomach grumbled loudly making him laugh. "I guess that settles it."

"Fine," you gave in.

You found a table off the radar just at the edge of the food court, beside a luscious green patch of dense forest, away from perpetrators like the press or the crew. Birds chirped around in the trees, sun shining so bright you were glad for the umbrella above. It was a little corner of quiet in the chaos. Akira sat down opposite you, pulling out a cup filled with fries to the brim out of thin air.

"Where'd you nick that from?"

"A fan gave it to me."

That must happen quite a lot if he just willingly accepted stuff. Was he sure it's not poisoned or something? Your stomach rumbled again in need of fuel. Ah well, might as well die by eating french fries.

Splitting the sandwich in half, you knocked the halves together like a toast and dove in. The soft baguette melted into your mouth along with the perfectly greased bacon, the squishy ham and the rest of the salad leaves and round tomato slices. It even had a nice sauce on the inside. He was right. They do make some mean sandwiches.

Shimmying out of your suit to cool off, you were left in your fireproofs, letting the breeze card through your hair, enjoying the food in sheer delight. The adrenaline rush came and went so fast back there on track that it took most of your energy with it. Filling up with food was the only way to restore it and if it was good food, you were guaranteed to get it all back quicker.

"This sandwich is so good," you mumbled with your mouth full.

"I told you," he mused through big bites of his own.

"Yeah, you did," you chuckled.

You both finished the food and sat in a comforting silence. Drawing random patterns in the wooden table, you felt this sudden need to find out more about the man before you. Though you weren't sure what to even ask since most of his information was out there thanks to his fangirls. By god, you weren't one of them, but you did know a lot about him. Okay, maybe more than a normal person should know about him, but alas.

Just when you mustered up a question he beat you to it.

"Have you been racing for long?"

"For about 8 years now. Started with karting, made my way through the juniors for a bit and some lower series and now I'm here."

"I bet it's nice having someone like your dad support you in it." He looked down at the scrunched up sandwich wrapper in his hands, passing it from one to the other with something akin to bitterness in his eyes that went away as quick as it came.

"It is," you nodded with a meek smile. "Most of the time anyway. It's hard trying to revive a dead team after so long but I'm trying my best."

"Are you trying for yourself or for him?"

That was a damn good question. You never thought about it in depth before. You jumped up at the thought of finally being helpful with something that you and your dad both loved with a strong passion. But was it for him, to make him forget the pain and move on from the past? Or was it for you and ensuring you had some kind of a better future doing something you loved? Beats me.

"I think maybe a bit of both?" you said, unsure of which one weighed more or less than the other.

"Eh, it doesn't really matter," he said softly leaning back to stretch his shoulders. "You've been here for two days and you're already showing results others would dream of having so early in their career. Give yourself some credit," he ended with a knock on the wooden table, pointing back at you.

You stared at him in awe. He really was so well-spoken. That and the fact he glowed like an angel with a missing halo above his head. Or maybe it was the afternoon sun shining warmly over him.

"Thanks," you replied sheepishly. "What about you? Why does Akira Shinkai race?"

He smiled looking at the ground and sat thinking for a while. You just looked at him soaking even more of his calm presence in. His chin laid on top of his palm, eyes peering off in the distance like you just asked him what he had for breakfast Wednesday last week. Then his eyes suddenly lit up.

"I want to become someone people look up to. I've always liked cars of all kinds and the minute I sat down in a go-kart I just knew I wanted to race. I guess I kinda wanted to feel that thrill on a daily basis," he chuckled at which you laughed a little too.

"Sureeeee, 'cause going at lightning speed on some of the most dangerous roads known to men multiple times a day is everyone's dream when they get in bed at night."

"Maybe it is. Who are we to judge?" he lifted his hands up in surrender making you laugh some more.

On the way back to the station, you both talked some more. About your hopes and dreams, your families, and the rest of the stages left. You both cursed the damn track that nearly totaled your cars and found out you had a lot in common. Behind that idol-like presences in the media, he was actually a very laid-back guy.

Coming up to your pen, he smiled warmly at you once more. That sweet, honey-dripping, serotonin-inducing smile. Talking to him put you in such good vibes that you forgot all about what made you upset before. Until you felt the energies shift for the negative at your back.

Whirling around, you came face to face with Naozumi. He seemed a tad bit calmer than before when he used his mechanic as an emotional punching bag, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Spotting you, he threw that unnerving shit-eating grin on his face sending it your way with a small wave. All your good spirits warded off at the gesture.

You abstained from throwing him a middle finger in response settling on a scowl. Then his eyes went to your lunch companion, throwing him a way more conceited smile. Akira stiffened beside you for a moment, zeroing in on the other driver, before he turned back to you in a haste like he was suddenly in a rush.

"Good luck out there."

"You too."

"See you around," he bid you goodbye, regarding Naozumi with another loaded look before he went on his way.

You lingered by the team banner, watching his back retreat farther in the distance before it disappeared into his team's red and black pen at the end of the paddock lines. At least one of these men knew how to politely introduce themselves.

Spinning back, you caught Naozumi still behind you simply watching you with some kind of assertiveness that pushed your buttons. You wanted to ask if he needed help finding respect and manners when he just walked off to his own pen. Weird.

Walking to your car, you came face to face with Don Tanaka's sharp stare. What is it with men and staring today? His foot tapped the cement so fast you were sure it could drill a hole to the other end of the planet if he amped the speed just a tiny bit. It was the kind of staredown you get after going to a party with the popular clique, getting home past your curfew. The one that also meant your pocket money would cease their presence in your wallet for a month.

"What?" you gulped out, confused at being received so warmly.

"Why are you fraternising with the enemies?"

"Enemies?" you paused, even more dumbfounded. "I'm not following."

"Naozumi Hiyama and Akira Shinkai," he shook his head in disappointment. "Do I need to remind you we don't need press to jump on us and that your father kinda has a bad history with their teams?"

"Whoa, hold on. Rewind the CD. What do you mean by bad history?"

He walked you off to the deserted lounge area by the pen, making sure you were alone. In all the years you've known him, you've never once seen him this stressed. The man was a trainer. If anything, he was the stress.

"Sigma Racing's team principal used to race your father back in the day. They used to be sort of best friends, if we put it that way."

"What happened?"

"Once they got past the junior series, they both went after the same team and your father got picked instead of him. It all turned really sour between them after that."

"How sour are we talking?" you interjected. "Like gooseberries or those really sour gummy jellies that you choke on when the sugar bits get stuck in your throat?" He threw you a look asking for more seriousness. "Okay, continue."

"Sour in the sense that he tried to sabotage your dad every chance he got. Be it in racing or life itself. He never liked seeing him so successful, always living in the shadows of the second place on the podium, with his own racing, with his team, even with business. Being second to everything your father did got to him in the worst ways. Your father didn't even mean it to be that way."

"He tried to make amends, didn't he?"

Knowing your father he probably tried to mend that crack in their friendship until there was no more glue left in the world to put the pieces back together.

"Every chance he got. They were so close it was hard to even watch it fall apart from the sidelines."

Sounds like dad.

Rewinding back to the whole enemies part, you failed to see where Akira and Naozumi stood in this story.

"But Akira isn't related to that guy," you pointed out. "He just drives under him."

"Yes, but Sigma Racing didn't become one of the top teams in Japanese rally through genuine hard work," he sighed heavily. "A lot of people are unaware of this because they hid it well," he leaned in closer, warily looking left and right before continuing, "but they pulled a lot of strings to get to where they are today. Some of them not through the finest approaches."

You wouldn't question that information since Tanaka worked as a trainer for them for a while. But you did wonder just how much dirt he had on them. But that was a rabbit hole to dive into another day.

Okay, so Sigma Racing was red flagged before you even looked their way. Thankfully, no one knew you tried out as a ghost driver for them about a year ago or it would raise a scandal that would send your father to the intensive care unit. Throwing that to the side you went to the other walking red flag deemed as an enemy.

"What about Naozumi?"

"Well, not Naozumi directly, but Tsuzuki, Spica Racing's director. He used to be a shareholder in Suruki Racing before the team fell apart. He was your father's biggest sponsor, providing most of the parts for the cars. One day, right before chaos started raining down on the team, he retracted all his support just like that," he snapped his fingers, "out of nowhere."

"Without a notice?"

He shook his head. "None. He cut down all ties with your father without a solid reason."

"Okay, but Naozumi and Akira don't seem to have anything to do with this mess. It seems like more of an old generation battle we don't want to be part of."

"I really hope you won't get dragged into this mess," he rubbed the edges of his moustache. Something he did when he was really worried. "What I mean with all this is that I just want you to keep an eye out. Rally racing is a dirty world. You never know who's out to get you."

Great. Now I have to watch out for every breathing soul around me. Never a dull moment here.

A loud voice boomed over the surrounding speakers around the paddock, announcing that the next and last stage of the day starts in half an hour.

"Let's get you ready."

The last stage of the day went better than you expected it to. The course was a full tarmac one this time with really wide corners. You only had to look out for dips beside it where your rear could slip and get pinched, and the dangerous sharp corners where the crowds loved to gather like sacrificial lambs. The car held a lot better too, gripping the road firmly on all turns.

Without further damage on the car, you finished fifth this time around, sandwiched in between Akira and Naozumi on the scoreboard. The latter had another mishap in a turn nearly ending up in a ditch again. There were fumes coming out of his ears rather than the engine when he got out of the car, ready to throttle anyone in his way, but at least it wasn't another DNF to shatter some more of his pride.

Surprisingly, your father plied himself away from the office headquarters in the hotel and came down to the station to congratulate the team on their efforts. You waited at the end of the line, watching as he smiled and patted everyone's shoulders for the good work. When he came to you, he stopped, smile slightly falling around the edges.

You had a hot and cold relationship with him. Most times it was the latter, cutting icy through the days when you were in the car. He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a squeeze in support then turned back to everyone. That was as much as you'd get for now.

"I know you all must be tired," he started, taking in the sullen faces around the pen. "But our official car show is on later tonight in the hotel events hall. Go rest, dress up and come have a drink on the house."

That damn car show. You would rather be anywhere else than interacting with more people. You kind of had your social battery drained out for the rest of the day and it was barely 5 pm. But you had to be there for your father and the team.

Shortly after, the team dispersed to each their own. You trudged back to the hotel and had a well-deserved relaxing shower, washing off the fumes and sweat. When you came out, you were met with a dozen shiny designer bags all over the floor and your bed, together with your extremely stressed PR Agent.

Kate Yuzumi, or Yuzu (how you called her when she became a stress ball about to explode into pieces), has been in charge of your press-related endeavours for as long as you've been racing. She lived a huge chunk of her life in the States, before her parents returned back with her in tow. Now in her late 20s, she worked under your father, managing every little detail about your public image. She was also your only female friend in an overtly masculine rally world, just like you were hers.

She was the best at her job. A lioness in the wild jungle occupied by so many tigers. But there were times where she let it eat at her sanity, like now for example. She ran a mad hand through her long amber hair, messing around the soft caramel highlights on top as she paced your hotel suite from corner to corner, scribbling down in her notebook in a very frustrating manner. One harder press of that ball point pen and she would put a hole through the lined paper.

You cleared your throat announcing your presence. She whirled around to you, eyes blazing in a frenzy.

"Finally, you're out," she breathed out in relief. "Any longer and I would've called reception to cut down the water supply in your room."

"Really funny," you narrowed your eyes at her. "What's with all this?" you nodded at the endless heaps of bags littered around the room. You walked to one of the closest bags, decked in baby pink and paper ruffles, digging your hand through it to pull out a shimmery black dress.

"You need to look your best tonight. It's the first car show the team is having in years and your father insisted you dress accordingly."

You let the material slip out of your hands with a disgusted look on your face. One that she caught right away.

"No sulking or trying to evade it, Rai." She came up to you and placed both of her hands on your shoulders. "You're the only driver Suruki Racing has. You represent the team and you need to be there tonight, as boring and daunting as you may find it. Your father needs you there," she said softly, rubbing her thumbs over the bathrobe you wore. You gave her a look telling her you weren't in the mood to be poster girl after today.

"It'll be over before you know it," she urged.

"Yeah right," you blew a raspberry. "Those things always last so long."

"Well, you are part of this world now. So, woman up and go take charge of it," she smiled brightly, sounding so encouraging that it lit up a spark of content in you.

Slumping your shoulders with a pout, you decide there is no point in fighting it. The last time you tried to avoid an official event by hiding in the team garage, your father grounded you by having Tanaka train you like you were getting shipped to a Bear Grylls episode the next day. The very skin on your bones hurt like you saw hell briefly after that. Not doing that one again.

"Fine," you gave in. "Help me pick something normal out of this hurricane of clothes. It looks like a unicorn puked in here."

"A very stylish one," she held up a finger.

She ushered you back to the bathroom, picking up a hair dryer, a few dresses laid out on your bed and some branded makeup bags on the way. "Come on, we're running out of time. The event starts in two hours and you're far from ready."

Dolled up rather uncomfortably, you made your way to the event hall. Your heels clicked against the dark floors, looking at the décor your dad planned - gold and blue was the theme present all around. From the tables to the chairs decked in light sparkles to the crystal bar at the right of the stage lit up in blue with rows of champagne glasses, the team colours were everywhere in elegant and deep tones. Your father had a thing for interior design even if he denied it. Tanaka always joked he could work in the field if he ever got tired of racing.

It wasn't long before the hall was filled with chatter. You didn't expect so many people to come. Most were probably curious about you rather than the car or your dad's attempt at trying to be the main event again. Press came early and took up a lot of space, likely hoping to get a scoop of info out of you. Even the team principals, some drivers and bosses of other teams made their presence felt.

Your dad was busy greeting the crowd, shaking hands with that golden boy smile plastered on his face at all times. You hardly even got a chance to see him this week. While you've been stuck in training, testing and racing, he's been hauled up in the conference rooms going over paperwork or talking business night and day. The few nights you did get together, you would sit at dinner and make small talk, keeping to each their own.

Ever since he started revamping the team, he drowned himself in it completely. Not body and soul like before, but quite close to a robot devoid of feelings. Like he needed to breathe that success back into it no matter what.

With a troubled sigh, you stretched a hand to the bar to grab a glass of champagne. Your co-driver joined you, a glass of white wine in his hand.

"Champagne should be for the podium," he teased.

"It should be for whatever I want it to be," you stated, taking a sip in small vengeance.

"And what is it for now?"

Tanaka rounded around you, leaning against the bar next to you. You just stared ahead at your father, taking a bigger gulp of the alcohol with bitterness. He smiled at the two of you in sympathy.

"Nothing," you smiled back in reassurance, focusing on the swirl of the mellow golden liquid in your glass.

"He'll come around. Just give him time."

You nodded, more to yourself. Hopefully he will do it before he runs himself into the ground from stress. To see me race and be a father sometime like we promised. Following him through the crowd, you spotted him still in his tracks losing the dazzling smile on his face for a moment and sure enough you saw why.

Right in front of him sat Sigma Racing's team principal. Raven-haired in a clean dark suit, about the same age as your father, just a little more battered by it. The crooked grin on his face resembled a scowl so alarming, even you got angry at the condescending look he gave your father. They both held each other in a strong gaze, filled with a lot of ire, tension from it drifting away to the rest of the hall till it reached even you by the bar at the back.

Your father extended a somewhat friendly hand his way. A luxury he probably didn't deserve. The other man simply looked at it, scrunching his dark brow in suspicion before he shook it with a firm grip. Some words were exchanged between them, by the looks of it not that peaceful then they let go of each other. Just when you thought the great Hiro Suruki couldn't be moved, he looked like a boulder bigger than him just shoved him to the side of the road. There had to be more than just bad blood between them.

Before you knew it the event was in tow. The classical music drew out to a minor background noise for a tap of the microphone grabbing everyone's attention. Your father finally took to the stage, letting his prepared speech roll off his tongue like charmspeak.

"Hello and welcome everyone!"

He was welcomed himself by a big round of applause. Huh, he still has it. Fixing the bowtie matching his beige suit he continued even more relaxed.

"For those who don't know me, shame on you," he chuckled and the crowd followed. You could see so many familiar faces in the audience, there would hardly be anyone who didn't know him.

"For those who do, thank you for supporting me all these years with good thoughts. Or bad. We accept those too." That drew another laugh from the crowd.

"After nearly ten long years, Suruki Racing is back in business and better than ever. We started again from zero, putting everything into a new car, keeping the old glamour of the team, bringing in new spirits," he spared you a glance. "We couldn't have done this without you, the team and the star driver representing us on track."

Oh, no, no, no. Please don't call me up on stage. Please let me sit on the sidelines. Please, please, please.

"Please welcome my daughter."

Fuck me. At least don't use the government name.

"Raiko Suruki, the lightning strike powering Suruki Racing."

He used the government name.

Throwing back the rest of your champagne, you went up the stairs floating on the sound of breaking applauses and joined him on stage with a smile matching his extremely bright and fake one. This was all for show. No one gave a rat's ass about it anyway. But out of politeness and respect for your father you went with it.

Camera flashes burned in your vision from all corners of the room, momentarily blinding you as the press snapped pictures of you. Once you reached him, he turned to you with a grin. "Would you like to do the honours?"

Going behind the curtains, you got in the freshly polished rally car and turned it on, greeted by the purr of the engine as you gave it a good powerful rev announcing its arrival before you drove it on stage. The instrumental music boomed again as you reached the crowd, trumpets carrying out over the noise of the engine. You gave it a few more revs to drown out that horrible music. Your father laughed nervously as he turned to you with gritted teeth, shooting you a look to cut it out before he spinned back to the public with a smile.

Getting out of the car, you went to get off the stage thinking that was all when he called you over again. Mentally groaning that you couldn't get back to the shadows of the bar faster, you turned back and headed for him. He took a few questions from the press while you sat by his side, looking pretty, zoning out in your own world. That was until the press started directing questions at you and the microphone was pushed in your hand.

"What-," you let out, the sound of your uncalibrated voice bouncing off the speakers with a screech. "Sorry about that," you laughed nervously. "What was the question again?"

"Why did you choose to race in your father's team?" asked a female journalist. "From your broad skill set and experience, you could've been picked by any other team on the grid."

A shit show. That was what this was.

"Uhm," you paused, trying to think of something smart to say. Kate didn't really prepare you for this. You scanned the crowd, catching her figure by the bar at the far left. She rolled her hands around motioning you to just talk. Just wing it.

"I wanted to stay within the family business and help dad," you looked over at him giving him a sweeter and truer smile than the crowd could ever pull out of you, "get his dream up and running again. Suruki Racing means the world to him and it means the world to me to see him happy."

At that, his features softened and he looked like your dad for once tonight, under all the spotlight and glamour. He mouthed a subtle "Thank you" under his nose that you caught when you looked back at him. "Always" you mouthed back.

Thinking that was all, you prepared to pass the mic back to him when another reporter shoved a question your way.

"Why did Suruki Racing choose a female driver out of the wider talent pool out there?" asked a male reporter this time, his gaze piercing through you with something utterly similar to distaste.

Even the public turned their eyes on him, appalled at the tone but just as curious at the answer he would receive, focusing back on you.

One - he was clearly implying that you didn't have a talent for driving, comparing you to the other people in the junior series who were all predominantly men. Two - he was making it even more obvious that females didn't belong in the sport from the way he accentuated the words female driver like it was a bad omen. Three - the way he asked the question made your skin crawl with hot blood.

Before your dad could take your mic and reply to the question that was obviously meant for you, you lifted it back to your lips and stared the man down with all your might.

"Suruki Racing didn't choose me," you seethed, calm and collected. "I worked my ass off for it until I got good enough for the sport to accept me."

A few heads in the crowd nodded in acknowledgment at your words. It was hard to get into a rally team for everyone, not just women. But the reporter still wasn't satisfied with your response and he made that clear with his next affirmation.

"That doesn't answer my question," he shot back, obviously trying to get a reaction out of you.

Prove them wrong, echoed Tanaka's words in your head. Don't let them get to you. Keeping your composure level-headed without giving him the satisfaction to see your rage, you replied.

"Suruki Racing picked me out of the wider talent pool out there because I proved myself to be a capable rally driver."

"A capable rally driver doesn't put the car in a ditch mid-race," he argued, still not backing down.

This dude was looking for a bone to pick with the wrong dog.

"No," you countered. "A capable rally driver gets third place first time on the job and overcomes challenges rather than giving into them like most of your very talented idols must be doing."

He threw his head back, barking a laugh so irritating it got harder to keep calm and carry on being civil.

"That was just pure luck."

"Pure luck will not be my foot through-" your face, you wanted to say but stopped.

You leaned towards him a bit too menacingly, forgetting that everyone else was kinda there, watching it all unfold. Waiting for you to step wrong. He didn't deserve the mercy for that potty mouth of his. But this was too public to cause a scene. Straightening back, you coughed awkwardly.

"Through the gas pedal each race. I'm here to compete for Suruki Racing and I will do so until the team no longer wants me."

With that you shut him up and handed the mic back to your father who nodded at you in contentment.

"I think that was all for our Q&A session. Please enjoy the rest of tonight and good luck in tomorrow's stages!"

Finally off the stage, you went back to the bar and hogged a few more glasses of champagne. Thinking this was just the beginning and much worse awaited you was unnerving to say the least. You were downing your third glass when jet black hair appeared in your peripheral vision. Looking over you found a really amused Naozumi peering right back at you. He checked you out shamelessly, letting his dark eyes browse you from top to bottom.

Kate picked out a midnight blue satin dress for you, hugging your curves in all the right places, with a huge back drop exposing your behind. A semi-precious trail of shimmering stones fell down your back from where the straps were joined, all the way to your lower back where it connected with the rest of the dress. Your hair was pulled into a braided bun, little side pieces framing your face softly. You looked less like yourself and more like one of those models he hangs out with on the usual.

Letting your eyes do the same, you lingered on his own attire. He wore a navy suit tailored to his body a bit larger than his tight racing suit, giving him a broader form but still rounding around his bulky biceps with a strain. His hair was no longer a messy bird's nest from the helmet, fixed into a neat hairstyle. His dark strands sat so thick and orderly in small waves, it was hard to believe this was the same hair those heavy hands rove through like it was an Olympic sport.

The man could really look his million dollar smile when he wanted to.

"Didn't think you'd be here tonight," you mused, playing around with the champagne in your glass.

"I kinda have a thing for public humiliation," he beamed, giving you that smirk reserved for the masses of ladies waiting to fall at his feet.

Some of them already clocked him next to you, batting their mascara filled eye lashes at him in thirst for a piece of him. You wondered how it felt being one of them. So smitten and drawn to him like he wasn't the biggest red flag on earth.

"Oh well, I would say you came to the right place for that." You took a bigger sip from the glass, letting the dry bubbly liquid run down your throat. "But you do that after every race by yourself anyways, no offence."

"None taken," he replied, leaning on the bar to browse the bottles on the racks illuminated by led lights.

Surprised that he didn't argue on that observation like it was his nature to, at practically every single thing that annoyed him, you regarded him once more. He seemed oddly calm. Maybe way too calm. But then again, you met the guy like a handful of times. You didn't know him that well. Maybe he had his good and bad days and the ones on track were the bad kind.

He looked like a tough nut to crack. He definitely had more layers than the racing suit he wore. And if anything, Naozumi Hiyama was a puzzle you were better off leaving wrapped up on the shelf for now.

His deep voice cut through the animated chatter around you, grabbing your attention once more.

"That was really ballsy back there, rookie," he said with a wry smile.

He was talking about your near assault on that reporter that was looking for a tabloid story. He watched the exchange from the back of the hall with slight irritation himself. If that was him in your shoes, he would've punched the guy multiple times just to get all his questions out in a more productive way.

"One more word and I would've kicked his balls to Narnia."

A deep chuckle rumbled out of his throat at that. You knew what you signed up for coming into this world and he respected that. Some of the fuckers that have been here for longer didn't even have that decency.

He eyed the glasses of champagne next to you, stacked high in several pyramids. You moved to the side thinking he wanted one. He shook his head, asking the bartender for whiskey on the rocks instead. It suited him much better than champagne for some reason. Just like whiskey, there was this strong hit about him at first sight, so smooth and raw with his words, that blended into a surprisingly bittersweet aftertaste just like his smile. The ice crashing in the glass only added to that hard exterior he put up for the world.

You were curious if he was this icy with everyone. Was his interior just as arctic and brutal to someone who made the effort to get through to him or was Naozumi Hiyama an impenetrable iceberg that sunk all the ships of amicable intent? And now you were curious about the very devil you were warned to stay away from.

Get your bearings around, Rai. He's danger in far more ways than you can think of.

"Champagne is only for podium," he piped up.

"Ah, not you too," you rolled your eyes.

Was it a men thing that you weren't aware of? Why did you have to celebrate something huge to pop open a bottle of champagne?

Last time I checked, whiskey was more expensive than champagne.

"Tradition is tradition," he simply shrugged.

"Is it bad luck or something?" you leaned over with interest, trying to gauge out the meaning of this weird tradition. Or rather the meaning it held for him.

He lifted up his raven eyes from the drink, glass steaming at the contact with his warm hand. Pointing them with measured grip on your own, the corner of his lip tilted up in experienced manner. Like he's seen the worst of it if he gave in to the will of Dionysus with so much as a small sip of champagne before the big day. You didn't take him for a superstitious person until now. But that look told you he was its victim many times. Who would've thought that Naozumi believes in karma.

"Don't jinx what you don't know," he stated, like a silent mantra he recited to himself all the time.

To beware the unknown and leave it to fate. Control what you know, not what you don't. Just like your pre-race ritual.

Maybe you were more alike than you thought. Not temper wise. He won that part fair and square with the outbursts he had after nearly every race. But in other parts of common ground. You wondered what else was silently shared between you.

Before you could peer more into the wild force of nature beside you, you were joined by another one, much more brighter and cheerful than the storm at your left, but still as deadly as a tornado behind the wheel.

"There you were," interjected a soft voice from your right.

Akira joined in the conversation, briefly regarding Naozumi with a smug grin. You gave Akira a small smile, turning back to find that Naozumi made himself scarce with his glass of whiskey by the time you looked from one to the other. He had this weird habit of waltzing in and lighting up all your curiosities then leaving just when you were about to satisfy them. Browsing the crowd for him, you found no trace of him.

"Here I am," you replied back, brushing off the meek interaction with the other man. "Were you looking for me?"

The music slowed to a slow melodious tune that stabbed your ears painfully. Curse your father for his very bland taste in music. You'd expect more from someone with a golden earring that blasts Metallica every morning as his alarm. He wanted to look good to the world but this was actually how he killed all excitement. Not that this event even had excitement in the first place. Unless you counted your stage debut for an entertainment moment.

A few couples in the crowd took to the dance floor, swaying lightly on their feet. Team principals with their wives, mechanics with their spouses, a few drivers and their model girlfriends too. They drew each other close, dancing on the tempo of a slow mellow waltz. You never understood what it was about slow music that was so alluring to people and drew them together to hold each other so close. For one moment where they danced like their souls connected, they forgot everything about their problems and the reality of the life we were all living. Not running at full speed. Simply just being.

"I have been looking for you," said Akira, rather excited about something.

He offered his hand to you in the most gentlemanly way someone of the opposite gender ever did towards you. The kind of gentleman you see in those princess movies, where the girl gets whisked away by the nicest guy, golden carriages and diamond tiaras included. You swore you could see his eyes sparkle like stars lost in the resolute distance of the night sky. Or it was just the drunken haze of the champagne talking.

"Would you care for a dance?"

He asked so softly with that dizzying smile of his that it made your knees weak.

Dancing with the Akira Shinkai? A hallucination surely.

There was no way this prince charming came out of nowhere and asked you, a nobody yet, to dance. That and the fact that you weren't even supposed to be talking to him, considering everything Tanaka told you. Plus the previous heated interaction between your team leaders. A heavy mix of feelings that kinda weren't yours, but your father's.

"Okay," you yelped.

Okay? Rai Suruki. Akira Shinkai of Sigma Racing asks you if you care for a dance and you say okay?

He led you to the edge of the dance floor, placing his hands around your waist to pull you closer. You weren't sure what to do with your own, setting them against his chest for now. He swayed you side to side to the slow music. You focused on his deep brown eyes, getting sucked into their void with each sway. They were so big and round.

Conversation, Rai. Make some conversation.

"Thank you for the sandwich earlier today."

Great. 'Cause talking about sandwiches is conversation.

"No problem. I saw it got you a few places up the board."

"But it brought you down a few," you looked up at him, feeling a little responsible for that.

On the crescendo of a soft violin aria, he spun you out, bringing you back in closer than before. Your hands weren't pressed to his chest anymore, but circled around his shoulders to keep your balance. Your faces were so close that your breaths were nearly brushing off each other's lips. When did he get so close?

His lips parted catching the attention of your eyes instantly. Those were some delicious rosy lips if you've seen any. Get a grip Rai. Mentally scolding yourself for the inadequate direction your thoughts were going in, you focused back on his eyes. Though even that was a mistake.

"If anything, it wasn't half a sandwich that made me lose places," he chuckled, eyes crinkling into crescent shapes. "This tour is so complicated. I hate it with a passion."

"That I can agree with," you giggled.

The song changed to a really sad tune, slightly upbeat violin changed for the sorrowful piano in the back, drowning out every bit of energy you had left for the day just like that. That's it. If this continued any longer, you'd fall asleep standing.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?"

Heading for the dj booth on top of the stage, you climbed up the steps careful not to trip in your heels and cause yet another scene. You walked behind the dj and nudged his shoulder. He put down his headphones wondering what it was you wanted.

"For the love of god, please change the playlist," you asked, prying your hands together.

He looked at you briefly, thinking he'd get away with just a song request from you. Too bad he just met the one person in this room who didn't mess around when it came to music.

"This is what Mr. Suruki said to play," he spoke over the track, moving to put his headphones back up when you nudged him again. You weren't leaving until he changed the disk. Even if it involved violence.

"The crowd is dying out there," you motioned to the public that was genuinely exhausted and bored out of their mind. "Here," you fished out your phone and connected it to his laptop before he could complain about you hogging his deck, pulling up a file on his laptop and downloading it. "Play this mix."

"Won't that get me in trouble?"

"I'll make sure he pays double."

That seemed to convince him. He gave the mix a quick listen through his headphones, eyes widening at the music choice. Even his face brightened as he gave you a thumbs up.

You walked off the stage going back to join the small crowd. A few moments passed and the sorrowful instrumentals faded into energetic electronic dance beats. People sitting around the tables moved back on the dance floor, this time getting into it better than soft waltz music could make them dance. The lights dimmed to a steep blue, letting a light show peak through. You successfully turned the event hall in a club.

You got back to Akira, a knowing smirk on his face.

"You are full of surprises, Rai Suruki," he grinned.

You bopped your head to the beat, moving your hips in sync with the music, feeling awakened rather than half-asleep. The alcohol finally pumped through your body along with the deep bass, sending the blood in your veins running like waves on an open sea. Your hands latched back on Akira's making him move with you in languid moves.

"Just wait till you get to know me better," you yelled over the music.

He snorted at you with a shake of his head, that turned into a full laugh carrying over the music. You made Akira snort. Double points in the charisma book. He whirled you around, back crashing into his chest. A confident hand sneaked around you to pull you closer by your waist, now moving hip to hip to the song. His lips brushed to your ear without warning.

"This dj is so good," he whispered, sending chills down your spine.

The whole mood shifted around you with the next song, so full of life and energized. Some people in the crowd yelled the lyrics, throwing their hands in the air. He seemed to enjoy himself too as the man on the deck pumped up the speakers even louder, letting the mix boom out and rouse the spirits.

You simply nodded with a small smile. The dj was good for sure. That and the fact that he was kinda dancing with her.

Showered once more, to get rid of all the makeup, and in the comfort of your loose nightwear, you finally dove head first into the bed like a submarine submerging in the depths of the mattress, snuggling your head into the silky pillows on the bed. Your silky soft pillows that you packed everywhere you went. Who trusts those hard hotel deadlifts under their head? Not what you wanted to lay on after being pushed around in a sports two-seater the size of a space capsule.

Getting comfy under the covers, you let out a sigh of content at the warmth enveloping your body in each and every neatly tucked in corner under you. You closed your eyes, willing mother sleep to take you into her loving arms and lull you into deep, restful slumber.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day with the last round of the Tokai track and you could use better points after today's performance. Going for podium wasn't even in the cards yet. The car had better days ahead of it. You had to keep from pushing it more than necessary. But the points could help you catch up.

The lights dimmed down in the room, the jungle outside the hotel ceased riveting and it was just peace and quiet. Perfect, serene and silent.

You were barely hanging on the last brink of consciousness when something rattled against the wall behind your head. Your eyes flew open checking around the room and the headboard to be met by the quiet pitch black again. The headboard was still where it should be, no sign of anything that could move it. Shrugging it off, you crashed back into your pillows and tried to go back to sleep.

Until you heard that sound again. And again. The third time, it was accompanied by an awfully female voice struggling to moan. What the fuck? It grew quiet again, then all of a sudden you could hear her loud and clear, pushing that really annoying mewl out of her throat in sync with the banging in the wall. Pulling your other pillow over your ears, you tried drowning the lewd sounds out but it only proved futile as the minutes on the nightstand clock passed and she was still struggling to commit to one fucking tone to come to.

For the ever-loving shit of sleep.

Throwing away the covers, you left the amazing comfort of the bed and wore your slippers. You flung the door open, marching down the corridor to the room next door. The moaning was even louder out here, bouncing off the walls like it was played from speakers. You stopped in front of the door, banging on it with bubbling annoyance at being denied sleep due to someone prioritizing their funky time more than the peace of other people under the same roof.

All sounds stopped upon your angry knocks. Crossing your arms over your chest, you blew out a breath waiting for the resident of the room to open the door. Then it dawned on you that you weren't sure just what you were going to tell them and how they were going to react.

Would they make it a big deal that you cockblocked their big night? Hopefully not. What if they deck you in the wall for interrupting? You looked behind at the hard wall decorated with a lamp and gulped. I have martial arts training.

You tapped your foot anxiously thinking of an amicable solution when the door finally pried open revealing an almost naked Naozumi, wearing only a pair of black briefs that sat way too tight around his jewels for your liking. You choked on air. Dear lord. Your jaw dropped somewhere to the first of lava at the center of the earth as you took him in.

His neatly arranged jet black hair was now a thick mess straying in all sides from possibly being grabbed at with womanly strength. Only a woman hungry enough for a taste of him would do that kind of mess. Something stirred deep down inside of you at the sight. You didn't like it one bit.

Your eyes trailed down his exposed torso taking in every ridge of muscle from his toned pumped up pecs, the carved squares of his abs that might as well be the best washboard you've ever seen, to his veiny biceps curling around his middle before you could take a peak at what lay beneath his belly button as he leaned on the door frame.

Heat crawled up your neck the longer you stared at him unable to tear your eyes away. By god was he handsome. And hot. Hotter than hell could ever burn.

He watched your shameless perusal, making sure to catch the pink tint spreading across your cheeks and the way your tongue swiped over your bottom lip in thinking, things at which he chuckled lowly. Openly checking him out like this was unlike you and he was curious just how far you'd take it if he just let you. Testing it out, he unraveled a hand away, watching your eyes instantly latch on his lower abs like a cat jumping after a laser. He shifted on his legs, causing the muscles on his waist to bend on one side and stretch on the other. He was so broad and big, it overwhelmed you.

You knew he was packed just from sneaking glances at those white fireproofs, catching them strain underneath with each move of his body, but this was next level. You looked at the power nestled between his meaty thighs and swallowed a thick gulp of air, reeling back up his body. Sweat glistened on the trunk of his neck under the flickering light of the corridor - a clear product of what he was up to before you interrupted.

The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall brought you out of your daze like a truck hit you at full speed, then rammed over you again backwards.

You were in the hallway of the rally teams hotel, looking at a very naked and sweaty Naozumi. You cockblocked Naozumi Hiyama of all people. The playboy extraordinaire. You'd be lucky if you got out of this unscathed. Or with your braincells intact because the longer you stared at his abs or the dip in the crook of his neck you lost a huge amount of them.

"Can I help you?" he asked, irritating smirk that's been slowly getting under your skin bright as day on his face.

"Yes," your voice came out on a broken pitch. You cleared your throat trying again more sure of yourself. "Yes you can."

You struggled to look away. It was physically impossible to when he looked like one of those ivory sculptures of naked Greek gods you see in museums. Though he wasn't fully naked like them. Okay, let's lose the word 'naked'.

Your train of thought got stopped by his smooth voice, slightly tinted with amusement.

"What is it I can help you with?"

That seemed to oil your brain back to work.

"Can you stop moaning so loud? Some of us are trying to get some sleep," you looked him dead in the eye.

"That wasn't me," he said, moving to the side slightly.

You got a view of his own hotel bed, pillows and clothes scattered across the floor in heaps, graced by a woman on top of it tangled in nothing but a white sheet. She softly waved at you. Before you knew it, you waved back with a nervous smile, too entranced by her beauty. Her long platinum blonde hair cascaded down her collar bones, complimenting her tender milky skin and petite form so well. Adding her bright smile to it, you could swear you just saw an angel from heaven. She is way out of his league.

"Are those Lightning McQueen pajamas?" asked Naozumi rather confused, pointing to your nightwear.

Your nightwear had the face of the popular Cars character in the middle of your long sleeve top. The pants had several miniature versions of it, checkered flags and the iconic golden Piston Cup, all over them on red background. A Christmas present from Tanaka you adored. Well, not anymore, considering you currently looked like a toddler sitting before two bare deities.

Your hands shot out to try and cover most of it but it was no use. He already saw it all, including your Mater slippers sized to scale, hugging your ankles better than any pair of boots could, and he was simply just smiling at you. There was a curiosity about you in his eyes. The same one you had about him.

You cleared your throat, embarrassed in a dozen different ways, looking forward to hitting the bed and sleeping.

"Just fuck quietly or something."

The woman behind him called his name softly. He turned back around to the beautiful angel waiting for him. Even her voice was angelic. Seriously, what was she doing with this excuse of a man? By the earlier sounds of it and the sight before you now, he clearly was the one who struggled to satisfy her.

"What did she say?" she asked.

He rolled back to your form in the hallway and just smirked at you, uttering the next words like they weren't dripping with the most sinful implications.

"She said you weren't loud enough."

A scarlet red hot tomato package on a ketchup bottle. That was how furiously you were blushing right now. Those words weren't even directed at you but at the woman behind him. Though you couldn't help the flurry they started in your belly since he looked at you so intensely when he said them.

"Really? Why doesn't she join us?" she asked excitedly sitting up on the bed.

His smirk turned into a full toothy grin at that remark.

"Right? Why don't you join us?"

I'm out of here.

Not staying longer for the incoming teasing attack at your already crumbling sanity, you started making your way back to your room in shame, his laugh booming behind you. You threw him the middle finger this time only making him laugh harder.

Please choke on her pussy and die.

You closed the door and sped-walked to the bed, getting back under the covers, sighing at the warmth still preserved under the big heavy duvet. Since it was quiet again, you thought it all stopped. Until the previous strangled moans turned louder and louder and the rattle in the wall turned into a full rhythmic bang, fully shaking your own bed with you in it.

I'm going to fucking kill him.

🏎️ Glossary of terms and other useful information 🏎️

Stages - A rally consists of several stages over the course of three days, usually at the end of the week. These are series of timed races where the drivers take on different portions of track in the selected area of the race region. There can be 2-4 stages in a day, stretching over 20-50 kilometers.

DNF - Did Not Finish. When a car does not finish the race due to falling off the track. You either hit the gravel, spin out with understeer, or hit a road hazard. Basically anything that can get you out of the time frame of completing the track stage.

Pace notes - Taken by driver and co-driver on a ride along the course pre-race stage (also called a recce for reconnaissance). They point out road hazards and corners that the driver isn't able to see during the fast race. Example: 5 left over crest - hill portion approaching.

Oversteer - Happens when there's too much power applied than the tyres can take, making the car slip and push in the other direction of the turn. Balance is important here.

Understeer - Happens when the car turns less than you want it to in a corner. For example, you force the steering wheel to the left too briskly and the car doesn't turn entirely. The tyres screech and lose grip.

Overdrive is based around the fictional Asian SEIKO Cup Rally Series, mostly focused on Japan. Tour de Tokai is the 3rd round out of 13 rounds in the calendar, taking place right at the beginning of the movie. The champion of the series is determined by the total number of points accumulated at the end of the series, advancing to the World Rally Championship!

Next

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[darth-ora]

That's an Order cassian andor x fem! reader

things could have gone horribly wrong, but they didn't

cute little cassian fluff

(this is my first published writing piece, theres probably so many grammatical errors, so please excuse that)

Your ship ascended above the white salt of Hoth, stirring the blanket of white to reveal the red clay beneath. A gunfight had broken out on the way back to the ship, ever hyperfocused you didn’t comprehend the words being yelled at you by a one Cassian Andor. Everything was fine now, he was safe, you were safe and you had managed to get the drive you were looking for. It was successful in your eyes but not to Andor. You were almost unaware of the anger that bubbled inside of him after he closed the hatch behind you, the last to board the ship. The action that gave his anger away was allowing anyone other than himself to pilot the ship. K-2 was in charge and it was only a few seconds before the sounds of metal doors slamming against the cockpit door frame that jerked you out of your adrenaline rush. 

“I told you to leave! I gave you an order!” Cassian yelled at you. You had taken a seat to stop the swimming in your head and the lights of blaster fire shooting from behind closed eyes. He was still standing, clearly unable to calm himself enough even to sit. 

“Instincts kicked in.” You shrugged off, “I saw you going back in and I did what I thought I needed to do. We got away just fine Captain, is it a problem?” Maybe the mission hadn’t gone to plan but Cassian always did this. You would follow your instincts and save his ass but he would only see it as you being reckless.

“The problem is you almost died!” Cassian shouted. “You almost die every day?!” You finally raised your voice. “That’s me not you!” “So you’re allowed to die like a martyr but no one else can do the same? Cassian why do you do this every time!” Your voice was the only thing you could hear, reverberating off the metal walls of the ship.

“Because I love you!” Cassian’s voice boomed. It cleared your mind, you couldn’t feel your body, or your heart beating, just a high-pitched ringing in your eyes. Had you just died after hearing those words?

“What?” Your face scrunched in confusion, every sound was muffled. You honestly thought your brain had made up those four words. They never fell from Cassian’s lips, not possible, not to you.

“I…I didn’t mean to say that. Sorry,” Cassian tried to brush past you, but you weren’t going to let that happen. “Cassian seriously what did you say.” Holding your head and bringing yourself to sit back down, the adrenaline was wearing off and you could feel the effects of not listening to your captain. “It sounded like you said you l-…it sounded like you said something Cassian Andor would never say to me.” You laughed it off, breathless, holding onto the scraps of reality. You were in the middle of a revolution, now was not the time to be delusional.

“Then either you heard correctly and think too low or yourself or you are having a hallucination.” Cassian’s anger was gone now, at least you think it is. Your vision is still slightly marred with streaks of light from the blasters. “Cassian, seriously. I don’t have the mental strength to decode your words right now.��� Putting your head between your knees you finally ask for help. “Are we going to the med bay?”

Cassian bent down and rubbed your back, “K-2 is taking us there now. We should be there soon.” Cassian took off his jacket and crumpled it into a makeshift pillow. Gingerly he pushed your form to lie down on the bench that occupied the hallway outside of the cockpit. “Rest, I’ll get you when we land.”

You don’t remember getting to the med bay, getting off the ship, or being put into a batca pod but there you were. Panic rose in your system, it alerted everyone outside of the room but the first to your side was a familiar blurry figure, distorted by the liquid you lay in. That brown mess mop of hair couldn’t be anyone other than, “Captain Andor, she will need to stay here for a few days to make sure she is fully healed. Would you like to walk with us to her new room?” Then the memory went black, flashing in and out of consciousness while the nurses and droids wheeled you from the batca room to a new room, secluded from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the hospital. You remember the bright lights of the room blinding you before you decided you needed to rest once again. 

When you awoke you had no idea how long had passed but the lights in the room had since dimmed. There was the faintest dip in the bed, some weight that wasn’t from your body. When your eyes adjusted you saw the figure of the famous Captain Cassian Andor mouth wide open, snoring with his head rested against his outstretched arms that were laid right beside yours. If this had been anyone else you would have woken them, wanting desperately to talk to someone. But it was your Captain, your best friend since you two were teenagers, you knew he rarely would rest himself, and usually, his rest was interrupted. You let him sleep, each minute your hand itched to move closer to the one he had in the hospital bed. Only your pinkies were touching when a nurse droid came in— blinding you by turning on the lights and jolting Cassian from his sleep. Blaster pulled out on the poor nurse droid. You laughed causing Cassian to notice you were finally awake. 

The look in his eyes made you want to push the nurse droid out of the room but every answer to her made her stay even longer. It felt like an eternity before she said you would be released later today.

“You snore.” As soon as the droid had closed the chamber door. “You do too.” Cassian seemed to be checking over all the vitals, who knows if he knew what any of them meant.  “Cassian, will you please tell me what you said on the ship now?” “What, that you almost died? And now here you are after five hours in a batca pod?” “No smartass, after that.” You thought about it for a second, if you just said what you thought he did and it was wrong just blame it on the wooziness of being under batca for that long. “It sounded like you said you love me.” Even with the excuse already planned you couldn’t help but laugh in case of being rejected. 

Silence fell in the room, but Cassian’s eyes said everything. “Kassa…” You had reverted to his old name, his real name. Because now he was trying his hardest to act as if he didn’t know the language you were speaking. “I can read you like a book, but I would like for you to confirm or deny with words.” There was caution in your eyes, you could see it reflected in his, past all the stars in the galaxy that floated in the brown irises. 

Still no words, just a huff and then movement, movement that led to his lips locked with yours. Breath being taken away, reality and fantasy blurring together. He pulled away far too quickly for your liking, maybe it was because of some machine in the background beeping erratically all of a sudden. His eyes widened for only a split second before you pulled him back down with you. You swear you could feel him laugh against you. It turned out to be true. A droid came back into the room to check on the machine and Cassian with no shame didn’t move from your figure. His forehead rests against yours, a smile graced his face. 

“I love you” He whispered as your attention had to be ripped from him and towards the droid nurse once again. Your heart warmed, and you felt like a schoolgirl all over again. You begged mentally for the droid to leave again. And as if it was magic the droid left, leaving you to now be shocked that Kassa, the Kassa, Kassa from your childhood was smiling at you. You were the cause of that smile. “All these years I wished to be the reason for you to smile.” You said slightly cringing at your own words but Cassian’s gaze made it melt away. “You’ve always been the reason behind it, mi amor.” You leaned into his touch, his rough hands caressing your face.  “That was kind of gross Captain” you smiled up at him, “but I love you so I’ll look past it.” Another chuckle came from him, you felt the vibrations through his body as you did the best you could to hug him from your place in the bed. He kissed your hair, then your cheek, and lips, before grabbing his coat and kissing your hand.  “I’m going to go sign the release forms for you, I’ll be back.” He was halfway through the doorframe when he looked back, “Stay where you are. That’s an order.” “Is that from Captain Andor, or my Cassian?”A burst of confidence was already getting to you. “Captain Andor, soldier.” Voice stern but face was distorted with the cheesiest of smiles. You sat in the bed pinching yourself. How after all these years of pining and hiding it did you get to tell Cassian Andor you love him? and he loves you? An answer you’ll never know but you’ll be sure to get some theories from Maarva.

{thank you so much for reading! i hope you liked it!! like i said this is the first piece ive ever publicly shared so any NICE critiques would be much appreciated... maybe i'll post some more?}

[callsignspark]

Mar[r]y Me - part 8.5.2

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, like soooo much flirting, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 3.6k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday! I hope everyone had lovely holidays and 2024 is going well for you so far! I did have some issues tagging people so apologizes if you didn't notified! I really loved writing this chapter, especially since it's going to help set the stage for the rest of the story! (only 4 more parts to go! isn't that crazy??) please be safe if you have snow coming towards you this weekend, and enjoy these two pining and yearning for each other more than ever.

part 8.5.2 - rambling and rings

Friday, April 16, 2021

Mary waves at the obnoxiously large SUV as Slider honks and drives away. Leaning against the entryway table, she slips her heels off and wiggles her painted toes at the feeling of the soft runner beneath her feet. Shuffling over to the entertainment console, she hums as she connects her phone, choosing the song that was on in the car.

The dreamy guitar intro floats through the air, making her smile. And the last beams of golden sunshine disappear as she dances through the living room, enjoying the peaceful feeling that’s settled in her chest and closing the blinds in between twirls.

Good things are happening at work, rumbles that there’s a promotion coming on the horizon. The monthly call back home to her parents hadn’t ended in tears for the first time in months. Most of her evenings are spent in the company of at least one Dagger family member, helping Kris and Dani with their kids or enjoying the adult-only life with Aaron and Flora. Bradley is messaging her as often as he can, every email making her heart flutter, increasing her joy with every sentence he types.

Everything is coming together in ways she had never even dared to dream about.

An early dinner with Ron, Mav, and Penny was the cherry on top of a great week. The four of them laughing and telling stories the entire time, taking advantage of the warm spring weather at the patio table Pete had reserved for Slider’s birthday. As stories and photos were traded across the table, Mary felt like her heart could burst learning about baby Bradley. The only quiet moment of the evening was when their waiter brought an unordered round of drinks to the table, prompting the men to venture inside and thank the old Navy buddy that had spotted them through the window.

“Thank you, Matt; it was getting just a tiny bit too windy for us.”

“No problem, ma’am.” The young man smiles over his shoulder as he finishes turning the outdoor heater on. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”

“I think we’re good for now, thank you,” Penny answers, glancing at Mary, softening at the sight of the younger woman lost in thought as she stares out at the ocean with a content smile.

She watches as brown eyes drift from the water to the table, gentle fingers tracing over a copy of a photo that’s older than the girl studying it. Penny stays quiet, letting the sound of waves crashing on the sand accompany the slight furrow that creases Mary’s brow as she brings the photo closer to her face.

“He looks just like his dad, doesn’t he?”

“He does; he acts a lot like him, too, more than he realizes.”

“You knew him?” It’s not a surprised reaction, just curious.

Penny hums, “We weren’t close, but I knew him enough to see how much Bradley has turned out like him. He’s a good blend of both his parents.”

“Did you know Carole very well?”

“More than Nick, by default, but for the most part, we were at different stages in life. She was older than me by a few years. I was in college and she was a widow raising a toddler. But, as you know, the aviator community is pretty small, so we were friendly. I would even babysit Bradley sometimes when the guys were deployed.”

“He was a cute baby,” Mary says softly, eyes back on the last photo taken of the whole Bradshaw family.

“He was… turned out to be a handsome man, didn’t he?” Penny asks, taking advantage of the moment.

She smirks as the younger woman looks up at her through her lashes, a shy smile stretching her pink cheeks. “He did.”

“Can I ask you something while they’re still inside?”

“We’re not together. But we are going on a date the week after he gets back.” Now it’s Mary’s turn to smirk at how Penny’s eyebrows rocket up to her hairline. “That is what you were going to ask me, right?”

“It’s close enough. Are you excited?”

“I am. I really like him.”

It’s the first time she admitted it out loud to anyone other than her best friend. She revels in the encouraging energy and words Penny gives back, both of them still giggling like school girls when Pete and Ron return.

“What are you two laughing about?” Slider asks as he slips Mary’s wrap over her shoulders.

“Oh, nothing.” When Penny winks, she has the overwhelming urge to cry. The knowing look accompanying those two words is more affectionate and maternal than anything her mother has done in years.

Their hug goodbye lasts a few seconds longer than expected, and the gentle hands that smooth some stray hairs back make her throat tighten. Slider is quiet on the ride home; familiar with the many moods of Mary, he lets her work through her thoughts with the radio on low.

“Y’okay, kid?” He doesn’t speak until he pulls into her neighborhood, giving himself a five-block buffer to determine if a pit stop to the closest ice cream shop is required.

“Yeah. Just-” Mary pauses, trying to figure out how to best explain. “Just still getting used to it.”

“To what?”

“To how easy it is to just be me out here. Surrounded by people who have just folded me into their lives with zero hesitation, like I’ve always been here.”

“Mary, were you happy in Florida?”

“I was content. Getting to know you helped with that a lot, but let’s face it; if I was happy, I wouldn’t have been so excited to leave.”

“And you’re happy now?”

“I am. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

It's a cheesy line, but true. She knew that when she said it, accepting the light teasing that followed with a smile. One that hadn’t left her face as she said goodbye to her mentor, one that grows as the song starts again. She can’t help how big her grin gets. This song always reminds her of Bradley.

“I'm in love, I'm alive. I belong to the stars and sky.”

Letting the song stay on repeat, Mary stops in the kitchen for some water on her way to the bedroom. It’s still early - not even eight yet - but a full night’s sleep is calling her name, eyelids feeling heavy.

She slips her clothes off, folding the jeans for tomorrow and tossing her shirt in the laundry. A small groan of relief accompanies the unclasping of her bra before she slings it into the hamper. Turning the bedroom speakers down slightly as she enters the bathroom, a grimace instantly creases her face when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

“Jesus…” Her disbelief echoes in the room as gentle fingers rub over the harsh red lines where her clothes dug into her skin. It’s evident where the waistband of her jeans sat all day. And the tender spots under her arms lets her know it’s time to look for better-fitting bras, again. Mary tugs the leg of her panties up, relieved to see at least one piece of clothing hasn’t left its mark.

She’s massaging the sore spots on her chest, letting her warm hands diminish the pain, when her phone rings. Her eyebrows furrow deeper at the unknown number flashing across the screen.

Usually, at this time of night, she’d ignore an unknown number and let the other person leave a voicemail, but something in her gut tells her to pick up before it’s too late.

“Hello?” There’s a muffled response, and she scrambles to disconnect her phone from the speakers. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Hello, ma’am. Can I speak to Mariella Vertucci?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Lieutenant Corso in the communications bay on the USS Roosevelt. Can you confirm your identity with your full name, birthday, and the eight-digit code given to you by Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”

Mary’s heart stops for a second. This is it. Bradley is calling. She’s going to get to talk to him after forty-eight days. Hear his voice. See his face.

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry. Mariella Theresa Vertucci, born March 14, 1987. The code is 0125-2020.”

“Thank you, ma’am. One minute, please.” The soft clacking of a keyboard filters through the phone, the Lieutenant's tongue clicking as he types. “You’ve been verified. Does the phone you’re using have video chat capabilities.”

“It does, Lieutenant.”

“Excellent. Stay on the line, and in a few minutes, a video chat will come through with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. You have been allotted 30 minutes today. I am required to remind you that communication is not secure. This means, for security purposes, you cannot ask what time of day it is, what location, or how any missions have gone. Please confirm that you understand.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you. I am also required to let you know that this video chat is conducted in a private area and will not be monitored. However, the audio will be recorded, so any lewd acts are discouraged but not forbidden.”

Mary can’t help the snort that escapes. “But not forbidden?”

“Uh- the uh-” She smothers a chuckle at how the kid trips over his words. “The Navy understands that loved ones are apart for long periods of time and can’t forbid any uh- urges that couples may wish to act upon during their chats. But we are legally required to inform everyone of the recording.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“No problem, ma’am. Please stay on the line, and your loved one will be joining shortly.” She giggles at how quickly the hold music starts, humming along to Anchors Aweigh as she clips her hair up, ready to take her makeup off. She’s about to wet a washcloth when the music cuts, and the video call comes through.

Taking a second to look herself over, Mary admires the tendrils that have escaped, perfectly framing her cheeks that are still flushed from the wine she had with dinner. The slightest bit still tipsy and a little frazzled about Bradley, she realizes just in time that she’s still only in her underwear, hitting the accept button and dropping the phone on the counter.

“One second! Just- oh, come on! Fuck!” She curses under her breath as she struggles to slip into her bathrobe. “Hang on, Bradley!”

Finally getting both arms in, she ties the robe, eyebrows raising in surprise at how it cinches her waist, before eagerly grabbing her phone.

“Hi, Mary.”

“Hi, Bradley.”

She greedily drinks him in. It’s been 48 days since she’s seen his handsome face or heard his warm voice - the longest since they met - and she’s missed him. Her heart clenches at how tired he looks, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than ever.

“Hi, honey.” The sweet name hits something deep inside, and she can’t help the tears that immediately form or the way her bottom lip wobbles. “Oh, shit, Mary. Please don’t cry, honey.”

The emotional reaction surprises even her; she was expecting to be a bit overwhelmed, but nothing like this. It makes her feel a little ridiculous, crying about a man she’s barely even kissed. But you love him, her brain chimes in, sending more heat to her face.

“This is your uncle’s fault!” She laughs, swiping tears away and propping her phone against the mirror.

“Mav?”

She can’t help but giggle at his disbelieving tone as she reaches for a tissue. “No, Slider. He’s in town this week, and he may or may not - but definitely did - get me tipsy at dinner, like he always does!”

She trills on about dinner, telling him about the childhood stories that were shared and the baby photos that now live on her phone, not noticing the look on his face until he interrupts.

“You getting in the shower, Mary?”

The husky tone immediately grabs all of her attention, a shiver running down her spine at the smoldering look on Bradley’s face. She follows his eyes down, surprised to see how much her robe has come undone. The valley between her breasts is completely visible, and the fabric is threatening to expose her belly button - and more - if it’s not fixed.

“Oops…” She mumbles to herself, tightening the robe so much it pushes her cleavage together.

Normally, this is where her insecurities would ruin the moment - flooding her brain with terrible things. Make her spend the rest of the call analyzing how she looks in the tiny corner box, agonizing how prominent her double chin is from this angle. But the soft fuck that crackles through the phone squashes the anxieties before they can take root, shifting her attention to admire the man looking back at her.

And god, he is a man.

Bradley Bradshaw has always been gorgeous: tall, strong, and deliciously tan. But mid-deployment Bradley Bradshaw is a vicious attack to the senses. And the hormones.

His broad shoulders have gotten broader, filling the little privacy cubicle in the communications room so much that he’s brushing both sides of the walls. His curls are more golden than usual, clear evidence of time spent flying in the Pacific tropics. His tan is deeper, too, glowing even in the harsh florescent lighting, the bridge of his nose slightly sunburnt. His neatly trimmed mustache moves with his lush pink lips, warmth building in her core as her thoughts drift to the memory of how they felt pressed against hers.

“Mary?” She hums, eyes focusing back into the present and away from her favorite post-deployment reunion fantasy. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“You.”

It's clear he wasn’t expecting that answer from the way he drags a hand over his mouth to muffle a cruse, his eyes scrunching shut.

She wasn’t expecting it either; the effects of the wine have mostly worn off, leaving her with flushed cheeks and apparently a slightly looser tongue. She can’t bring herself to be embarrassed about the overly honest answer. Communicating exclusively via email for the last month and a half has allowed Mary to gain confidence in Bradley’s feelings. It’s hard to wonder about his intentions when every email ends with him telling her how many days are left until he’s home.

“Your lips…” She continues, emboldened as the last remnants of wine soften the sharp edges of her insecurities and the pink working its way up his neck. She loves how easily Bradley blushes for her. Their few kisses have always ended with his cheeks a lovely, rosy shade. “How soft your hair is. Your mustache. How strong you are. How much I miss you…”

The words make them both pause. It’s not an uncommon phrase, every email containing some variation of the sentiment, but hearing the words out loud makes it real. Cementing the longing in their chests.

“I miss you, too.” The words are quiet, echoing against the tiled walls. She chuckles, throat thick with emotion, and Bradley can’t look away from her soft smile. His heart pounding at the emotion on her face, something he can’t quite place. He can’t stop staring as she picks the phone up and flicks the light off, “Where are we going?”

“Couch.”

He smiles as the familiar walls of her living room appear, grin going slack when she props him up on the side table, and the slit of her robe reveals a thigh that he’s dreamt about as she shuffles pillows. Bradley manages to pull his mind out of his post-deployment fantasy as she plops on her couch - that damn pink couch - and smiles at him over the arm, her eyes almost closing she grins so hard.

“I’m sorry I missed our call.”

“It’s okay, Bradley. I knew it was a possibility, and Mav let me know what was going on. I understand.”

“I want to hear about your birthday.”

“I told you about my birthday! We’ve discussed it extensively.”

“I still want to hear about it. I want to hear your voice.” He revels as she softly whines and smooshes her face into a pillow, thrilled to cause that reaction. “C’mon, please, Mary?”

“You’re not fighting fair.” The muffled complaint comes back, making him laugh, but she does as asked.

Bradley listens, humming along as she recounts her birthday for him and insisting for the hundredth time that it was his pleasure to give her presents. He lets her lead the conversation as it shifts to what’s happening in San Diego, content to watch her as she shares stories of what he’s missing at home. Happy to just admire her and occasionally ask questions.

It’s so easy to get lost looking at her. Dark hair swishing around her shoulders, just slightly shorter than it was in February. Her brown eyes look darker than usual, the low light in the room making them almost black instead of the warm brown he’s used to staring into. And despite resecuring the robe, it’s coming loose again, enough that the top curve of her breasts are visible; freckles dotted all over, disappearing beneath the baby blue fabric. Bradley thinks about what it would be like to connect the dots on her soft skin, tracing invisible lines with his fingers or lips. He imagines there’s more hiding behind the waffle material. He wonders if she’d let him find out.

The fantasy of how wonderful it would be to memorize every mark on her body is interrupted as red nail polish grabs his attention. He loves her hands, smaller than his but so strong when she’s working on a jet. Steady as she calls out instructions to her team, grease smeared up to her elbows and her nail color of the week shining through the black sludge. Mary insists that she doesn’t talk with her hands, that she managed to avoid that stereotypical Italian-American trait, but Bradley smirks as her hands swirl through the air. He’s about to interrupt the story she’s giggling through - something about the latest swear word that Danielle accidentally taught Annie - when something sparkly on her finger distracts him.

A ring.

A diamond ring.

A simple silver band lined with tiny diamonds.

On her ring finger.

On her left ring finger.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to study the never-before-seen piece of jewelry. Mary must notice his confusion because she cuts her story off and flashes her hand at the camera. “I bought this for myself when I got promoted for the first time. I went from EI to EII, which is entry-level engineer to associate engineer. It was $50 from this little shop that was on the same block as my first solo apartment in St. Louis.”

Relief sweeps through his body, thrilled that Mary hadn’t gotten engaged with him.

“That’s awesome. Have you done that every time you’ve moved up?”

“Kinda? I always buy myself some sort of gift - last time, I splurged and got that big blender we used at the Christmas party. But I’ve only done jewelry a few times. I think I’m going to get a necklace next time, something to match this.” She explains, wiggling her fingers so the gems shimmer in the camera.

“It’s very pretty.” Bradley compliments, feeling bold enough to go further. “You look good with a ring on that finger.”

“Jesus, Brad-”

She’s cut off by the two-minute alert popping up. They had been so distracted they weren’t paying attention to the countdown timer.

“Already?” Mary pouts, forehead crinkling as she frowns. “But I didn’t get to ask you about carrier food.

“It’s bad, honey. Yours is so much better.”

“Or how you’re sleeping.”

“Reuben’s snoring has somehow gotten even louder since last time we shared a bunkroom; Bob, Mickey, and I owe you for the extra earplugs you sent.”

“You’re sunburnt.”

“I’m wearing the sunscreen you gave me; the sun is just strong.”

“I knew I should have sent the SPF 75!” Bradley smiles as Mary throws her head back in faux despair. “Oh well, now I know for next time, I guess.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah. You didn’t think I’d only send you a care package one time, did you? I gotta make sure you have everything you need. I know I missed some stuff this time, but I’ll get better in the future! I promise.”

I love you.

He just barely holds the words in.

“God, I fucking miss you.” He stares at the screen, watching the prettiest brown eyes in the world fill with tears at his words. “Oh, honey, please don’t cry. I’ll be home so soon.”

“But twenty-four days is such a long time, and I miss you so much.”

“I know, but we’ve already done 48 days. Twenty-four will be a breeze to get through.” The timer starts blinking, the last 60 seconds counting down. “I gotta get going, Mary. But you keep sending me flirty emails so I have something to read and think about.”

He chuckles at the little surprised noise she makes. “You noticed that?”

“Did I notice that? Mariella, in the kindest way, you are not subtle.”

“Well- I-” She splutters. “Neither are you!”

“I’m not trying to be, baby doll,” Bradley revels in her reaction to the pet name - mouth dropping open as she blinks at him, cheeks pinker than he’s ever seen - one he didn’t even mean to use.

The flustered hand she waves at the camera while yelling at him makes him laugh. “Bradley!”

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Be safe. Only 24 days.”

“Only 24 days.”

“I miss you, handsome.”

Bradley's face feels hot, choked up at the look in her eyes, the softness of her words. “I miss you, too, baby doll.”

They don’t say goodbye, choosing to admire each other as the final seconds tick away.

5…

I can’t wait to see you in person.

4…

God, you’re so gorgeous.

3…

I don’t want to hang up.

2…

I miss you.

1…

I love you.

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