#when he tapped Max’s shoulder and pretended it wasn’t him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taintedcigs · 11 months ago

Text

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER SEVEN: SHE'S THUNDERSTORMS

← prev chapter // next chapter →

✦ summary: in which corroded coffin performs at the hideout (wc: 9.3k+)

✦ warnings — angst, ANGST, arguments, FINALLY SOME DESERVED FLUFF, jealousy, jealous!menace!eddie, the kiddos make an appearance!!!, uhmm kissing,,, eddie and p are an old married couple, drinking, smoking/weed, uhm thats it i think.

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — not proof-read i tried but i cant do it. pls ignore all mistakes. SO VERY SORRY FOR THE WAIT. hopefully this makes up for it. as usual the song is by arctic monkeys, and the other song mentioned is lover you should've come over by jeff buckley. but we'll pretend like its all by corroded coffin so shshsh.

anyway ily all pls interact + like + reblog to support me! i'd also LOVE LOVE to chat about anything abt this series it literally is my baby!! pls dont hesitate to send me an ask about anything mwah thank you for reading💗

series masterlist | series playlist

“Dude, I’m telling you it was not my fault.” Gareth exasperated desperately, hands up in the air in defeat.

But Eddie was quick to shake his head, “You drove her here, how is it not your fucking fault, Gareth?” He spat, bitter and angry.

“She insisted! She wants to apologize to Pinky!”

“What?” Confusion etched across Eddie’s face.

With an annoyed sigh, “Yeah, the whole fuckin’ world has to revolve around her,” Gareth muttered under his breath, knowing that saying anything about you would drive Eddie crazy.

“Watch it,” Eddie warned, mouth downturned in disgust almost immediately.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Gareth, I’m not gonna tell you this a second fuckin’ time, okay? Don’t do that shit around me and never say one fucking word about her again, you got that?” He gritted through his teeth, his hand unintentionally clenching into a fist.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I mean it,” Eddie spat.

“Fine, fine!” Gareth threw his hands up in defeat, both of them downing their drink before scurrying away.

Shit.

You knew you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but it wasn’t your fault. You were just trying to get a drink for the group, surfing through the sea of people—which was unusual for The Hideout. Still, you guessed the only celebrity from Hawkins was enough to have people swarming in, and Gareth and Eddie happened to be chatting right behind you.

Even though it stung to hear Gareth talk of you like you were the fucking anti-christ, hearing Eddie defend you like that had that familiar warmth spread through your entire body. And you hated it, you hated the soft spot you’d always have for him, how it would take you back to five years ago when he would be there for you, every single time.

Fucking great, you had so many people to avoid tonight; Chrissy, Gareth, and Eddie.

With a sigh, you quickly disappeared into the crowd, carrying a tray of drinks for everyone. Plopping it on the booth with a slight sloosh.

Everyone reached for it and you were quick to slap away Max, Lucas, and Dustin’s curious hands. “Oh, come on!” Max protested with a groan.

“Not legal,” you hummed with a narrowed gaze. “Yeah, I’m sure you were legal when you were shotgunning beers and smoking joints like it was your lifeline during senior year,” Lucas mumbled under his breath, quick to get settled into his seat with a huff.

You gasped dramatically, “Lucas Sinclair!” Exclaiming as he gave you a simple shrug.

“So what’s new with you and Mr. Rockstar, now?” He teased, and you narrowed your gaze at Max who snickered underneath her hand.

“Nothing,” You mumbled, shying away from everyone’s gaze on you.

“Good thing, we can always ask the other party, too,” Dustin chimed in with a smirk, head pointing toward behind you.

There was a slow tap on your shoulder and you were quick to jerk your body around.

Of course.

Eddie.

His soft gaze was dumbly addicting, that boyish grin curled deliciously on his lips while amber eyes took you in wholly.

His gaze wandered to your figure, the midnight blue dress embracing your figure, accentuating your curves, its hem grazed against your mid-thigh, allowing him to get a glimpse of your sun-kissed legs, simple but exuding how breathtakingly pretty you were.

He couldn’t place why your brows were so tightly pinched together, or why your arms were crossed against your chest, plump lips downturned with a pout. Still, you looked so pretty, so alluring that he could barely form any sentence.

Mind captured entirely by you, almost feeling paralyzed while he took you in.

“H—hey!” He stammered, awkwardly putting his hands in the back pocket of his chained black jeans. He was just him, and oh, god, you were you.

Plush lips that curled into the prettiest smile, the most captivating eyes, even when you seemingly looked upset, brows pinched together, those glossy lips downturned, you were perfect.

You ignored Eddie’s greeting, your piercing glare was still not that noticeable to him, all he could think about was how beautiful you looked, and how he was glad that he saw you before his set. He wanted nothing more than to see you watching him perform the songs he wrote all about you.

“Wow… Uhh—you look… amazing,” He mumbled, breath getting hitched on his throat when he saw your unreadable expression.

And all you could do was give him a tight-lipped smile. Almost immediately wiping that glow off of his face, face going momentarily blank.

But he should’ve expected this, he knew you wouldn’t jump into his arms at any opportunity, he deserved this. He needed to do more, he needed to win you back.

He opened his mouth to speak, desperate, needing your approval, but you interrupted. “I—I’m going to get a drink,” you mumbled, face flushed with heat, you didn’t know how to act either.

Eddie glanced over at the tray of drinks on the booth, with his head tilted, “there’s a bunch of drinks over there,” he mumbled, he didn’t want you to leave.

“I can see that, but I still want my own,” you sassed with a narrowed gaze, not letting him talk back once you left to go to the bar.

Eddie watched your figure leave with a deep sigh, turning to the booth to take one of the drinks. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Yup,” Steve muttered with a nod, and Eddie was quick to give him a death glare.

“So, will you finally enlighten us on what happened with you and Mrs. Grumpy over there?” Dustin huffed impatiently, grabbing three drinks from the tray now that you were gone, handing the other two to Max and Lucas with a grin.

“She didn’t tell you guys?”

“No! Which is a shame because she usually can’t say no to my adorable face.” Dustin blinked quickly, batting his eyelashes while Eddie shook his head at him with a chuckle.

“Oh c’mon, Eddie, just tell us!” Max let out an impatient huff, her captivating icy blue gaze was pleading in a way that he could never say no to.

These doofuses would always be his weakness.

“Yeah, Eddie, pretty please?” Lucas added exaggeratedly, mocking Max as she hit him in the chest playfully.

“Fine, fine!” He sighed, running his hand over his forehead in frustration.

“But nothing really happened and I don’t think it’s—” When he felt everyone’s gaze piercing through him, he was quick to shut up. “Okay, okay!” He huffed.

“She came to my trailer guns ablaze and then just slammed the note against my chest, calling me a coward, and then I told her off—”

“Wait what?” Max was quick to interrupt him, brows pinching together.

“Yeah, I told her I wasn’t the one who left.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, didn’t you kiss Chrissy in front of her?” Max taunted.

“Yeah, and did you not bring her to Steve’s?” Dustin added.

With a huff, he turned back to Steve. “Jesus, Harrington, did you gang up all of them against me?” He just gave Eddie a shrug.

“That’s not even the point! Everything has just become too convoluted with us,” He spat, anger returning quicker than you intended to, while the rest of the gang sipped their drinks with an ‘oof’.

“It’s not convoluted, just tell her how you feel!” Max inquired, gently, almost like she was trying not to tip him off.

“I—” He took a deep breath. I will. He wished to say, but saying it out loud felt too real. And you were right, he was a coward.

“I’m gonna properly apologize and make things right by her,” he muttered, taking a big sip from his drink.

“You better hurry up, rockstar,” Steve taunted smugly, the weird face he pulled was making crinkles appear on Eddie’s forehead.

Eddie’s head cocked toward Steve, aggressively. “You better tell her how sorry you fucking are.”

With an all-knowing snort, Steve’s finger accusingly pointed towards something behind him. “Or someone else might swoop in.”

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Eddie mumbled, rolling his eyes before he turned around with a huff.

Oh, shit.

Everyone’s gaze turned toward Steve’s accusatory finger, a slight ‘shit’ escaping from Robin’s lips which Nancy elbowed gently to shut her up.

Eddie could barely move, his entire face feeling hot and jaw clenching involuntarily, jealousy shooting through him faster than the alcohol swimming in his system.

Because there you stood, in front of the bar, with your head tilted sideways, a pretty grin sitting on your lips, mellow gaze looking up at the guy in front of you—dirty blonde, hair cut shorter than Eddie’s but almost as long as Steve’s, wearing the most expensive and tidy outfit Eddie had ever seen—making him feel stupid for choosing to wear those black chained jeans.

His scowl was anything but pretty, brows furrowing in a way that made him look like a complex puzzle, eyeing the way this stranger was touching you.

“Oh, isn’t that—” Robin spoke up, and the entire table shushed her because they also realized exactly who that was.

James.

Your ex, not Billy, of course, the other douchebag before Billy.

He really wasn’t much of a douchebag, a genuine, nice guy, and to make matters worse he was a total gentleman; attributes Eddie would never call a typical high school Jock.

The relationship only ended because he went to college one too many states away, the distance getting between the two of you, but Eddie always referred to him as ‘the douchebag’ The jealous feeling sunk into his chest even then.

Rich kid, a jock in high school, older than both of you, someone who had his life together. Everything that Eddie never was. Everything Eddie always wished to be.

But now, seeing you with him made something almost click in Eddie’s head, like he was meant for you as he suited you much better than Eddie ever would.

He could treat you much better than Eddie would, sure Eddie had his name now, the riches he never had back in high school. But he was still just Eddie.

And he was certain James never kissed Chrissy, he’d never fuck up like Eddie did.

He watched the way your eyes lit up when he was animatedly talking, his gentle touch on your arm, the smile that curled on your lips.

What if he asked for your number? What if he wanted to reconnect? What if you said yes? Just because Eddie had been a total fucking idiot and couldn’t see what was right in front of him?

He tried so hard to push the idea of the two of you together back into his mind. To make sure it never left, to make sure it never manifested.

But the way his jaw clenched and the deadly glare burning through both of you showed that he couldn’t.

He was jealous, a type of jealousy that quickly translated into anger, one he could almost feel on his skin, hot and prickling rage stabbing into his body, agonizingly slow, making it harder for him to stay glued there and not do anything the more he eyed the hold James had on you. He was standing too close for Eddie’s liking.

Usually, he’d let this feeling sink back into his mind, take a breather, smoke a couple of cigarettes, and then act like nothing was wrong for the rest of the night while he spent it sulking. Keep that rage caged in his chest, so he could keep his feelings contained.

But he couldn’t do that this time, no. He wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let you slip through his fingers, not again. He was going to fight for you, he was going to show you that you belonged with him.

No matter what Mr. Fancy Pants could offer to you, he needed to tell you how he really felt, he needed to make sure you knew. Because even if he could feel the insecurities jabbing into his brain, he always knew, deep down that there was something there between the two of you. Something always left undiscovered because both of you were cowards.

He couldn’t let that happen again, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

“Oh, I get the appeal now,” Max murmured, breaking the silence between everyone, and earning a hard glare from Eddie.

“What? He seems nice, has pretty hair, much better than Steve’s, and that outfit probably cost more than your wedding,” Max spoke bluntly, now earning more than just the hard glare of Eddie, mouth hung open Steve looked offended, Nancy and Jonathan narrowed their gaze, but Robin snickered behind her hand, almost giving Max her approval.

“Max!” Lucas reacted before them and Max furrowed her brows, a smirk earning her way to her lips. “You’re still my number one Lucas, don’t worry,” She hummed, pinching Lucas’ cheek and ignoring Dustin’s groan.

“Dude, why would you do that?” Dustin whispered, eyeing Eddie worriedly while nudging Steve by his jacket.

With a dramatic huff, Steve pulled his collar back, “Relax, I know what I’m doing.”

Eddie’s fingertips absentmindedly traced the rim of the glass in front of him, his eyes never leaving the two of you when he downed the drink, slamming it back on the booth, making everyone flinch.

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie muttered, a forced chuckle escaping his lips.

“What are you even going to do?” Robin inquired, almost mocking.

A smirk landed on Eddie’s face. “I’m not going down without a fight, Buckley.”

“Not this fucking time,” he hissed, almost all the brows of the gang raising at his determination.

“I’m gonna tell her how I feel, and I’m not letting another douchebag ruin this,” Eddie mumbled, and a dumb smirk was placed on everyone’s face almost too quickly.

He was going for it, and the soap opera was continuing, the gang watched in excitement.

“Was he ever really a doucheba—” Dustin’s worries were quick to die down when he threw him a deadly glare.

Without another word, he stormed off to the side of the bar. Quick, too fucking quickly that it almost gave him a whiplash. He didn’t know what had taken over him, eyes burning the back of their figures as everyone else at the table watched him with a proud look.

But the child-like jealousy he felt within his body was uncontainable, it felt like his face was almost too hot to touch, he was desperate, quite literally.

The tap on James’ shoulder was anything but gentle, making him turn to Eddie with his pair of brows furrowed, and Eddie’s muscles were quick to tense.

His dark gaze only softened when he looked back at you, muscles relaxing, and creased brows returning to their normal form.

The jealousy eased inside of him, not dissipating quite enough, but slowing with one gaze from you.

Back in the booth, with another sip from his drink, Lucas huffed, “Five bucks says they’ll confess by tonight.”

Robin was quick to snort at him, “You’re trusting them too much, kid, Steve’s ‘little push’ might help them,” She mumbled with a roll of her eyes. “But Jesus fucking Christ, just look at her face, she’s going to go off at him. The most they’ll probably do is have another fight, get just a little bit close to talking about their feelings, and then do it all over again.”

Steve, ignoring Robin’s theories, exclaimed with a smirk. “Ten bucks that Pinky will sleep with Eddie tonight!”

“I second that,” Max said with a grin.

“Steve!” Nancy warned with a disapproving tut.

“What?” He huffed.

“They’re kids!”

“We’re nineteen!” Max groaned.

“I turn twenty next month!” Dustin chimed in.

“Still!”

“Fine, fine!” Steve sighed with a glare at Nancy, “Then ten bucks that they’ll kiss tonight!”

“No fucking way.” Robin shook her head.

“Nah, they’ll at least kiss tonight,” Jonathan said with crossed arms.

“Are you guys seriously betting on our friends?” Nancy said with a furrowed brow.

They all nodded vigorously, “Fine,” Nancy muttered.

“Then I second Steve, ten bucks for them sle-kissing.” Nancy corrected herself, earning a wicked grin from Steve.

“Come on!” Robin groaned, dissatisfied by Nancy’s answer.

“I agree with Robin,” said Dustin with a shrug.

“Finally!” Robin exclaimed, hands rubbing together in victory. “Someone with common sense. There’s no way those idiots are going to do anything but fight, just watch her come back here, all fuming about how much she hates Eddie.”

They all shrugged, going back to continue watching the soap opera unravel in front of them.

“James!” Eddie greeted with faux excitement, a grin playing on his lips, amber gaze remaining on you. With your brows creased, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ you mouthed behind their awkward hug.

He shrugged, and his hands clutched James’ shoulder harshly, making him chuckle awkwardly. “Munson, the man of the hour!” He greeted him with a beaming smile.

He really was too nice for his own good, wasn’t he?

“I’d ask what you were up to, but it seems you’ve been doing just fine, rockstar,” James exclaimed, returning a friendly slap to Eddie on his shoulder—in a much nicer way than Eddie intended with his.

You smiled uncomfortably, your gaze still throwing daggers at Eddie, who was actively avoiding it. “I have to say that last album? Fucking Christ, had it playing over and over again for days.” He beamed again, much to both of your dismay.

That all-knowing smirk on Eddie’s face disappeared, the unexpected compliment seemed to make him uncomfortable, conflicting with the defensive walls he had put up.

“Uhh—thanks man,” he chuckled awkwardly, casting a quick, scrutinizing glance at you, catching the small smirk on your lips.

“What have you been up to?” He asked, curiously, desperate to know what the two of you were talking about, nervous to see if the two of you would do anything more than this.

The confidence in the way James held himself, his slicked hair, his fancy outfits up close, Eddie’s insecurities washed him over once again. Now with that part of his brain convincing him that the two of you would somehow end up together again.

“Oh, you know, I was just in town, got a nice job here, thought I’d stop by to see Corroded Coffin play, been seeing the posters everywhere—great marketing by the way,” He hummed, flashing Eddie a smile.

And Eddie returned a forced one, lips pursed together in annoyance. “and then I thought I’d get a drink, but then I heard this familiar voice next to me, yelling to the guy next to her to fuck off for attempting to steal her drink, and I thought oh that’s Pinky.” Eddie couldn’t help but not keep his gaze on you, studying your features, almost gauging your reaction, trying to nitpick something to fuel his jealousy.

“Been a long time, but I’d never miss this one’s sassy voice and that pretty face,” He mumbled with a sly smirk, making Eddie’s face scrunch and almost making him scoff out loudly.

“Oh, stop it!” You mumbled with a smile, all flattered, and Eddie’s gaze narrowed, jealousy overtaking him again.

“So you two are… reconnecting for the old times' sake, huh?” Eddie asked through gritted teeth and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Eddie—”

With a smile, James turned to you, “I mean I’d love to grab a drink, are you free tomorrow?”

“Ah! I wish I could, but I need to help Nancy out with some wedding stuff.”

“How about next wee—”

“She’s busy,” Eddie interjected quickly.

“Eddie!” You warned with your brows raised, heat rising to your cheeks, what the fuck was he doing?

“Can I just—steal you away for a minute?” Eddie turned to you with his jealous gaze, hand gently having a hold on your arm.

“Oh, sure, man!”

“No!” You and James exclaimed in unison.

James stared at the two of you with his brows furrowed, both of you breathing heavily, an intense gaze connecting the two of you. With a sigh, you followed him out of the crowd, an apologetic smile thrown toward James.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You scoffed, “Me? What the hell are you doing, Eddie?” You snapped, naze garrowing.

“I’m not locking lips with James that’s for sure!”

“Jesus Christ I was not locking lips with—” You halted abruptly, the absurdity of the sentence hitting you like a wave. Taking a moment to breathe, “What are you a child?”

“Well, if pointing out the obvious means I’m a child then so fucking be it!” The words tumbled out of his mouth harshly, almost lost in the din of the bar.

“The obvious? Do I need to remind you that you were the one who kissed Chrissy?” You accused sharply, your anger returning and cutting through Eddie’s jealousy like a knife.

“Look, I—I’m genuinely sorry for that, Pinky, I am. I should’ve never done that, it was a mistake—” His voice strained, getting lost amidst the background clamor, their set was about to start and Eddie could careless.

He took a step closer, but you didn’t budge. “You don’t kiss someone as a mistake, Eddie! You don’t invite them to brunch as a fucking mistake!” You snapped, tone a poignant mix of bitterness, jealousy, and an equal amount of hurt. Teary yet ablaze gaze bored into Eddie's, breaking his heart more and more.

His shoulders sagged under the weight of your words, the realization of the irreparable damage sinking in.

He took a step closer, a desperate attempt to bridge the emotional gap.“Will you just listen to me?” Eddie's plea hung in the air, the room seemingly shrinking as you and Eddie’s gaze connected. Your breaths mingled, heavy with unspoken words that pulsed between you.

Only inches apart, and you couldn’t help it when your gaze drooped down to his lips, then back to his mellow eyes.

“Eddie, this is the fifth fucking time they’ve been calling you.” Gareth’s irritating voice snapped the conversation, loud enough to have you almost jump back, as you threw Gareth a daggering gaze.

“Just fucking wait for a second,” Eddie spat, trying to dismiss him, but the moment was gone.

And Gareth wasn’t having it. “No way, dude we go on in like five minutes,” He scoffed, momentarily dragging Eddie by his arm.

“Fine, fine!” Eddie scowled, shaking off the hold.

“You should uh— go.”

“Let me explain,” He almost begged, desperate.

But with another dismissal, you left.

Eddie wanted to drop everything and run to you, apologize, tell you what he felt, but somehow, some way he was always managing to fuck up the things between the two of you, now.

It was like he was fourteen again, his dad letting him know that he always managed to fuck up something good, that he was destined to the Munson name. Like he could never manage to do something right.

Wayne, Jonathan, Corroded Coffin, and Nancy all changed that belief.

But, you? Oh, god, you made him believe that he was good, you pulled him out of that darkness, you were the first one to believe in him, you were the one who encouraged him. You made him feel like he was on the right path, always.

And you were the one who mattered, if he didn’t have you believing that now, what else did he have?

With a hand on his shoulder, Jeff was dragging him back, he stared at your figure leaving, and with a sigh, he headed backstage.

Aurora was the fifth song they sang, and it should’ve gotten to you, the way his gaze didn’t leave yours, how vulnerable he sounded, the way he barely even made eye contact with the guitar he was supposed to be focusing on, that should’ve gotten to you.

But it didn’t.

Your glossy gaze and your crossed arms, as everyone else around you cheered for him, did nothing but upset you more and more.

Everything was so confusing that you couldn’t even make sense of yourself anymore. Yes, you were mad about everything with Chrissy, but you also knew he didn’t know everything that transpired between you and her.

Chrissy and Billy should’ve been enough for him to not want anything to do with her, yet you still believed him when he told you it was a mistake, that he would’ve never done it if he knew. And the pool… the things he said in the car. Hours ago when you went to his trailer.

Sure, he was sorry, and he said he’d prove himself to you.

But none of you ever out loud said anything, it had always been a cowardice dance around your feelings, and you were afraid that if this dance ended, then it would be all too real. It would all be over.

A heave of breath exited your lips, attempting to drown away the worries, but they were spiked up the second the song ended and Eddie spoke up again.

“This next song is for my friends over there, Nancy and Jonathan,” He exclaimed with a grin, finger excitedly pointing towards the two of them, it was the first time his gaze had left yours, involuntarily your head turned to your right.

“They’re getting married this weekend, and were kind enough to let me and my dipshit friends play,” He said with a sheepish grin, and Nancy and Jonathan shyly smiled at him, waving him off in a dismissive way,

“So this is for the soon-to-be newlywed couple, and for the special girl next to them, who’s mad at me for a lot of reasons, and she has every right to be, I was a total ass.” He earned chuckles and some cheering from the crowd, who unintentionally all faced you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but hey, maybe this might help my case, huh?” He said with a grin, his gaze was dangerously addicting, full of promises, and you couldn’t help the way it made stupid butterflies appear in your stomach.

It was so easy for him to get you like this, you were starting to feel pathetic.

Speechless, and the heat quick to rise to your cheeks, you were trying to ignore the whispers and stares from the crowd, but it was basically impossible.

The opening chords were enough to rattle your memory, the dreamy guitar riffs from Eddie sweeping in echoing the space as if it was just the two of you.

You knew exactly which song he was playing.

And the vocals, added with Eddie’s smooth, sultry voice were enough to have your heartbeat raising making you almost feel small, haziness overtaking your mind.

And it only brought back one memory to your mind.

FIVE YEARS AGO.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.

Another job interview, another opportunity you feel like you have missed.

It hadn’t been long since the two of you had arrived in Los Angeles, yet every passing minute felt like you had been wasting away your time, you needed a job, and no one in stupid LA was hiring you.

A groan escaped your lips when you plopped yourself onto the couch, right next to Eddie who was way too into scribbling something into a notebook.

Wait… was he using the…?

“Is that… the notebook?” Your eyes lit up happily. It was such a small, stupid thing.

But for you, it was important. That notebook was important. And you never actually thought he’d care about it, but it looked like he was carrying it in his back pocket.

“Is that a crime?” Eddie sassed.

With a scoff, you narrowed your gaze. “No, doofus! I just didn’t think you’d actually use it.”

Almost taken aback Eddie sat up straight on the couch, knees brushing against yours now. “Are you kidding? Half of this bad boy is filled with lyrics.”

“What is the other half made of?” You asked with a dangerous grin.

“You’d have to kill me to find out.” Eddie enunciated dramatically, tone drooping lower to mimic mystery.

“Oh, come on!” You huffed, curiosity getting the best of you. Scooting closer to him, you pouted. “Can’t you at least give me something?” You asked, all doe-eyed, tone sticky sweet, in a way that always got to Eddie.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He groaned, almost melting into you, “You know I’ll give you anything if you ask that sweetly.”

You grinned happily, clapping your hands together in victory once he ripped up a page and handed it to you.

“That is the chorus of a song I’m working on,” He mumbled, eyes nervously following you, waiting to read your reaction.

She's thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She's thunderstorms

Your eyes blinked quickly to process everything. It had been not too long since the both of you had come to L.A., Eddie was desperately trying to send the band’s best material to any label who was willing to sign them.

And you had just gotten out of a horrible relationship, things had not been steady enough for the two of you to ever discuss anything about your feelings, always tip-toeing around it, but too scared to ever actually delve into it.

Yet, you could tell this was about you, something about being described as thunderstorms stuck to your mind, maybe he somehow meant it as good. But all it reminded you of was destruction. And he wasn’t wrong.

It was like everywhere you went, something horrible followed, exactly like a dark cloud looming over, waiting to strike anyone daring to be near you.

Your hand flew to your mouth, teeth grazing through your nails anxiously. “Who’s this thunderstorm girl?” You asked, masking your nervousness with a brittle smile.

He snatched the notebook back, ignoring your little huff. “Someone I went to school with,” He answered cooly and then leaned further into your face with a grin. “I was drivin’ around one day, then saw this girl’s car on the side of the road, to be nice I helped fix her car but then she became totally obsessed with me.” He recalled the first time he met you, animatedly.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, didn’t leave me alone for years.”

With a narrowed gaze, “Asshole,” you bantered.

“That’s so weird,” He hummed with a smirk “That was her favorite nickname for me,” quipped Eddie and you stuck your tongue at him childishly.

With a slight push on his elbow, he drew closer to you. “So… what did you think?” He coaxed nervously, you could tell it was important to him, yet being this close was making your mind spin.

“I like it,” you muttered, unable to face his beautiful features when he was so close, and your mind spinning with the fact that Eddie thought of you as destructive, too.

“That’s it? You… just like it?”

“No that’s not it, it’s just—” With a sigh you snatched back the notebook from his hands. “It’s just… isn’t this bad?”

“What?” His brows creased together in worry, “W-which one did you not like I can change it-” You shook your head, interrupting his anxious ramble.

“No! I love all of them! But describing… uh—this girl,” Tip-toeing around it, causing Eddie to smirk. “As thunderstorms? Isn’t that bad?”

“No, not at all. It’s a metaphor.” He shook his head, explaining gently.

“She embodies the essence of thunderstorms—unpredictable and explosive. She has the power to create chaos and destruction, and on the surface that might sound bad, yet within that destruction she sparks a new life. You know, making it so much better,” He hummed, licking his lips.

“And she also feels like a thunderstorm, intense and electrifying, shaking up your life, in the best way possible.”

“Oh. Wow,” You mumbled, gaze turning mellow with how well he explained everything, heart melting with how he saw you, not just from the surface, like he could peel the intricate layers of your existence, appreciating every part of it.

“Uhh, then I love that actually,” you concluded with a smile, attempting to mask the fluttering in your stomach. Did he really see you in that way?

Did he really see you as someone worth all of this? You tried to ignore the tears prickling in your eyes, begging to pour out, but you weren’t going to ruin this moment.

You didn’t deserve him. In the slightest. He didn’t deserve to get caught up in your bullshit. You shouldn’t have dragged him here. You were being selfish, but, god, did it feel good.

To finally feel safe, to finally have someone take care of you, to finally have someone you could rely on. After everything, didn’t you at least deserve to be a little selfish?

But that feeling ate away at you, even though you shook it off for the moment, it was eventually going to return. And it did.

“You do?” His brows raised in surprise, it made you want to fuck all and just grab his cheeks and kiss him, lips plush together until the two of you couldn’t breathe.

But you couldn’t afford that, you couldn’t afford the feelings, nor could you afford the fallout. You couldn’t lose him.

“Mhmm,” You answered with a broken smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He always did.

“She sounds special.”

“She is,” Eddie agreed, eyeing you with a worried look. “Very, very special,” He repeated, he could tell something was off.

But it was okay, because he was here for you now, and he wasn’t going to leave.

NOW:

Suddenly the room felt suffocating.

Eddie’s gaze on you felt mocking.

It was stupid, he had just dedicated the song to you, yet all your mind could focus on was everything bad that had happened. Ruining everything good that happened with him.

How were you even going to be with him if you couldn’t even handle this?

Fear, trust issues, being afraid of not knowing how things were going to go, if you would fuck this up too, then that was it for you. No one else could compare, and you knew that.

Maybe if you just knew that the same went for Eddie, if you just could see that the five years you spent apart had been just as hell-ish for him if not more. The constant thoughts in his mind reminded him that he could never be over you, truly. Sure, it hurt less now, but the scar was still there, scabbing the second someone mentioned you. The realization of knowing no one could ever be you etched onto his skin.

“Hey… you okay?” Steve’s concerned voice snapped you out of your thoughts, Eddie’s voice served as a background noise while his gaze was still stuck on you.

“Y-yeah, I just—” You faltered, face growing numb and anxiety increasing when you suddenly needed some air.

Too much, all of it was too much.

Eddie could almost sense it, he grew worried at your frowny brows and your tear-streaked gaze.

“I’ll be right back,” you mumbled, body jerking back scurrying out quickly when you ignored everyone calling out for your name.

Eddie’s vocals almost halted, missing a few notes on the guitar before Gareth was quick to snap him back to it.

His head cocked toward your direction, desperate, nearly begging to stop the show, but all of them shook their head quickly, and once Eddie turned back to see the look on Jonathan and Nancy’s face, he realized he couldn’t do this to them.

This was his friends' wedding, and he owed this to them. When the song ended, he was quick to mouth to the others, “After the next song, we’re taking a break.” It wasn’t a request, it was final.

And frankly, the rest of them were too tired out to even argue with a hot-headed Eddie.

“So how is your plan working, dingus?” Robin jeered at Steve.

“Shut up.”

There were a couple more people outside, all leaning against the wall, chuckling while talking over each other loudly, the smoke of their lit cigarettes quick to take over your senses.

With a cough, you leaned further away from them, mind still unraveling what had just happened. You didn’t even know what was happening anymore.

You wanted to smoke, hand itched to reach for the pocket of your jacket and light one to take away your stress, but you could barely breathe as it was right now.

A light tap on your shoulder snapped you away from your thoughts.

Who was it now?

You huffed loudly when your head cocked back.

Fucking great.

Chrissy.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” You pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance, this just had to be your luck, your feet picked up quickly, hand quick to reach for the door and go back inside.

“Please, please don’t leave,” She pleaded.

Your hold on the door remained, barely glancing back at her, “Just leave me alone!” You snapped.

“I just want to apologize, please, then I’ll leave you alone, forever.”

“Please, just five minutes.”

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t.

Your hold on the door faltered, and with a deep sigh, you turned to her. “Fine.”

“Five minutes,” You warned, your patience already wearing thin.

Her face lit up, blinking a few times to make sure she heard you correctly. “O-oh, okay, good,” She cleared her throat.

“First of all, I’m sorry, for everything, for what I said five years ago, for what I did with Billy, for using what he did to you like a fucking joke. For w-what I said about your parents.” She stammered.

“It’s too late, I know, I fucked up, I shouldn’t have done any of those things, you didn’t deserve it. You deserved a better friend, someone like you.” She almost looked at you like she was waiting for your approval, gauging your reaction, your expressionless face encouraged her to continue.

“I was bitter, jealous. Which isn’t a fucking excuse, I know, I was just—” she took a deep breath. “You were everything I wanted to be, careless, had all the boys' attention, and you didn’t even have to try, you didn’t have to do anything, and they’d just fall at your feet. And I was stupid, bitter, and insecure enough to envy that.”

“That’s not my problem, Chrissy.” You spat out with your gaze narrowing, you couldn’t handle her pity party right now.

“And really, you wanted to be me? Chrissy I didn’t have parents, my boyfriend was a narcissistic asshole.I was broke.” You scoffed with an ironic chuckle, shaking your head in anger.

“I know, I know. It was stupid, and I was stupid, and you didn’t deserve any of that.” Sincerity. Something you haven’t seen from her in years.

“I just wanted to tell you that none of it was your fault.” Now your gaze narrowed, a chuckle rolling on your lips.

You opened your mouth to speak, to protest. “No, I know you’re going to say you didn’t think that but I know you do. Even though you hate me, which I don’t blame you, I know you like the back of my hand, you blame yourself, you always did it. And I’m telling you shouldn’t because it was all my fault. A-and I shouldn’t have done whatever I did with Eddie, I practically took advantage of him like he did to me and then got mad at him, oh god, I’m such a fucking bitch, aren’t I?”

Your eyes blinked quickly to process all of it. Her apology didn’t mean anything, her words didn’t mean anything. But deep down, you knew she was right, even if you wouldn’t admit it. Because you spent many nights blaming yourself, for even opening up to them in the first place.

“First of all, breathe,” you mumbled with annoyance.

“Second of all, yes you are,” you huffed.

“And, taking advantage? What do you mean?”

“Some fucked up part of me wanted him because I knew you wanted him back then, a-and he was right there and he was being nice to me and—” Chrissy took a deep sigh, big blue eyes staring into you knowing that you were not going to like what she was going to say.

“I should’ve known.”

With puckered brows, you crossed your arms against your chest. “Known what?”

“That he was still hung up on you,” she muttered.

You were quick to roll your eyes, “Chrissy—”

“No, no just listen.” But she wasn’t going to let you spiral.

“Look you were dumb enough then—” You threw her a glare, so daggeringly cold that she stopped.

“Sorry,” she muttered before continuing, “Look, the two of you wasted a lot of time. And I know it’s funny hearing this from me because I took part in it, but I’m only saying this because he’s a nice guy, even though I don’t particularly like him right now, he’s a nice guy, and you deserve someone like him.” She enunciated, azure hues embodying such sympathy that had you taken aback.

“You loved him back then, too. I could see it, and I could see it in him, too. That’s what I always wanted, and maybe that’s why he intrigued me so much. But I knew he never got over you.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat, it wasn’t anything new, but hearing this from her, it meant something.

You needed to take control of your feelings, and hearing Chrissy’s words was doing nothing but fuel them more. “Chrissy stop—”

“No, Pinky! He told me! He told me it was you! It had always been you!” She exclaimed, her face growing a nice pink color as you stood frozen.

Your brain felt mushy, rest of your body felt so warm, but still that anger lingered. Why couldn’t he just tell you this? Why couldn’t he just show you?

“What?” You mumbled, brows pinched together.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, sighing at your reaction.

“Look, I just wanted to tell you this, and tell you to get your head out of your ass. I know I’m the last person you wanted to hear this from, but I had to at least make one thing right for you because I know I fucked up every other thing.”

You wanted to tell her to stay the fuck out of it, you wanted to tell her it was all because of her. That she basically ruined your life. But it wasn’t true. It wasn’t all her, it was Billy, too. It wasn’t all her, Eddie played a part in it, too.

But you weren’t going to waste your breath, you didn’t need to blow up in her face for her to know she was wrong, she needed to let that feeling sink in. You weren’t going to forgive her, and you didn’t need to make a fuss about it to feel real.

This was it. A closure.

“I’m sorry, for everything. And I know that you won’t forgive me, but that’s okay. I’m sorry, but please listen to what I just said. Please don’t get in your head and try to ruin something this perfect, okay?”

A peaceful smile appeared on your lips, and you took a deep breath. “You’re right, I won’t forgive you.” You weren’t going to give her any satisfaction or approval, her words didn’t mean a thing.

“Goodbye, Chrissy.” You mumbled.

You could see her stammering, struggling to open her mouth, because she couldn’t say anything else, and this is what she promised, five minutes. It was over.

You backed yourself against the wall, fingers fishing out the pack of cigarettes sitting in the pocket of your jacket.

Without having anything else left to say, she left. And you heaved a sigh of breath, the tip of your cigarette smoldering when you lit it.

You inhaled with eyes squeezed shut, head swirling with much to think about. But at least you were alone. Finally, some space for you to think, and to lay out a little bit of your stress with the most unhealthy outlet.

And of course, that peace lasted for about a few minutes, just when you had finished your cigarette, squishing the remains on the nearest trashcan, Eddie appeared, lightly squeezing your arm to have your attention.

“What?” You snapped when you saw him, eyeing the way he looked taken aback.

His hands held up in front of his chest in defeat, clearly not understanding your sudden rage. The laughter around you had died, people who were smoking outside the bar were clearly more entertained by your drama.

With a huff, you dragged Eddie away from it all, still close to the bar but far away to not have any other distractions.

He sighed, brows etched with worry. “Why did you leave?”

Your hand flew to your forehead, trying to calm your nerves, trying to clear your mind. “Eddie, are you kidding me?” You scoffed, arms wrapped across your chest defensively. “You can’t just drag me away from James, dedicate songs to me and—”

His forehead puckered. “Why not? They’re all about you anyway,” he said with a sly smirk.

“Aurora, She’s Thunderstorms, Zero, Forget Her, Resolve, Fool, two fucking albums, all dedicated to you, you know that.”

“These notes? These stupid notes I’ve been carrying?” He huffed loudly, hand quick to fish inside of his back pocket, aggressively flipping through the pages. “Even if every nerve in my body were numb I’d still be able to feel her.” He turned the page toward you before flipping again.

“I have tried to forget you but I can’t, you invade my dreams, my mind, my whole fucking life. You’re stuck in me and I don’t have the heart to get you out.” He shook his head, reciting it all like it was nothing, but you felt all of it.

His notes making you dizzy. His words scrambling your mind like never before.

“She’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever. That one is uh—in a song, too,” he mumbled, cheeks flushing with how passionate he was getting, and you held your breath, it’s like you were staring into his soul.

Stark naked. Laying bare, he really was doing this. And you didn’t want him to stop, even though your mouth suggested otherwise.

“And so much more embarrassing stuff that I don’t want to include to not ruin my chances,” he muttered with a lazy smile, and you hated that you could feel it in your skin, the flutters, stomach flipping in the best possible way.

“All fucking about you. Because it was you, from the moment we met.”

“S—stop,” your mouth betrayed you, it was the furthest thing from the truth, and you needed to hear more. You needed the reassurance, you needed him to convince you. More than anything in the world.

But it was all so scary, and he was so close to you that you could feel his passion integrated into your veins.

“Why, Pinky, why should I stop? Why do we have to tip-toe around each other, huh?” He was desperate, eyes flashing with a newfound of desire for you, he wasn’t going to let it go this time.

And it scared you, him being this determined, getting so close to what you actually felt was making your skin crawl, because the way you could feel your heart thumping against your ribcage wasn’t normal. What he was making you feel wasn’t normal. “Because w—we can’t!”

“We can’t what?” He complained, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

“W—we can’t do this, you can’t—”

He shook his head with his brows puckered. “Who are you to decide that? I want to, I so badly want to,” He spat, taking a step closer to you, face merely inches away from you.

His gaze was dangerously inviting, those alluring amber eyes melted into yours, making your pupils dilate, breath hitching as you struggled to keep him away. “Please, Eddie, d—don’t.”

You gulped, hand raising to put a space between the two of you, but it was impossible. He was in your veins now. “Too much has happened, you with Chrissy and—” You didn’t even know what you were blabbering about, just anything to stop your feelings from getting out.

“Chrissy was a mistake!” He retorted with a hiss. He hated that you saw Chrissy as a problem between the two of you. Yes, he fucked up, but it really was a mistake, he’d take it all back in a heartbeat if he could.

Your gaze narrowed, that pettiness returned when you scoffed. “Which time, when you kissed her or when you brought her to brunch?”

Eddie let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head when he looked at you with a dumbfounded look. “Jesus fucking Christ…” He took a breather. “I can’t believe you’re doing that again,” he mumbled, realizing that it wasn’t going to be easy to get you out of this mindset.

It was going to be hard, to convince you of anything, and he understood that, he had trust issues himself, but he wasn’t going to back down. This was it.

You crossed your arms against your chest, gaze avoiding him momentarily. “Doing what?” You muttered.

“You just— you get scared when things get serious, running away when it gets just even a little bit too real,” He scoffed, angling closer to you, fingers ruffling through his curls in frustration.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah! You call me a coward and fucking look at you!” He snapped, hands gesturingly pointing to you.

“Scrambling just at the thought of us being together.” He argued, some part of him feeling a bit insecure, that maybe you didn’t want this. But, no, he saw that glint in your eyes, he knew the little angry twitch on your lips. You felt the same. And all you needed was a little push.

You breathed, mind scrambled and trying so hard to convince yourself to leave. “T—that’s not it, you—uh you just don’t get it!” You complained with a huff.

Another step closer. One more step and his lips would be on yours, Eddie knew this, you knew this. His gaze momentarily drooped down to your lips, then back to your dilated pupils.

“Then make me understand, let me help you, don’t fucking run, not this time.” It was a little jab, but something needed to get you to spill, he was playing all the right cards and you were getting overwhelmed.

“J—just stop!”

“Why? Fucking why? Tell me one good fucking reason as to why we shouldn’t try it, we never even gave it a chance!” He ranted, veins in his forehead popping with how much he was trying to keep it all together. And you weren’t even trying.

“We wouldn’t work, okay?”

He shook his head. “Not good enough,” He argued.

“W—we’re on two different paths now, Eddie.” You didn’t have any good excuses, he was right.

“Not good enough.” Once again, that same arguing tone.

You huffed. “Too much time passed and—”

“Not fucking good enough!” He cursed, hands landing on your shoulder to keep you in place, and your cheeks flushed immediately, while still trying to deny it. You were pathetic.

“Stop being a fucking coward!” He seethed, eyes fiery and red.

Why were you insisting on being so fucking stubborn? You were driving him crazy, yet it wasn’t going to stop him.

Coward is what had you scrambling. Because you knew he was right. “Fuck you,” You spat, body jerking quickly to leave, feet picking up quickly as Eddie groaned loudly.

So. Fucking. Stubborn.

He was quick on his feet, letting curses slip past his lips before he yanked you to him, earning a small gasp from your lips before you finally faced him.

Gaze mellow, but just as fiery, your furrowed brows and dilated pupils only encouraging him more and more. Flutters in your stomach had never left, your skin was burning, everywhere, but specifically on the hold he had on you.

You didn’t manage to utter anything else, you couldn’t because he had you this time. There was no running away from it, your heart was hammering so hard inside of your chest that you were sure he could hear it.

His hold on your arm was firm but somehow gentle, letting you know that he wasn’t going to let you go.

You opened your mouth, wanting to speak, but he interrupted, his hands now firmly cupping your cheeks, squishing you with force, and you couldn’t help the contended sigh that left your parted lips. “I’m not letting you run away, not this time,” He mumbled, words sounding like silk falling from his lips, all you could do was gaze into him. He stood inches away from you, breath fanning against your face.

He licked his lips desperately, gaze drooping to your candy-glossed, needy lips. Face so close that you could feel the desperation radiating off of him. And you shared it. You managed to take a quick breath before his hand fisted your hair and his mouth crashed down to yours.

He pressed you harder against his chest, breathless, your lips molded together, a perfect fit. And he could taste the Cosmopolitan on your tongue, a tinge of alcohol mixed with your sweetness, making his head spin, a taste he realized he’d never have enough of.

Those little thumps your heart did were now out of control, possibly pounding a million beats a second. His small stubble scratched against your chin, rough, it should’ve made you uncomfortable yet all it did was make you kiss him harder, shutting up your brain as your mouth replied to him, kissing him back with just as much force, you melted into him, melted into his hold, and you let him engulf you, fully, completely.

Plushy lips slightly parted apart, his tongue slipped past between your teeth, your hand finding its way to his hair, feeling the curly strands between your fingers, it’s softer than you expected and your lips parted to let out a slight whine as you tugged at them.

All those years of wishing, all those years of wanting, yearning, and needing exploded into this. Kissing like your lives depended on it, chests pressed against each other, Eddie’s hand slipping to your waist, desperately tugging you closer to him as if that was even possible.

Your heart exploded into your chest, his tongue not wavering the chance to explore yours, sucking on it, greedily, desperately.

The background noises disappeared, the cackles of the girls, the booming music coming from inside of the bar, and the honks from the busy street. They ceased to exist and it was just you and him. Feeling each other, completely, fully.

You knew at some point one of you had to pull away, but none of you dared to, it was just pure desire, a hunger that couldn’t be sated.

All the years spent yearning and pining, acting like two fucking idiots.

He wanted to breathe you, drink you in, and he wasn’t intent on letting you go. Ever.

You from five minutes ago who wanted to refuse him, refuse this was an absolute fucking idiot. Gone. You tasted like the sweetest honey and he tasted like everything you wanted and more. It’s even needier than the first kiss, more sure, it’s like a promise.

This is it. Both of you can feel it. This finally changes everything.

final authors note — uhhhh so yeah... if yall wanna talk about that my asks r open LMAO.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #getaway car series #getaway car

444 notes · View notes

ashen-char · 5 months ago

Text

back and forth

ship: max fox (better things) x gender neutral reader, though fem reader or paisley pov implied

warnings: mentions of a minor/adult relationship that was present in the show. fuck arturo!

summary: all max's boyfriends ever do is make her miserable and doubt herself. but you think your best friend is amazing.

word count: 1100+

notes: have some yearning :) inspiration/request is here

Max's boyfriend is an asshole. You've hated all of them, yeah, but this one pisses you off more than even the others did. Well, maybe except for Arturo. That 36 year old creep was the worst. You watched as Max was mesmerised by the man's supposed maturity and the thrill of dating someone so much older but she still 'clicked with'. Every time you saw them together, it infuriated you. You hated hearing Max go on about how he made her feel special when, in reality, he was just manipulating her. He wasn’t interested in who Max truly was. Not like you are.

From your spot on her bed, you watch as she paces back and forth, phone clutched tight in her hand.

Max had invited you over as she got ready for her date, pouring her heart into her makeup's little details, making you pick between her outfit options again and again. She looked beautiful in everything. Obviously. But now, an hour later than when he said he'd show up, he's looking like a no-show.

"Alright, come here," you say, holding your arms out. Max looks way too anxious and he doesn't deserve that. Not a bit of it.

"Wait, let me just-" Max taps out another text - a "where r u? lol" - her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

You see her hand start to shake, her knuckles whitening. He's left her on read again. The look of frustration and hurt that etches across her pretty face makes your heart ache. You've seen this scenario play out with every boyfriend she's had, but this one infuriates you most. He never seems to appreciate her, always making her feel small and ignored. It's chipped away at the self-esteem and growth that you've watched Max painstakingly earn.

Max finally sits down beside you with a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don’t get it,” she murmurs, eyes fixed on her phone screen. “Why can’t he just reply? Even an excuse would be something. It’s not like I’m asking for much.”

It's like when her dad couldn't be bothered showing up for her graduation. Max was shattered. You hate seeing her ask for less and less when you know she deserves everything. And you resent the men who can't even be bothered giving her the bare minimum. That they don't even know what they have.

Your hand reaches out to grasp hers, stilling its shaking. She's warm. Soft. The touch sends a shiver down your spine. You're half hopeful that she realises you've always been here and half shit-scared that she'll finally figure out how much you care. So you avoid her eyes. You hate seeing her like this.

"I'll break his fingers next time. Give him a real reason not to text back," you say, hoping the bitterness sounds more like a joke.

She laughs. You'd do anything for that laugh.

But then she looks at you, eyes filled with unshed tears, and it breaks your heart. "Maybe I'm just too much," Max whispers. Her honest fear, not just in this relationship but in life. "Too needy, too intense. Maybe he's right to ignore me. I mean, that'd explain the others too."

But you don't let her joke this away. Your hand squeezes hers, a silent showcase that you're here. That you've never ran. That she's not too much, not for you, not for everyone else that loves her. "No." She doesn't know how awesome she is because of shitty guys like Arturo, or Harvey, or her fucking dickhead of a father. "You're fucking amazing, Max. You're passionate. You care so deeply. Everyone who is loved by you is so lucky."

Max squeezes your hand, offering a small, grateful smile. “Thanks,” she says softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

For a blissful moment, you pretend those words mean more than they do. Pretend that she'll finally see you as more than a friend, that she finally gets it. You’ve always been there for her, a constant in the chaos of her relationships and self-doubt. When the moment passes, you swallow that bitter pill that Max doesn’t know how deeply you care. You hate every one of her boyfriends, not just because they’re not good enough for her, but because none of them see her the way you do. They don’t see her strength, her vulnerability, or the way her eyes light up when she talks about something she loves.

You take a deep breath, deciding to take a risk. “Max, you deserve better." Sincerity, for once, rather than a joke so you could more easily brush it off as platonic. "Like, you're incredible." You gulp. These next words, you'd normally hold them back but she needs to hear them. You can see her vulnerability in those big brown eyes of hers. "I hate seeing how he makes you doubt that."

Max looks at you, an unsure, fragile expression crossing her face. Like she's apprehensive to believe it. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so,” you reply, your voice steady. “And one day, you’ll see it too.”

In that moment, Max’s phone buzzes, and her eyes dart to it as a reflex. You see the flash of disappointment as she realises it’s not him. But then she looks back at you, smiles, and throws her phone on the bedside table.

"Yeah, fuck him. I don't need him to have fun." Max's arms go to wrap around you, head nuzzling into your chest. "Thank you."

Her fingers tangle in your hair, playing with the soft strands of it. She's in your arms just like you've always been desperate for her to be. It aches. But it's the best you've ever felt. A niggling worry tells you that she'd hate you for wanting more. For thinking about kissing her right now.

"You're welcome, Maxie," you say. Because this is enough. Being her friend could be enough no matter how desperately, how passionately you burn for her.

Already dressed up, Max drags you along on a day out.

Every smile makes your heart skip. You love how you could always cheer her up, love how much Max brightens up every room she's in. You two walk hand in hand to a nearby park, one of Max’s favourite spots. The sun is shining, and the air is fresh, and you hope it's the perfect pick-me-up to help her. Strolling along the winding paths, the best thing about loving your best friend is that you can talk about anything and everything. You make her laugh with your terrible impressions of people you both know. The sound of her laughter is like music to your ears. You try not to think about how none of those men could treat her like you would.

Maybe, just maybe, she’ll start to understand how much she means to you. And until then, you’ll keep being there for her, hoping that one day she’ll realise you’ve been the one all along. You know you'd never say a word though.

#mikey madison #better things #max fox #max fox x reader #mikey madison x reader

61 notes · View notes

blushweddinggowns · 2 years ago

Text

This was probably the first “party” that Steve had been to for years. Though honestly, it was more of a relieved, group crying session to celebrate the first day of Max being out of her wheelchair. She’d been up and awake for a few weeks now, but today was the day she officially was given the go-ahead to walk. She was a little unsteady on her feet, but Lucas and El were constantly at her side, intensely vigilant about her every move.

And that’s how Steve found himself in the Wheeler’s basement nursing a light beer, more than happy to watch everyone celebrate from his spot on Eddie’s lap. It was always fun when they were all together, they could almost pretend like they weren’t on their toes, waiting for the end of the world to start up all over again.

They were both in the middle of tag-team arguing with Dustin over the merits of understanding conversational tones, or as Dustin put it, “how to nicely explain dumb things you should already know.”

And Steve was just on the edge of a breakthrough when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He tilted his head back, surprised to see Nancy standing there, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” She glanced at Eddie, clearing her throat a little, “Um, alone?”

He could feel Eddie tense up below him, the casual hand on his thigh suddenly tightening. The little display of possessiveness was enough to have Steve stifling a grin. God, he was adorable when he was jealous. Adorable enough for Steve to suddenly have the urge to kiss the hell out of him, spectators be damned.

He almost jumped when Nancy cleared her throat, immediately lost in the idea because being with Eddie had apparently brought his attention span to zero.

Steve took a sip of his beer, shrugging, “Uh…why?”

Steve didn’t miss the look of surprise that crossed her face at the ask, like she had just expected him to hop to it without any questions. And okay, maybe Steve from a year ago would have, but Steve from right now was pleasantly tipsy and perched comfortably on his boyfriend’s thigh.

He wasn’t moving if he didn’t have too.

“It’s about Robin?” She tried, uncertain, “And us? And I would really appreciate talking about it without the audience.”

Steve almost laughed at how quickly the mention of Robin’s name had Eddie relaxing below him, like he just remembered that Nancy was two steps from declaring herself lesbian. It was definitely something Steve would be making fun of him for later. He was just on the verge of telling her that he was more than fine with whatever they had going on together when he saw it, Robin not so suddenly gesturing with her head up to go upstairs, coupled with her best puppy-dog eyes.

Nancy he could say no to, but Robin? She had him wrapped around her finger.

Steve sighed, nodding at her as he made it to his feet, “Lead the way then.”

He gave Eddie’s hand one last squeeze before following her up the stairs into the kitchen, sappy enough to already miss the feeling of Eddie’s warmth against him. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for her to speak. Whatever it was he just hoped it was fast, because being alone with Nancy was not something he looked forward to anymore.

It was the first time the two of them were left without a buffer since he gave her his massive, embarrassing speech all those months ago.

Which, when he thought of it now he kinda wanted to bury himself alive. But could anyone really blame him? He had been on round four of almost dying because of an alternate dimension, he was in close proximity to the one girl he ever loved, and his mom had given him a long and tired speech on the importance of marriage and kids, like three days before everything went to shit.

He had compulsory heteronormativity on the brain back then, a new phrase that Robin and Eddie had to teach him, but it described the whole thing perfectly.

He had kinda…just avoided her ever since. Though that mostly had to do with the fact that he had spent the past nine months completely attached to Eddie’s hip. And then the past two having the best sex of his life with him.

He’d been busy, to say the least.

And he had no idea how to tell her that, or if he even should.

What was he supposed to say? Oh, hi Nance. Remember how I basically confessed my ever-dying love for you less than a year ago? Yeah, turns out that was just me being afraid of dying alone. Please feel free to bang my best friend because I’ve already moved on with that guy who almost died and I’m definitely already in love with him.

Yeah, he doubted that speech would go over well.

Though there was the small hope that she already knew and they could avoid talking about the whole thing entirely. It’s not like it was a secret, or at least, not a well-kept one. Wayne knew, the kids knew, Robin knew. God, even Hopper and Joyce knew, and by extension probably Johnthan. Definitely Argyle, but he had thought something was going on between them before they were even together, like some weird, high psychic.

Steve had also been sitting in Eddie’s lap literally thirty seconds ago, so maybe it wasn’t crazy to think the news was officially out there.

Nancy really was nervous, nervous enough to pace around the kitchen as she spoke, “I, um, wanted to talk to you. About Robin?”

Steve cocked his head at her, slightly amused at seeing her so…well, human, “You said that already.”

“Y-yeah. I guess I did. Because, um, the two of us are…” she trailed off, face already red.

“Together,” Steve finished for her, “I’m well aware. We kind of tell each other everything, in case you didn’t know.”

Nancy laughed, still tense but at least she was smiling now, “She warned me about that.”

He smiled back at her, a bit relieved that the conversation was steering clear away from his dumb speech, “I already told Robin it was fine.”

“I guess…I just wanted to check for myself.”

“Well you’ve checked, and it’s still fine,” Steve stepped away from the counter, more than ready to get back to Eddie. It was getting late anyway, and there was nothing more he wanted to do than just curl up in bed with him. He started walking back to the basement door, glancing at Nancy over his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, seriously. You have my blessing or whatever.”

“Steve, wait!” Nancy called after him, voice shaky but determined, “We need to talk about this.”

Steve turned to face her, confused. Didn’t they just talk about it?

He cocked his head, “Talk about what?”

She ran a hand over her face, back to her nervous pacing as she struggled to find the words, “About us. You and me us. You still have feelings for me and I up and fall for your best friend. How can you be okay with that?”

Steve blinked at her, stomach dropping. So much for steering clear. Though he’d be lying if he wasn’t the tiniest bit endeared by her word choice, something he definitely was going to tell Robin about later. Nancy Wheeler “falling” for her? She’d be over the moon that came out of her girlfriend’s mouth.

She kept going, “I…I know it probably hasn’t been easy this past year. Being in love with me and watching me go after her… But I mean it when I say I didn’t know this was going to happen! I wasn’t planning on doing this to you.”

Steve’s eye twitched a little at that, mildly offended. He started to play playing with the loose neck of his shirt while she spoke, or Eddie’s shirt to be specific, fingers dancing over the pretty bruises Eddie had left on his collarbone last night, and was suddenly filled with the urge to snap back at her that he was long over whatever highschool feelings he had had for her.

But he held his tongue, even if her pitying look was starting to make his blood boil a bit. Because to be fair, it was his fault for opening his big mouth a year ago to begin with. If he had just shut up back then he wouldn’t be here now.

Nancy was still talking, taking his thoughtful silence for an affirmative, “I don’t…I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you Steve, because I do. And I know the things I’ve done haven’t always shown that. And I know it’s probably been really lonely for you lately-”

Steve bristled at that word, upgrading from mildly offended to full-blown. It made him irrationally upset, like it somehow undermined all of the wonderful days he had spent glued to Eddie’s side in probably the least lonely year of his life.

He was blurting it out before he even knew what he was saying, a knee-jerk reaction to just make her stop looking at him like that, “I’m fucking Eddie.”

It worked, her big eyes snapped from sad to shocked in record time. But oh Christ, he was still going, “I’m fucking Eddie Munson and I’m in love with him. And I’m pretty sure he’s in love with me too. So when I say it’s fine, I mean it’s fine.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded after what may have been the second worst case of word vomit in Steve’s life, “Oh.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, embarrassed but convinced that he could probably still save this whole interaction, “Nancy, it is so sweet for you to worry about me, but I’m okay. I’m better than okay. I’m sincerely happy for what might be the first time in my life. And I’m not just saying that to keep the peace or whatever the fuck.”

Nancy was nodding along, still shell shocked but visibility relieved, if not a little self-deprecating, “I should have known. I mean the way you guys look at eachother,” She sighed, “I somehow managed to make myself look worse than before didn’t I? How’d I do that?”

Steve shook his head, “You didn’t. Look, I get it. I was like, obsessed with you for way too long. You were my first love and part of me will always love you. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing right? It just…looks different now.“

Nancy smiled, a small thing, “Very different. I…thank you Steve. I’m glad that we’re still friends. I think I’m starting to get why Robin’s so obsessed with you.”

Steve laughed, “I’m just as obsessed with her.”

Nancy rolled her eyes, giggling as she walked past him, “Oh trust me. I know. Now let’s go, I’m sure Eddie’s wondering where you are.”

Steve went to follow her before pausing, his brain still working through his tipsy haze. And his obliterated filter, “Wait. I think I have something to say to you too.”

Nancy raised a brow and Steve decided to just go right into it.

“I love Robin,” Steve waved off the way she narrowed her eyes at him, “Platonically. But Nancy, she is the most important person in my life. So you better be going into this with the intention of treating her like the queen she is. Or else.”

Nancy blinked at him, surprised and vaguely amused, “Are…are you giving me a shovel talk?”

Steve shrugged, “All I’m saying is that if you treat her right you have nothing to worry about. But if you don’t…just remember that your little brother worships the ground my boyfriend walks on and I am not above having him behead your stuffed animals.”

Nancy gasped, only half of it faked, “You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would.”

“Eddie has rubbed off on your way too much!” Nancy glared at him, hiding her laughing behind her hand, “I’ll take good care of her. I swear on Mr.Whiskers life apparently.”

Steve put his hands up, the face of faux innocence as they walked back into the basement, “That’s all I ask.”

Eddie and Robin’s eyes were on them the second they both came down the stairs and Steve didn’t waste any time plopping back down into his lap.

Eddie's arms were around him immediately, eyes questioning, “What was that all about?”

Steve glanced over at Nancy, smiling when he saw the way she had her own arms wrapped around Robin’s neck. He shrugged, cuddling closer into his chest with a happy sigh, "Nothing important."

Preview to the first chapter of this fic

#steddie #ronance #the first flashback has been written #like 89% done with that first chapter #the perfect loving nightmare #living the unknown dream #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #steddie ficlet #you'll pry my insanely long posts out of my cold dead hands #steddie fic #let nancy and steve be friends damn it

405 notes · View notes

breadvidence · 2 months ago

Note

yay prompt time! love your writing. So: javert/grantaire hookup (perhaps stoned dammit versions?), dammit characters watch Les Mis 2012 and begin to come to an uncomfortable realization about their lives (have not been able to get this out of my head), and maybe musical javert fantasizing about getting choked out during the confrontation again (or post-seine, him explaining this fantasy to a bemused jvj)? wow this got really long. I hope one of these is exciting!

Pretend this is less than 1k (it is not). Dammit Javert/Grantaire, explicit, set during chapter 16.

⁂

He walks into Hal’s where the lager comes with a free shot of Jägermeister on Wednesdays and lets his feet take him back to the worst idea in the place without the kind of preparatory thought that he’s really truly trying to foster in himself on the principle that not knowing where you start makes it harder to find where you’re supposed to end but all the same with an intent he thinks that stems out of the decision to stand up—didn’t Combeferre go out of his way to extend the helping hand to this guy? Who he expects to find at Club Changes or one of the places that don’t hang Pride flags at all but attract the kind of man who calls you cocksucker, not right here in Oak Lawn in one of those mayfly bars that’ll come and go in a couple years max but in the meanwhile sucks on the queer nightlife energy that radiates off of Cedar Springs. Grantaire tosses himself down into the chair next to Mr. Fucked-Up Ex-cop’s, props an elbow on the table, and asks, “Did you move?”

Without a single motion of those stiff-held shoulders, he pivots his head around and stares, cold and intent. There’s two shot glasses in front of him and a sweated-out beer not even one-quarter down, something piss-thin and probably domestic. He’d been contemplating the scrim of foam on the side of the glass pretty intent for a man who didn’t want to be drinking, and he wasn’t watching the crowd like a guy who wants find a person to fuck, which seems uncharacteristic.

“There’s no discretion in the pig,” he says, and watches Javert twitch, “who drops his load at the trough where he eats, and you strike me as a very discreet kind of hog. Never on the Dallas side of the metroplex, never with the car parked right out front, near the back exit like your might wanna make a hasty retreat should your coworkers come to check everyone’s at least three pieces in dress code, all told trotters ready to hit the bricks as soon as you rooted up the morel you were after. So: did you get a new job on the opposite side of town and have to swap around to the bars far enough from home to feel safe?” He remembers, having been clever, that he was here to be helpful. “Er. Are—also, uh, are you alright?” When this raises no response, he adds his first name in an inquiring tone, to remind him they’re familiar with each other.

They stare at each other some more, ’til he says, his tone flatter than sweet home Florida, “No. Also, I go by Javert.”

“Ah, pre-empting the history book’s preference of calling a man by his sur—” Grantaire breaks off, with a great act of willpower, and frowns. “Wait. No to which part?”

“To you.”

“I might not be trying to get into your pants,” Grantaire protests.

Javert raises an eyebrow.

“—this time. Right off. Unless it would help.”

“I’m not leaving until I finish this beer,” he says, tapping the side of the glass. “I’m sure you’ll have lost interest by then.”

How terrible, to be known! He goes to get his free shot and lager, comes back, dumps one in the other, and does most of the talking for the next hour. It’s a waste of both their times, probably, and it might be wrong of him too—but nobody’s glanced Javert’s way, not the right crowd for him in tonight, so Grantaire’s pretty certain he’s at least not cock-blocking the guy, and each of the comments he throws in whenever Grantaire’s stopped for a drink come across as a prompt to keep talking—he’s not being enjoyed, but he’s being engaged with, and that’s irresistible. He remembers, when Javert has about half an inch of beer left, that he’s supposed to be engaging back, and asks, “Why are you still here?”

He gestures to the beer glass.

Grantaire observes, “Last time we had a palaver, you stood up and walked away—a retreat—a neat military maneuver—and I admit, I didn’t mind seeing your backside, after having—”

“You,” Javert says, “are an adequate distraction.” He tilts a look at him. “And you sure as fuck look like you need one, too.”

That quiets him, for a moment. “What, you’re being friendly?”

“Evidently,” he says, chewing over the word, and finally finishes his drink. Grantaire has been through—several. “Go close out your tab. Yours or mine?”

It throws him. “Is yours a seedy motel?”

He pulls a wry expression. “Is yours? I didn’t get the impression you were quite that pathetic.”

“Pardon me, should I imagine you will sweep me away in a limousine to the Joule so that we can contemplate a Warhol or two on our way to cock-sucking? Because—”

“I did mean my apartment, you jackass, though I’m inclined to retract the offer. Jesus.” He glances away, unsettled, maybe with himself.

“I, ah, stay in walking distance,” Grantaire says, a little thrown, then rallies enough to lean forward and mock-whisper, “If there were theoretically illicit substances in open view, would you narc me out? Or can you be convinced to cut out the difficulty of stealing it from lock-up later and smoke it where you find it?”

“I would never have—” Then he stops, and shrugs. “You know what, fuck it. I’ve been told it would be good for me. Yeah.”

Grantaire has no trouble backing out of a deal, and near does, but the intrigue is greater, his fuck its as ample as Javert’s evidently are. Outside the door, he says, “Do you want to stroll holding hands? A mile of pretending at some beautiful romance, one over which Nicholas Sparks would weep were he brave enough to depict a couple of fags as dear sweethearts struggling through the unkind world to come to some saccharine tragic finish.”

It gets him a flick of a look, surprise. “I can walk a mile, yes.”

He’d been a little worried he would have to ask the question outright, rather than more comfortable implication. He shrugs, bundles his hands into his pockets against the cold—he can’t feel it, through the Jägerbomb he capped his drinking with, but he doesn’t want his fingers clumsier than they already are with booze, when they get where they’re going—and leads the way. Courf came by yesterday to help tidy up the place, pretending he was trying to find a copy of The Faggots & Their Friends Between Revolutions that Grantaire borrowed years ago while he helped get trash bagged and sorted out the laundry-floor situation. It’s still not super clean, he sees, through a stranger’s eyes. Javert wrinkles his nose, a little, with a glance around, maybe like he’s got that middle class Boomer standard for everything looking like a stay-at-home wife keeps it neat. Half of Grantaire’s surprise to be invited to Javert’s place was an idle bet with himself about whether he kept up appearances by maintaining a heterosexual relationship, and he’s only just sober and smart enough not to say that aloud as he locks the door and goes to get the weed and rolling paper and lighter, which he’s not actually foolish enough to have sitting out, waving Javert to the couch—and he doesn’t even know what he’s talking about, idle chatter. His mind keeps wanting to go back to how he’s a lot fucking worse off since the protest, with Enjolras detained moreso than he even was before by the light of progress—does that shine still inside a cell?—and a lot fucking better, too, trying to find that light himself, rather than relying on seeing it in the aureole of pretty blond hair.

He turns, shit in hand, and—pauses, a moment, at the predatory interest leveled at him, and he’s netted so many men before by being generous with his drugs that his first thought is that it’s for the weed, but they didn’t talk about that until after Javert agreed to fuck around with him. His second thought is that his friends are gonna have to bail him out again, that this is some kind of weird honeypot sting, and Javert’s expression is for the satisfaction of catching someone with a felonious amount of marijuana on hand. Except—Javert’s thighs are sprawled out, one of his arms is thrown over the back of the couch, relaxed, his color’s high in a way that’s almost charming, a pale blondie’s inability to hide the blush of arousal, of one kind or another—he’s just a guy anticipating getting his dick sucked, probably. Grantaire never clarified what he’s actually into, but that one is always a fair bet.

Gesturing broadly, unsettled to be the object of desire, Grantaire says, “Have you ever reflected on the satisfaction of getting what you don’t want? I feel we might have our books open to the same page. You might say I’ve heard rumors to the effect.”

“You haven’t even lit up yet,” he replies, tone dry. “Can we keep the philosophical questions for when I care less? Besides, whoever’s on your mind, I’m here for cock, which I assume you can provide—unless there’s a terrible accident you’d like to tell me about.”

Cosette’s poor papa. “I could tell you about a hundred thousand terrible accidents. I read them all in the news. I turn on the television—Ukraine, Palestine, our own New York City—death, murder, suffering, war, racism, you, sir, I’m sure you have your opinions, I certainly have mine, they diverge, but as to the thing you apparently are most invested in—” He tosses the lighter onto the living room table so that he can reach down and seize his own crotch, waggling his eyebrows. “—that is intact and can stand at the ready more or less on command, which is better than can be said for our social unity and all our international boundaries.”

“I wouldn’t call New York ours,” he says, idly. “You want to own the Yanks? But then, South Florida never does feel properly like the South. —Come here.” He gestures to the seat beside him.

“Spoken like a true Texan. I bet you want to secede. Beating your meat to dreams of Stephen Austin.” He’s not actually sure Javert is, now that he reflects on his comment and from the way he snorts, but he doesn’t have his grandma’s ability to pick out a person’s birth county hearing two words out of their mouth. One hand still full, he’s willing enough to sit down, anyway, and goes with it when Javert hooks a hand around his upper arm and pulls him closer. The kiss surprises him some—you get discreet guys skittish about the least hint of romance, though this ain’t really got a lick of romance in it, for all there’s lick aplenty, filthy, devouring. When he’s let go his breath whooshes back into him, and he gives an appreciative little, “Damn.” Before, “The mouth’s for consumption, and you—”

Javert curls a lip. “Christ, what was that last drink you had? I can taste cough syrup through the Jäger.”

“Then don’t stick your tongue so far down my throat,” he says wryly, then, “No, never mind, I can be self-defeating—it’s my little corner of righteousness, to own my faults—but I’m not gonna discourage that. Let me roll a blunt and we’ll have something better on our breath than Red Bull, anyway.”

“Better,” Javert mutters, doubtful, and lets him go, thumbing spit off the corner of his mouth before he lounges back again. It’s surprisingly effective, the invitation in his posture.

Grantaire has the faint suspicion that this man has fucked often. He might even fuck well. It is a surprise, and peculiarly discouraging; thinks: one hates to have standards to live up to, in bed as elsewhere, and by one means himself. He focuses on rolling the blunt, for a minute—it takes a little attention, with his vision a little off and his hands wanting to wobble. When he takes the first hit, he waggles his eyebrow at Javert, hammy erotic gesture as he wraps his lips around the paper like it’s the worlds most delicate little cock. It gets him an unimpressed stare, which is unfair—he knows for a fact this man has a sense of humor. He breathes out smoke, tension easing out of his shoulders—he pretends it’s not there, and he’s real good at slouching despite it—before he hands it over.

Javert breathes in smoke with the grace of a guy who’s had something in his mouth for most of his lifetime, that broad chest stills a moment as he holds it, but he grimaces some when he breathes out, squinting at the blunt before he hands it back over.

Grantaire says, lightly, “That expression! A virgin might so peek at what she’s presented with for the first time in person, having spent some time investigating the territory on video. I know mine’s not as shabby as that; I buy good bud. Do you buy better?”

“I haven’t bought at all,” Javert says. “Been around it plenty. Not in a long while, granted.”

Which—“Oh.” It’s been a while since he felt like a corrupting influence, and it’s not the context he expected in. He has a brief raised-evangelical twinge before he rallies and says, “A cherry could be an achene, in another world! Popped, my good man, I’m honored to do the honors.” And takes a hit.

Javert goes loose and glassy-eyed pretty quick, quieter, which is a better result than the vague concern over a bad trip that struck Grantaire—paranoia seems like a natural feature, given past profession. But it looks like he won’t have to summon help, given he’s not the man to manage someone in distress, though maybe he could take Courfeyrac’s direction on how to handle Javert and fetch the ropes, in that instance. It gets him giggling, imagining that, and he asks, “Do you, ah, you into being tied up?”

“Not by you,” Javert says. “No. Well. Never thought about it, actually. Never tried it. Maybe.” Which is a hell of a speedrun of personal development.

Grantaire makes a moue of disappointment, exaggerated, and puts the blunt in the ash tray—just for a minute; he’s realized he should, as the experienced party with a newbie, probably slow down and keep an eye out. Took him a minute, but look: he’s not gone for abandonment. “You’re a cherry tree in June, my friend, heavy with fruit. How unexpected.”

“I ain’t. That fruit’s mostly harvested.” Javert pivots towards him—winces, maybe that broken-up back and hips of his, and gets hands on Grantaire instead, pulling him almost into his lap, which is novel sensation for a big man; not as big as this guy, as it happens. The kiss this time goes a little slower, a little easier, a precise nip, a flick of the tongue, parted lips, and it takes Grantaire a moment to understand the invitation there, to take him up on it, which earns him an approving rumbling groan, he feels it in the chest he’s braced his hands on to keep from falling too far forward. Which illuminates some questions of preference. He feels his own thoughtless clumsiness, a moment later, in how Javert draws back a little, guides the kiss without taking control of it, and he’d be embarrassed by that—he does, whatever his friends think, know how a blush feels—except that the other man doesn’t comment on it, just gets them on track, and Grantaire tries—he does know, he’s got experience, he’s just not often messing around with someone who cares enough to be good at this, he doesn’t normally care enough to be good at this. This isn’t where he was looking for care—or maybe it’s simply investment, like a retail employee who shouldn’t give a fuck but gives their all anyhow.

The fingers that pop the button of his jeans, undo his zip, the big hand that slides into his boxers and palms over his dick, the lightly-stroking thumb over the head of his cock—getting the feel of him, not at all polite, but measured—that distracts him, he loses track of what he’s doing other than chasing the sensation, restless uncoordinated hips bucking up because he doesn’t want it light at all. Javert gives up on him, a little, trails his mouth down to his ear, an obscenity committed against his earlobe, teeth scraping down his jugular in a way that only won’t leave marks because his skin’s a little too dark to bruise easy. Pauses long enough to spit into his palm, casual, to make it easier. Grantaire is faintly aware of commentating on all of this, but he’s never had to mind his own mouth for it to run. In one of the moments when he’s got his feet braced and his hips lifted Javert uses his free hand to shove his pants down properly, and Grantaire helps, uncoordinated, ass-out on the couch, feeling his legs bound up and unable to spread as much as he wants to and harder for it. He’s still talking.

Javert uses that hand to reach up and slide two fingers into his mouth, jacks his cock like he’s got serious intent to end this here. Which is Grantaire thinks faintly, a curious choice, maybe a sign he’s bored or wants to get out early, though he’s more fucked-up than Grantaire thinks he should let a person leave and drive. He sucks those fingers with a sloppy enthusiastic attempt to demonstrate he can reciprocate all this attention, catches up at last to the fact that he ought to be reciprocating—there’s so many things he should do in life, and he’s so belated all the time—he reaches out, gets his hand on an appealingly thick thigh, becomes disoriented and ends up at a knee, tilts his head back and laughs at himself, manages to reorient and squeezes over—well. That package is impressive, but it ain’t impressed with him, feels like. “Ah.”

Javert lets up, doesn’t take his hand away but merely cradles rather than strokes. Sighs, then drawls, “I hope you weren’t real committed to me topping tonight,” and gestures towards the joint. “Worse than whiskey, apparently.”

“I have so many dildos,” Grantaire says, amiable. “You still can. Hard is a mindset, my friend. Hard is a latent potential. Do you really think, before they went their separate ways, while Abelard still had the wound between his thighs, he didn’t consummate his love with Héloïse? She wouldn’t have sent all those letters, friend, if he didn’t offer some kind of hardness to her. When God turned Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt, it was a suggestion to us all for what the people of Gomorrah and Sodom got up to, when the flesh got tired, she saw those artificial columns and she could not resist mimicking them. Samuel L. Jackson himself says there’s no shame in a limp snake, and he would know. Yeah. So, you wanna, like, pick one out from my collection and do me?”

He leans his head back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut, and sighs. “Sure.”

“That’s not enthusiastic consent,” Grantaire replies, scolding.

His brows bunch together, glassy eyes opened then narrowed, agonizingly he removes his hand from Grantaire’s dick, he says, “Wait, wait, wait. You know, I have been to a training session about consent and substance use. Is this okay, or—”

“I have fucked while high so many times. Shh. We agreed beforehand. It’s not a big deal. C’mere. Unless you don’t want to, now, I guess.” He tries to get his boxers and pants back on, but his coordination’s worse than he thought, and he reverses track and kicks them off instead, aware he’s being idly watched. He’ll try to remember to get them into the laundry basket later, so Courfeyrac doesn’t have so much to do, next time he visits. He reaches down and helps haul Javert up to his feet, both of them stumbling a little, and they mutually forget about the cane; he’s strong enough to keep them both on their feet when his left leg wants to give, surprised when Javert gives an appreciative moan and gropes over his arms and chest, where the muscles have tensed, hard enough touch to get through the fat and really feel what strength’s there. Kisses him, this time with as much enthusiasm as skill.

The things you learn about a guy, when you’re fucking him. Remarkable. He gets Javert’s cane for him, feeling uncomfortable touching someone’s mobility aid without having asked first too belated not to do it, and they get to the bedroom with a few stops to grope each other along the way. Javert mutters, at one point, “You don’t have to—”, with a shrug, and Grantaire takes it as a don’t, lets up on his prick. He’s got a standard white boy’s underwhelming ass, but it’s still nice to get hands on, when it makes him growl and grind up on him.

In the bedroom, Javert strips off his shirt, then pauses, tilting a look at Grantaire. “Am I staying long enough to bother undressing?” There’s nothing uncertain or sad or insecure in it—it’s just a straightforward question.

Grantaire makes a show of leaning close, an inspection, says, “You’re staying long enough to sober up, right?”

“Sure,” Javert says, and starts in on his pants. “I don’t actually care which dildo you take up the ass.”

“Yes, yes, let the house sommelier determine which vintage to choose, wise man—”

“Got pretty strong opinions about wine, actually, though you shouldn’t discount a somm’s advice,” Javert mutters, then shakes his head. “Fucking Christ, no, please, I’m not taking any of your metaphors serious, don’t bother to clarify or expand.”

Grantaire laughs, at that, weirdly pleased to be put down—none of his friends bother, anymore. He gets the twisty purple number out, and the warming lube, ’cause he does know how to be nice to himself sometimes. “Do you ‘got’ pretty strong opinions on how you want me positioned?”

“Yeah, actually.” He pushes himself up to the headboard, and, damn, Grantaire’s gay enough and honest enough to admit he’s pretty sad that he’s not gonna see what that cock looks like hard; it rests against his thigh, flushed though soft, and there’s a kind of optical illusion going on—it looks average enough, ’til you consider how big the hand is that Javert reaches down with to idly readjust himself. Looking at him nude, Grantaire’s acutely aware of their age difference: twenty years, a little more? He’s got a wolf’s pelt worth of hair on that chest, heavier than he’d expect of someone so fair, gone to mostly gray and silver, and his pecs have begun to sag a little over his belly, the skin of his lean stomach wrinkles over the cut of his hips, his feet are neatly-kept but thickly knobbed, maybe even arthritic. There’s a sadness in that Grantaire can’t quite grasp, that it’s them fucking, and it’s not his side of the equation that’s got him edging up on the cliff fall into maudlin, though average wisdom would say that it’s the old guy getting to bang a young thing who should celebrate. Neither of them, Grantaire thinks, are in bed with the person he wants. If he keeps on that trail he’s not gonna want to have sex at all, though, and if he’s done that plenty before—cut guys off and annoyed them right back into their pants—well, he doesn’t want that, tonight.

He says, because he’s maybe gotten a little caught in the lingering weed-haze, “I’ll have to write you an apology note. Don’t forget to write down your address for me so I can send it. I didn’t catch a damn thing you just said.”

Javert laughs, teeth and a heave of breath. “I noticed and stopped halfway through my explanation.” He stretches out his legs, cups his hands in front of himself. “Ass here, you self-described fag. Not the hottest position but I can’t kneel, so you’ll have to settle.”

“It doesn’t feel like settling,” he assures him. “Y’know, we’re anti-ableism now. We fuck our disabled comrades how they want it, when they want it, in the position they want it.”

“I’m not—” He pulls an odd expression. “Come here.”

“I intend to!” he says, brightly, and strips off his shirt, palming down the heft of his stomach for the sensation of coarse hair on his hand—he’s not too shy for all forms of self-gratification—to work at his own cock for a moment, making his expression appreciative as he looks Javert over. He’s done a lot of looking with desire, and he thinks he manages an echo of his usual, and it’s not his most sincere—sincerity he’s not always good at, outside certain company—it is with genuine intent, and yeah, it makes Javert’s cock twitch. Most people get off on it, being looked at with want, and if he’s at peace with the fact that it’s not the case for everyone—oh, he needs to not think about that. He gets up on the bed, brackets Javert’s calves with his knees, and before he can kneel up he’s pulled back by a long arm around his chest, face turned back with fingers on his chin, and this time there’s no invitation: the tongue pressed into his mouth makes promises. When he leans back, Grantaire plants himself, turns forward, and surprises himself saying, “This is going to sound stupid as hell, but don’t, um, I don’t like it real rough, actually.”

“Ain’t stupid,” Javert mutters, and gives his ass a little pat, surprising him with the niceness. It sounds a bit strained, but he’ll take it. “Bet I can still make all your words come to pieces, doing it easy. Gonna get you so worked up you can’t remember any of those obscure political figures. Yeah, you’re gonna lose the Bible, with my fingers fucking your ass.” There’s the sound of the lube cap; he takes the time to warm it up in his palm before he reaches around to give his cock an idle tug; a first slick finger teases around his hole. As Javert pushes in, he says, “And don’t touch my feet, please.”

That last bit is was said real quiet, during a distraction, but Grantaire pays mind. He tries to keep minding as his cock is wrung casual easy, as another finger slides into him, they press against his prostate, and for long minutes Javert’s taken that not rough as maddening soft, rocking against him so slow it’s just a tease, Grantaire glances down and there’s precome slick on the head of his own dick. He pushes up on his knees to get off those fingers, shoves Javert’s arm out of the way, and drops down into his lap—and it really is strange, to be the smaller partner—grinds down on him in an attempt to start something different. Gets rejected, totally and utterly, an annoyed grunt, Javert’s hands on his hips pushing him forward—back up onto his knees, a hand between his shoulder blades urging him to drop forward onto his elbows, a suggestion short of a shove—but only just. He feels the difference, there, very stark, between a good fuck and a considerate partner. He goes along with it, moans into the bedsheets, clutches at them, at the touch of the narrow head of the dildo against his hole.

Javert’s less practiced with one of those, he can tell, but he’s attentive—not so high anymore—and he gets an angle and rhythm steady and sure, there’s always an edge of control when a guy’s not using his own cock that does it for Grantaire, and he sees clear in that moment how much that’s because that’s as close as he thinks he’d ever get to the dick he wants, were he in bed with—yeah, he’s not gonna do Javert wrong, thinking about someone else while he’s thrusting down into the circle of his meaty thumb and forefinger and babbling at him about enemies who’ve fucked, did Simon Peter take Judas’ cock?, did Hector and Patroclus ever cross spears?, until with a huff of amusement Javert discards the dildo—Grantaire cries out into the sheets, broken off—shifts a little clumsily onto his knees, gets his hand between them and fucks three fingers in, slow push, his hips rocking forward, his weight on Grantaire’s back, and that does it, it’s all that hot sweated-up skin, it’s panting breath against his shoulder, the connection, the sense of being desired in that moment, this man hot for him, fired up, whatever body part’s not cooperative. Grantaire comes, bucks hard into air because Javert’s free hand is off his cock on his side leaned heavily there for steadiness, shudders and clenches and drops his head down between his shoulders.

Javert pulls out, falls back onto his haunches. Grantaire glances over his shoulder, too unfocused to register much other than how relaxed Javert is, lounged back against the headboard, with his hand loose on his knee—’til he glances down at it, and gives a twitch. His cock’s chubbed up some between his thighs, fading fast as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaches over for his cane, and gets up to limp towards the bathroom to wash up.

Grantaire shuffles around, drops onto his back, then groans at his own stupid decision—he’s almost sure they didn’t get too much lube on the sheets right until this moment, and now he’s planted his fucked-out ass onto them. Ah, well. He’ll smoke the rest of the blunt after Javert is gone, and then he won’t mind sleeping in the mess.

Javert comes back as far as the edge of the bed, looks down at him with his eyebrows bunched.

“Leaving dissatisfied,” Grantaire says lazily. “Does it come as a surprise to you?”

“Dissatisfied with myself. You were talking right through your orgasm. Impressive, in a terrible way.”

“No, don’t judge yourself,” Grantaire advises. “Some promises aren’t meant to be kept.”

#fanfic (mine)#prompt fic

9 notes · View notes

buckysgrace · 1 year ago

Text

Five

The day was going slow for Billy. The minutes seemed like hours as they slowly dragged on and on. The more he thought about his actions from yesterday, the more he regretted acting so rashly. He knew Eddie would eventually say something, which meant that Addi would confront Kim about it. He exhaled as he finished writing down the orders that they needed for next week.

“Hey, I’m here - fuck,” Billy’s eyes rose from the paper in front of him, a less than amused grin forming on his lips, “I don’t suppose there’s anyone else.” Steve replied dryly, looking less than happy to see Billy. Steve scratched his fingers across his nose and Billy hoped that he was remembering how badly it hurt when he’d been punched. He thought that he deserved to be punched again for looking at him in such a way with those big brown eyes.

“It’s your lucky day Pretty Boy,” Billy replied just as dryly, “What do you need?” He asked more casually this time, remembering that Steve was a customer. He’d still like to beat in the other side of his face for lingering around Kim. Not to mention his creepy interest in Max and her friends. Steve looked less than enthused as he glanced around.

“I need my oil changed,” Steve mumbled as he pushed his hand through his long hair. Billy rolled his eyes, unable to help himself, “And new tires.” He glanced up towards Billy before he quickly looked away, like he was unable to hold his gaze. Billy sighed as he nodded his head, beginning to gain all of the information that he needed from Steve. He hoped that he could avoid working on Steve’s car. He had a worrying thought that he may end up destroying Steve’s seats.

“Anything else?” Billy tried to keep the conversation pleasant, although he could tell that his tone was anything but friendly. He tapped his pencil against the desk, feeling like he needed to step outside for another cigarette before he could continue to play nice. Steve rested a hand on his hip as he thought for a moment.

“How’s Kim been?” Steve asked softly after a moment, looking anywhere but at Billy. Billy felt his eyebrows raising onto his forehead as he felt a fresh wave of anger hit him. He began to wonder if Steve was asking him that question just to get a rise out of him.

“Fine.” Billy shrugged his shoulders as he looked away from Steve’s brown eyes. He poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, wishing he told Steve to fuck off instead. He knew that wasn’t what Billy meant when he questioned that.

“I haven’t seen her for a few days,” Steve started slowly, “She seemed distracted.” Steve drew out slowly, looking genuinely concerned for a moment. Billy was confused for a second, not understanding why Steve would be so concerned. Kim was none of his business.

“What?” He asked, searching for some clarity in this situation. He wasn’t sure how Steve would have any idea how Kim was doing. They didn’t hang out, they weren’t friends. He felt a frown beginning to form on his lips, unable to help himself as jealousy pooled inside of him.

“I gave her a ride on Friday,” Steve looked to be taken aback by Billy’s tone, even though he knew that Billy didn’t like Max or Kim being around him, “She didn’t say a whole lot.” He said as he furrowed his eyebrows together. He looked towards Billy, like he was searching for an answer. Billy nearly laughed, knowing that it wasn’t any of Steve’s business.

“She talks when she’s comfortable,” Billy raised up from his elbows, “Do you want your car fixed or not?” Billy asked less vaguely this time, clearly not wanting to pretend that he was friends with Steve. Steve’s face irritated him in a way that he didn’t understand, nor did he want to think about too much.

“No,” Steve paused for a moment, “I mean yes. I need my car fixed.” He mumbled as he passed his keys forward. Billy snatched them up quickly, hoping that it meant Steve would leave quicker. He spared the brown eyed boy another glance.

“They’ll call when it’s finished,” He replied dryly as he added his keys to the queue. He walked away from the desk, not caring if Steve stayed or not, “I’m going to take a fifteen.” He spoke towards one of the higher ups, hoping to relieve some of the stress that was bubbling inside of his body. He wasn’t sure why he felt so on edge, especially after his fight from yesterday.

He stepped outside, enjoying how the sun and air felt as he leaned against the building. He took slow drags as he tried to will himself to relax, hoping that at least the rest of the day would go by faster. He didn’t like that Steve had given Kim a ride home but what really bothered him was that she had kept it from him. He'd ask about it later as he wondered if she'd been too worried that he'd get mad. He hoped that she didn't think that. The sound of the large door slamming open and then shutting again drew his attention away. He looked over surprised, noticing the familiar redhead joining him. He quickly glanced down at his watch, confirming that the time in his mind was correct.

“What are you doing?” Billy asked her quickly. He paused for a second, realizing the way his tone sounded as her eyes widened in surprise, “I mean you should be in school. Did something happen?” He tried again, thinking that he sounded kinder this time around. Kim played with her hands, still looking unsure. She looked dainty as she pushed herself onto her tippy toes then back onto the flat part of her feet.

“No,” She replied quickly, although she looked like there was something else bothering her. He watched her closely for a moment, watching the way she wrapped her curls around her finger, “It’s just study hall. It’s boring.” She shrugged her shoulders as she glanced around. He raised his eyebrow, knowing it wasn’t like her to leave school early at all. He was sure that she had never done such a thing before.

“Okay,” He said softly, knowing he would pester her for more answers later. It was clear there was something wrong that she wasn’t saying, “Did you walk here?” He questioned, biting his tongue to snark off about her riding with Harrington. He knew it was dumb to be jealous, she obviously didn’t feel for him in that way. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be happier with someone like Steve. She nodded her head, her eyes glancing down as he stomped on his cigarette.

“I got you something,” Kim mumbled as she approached him, “It’s nothing really.” She hesitated, looking as if she was regretting speaking up. He liked how bashful she grew, like she was trying to convince herself it was a bad idea.

“What have you got for me, Red?” Billy grinned, watching the way Kim took slow steps towards him. Her face burned as bright as a Christmas light as she slowly pulled the object from her bag. He had a sudden urge to cup her face and kiss her, wanting to devour all of the shyness that was hidden away. He watched as she began to unwrap the newspaper from the object.

“It’s dumb,” She muttered shyly, sounding insecure as she held up the bulky object in her hands, “It’s just something I made in ceramics.” She brushed it off, as if it was no big deal. She kept her eyes trailed down towards the object, rather than looking towards him. She hesitated again but he reached for it, making sure that she couldn't hide it away from him.

She hesitated before she held it out towards him and turned away quickly, like she was afraid of what his reaction would be. He took the object in his hands, noting that it was no longer than the length of his hand. It was in the shape of a surfboard, with the edges raised high with various slits. It was a pale yellow that faded into a darker green around the edges. He stared at it for a moment, feeling a strong sense of homesickness gripping deep inside of his stomach.

“A surfboard ashtray?” He questioned her softly, making sure his guess was correct. He turned it over and brushed over where she had sketched her name and a heart into it. He felt a wide grin forming as he looked up towards her again. He wondered if she had any clue what she did to him.

“It’s so bad,” She spit out quickly, “It’s not shaped how I wanted it to be, and I don’t like the way the blue came out. And it sort of chipped here. You can toss it.” Her face was still burning as she spoke, and she looked defeated as she glanced back towards the object in his hands. He could see the disappointment lingering in her eyes, but he couldn’t understand why she would feel such a way. He thought it looked beautiful and he was flattered that she thought enough of him to make him something.

“Why would I toss it?” He asked her seriously, a little offended that she thought so little of one of the best presents he had ever received. No one had ever been so thoughtful to gift him something so special, much less hand make it for him. He loved it, even if there was a chip in it at the very top of the surfboard.

“It’s ugly.” She said pitifully, bashfully as her eyes averted towards the floor. He cupped her small chin softly to make her look back towards him. He hated how unsure of herself that she could be. Her hazel eyes had a golden tint to them as the sun brushed against her features. He couldn't decide if that was his favorite part about her. He loved everything. Her pouty lips, expressive eyebrows and the freckles that decorated her skin. He felt his lips curling into a soft smirk as he thought of her perky tits and soft ass. He looked at her, admiring how pink her face had grown as she waited his answer. His eyes glanced over the curve of her cheek as he thought about how it had been bruised not too long ago.

“I think it’s beautiful,” He told her honestly as he held eye contact with her, “Thank you. I love it.” He told her seriously, keeping a grip on her chin until she fully absorbed his words. He watched the way she exhaled softly, like she was fully accepting his compliment. She thought he was stubborn about accepting compliments, when he believed it to be the other way around. She had no idea how perfect she was, how crazy he was for her.

“Really?” She smiled towards him, looking a bit brighter as she listened towards him. He felt his heart throbbing as he nodded his head in agreement. He really did think it was beautiful, but he would tell her anything if it meant she would always look at him this way. It made him feel better about himself. He didn't think he could really be that bad if someone like her looked at him in such a manner.

“Really,” He liked how tall she was. It made it easy for him to lean forward and press his lips against her forehead. He lingered there for a moment as he finally realized how much he’d missed her the past two days. He felt like he hadn’t had nearly enough of her, “You know I used to have a surfboard like this when I was little, and my mom would take me to the beach.” He told her as he rotated the object in his fingertips again. He could easily tell how much time and effort she had put into it and part of him wondered why he was worth all of it. So far all he ever seemed to do was bring bad things into her life.

“You did?” She perked up a bit more as she listened to his words. He licked his bottom lip as he nodded, knowing that she was waiting to devour more of his past. He breathed out slowly, feeling a burning inside of his chest as he thought of the memory. It was still so hard to think about, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to talk about it without breaking down.

“Yeah, it was similar colors,” He confirmed with a nod of his head, “Can I keep it in your bag until we get home?” The men in the garage were too reckless for his liking, he didn’t want his present to be destroyed. He was going to savor it, to forever keep it put up for only himself to use.

“Sure,” She nodded as she pulled her backpack open again, “Do you have much longer?” She asked, sounding a bit hopeful. He didn’t mention that it was still fairly early, and he was sure that she was missing more than just study hall. She pulled her straps back over her shoulders and grinned at him, warming the deepest parts of him.

“Another hour or so,” He told her as he pulled the heavy door open again. He waited, letting her enter inside first, “Do we need to get Max?” He asked suddenly, unsure of the answer since Kim had left school early. She glanced back towards him.

“No,” Kim shook her head, “Mom is picking her up.” She walked with him inside, shuffling a bit closer once some of Billy’s coworkers walked past them. She held her arms tightly in front of her chest, as if she could hide herself away. He bit his lip, still thinking about how cute she was when she got all shy. He'd tried to introduce her to his coworkers but all she could do was manage to squeak out a meek hello. Her face had been bright red, burning as brightly as a tomato.

“Is Susan going to be mad once she realizes you skipped school to see me?” He asked her, his tone more serious this time around. He didn’t want Susan to be more upset with him than she already was. She kept her eyes drifting ahead, neglecting to look towards him. He exhaled quickly, already knowing her answer.

“She’s already mad,” Kim shrugged her shoulders, “I just want to be with you.” She replied quietly as the garage hummed to life around them. Billy wondered if he should send her back to school, but then figured that in the end she was right. Susan was already mad. There wasn’t anything they could do to change it. He hesitated before he nodded his head, thinking that there was little else he could do to intensify Susan’s hatred.

“Alright,” He had an urge to kiss her but resisted doing so. He was fairly certain everyone here thought she was his girlfriend already, but he didn’t need anyone else finding out the truth. He wasn’t sure they were even considered a secret anymore, “I shouldn’t be too long.” He promised, wishing he still had his summer job with easy hours. He missed being able to see her all the time.

He felt a lot more motivated to work with Kim waiting for him in the next room. It excited him, thinking about how lucky he was to have someone as sweet as her be interested in him. The rest of his shift passed a lot quicker, and he swore he even had a grin on his face as he worked.

“Ready?” She asked eagerly as she waited for him by the door, her hands resting against the straps on her backpack. He bit back a grin, trying to keep from pinching her cheeks and telling her how cute she was. He nodded his head.

“Let’s go,” Billy nodded his head as he held the door open for her. She walked out first, smiling brightly as they walked towards his car. Billy quickly moved around her, moving so he could pull the passenger door open for her. She leaned against it for a moment, pausing as she smiled sweetly towards him. He pressed his finger against her nose again before she slid into the car, “Do you want anything before we go?” He asked, wondering if she wanted something to drink. She leaned forward against the console, sending him a look that he knew all too well. He was fairly convinced that she had no clue that she even sent him such looks. It seemed to be the only time her eyes weren't filled with complete sadness, rather with desire and want for him.

“Yeah,” She breathed out shyly as her palm rested against his upper thigh. He bit his lip, raising an eyebrow as he pretended to be clueless. He liked when she spoke more, when she was able to tell him what she clearly wanted, “Can I suck you off?” She asked as she stumbled over her words, sounding unsure as her cheeks burned brightly. He couldn't ever imagine telling her no, but the cute way she asked him let him know that he was already hooked. He felt his cock beginning to throb inside of his pants, already begging to be touched by her.

“Mhm,” He smiled as he leaned forward to peck her soft lips, “I wouldn’t ever say no to that.” He chuckled to himself as her hands began to search for the opening to his pants. He shifted his hips up off the seat for a moment, assisting her in tugging his pants down lower on his hips. He glanced around quickly, confirming that no one was around.

She exhaled as she slowly wrapped her hand around his soft dick. He winced for a moment as he felt her cold skin against his. She giggled softly as she glanced back up towards him, tucking her hair behind her ear as if she already knew what he was thinking. She slowly squeezed him, his cock already growing warm and beginning to harden from her simple touches. He grunted softly as she tugged on his cock, looking at it in full bliss.

“S’nice,” She complimented as she kissed the head of his cock. He grunted as she spit softly around his tip, slowly massaging her saliva down the length of his cock. He licked his bottom lip, enjoying how large he looked in her small hand, “Feels nice.” She mumbled as she flicked her eyes up towards him. She kept eye contact as she paused her movements to slowly lick up the base of his cock. He sighed roughly at the sensation of her tongue prodding against his balls.

“Don’t tease me,” He told her softly as he tucked the strands of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear. She giggled softly as she glanced up towards him, looking more than eager to please him. He liked the way she was constantly observing him. He liked knowing that someone was just as intrigued with him as he was with her, “Wanna feel that pretty mouth.” He pressed his hips forward slowly, trying to encourage her.

She tapped his tongue against her tongue, sticking it out far as she continued to tease him. He moved his hand down the curve of her back, squeezing her ass cheek in his hand. She moaned softly as she pressed his tip inside of her parted lips, stretching her jaw out as her saliva coated the length of his cock.

He exhaled slowly as she slowly began to bob her head up and down, building a slow but steady rhythm. Her eyes stayed locked on his, constantly searching his expression as if she was doing it right. He groaned as he pushed more of her hair out of her eyes, delving into the feeling of being watched so intensely. He grunted as her hands cupped his balls, taking turns squeezing them as he continued to bob her head.

“Fuck,” He pulled her hair back, not wanting to lose the sight of her eyes on his. He liked how she always stared back at him, like she was making sure that she was doing something right, “So pretty.” He mumbled truthfully, knowing that she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. She moaned from his words, and he fought the urge to snap his hips forward from how good the vibrations felt against his skin.

He huffed in response to her movements, his cock feeling hot and heavy against her tongue as she lapped along the length of him. He squeezed her hair softly, enjoying the soft protest that left her lips. He liked how eager, how loud she was all the time.

She gagged along his cock, his tip pressing against the back of her throat. He grunted, thinking about how pretty she looked as the drool slid out from the corner of her lips. He enjoyed how messy she got, how she wasn't afraid to drool over herself. It made him that much harder. He bit back his own whimper, thinking about how badly he needed to feel her cunt wrapped around him.

“C’mere,” He begged as he slowly pulled her away from his cock. She pouted again but he ignored it as he tugged her small body onto his lap. She cautiously moved, looking up towards the roof of his car to make sure she didn’t hit her head. He worked quickly, beginning to undress her as he drank in the image of her naked body. He stared in bliss for a moment, admiring her perky breasts and soft curves. He rubbed his hands along her pale skin before he pinched her pale nipples, earning a squeal from her, “Sexy.” He complimented, knowing how easily those words drove her crazy.

“Billy,” Kim giggled softly as she pushed her hair off of her shoulders. She moved her hands forward, quickly beginning to strip his shirt off of him. He laughed as he removed it, liking the way her eyes widened in anticipation. He squeezed her sides softly before he traveled the length of her arms. He roughly gripped her wrists as he held her arms back behind her back, liking the way she squirmed under his grasp, “Want you so bad.” She mumbled, her lips parting into a pout as she begged for him. He rubbed his tongue across his bottom lip, thinking that it was a shame to keep her waiting.

He exhaled roughly, keeping her wrists tightly behind her back as he pushed himself inside of her wet cunt. He felt his eyelashes fluttering as the pleasure traveled up his body. Every time with her felt like the first. He stared at the way he slowly disappeared inside of her, her cunt squeezing him tightly as he filled out inside of her.

“Billy,” She whimpered, her pitchy voice sounding like heaven as she moaned for him. He licked his lips, enjoying how nice his name rolled off of her tongue, “It feels good.” She giggled softly, her lips parting in bliss as her cheeks grew warm. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he slowly pressed his hips up forward, beginning to thrust into her.

“So pretty,” He mumbled out as he admired how tight her eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure and how her pink lips seemed to pout out as she moaned. She snapped her eyes open, looking as if she had to search for him. Her eyes wandered over his features as she slowly rocked her hips forward, beginning to search for her own pleasure, “So fucking pretty.” He repeated as he released her hands, finding the urge to touch more of her.

He traced his hands up lazily across her hips as she began to move on top of his cock, breathy moans falling from her tongue as he continually moved his large hands up the curve of her body. He groaned as his hands cupped her perky boobs, squeezing them softly as she continued to build up a rhythm.

She was a wonder to him. He thought of how shy and sweet she had been at first, how she couldn’t bear to handle the thought of pushing his cock inside of her cunt. She was so much more confident now, even if she didn’t realize it. He knew the truth. He loved watching how eager and desperate she grew when his cock entered inside of her.

She rolled her hips forward, grinding down against him as her hands moved across his biceps. He groaned as he pinched his fingers across her pink nipples. He grunted at the sensation of her squeezing roughly around his cock. He pushed his hips forward with her movements, loving how wet and warm she felt around him.

He tilted his head upwards so his lips could meet hers in a rushed fury, wanting to taste the moans that were pouring from her lips. There was something so sensual about feeling her cry out in pleasure as he tasted her tongue against his own. He exhaled against her mouth as their moans mingled together in a similar way their tongues were lapping at one another. He pulled away slowly, a trail of spit connecting between their lips as he glanced back down at the way his cock was sliding in and out of her wet hole with ease.

“Look at you,” He mumbled as a pleasure built in the pit of his chest as she looked towards him with furrowed eyebrows and pouty lips, “Such a whore for your big brother.” He felt his cock throb as her walls spasmed around him, her moans becoming louder from his dirty words. She watched him intensely as she rode him, her flush beginning to hide away the freckles on her body.

“Oh god,” She breathed out roughly as he found his hands moving back to cup the curve of her ass. He squeezed her flesh in his hands, admiring the way her skin felt against his own. He pressed her down harder onto his lap, resisting the urge to snap his hips up harder. He felt such a carnal desire to devour her each time she was stuffed full of his cock, “Fuck me good big brother.” He was momentarily taken aback, still growing used to her pretty mouth that was becoming so filthy. He grinned as he squeezed her hips, his fingertips digging into her bony hips.

HIs rhythm became harder, faster as he snapped his hips forward in bliss. He grunted as he gripped her hips and rolled her hips down along the length of his cock. He exhaled roughly as her cunt gripped him tightly, trying to pull him further inside of her. He pressed his hand against her abdomen, grunting each time he felt a bulge pressing into his palm.

His grip along her hips tightened as he rocked into her, desperately needing to feel more of her at once. He looked up at her in awe, a warmth spreading through him that he never felt unless he was with her. She made him feel alive in a way he would never understand. He was afraid if he let go, he’d lose that sensation entirely.

“Billy,” Her nails were scratching at his skin as he bounced her along his cock, her walls clenching tightly as he rocked her forward. Her eyes crossed before they rolled back in her head. She was moaning loudly, her muscles beginning to constrict as he brought her to her high, “Right there. Oh god!” She cried out as she fell forward against him, her chin nestling into the crook of his neck as she shook around him. He felt his own eyes closing in pleasure as he gripped her lower back, urgently trying to keep her movements as he found himself growing nearer.

“Fuck,” He exhaled roughly, feeling as if she was milking his cock from how hard she was squeezing around him. Her thighs shook, bringing him even closer as he pressed down against her backside. His teeth raked against her shoulder, resisting the urge to bite down as he felt himself releasing inside of her, “Fuck, fuck.” He cursed harshly, his hips snapping up as he pressed her down just as hard. He groaned, rolling his hips as he painted the insides of her walls.

Their chests rose and fell at the same time as they tried to collect themselves. He lazily drew patterns along her back as his heart thumped roughly inside of his chest. He felt a grin forming as she kissed along his neck, sucking softly as he rested his head against the seat again. He shivered when she licked below his right earlobe, a spasm of pleasure traveling down his neck and back.

He exhaled harshly as she rolled her hips backwards, his softening cock pulling free from her drenched cunt. His dick bobbed up against her soft skin, pressing forward against her small tuft of dark red hair. He reached down between them, gently stroking it. He liked the color difference on her, how it matched her pink pussy. She blushed, looking a bit embarrassed from his actions. It made him grin again as he thought about how cute she looked.

“Thank you for the surfboard,” He told her again gently. His eyes darted back down between her thighs, taking in the way his cum was coating her folds. He could feel his body growing warm, his heart beginning to race as he thought about her walking around with his cum coating her walls. She’d been the only one he’d ever wanted to bring that experience to life with. He liked how willing and open she was, how she was just as eager, “I’m going to put it in my room.” He told her honestly as he tilted his head up to kiss her.

Her giggle muffled against his lips as he moved against her with a new sense of urgency. His lips dragged along her own, licking and prodding against her swollen mouth. He could no longer taste her lip gloss but that didn’t stop him from trying to savor the taste of her. She always tasted sweet, like she had been eating too much candy. His tongue flicked against hers before she was pulling away, her hands gripping onto his jaw as she peered down at him.

She stared down at him, her eyebrows furrowed together like she was debating about something. He squeezed at her hips again, studying over her flushed cheeks and dilated eyes as he exhaled roughly. Her lips parted as she leaned forward, her fingers pressing his lips apart slowly. His insides curled as she moved closer to him, puckering her lips together before she was spitting into his mouth.

He groaned, his hips moving forward as he wished he was still hard enough to push himself back inside of her. He coated her saliva around his teeth, the roof and his mouth and his tongue before he swallowed it. He wasn’t sure how something so degrading and dirty had turned into something so sweet and sensual for them.

Her eyes were wide as she pulled away, still looking as if she was unsure about her actions. He wished she’d give herself more credit to fully realize just how crazy she made him. He tugged her closer to him, feeling like he was squeezing her too hard as a whimper left her lips.

“Ten minutes,” He begged as his hands traveled down towards her thighs and squeezed softly, “And we can go another round. Please.” He begged her, never tiring of having her body against his. He leaned forward, beginning to pepper kisses along her collarbone as she giggled in response. His hands moved up her thighs, beginning to crave the feeling of her wet cunt again.

“We have to get back,” She reminded him, still sounding airy and full of life, “I can’t be too late.” She reminded him, although he was sure Susan would be upset no matter what time they got back. He prodded his fingers against her drenched entrance, beginning to push their mixture back inside of her fluttering walls. She gasped, glancing down between them as he kept his eyes trailed on her parted lips.

“You can’t just tease like that,” He grumbled underneath his breath as he easily slid two fingers inside of her. He grinned, watching the way her eyes fluttered shut as she began to rock against his movements, “Look how desperate you are. You just had my cock, was that not enough?” He mocked her, licking his lips as she began to grind against his knuckles. He huffed in bliss, watching the way her eyebrows furrowed together and her lips parted in pleasure.

“It feels good,” She whimpered in defense, her cheeks already beginning to burn again. He groaned, his stomach twisting in pleasure as she squeezed tightly around his fingers. His eyes trickled down her neck, watching the way her boobs moved as she continued to roll her hips further along the length of his fingers. He groaned, leaning forward to bring one of her pink nipples into his mouth. He licked around it, sucking it softly as he felt it harden against his lips, “Oh, Billy.” She moaned out, sending chills up his spine. He loved when she moaned his name. It reminded him that they were real, that she was his.

“Want you so bad,” He mumbled as he kissed along her perky skin. He dragged his tongue along her, glancing up at the way she had furrowed her eyebrows tightly together again. He could feel an ache growing in his abdomen, wishing he was shoving her full of his cock again. He dragged his teeth lightly against her nipple again as she gaped as he slid a third finger inside of her. He stretched her slowly as he pumped his fingers inside of her, wishing that he had prepped her enough to slide inside of her ass, “You’re so tight baby. Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers.” He encouraged as he squeezed her hip with his free hand. She slowly opened her eyes, pleasure overtaken inside of her pupils as she whined around him. She looked down between her legs, her hips becoming more frantic.

He looked down from her features, enough to drink in the image of her slick coating his thick fingers as he pumped them inside of her. He exhaled roughly, enjoying the way she engulfed him so easily. It drove him crazy, thinking of how easily he could slide inside of her. He huffed as he pumped inside of her quicker, curling his fingers more urgently as he searched for the spot that made her breath hitch.

“Oh my god,” She moved her hands to his biceps, squeezing her skin in awe as she rocked against him. Her pitch became higher, her breathing more labored as the moans rolled off of her tongue. Her nails began to dig into his skin, piercing him as he thrusted into her rougher, “Right there. Oh god.” She was moaning louder, her sounds sweeter than any song or lullaby that he had heard. He kept the same pace, wanting to feel her coming undone around his fingers. He didn’t even care if he got his cock inside of her again, he just wanted to watch her cum around him.

“So fucking hot,” He murmured as he felt his heart beating harshly inside of his chest. He groaned as her walls fluttered around his fingers, clenching tightly as her hips bucked forward as she cried out in bliss, “That’s it, baby. Wanna feel you.” He pleaded as he moved his lips closer towards hers. She cried out, digging her nails into his skin harder as her hips became more frantic. Their noses brushed against each other as she came undone around him. He continued to pump into her, enjoying the sounds that poured out from her lips.

“S’lot,” She whimpered, her nose dragging along the curve of his cheek as she moved closer to him. Her nipples brushed against his bare chest, sending a fresh wave of shivers up his back. He chuckled, still feeling her walls fluttering around his fingers as he slowly withdrew them. Her lips parted against his cheek, gasping as he did so. He chuckled, slowly dragging his messy hand up towards his lips as he swirled her sweet mixture from them. She watched with heavy eyes, her chest rising and falling, “You’re bad.” She giggled out at last as she gently squeezed his biceps.

“Me?” He grinned as he withdrew his fingers from her mouth. He slid them around her waist, squeezing softly as he hugged her. She grinned as she nodded her head as her fingertips brushed against his back muscles. He tilted his head forward and pecked her lips, lingering against her mouth for a moment.

“Yeah,” She responded softly as she ran her nails across his skin gently, “Just in a teasing way.” She reasoned with him, looking like she was worried how he’d interpret it. He smiled softly, thinking it was cute how she was always looking out for him. He brushed his lips against hers again, trying to reassure her that he didn’t find anything wrong with her statement. He knew what she meant.

“I know,” He told her after a second thought, remembering that she didn’t always pick up on his actions, “We better go.” He told her gently as he ran his hands across her sides again. She smiled, as she slowly began to clamber from his lap. He moved his hand on top of her head, carefully guiding her so she wouldn’t smack her head against the roof of his car.

“Thank you.” She grinned brightly as she began to dress herself. He drank in the image of her for another moment before he followed her suit. He fumbled with his buttons for a moment as they settled into a comfortable silence. He thought for a moment, something still weighing heavy on his chest.

“Hey,” He turned towards her, “Why are you skipping school?” He asked her seriously, making sure to hold her eye contact. She broke away first, shrugging her shoulders as she popped her knuckles. He winced at the sound as he lit up a cigarette. He was sure one day she’d break her fingers with as much as she did it.

“It was just boring.” She said at last as she shimmied her panties back up over her slender legs. He thought about mentioning that she didn’t have to put them back on but lost the words in his mind over the serious look on her face. He blew out a puff of smoke.

“Kim,” He responded slowly as he reached over and squeezed her knee softly. She lurched at the sensation, “What’s going on?” He lowered his voice as he spoke, trying to be gentle as he approached the question. He rubbed her skin softly, hoping to relax her.

“Will you answer one of my questions?” She continued to fumble with her fingers as she glanced towards him. He looked into her hazel eyes, watching the way the sadness mingled in with the colors. He was beginning to wonder if it was because she had been through so much at such a young age. Where his experiences had turned him cold and with hatred; hers had left her kind with her sadness swirling deep where she thought no one could see. He saw it. He always could see right through her.

“Sure,” He considered her compromise for a moment as a bubble of anxiety rose within him. She had so many questions, so many unknowns that she was always trying to prod from him. It made him a bit nervous to fully commit. He inhaled sharply, deciding it was for the best, “What’s going on in school?” He asked her again, wanting to get down to the bottom of it. He felt his eyebrows furrowing together as anger rose inside of him. He knew how shy and awkward she could be, he hoped that no one was causing her issues. He’d make sure that they never did it again.

“I have a few classes with Jason,” She twisted the ring around her chest as she spoke. He shot his eyes back up towards her at the mention of his name, “I know it’s stupid. He didn’t really do anything, but he just makes my chest feel so tight when I see him. It’s like I can’t breathe. He’s obviously angry and I don’t know, I don’t want to be confronted by him.” She rambled on as she spoke, beginning to talk with her hands as she made small gestures in the air. He absorbed her words for a moment as he tried to think of the best way to support her.

“He shouldn’t be messing with you,” He told her hotly, his anger taking over without him realizing, “I’ll talk to him.” He said at last, already feeling the piping hot fury beginning to rise within his chest. He had no problem teaching the same lesson to Jason again. He would deserve it. Her eyes widened as she looked towards him.

“No, Billy don’t do that,” She told him quickly as she held onto his bicep, “I don’t want to make the situation worse. He hasn’t spoken to me; I’m just freaking out over nothing.” She was speaking urgently as she squeezed his muscles in her hands. He looked over her worried features as he quickly took another drag in hopes that it would calm his nerves a bit. He rubbed his tongue along his teeth as he thought.

“You’re sure?” He frowned softly, still feeling the anger in the pit of his stomach. He’d have no issue breaking Jason’s other arm and making sure he was out for the entire season this year. However, he didn’t want to go behind Kim’s back and do that without her knowledge. Not again.

He gulped hard as he thought about telling her but was unable to form the words on his tongue. He watched as she traced her fingers down the curve of his bicep and his arm. He felt his skin prickling from the sensation, his anger momentarily contained.

“Yeah,” She nodded her head as she tucked her hair behind her ears, “I’ve just been more on edge lately.” She tried to brush everything off with that claim again. He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, worrying that she was going to let everything bubble up at once. He wondered if she really knew what was happening inside of her. He didn’t want her to have another panic attack.

“You’ve been through a lot,” He reminded her softly. He turned for a moment to toss his cigarette out the window, “You are a badass.” He told her seriously as he faced her again. She giggled softly, her cheeks bubbling up into balls. He was sure she thought he was joking, but he was being completely serious. He had never had anyone stick up for him the way she had with Neil. He was appreciative of that.

“Okay,” She glanced towards him before she looked back to his lap. She picked at her nails for a moment as she softly asked her question, “What’s your moms name?” Her question surprised him so badly that it nearly knocked the air from his lungs. He blinked hard before he gulped, trying to gain control of himself before he answered her question.

“Oh,” He stared at her for a moment, “Rosemary. Her name was Rosemary.” The name rolled off of his tongue oddly, feeling alien. He couldn’t remember the last time he had thought of her first name or when he had heard it. Neil had stopped saying her name soon after she left, and Billy was sure that it only resided in the deepest part of his memory. He felt a lump forming in the back of his throat as he thought about how he couldn’t remember her last name or anything else about her.

“That’s pretty.” Kim said softly as her eyes rose to meet his. She observed his features for a moment, but he didn’t feel like she sought for weakness within him. She was looking to make sure that he was alright, that he was comfortable speaking about his mother. He cracked a grin across his lips as he leaned forward.

“Not as pretty as Kimberly Rose,” He kissed her again, savoring how sweet she tasted against his lips. He kissed away any of his bitter memories, replacing them with the thought of her, “The prettiest name for the prettiest girl.” He teased her as he slowly pulled away, his lips dragging across her smooth ones. She giggled again, her cheeks heating up like it was the first time he’d ever complimented her.

“You’re funny,” She exhaled roughly as she spoke, like she was too nervous to fully accept the compliment. He thought it was funny that she accused him of never accepting them, when she was just as guilty of it, “But very sweet.” She promised him softly, her eyes flashing full of warmth as she spoke. Billy grinned in response, feeling as if she was the only person that had ever referred to him as sweet.

The car ride was fairly lively as Kim flickered through the radio, singing loudly and rather badly to Dolly Parton’s Islands in the Stream. He shook his head, denying the fact that he knew lyrics from the many times he’d heard her listen to it. He had grown accustomed to her music the same way she had grown accustomed to his. He had even heard her listening to some of his tapes without him being around.

“Home sweet home,” He teased her, knowing full well that neither of them viewed the trailer as home, “Do you need help?” He asked as she shimmied her backpack onto her shoulders again. She shook her head and he hoped that she remembered to give him his ashtray.

“I’ve got it,” She smiled, nudging him gently with her arm. She walked up the creaky steps and he took a moment until she was walking inside the door, not wanting to cause the staircase to collapse underneath their combined weight, “Thank you though.” She added sweetly as she pushed the door open. Billy followed behind shortly, quickly noticing that something wasn’t right. The air in the room was cold, tense.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Susan demanded as they entered the room. She set down her bottle of vodka, leaving Billy to wonder how much she had already drunk, “I didn’t know where you were!” She snapped at Kim, looking just as furious as Billy knew she would be. He blew air out from his lips roughly, knowing that this had been a bad idea.

“I tried to call,” Kim mumbled as she held onto the straps on her bag, “You didn’t pick up.” She shrugged her shoulders as she looked down to the ground. He was honestly surprised with her reaction. She had always been terrified to get in trouble and now she was acting like it was no big deal. He didn’t understand the sudden switch that had happened.

“That doesn’t matter,” Susan looked at her in disbelief, “That doesn’t give you a right to skip school.” Susan glanced towards Billy as if he somehow had a say in what Kim did. He raised his hands innocently, although he didn’t believe Kim should be yelled at for it.

“It was just study hall.” Kim mumbled as she sat her bag down gently. Billy thought of his gift but thought that this wasn’t the best moment to reach for it. He lingered awkwardly in the room, wondering if he should leave or not. He began to walk towards the room, feeling like it was best for him to not be involved in this. Susan shot him a look, making him stop his movements completely. He exhaled slowly, realizing he was in trouble too.

“I don’t care,” Susan snapped, “What’s gotten into you? You’re skipping school, sleeping with your brother and drinking my alcohol.” Billy lurched at the mention of being referenced as her brother again. Susan and Neil barely acknowledged them as siblings before, unless they were proving a point to other families. He glanced towards Kim curiously, tilting his head at the mention of her drinking. She hadn’t passed that information along to him. He was sure that she was too scared to try anything again. Perhaps he was wrong, but it still bothered him.

“He’s not my brother,” Kim’s face was burning again as she straightened her shoulders, looking towards Susan with more defiance, “And I didn’t drink any of it.” He rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip as he took in Susan’s accusation. He observed Kim cautiously, not reading any lies across her features. He looked towards Susan again, debating about pointing out how she’d drunk through his six packs more than once.

“I was married to his dad,” Susan staggered closer, clearly already more drunk than what she probably realized, “He is your brother. You can’t do that.” Susan demanded, quickly not keen on listening to anything Kim had to say. Billy glanced around before he put his hands in his pocket. He wasn’t used to Susan being so angry.

“We’re not related!” Kim shouted louder this time, looking frustrated as her cheeks were beginning to turn pink. Billy rubbed the back of his head, understanding that the two of them were both too frustrated to hold a casual conversation.

“And what about Max?” Susan spit out harshly, “What about that whole situation? You’d be fine just sharing a sibling?” She gestured dramatically between Kim and Billy. He winced as he glanced around, knowing Susan wouldn’t be happy if she knew his thoughts about the situation. He could care less if Max was related to the both of them. Hell, he probably wouldn’t care if Kim and him shared the same blood. He was too far gone to care about any of that.

“He loves me,” Kim mumbled pathetically, “And I love him. Nothing else matters. We’re adults, we can pick our own future.” She nodded her head, acting as if that would be the final word. He exhaled softly, glad that she was sticking up for herself. He just didn’t know if this was the best way to do it.

“You think you’re grown?” Susan spoke harshly, her voice shaking. Billy slowly peeled back the layers as he recognized the anger, the hurt and the betrayal in her eyes. He thought he saw a bit of regret, perhaps even remorse. He felt sick suddenly, even though he wasn’t the one being yelled at, “Go see if the two of you can survive on your own then. Go. I won’t stop you.” She motioned towards the door widely. Billy exhaled, doing his best to keep his mouth shut. He knew it wasn’t the right time to speak up. Susan was bitter, she would be. He still didn’t think that she deserved to speak to Kim that way. Kim was grown beyond her years; it was forced upon her whether Susan meant to do so or not.

“Mom,” Kim’s bottom lip wobbled as she spoke, her eyes looking even more dejected than usual, “Just calm down. It was one class. I won’t do it again.” Billy fought the urge to reach out towards her, wanting to give her some comfort. At the same time, he feared that he would only make Susan more upset.

“You think that’s what I’m upset about?” Susan asked in disbelief as she began to stagger again. She held a finger up towards Kim, scolding her, “You lied to me. How could you do that?” She looked at Kim for answers, searching for why Kim would hide something so serious from her.

“I didn’t mean to,” Kim was crying now, leaving an aching deep inside of Billy’s chest, “I was afraid you’d act like this.” Kim spit out quickly, looking a bit resentful towards Susan. Billy sighed, wishing he knew what to say. He worried that whatever came out of his mouth would only make Susan angrier. Susan raised her eyebrow, looking even more stunned by Kim’s choice of words. She was quiet for a moment like she was trying to find the correct thing to say.

“Why would you think I’d be happy for you?” Susan said at last, her voice sounding raspy from how quiet she was speaking. Billy felt a frown forming on his lips, knowing that Kim deserved a lot more than what she had gotten in life. Susan didn’t have to be happy with their decision, but he felt that Susan should at least try and be happy for Kim.

“Because I found someone that I’m really happy with. Someone that I love,” Kim was sniffling loudly as she wiped her eyes. Billy found himself moving closer but quickly stopped at the dirty look Susan sent him, “Just because your marriages never worked out doesn’t mean you can push that onto me.” Kim’s voice shook from how harsh she spoke. Billy exhaled sharply at Kim’s words, understanding that she was looking for a way to hurt Susan now.

“Are you serious right now?” Susan asked, sounding very hurt as she took another staggering step forward, “I gave up everything for you.” She sounded broken as she spoke, like she wished Kim would realize the things that she had gone through on her own.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a reward to give you,” Kim breathed out harshly as the tears began to pour from her cheeks. Billy found his fingers clenching together, worried that she may have another panic attack. He reminded herself that she was grown, that she could still handle herself, “He makes me happy. I just want to be happy.” She sounded frustrated as she finished her statement, like all of her worries and stress was coming forth. Susan’s eyes slowly dragged towards Billy, making his heart pound roughly in anticipation. He waited for her to begin screaming, to begin accusing him of all the horrible things he was sure she was thinking. It felt like the very fragile relationship they had slowly begun to build had crumbled within a matter of hours. He breathed in harshly, wishing she would just hit him rather than speak whatever cruel words she had to say into existence.

“You two can be happy together,” Susan pushed off from the counter, nearly falling forward. Kim and Billy reached out at the same time but were quickly shoved away by Susan. She glared at Kim, still looking hurt, “I won’t be a part of it.” She said at last as she walked towards the room. Kim slumped her shoulders forward, looking crestfallen as Billy stepped towards her. He gently rested his hand against her back, thinking of all the times she’d comforted him.

They were quiet for a moment, neither of them knowing what to expect when Susan approached again holding an overfilled bag. Max was hot on her tail, tears already streaming down her cheeks as she looked just as crestfallen as Kim. Billy was suddenly reminded of how young she was, and he was suddenly furious, wondering what Susan was thinking with the way she was acting.

“What are you doing?” Kim asked quickly, her tears rushing forward harder as Susan tried to step aside. Kim gripped onto the bag, making Susan face her, “Where are you going?” Kim demanded, sounding sterner as she spoke. Billy felt as if a stone was sitting in his stomach as a nauseous feeling spread over him. Too many memories began to flash inside of his own mind as he tried to remember the last time, he had seen his own mom.

“Kimberly,” Susan’s voice was cold even though she was crying just as hard as the other two. She yanked her bag back towards her chest, dismissing Kim’s protests, “Just let me go. I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t want to be here and be reminded of everything that I’ve done wrong.” She waved her hand dramatically as if she was going through something so terrible. Billy bit his lip hard, beginning to grow irritated that she was making the situation all about herself.

“It’s nothing you did,” Kim was blubbering, “Just don’t go. I know we can work through this. Please.” She begged, sounding like she was a little kid. Billy felt sick, wondering how many times he had begged for his mom to come back too. He rested his weight against the counter, suddenly feeling weak in the knees.

“Mom don’t go,” Max pleaded with her, “Everything is fine.” She tried to convince Susan as well, sounding just as desperate. Billy thought of how young she was again, how this would be the second parent to walk out on them in such a short amount of time. He was speaking before he fully recognized his thoughts. Nothing mattered as long as Susan stayed with them.

“Susan, look,” Billy breathed out quickly, “I can stay somewhere else. It’s fine.” He ignored Kim’s look of protest, how her eyes widened in fear. He wasn’t sure how else he could reassure her that he’d always be around. He just didn’t want them to lose Susan.

“No,” Susan brushed the two girls off slowly, looking like it pained her to do it, “I just need to clear my head. I’m suffocating. I just need a break.” She sounded like she was begging them now. Billy bit back the rising fury, thinking about how shitty it was to leave just because she needed a break. He supposed it would eventually be fine. She hadn’t paid the rent last month anyways, she’d be out of money before she knew it. Especially now that she was jobless.

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave,” Kim was hiccupping from how hard she was sobbing, “We won’t do anything like that again. I won’t skip school or do anything bad.” He felt a somber feeling settling deep inside of his chest at the way she was speaking. He was sure that she had never missed a class before in her life. She was going through something rough, and he was sure Susan didn’t even see it. She was blinded by her own anger, her own hurt to even pay attention to her daughters.

“Just a night away,” Susan pushed Kim’s hands back towards her chest, “Please.” She looked at Kim seriously, waiting for her to nod her head in agreement. Max exhaled harshly, her voice breaking as she turned away from Susan. Her blue eyes were filled with tears as she walked towards Billy, her arms around his waist before he could react. He was stiff for a moment before he relaxed, letting her cry into his chest as he thought about the first time, she’d ever hugged her. It had been a similar moment like this, full of tears.

“Okay,” Kim sounded just as defeated as she spoke up, “You’ll be back in the morning?” She looked down at Susan pleadingly, looking like she couldn’t stand the idea of Susan being gone any longer. Susan hesitated before she nodded, and Billy was sure that she was already regretting her decision. He was sure she’d be back quicker than that. Susan had stuck through so much; he couldn’t see her just walking out on them now. Perhaps she really did need to clear her head for a bit.

“In the morning,” Susan confirmed as her eyes scanned the room. Max’s arms grew tighter around his waist, nearly knocking the air from his lungs as she avoided Susan’s gaze. He squeezed her softly, hoping that she knew it would eventually be okay, “I’ll be back then.” She nodded her head, sounding like she was talking to herself more than to them. She turned quickly, taking all of the tension and anger with her as she left the trailer. Billy closed his eyes for a short period, wondering if he had ruined Kim’s life.

////////////////

Billy was pacing in his room for what felt like hours until he couldn’t handle it anymore. He left the room, tired of constantly checking to see if Susan had arrived again. Max and Kim had been quiet, other than to come out to use the bathroom. They both looked awful, like something had run them over. He was sure they were thinking about a lot more than Susan leaving.

He hadn’t been able to rile either of them for dinner, instead he sat alone and thought about how he had ruined their relationship with Susan. He kept waiting for Max to come out and scream at him, to blame him. She never did.

He walked down the dark hallways and pushed the door open, glancing inside to see where Kim and Max had cocooned themselves into the same bed. He walked forward slowly, his heart hammering pathetically in his chest from how awful he felt at the moment. He didn’t know how to help Kim, how to assure her that everything would be fine. Everything had changed in such a short amount of time and now Susan was gone.

“You can join us,” Kim offered as she rolled over slowly. He felt more pity filling his chest, realizing that she wasn’t even sleeping in this state, “There’s lots of room.” She scooted over some more, inviting him in easily. He felt flattered but also knowing that he didn’t belong.

“It’s okay,” His words fumbled around in his mouth as he spoke, “I just wanted to check on you two.” He shrugged off her suggestion, not wanting to be a bother. She looked at him softly, looking as if she had more to say.

“Just get in the bed,” Max huffed as she scooted further towards the wall, “It’s not that big of a deal.” She told him seriously. He paused before he followed her commands, shifting in the bed next to Kim. He wanted to hold onto her but denied himself the chance while Max was awake. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Kim shifted back onto her side, still holding onto Max tightly.

The room was silent other than the occasional sniffle. Billy really wasn’t sure who the sound was coming from or how he should offer them any comfort. He laid on his back, his hands linked over his stomach as he stared up towards the glow in the dark stars that Kim had pinned up on the ceiling. He listened until he was sure that Max had fallen asleep. He slowly shifted, drawing his hands close around Kim’s waist and pulled her towards him.

She said nothing but melted against him easily, her breaths were still labored as her fingers wrapped around his own. She squeezed softly, her thumb rubbing on top of his knuckles as she relaxed against his touch. He nestled his chin against her shoulder, he wrinkled his nose as her hair tickled against his nostril. He quickly moved it out of the way before he settled against her again. She pressed her cheek up against his.

“You can’t leave me,” She turned her cheek, sitting up in the bed so she could look at him better, “I mean it. Where you go, I go.” She poked his chest softly, sounding very serious as she spoke. He sighed softly as he cupped her fingers against his hand.

“I was trying to calm Susan down,” Billy told her honestly, “I’d never leave you. I would never hurt you like that.” He promised her, knowing just how deeply the hurt of being abandoned stuck around. He didn’t want to lose her, not ever. She was made for him as far as he was concerned. It didn’t matter what else happened or who came into their lives.

“What if she doesn’t come back?” Kim asked after a moment, her bottom lip quivering as she spoke. Billy felt a frown forming on his lips as he leaned forward to press his lips against hers. She sniffled softly and he wondered how raw her cheeks must be from crying so much.

“She will,” Billy encouraged her, “She’s just drunk. I bet she’ll be back in the morning, passed out on the couch.” Billy drew the image up in his mind, hoping that he would be correct in the morning. He didn’t want Kim to miss out on having a relationship with her mother. Especially when it would be his fault.

“I don’t like the way she’s acting,” Kim admitted softly, “She’s acting how my dad used to.” She sounded like she was a small child as she spoke. He frowned softly as he played with their fingers together, gently squeezing them as he reassured her that he was here for her. He thought Susan was shitty for leaving for the night but hated the thought of Sam and everything he’d done to the girls. Kim deserved a better dad than that.

“Did he threaten to leave?” He asked softly, hoping that it may help to talk about it. He didn’t like to ask about Sam too much, as it always left him angrier than he could explain. He still couldn’t understand how Sam could leave someone like Kim behind. He could understand why his mom eventually left, even if it didn’t make him happy. Clearly, she already knew that he’d end up just like Neil. Kim was different. She was pure and sweet and good. He didn’t know why anyone would want to leave her behind.

“Not to us,” Kim was speaking softly, clearly afraid that she would wake Max up with her words, “He used to tell mom that a lot when they would fight. They really hated each other.” She said at last, her eyes looking distant as she thought about the memories. Billy felt like he had a million different things to ask her. He wanted to ask her about what Steve had said, about the alcohol and if Addi had mentioned anything about Eddie. However, he knew that this wasn’t the right time to discuss any of that. She was hurting. He just wanted to comfort her.

“We’re not like that,” He promised her as he cupped her cheeks gently, “We’re better than our parents were. We won’t make those mistakes. I promise."

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove stepcest #tw stepcest #stepcest #tw pseudocest #billy hargrove x original character #Dancing in the Dark

16 notes · View notes

choshifics · 1 year ago

Text

Another First Kiss Chapter 3

Echoes

Previous | First | Next

“As she runs out of things to say And grabs my coat to walk away”

“Five,” Max gasped, shoving the bar up off her chest and smacking it into the rack. “Done.” Goon had told her she had an affinity for weightlifting, so she’d put that to the test the past month. The World of Pokémon had no shortage of wonders; already, she’d manage to bring her bench up to eighty pounds—four times her own body weight (because, apparently, she was about twice as heavy as the average pikachu).

The only part that impressed anyone was that she did this at all. Other people at the gym respected her dedication, but the only one amazed she could do that was her. She was lucky that she’d gotten more comfortable on all fours, too, since being the smallest one in that gym had led to more than a few close calls.

It might have equipment to accommodate those of her size, but the people were a different story.

A towel flopped over her face. She snatched it down to see an eager Ithos looking down at her. “Ready to spar?” he asked.

“Wha-Ithos,” Max said. She shook her head while ruffling the towel through her fur. A fresh towel helped a bunch; she’d already sweat well through her first. “I’m exhausted from this!” The moment the words left her lips, she realized why he had a devious grin spreading his lips.

“You gotta learn to fight tired!” Ithos recited with vengeful venom. “Ferals aren’t going to wait for you to catch your breath.” He looked so proud of himself, too, as if he’d been waiting years for this moment. She just wished he could appreciate the irony of turning the tables after she’d made him spar after drilling Overheat for an entire day—that was her paying him back for sparring after drilling Thunder for an entire day.

“All right, fine,” Max said. She started to second guess his motive bringing her a fresh towel, but dried herself off some more, anyway.

“Great!” Ithos cheered, then ran through to the arenas on the other side. That devious glint in his eyes echoed to the other hundreds of times she’d seen it, even before crash-landing out of time. She collected her towels while trying not to force a headache on herself trying to remember.

Ithos would have to practice his patience, because she took her time heading over. Some odd cramps this morning made her hesitant to go running about. Memories had started coming back to her, but they were always vague. She could barely ever tell when they came from even moments later. So many strangely familiar interactions kept happening, even without her influence.

Events and moments that were barely different, or even sometimes seemed reversed, constantly meshed in her head. Several times, at this point, she’d brought up something he’d told her that he knew he’d never said in his life. The times she was completely wrong were easier to deal with. Any time she knew something she wasn’t supposed to, she had to weasel her way out of it.

Ithos knew she was hiding something, and every time she worried more what might happen if he figured it out. The consequences of time aside, she felt sick the more she thought about it. Getting Cori and Neb to like her had already felt like a trick. She always felt one mistake away from them seeing the truth—hell, that happened right before she showed up here.

She’d known him from day one and used that knowledge to befriend him. He’d called her a great friend; would he hate her if he knew how manipulative this all really was? Could he have ever really been her friend again?

“Max?” Ithos asked, lightly tapping her shoulder. Max flinched away, but his touch stopped her from jumping. “You all right? You had that look again.”

“Sorry, I’m fine,” Max said. She pretended to dry her face off again to rub out a smile—accidentally using the wet towel. Instead of as smile, she came out of it with her face twisted into disgust before tossing it aside and using the dry towel. Based on his chuckles, though, she’d done what she wanted anyway.

“All right,” Ithos said. With a firm squeeze to her shoulder, he let her know he was only pretending to believe her. He cared about her too much. “Ready to spar?” Luckily, he was too excited to help himself.

“No, but wasn’t that the point?” Max asked as she took her face out of the towel. She gave him a cocky smirk, and even beneath the one he returned, she could see concern lurking. “Still won’t be enough to win, though.” She tossed the towel to its brother and started over to the nearest arena with him. “Not unless you’re hiding another trick.”

Ithos answered with a silent gleam in his eyes that told Max more than he knew. He did, in fact, have another trick, and he was burning with excitement about it. The look made Max a bit nervous as they took their positions, but not much.

Considering how ruthless he’d been in spars, she was a little bit less conflicted using her ill gotten knowledge to kick his ass. Two yards away, they nodded their heads three times in unison, and the spar was on.

Ithos started with a billowing cloud of smoke between them while Max swung her tail around to guard like always. His tailflame gave his general location away, but it made him a bit harder to hit. He’d done this before, so Max wasn’t worried about it. She followed the wisp behind the smoke with her eyes while carefully circling around the cloud.

The flame started growing erratic in its movements. It didn’t go in any one direction without flinging back and forth, feinting, then switching in unmotivated directions. Ithos knew she was watching it.

It swung to the right and a billowing flame shot low and to the left; he’d dropped to the ground to trick her. Max flinched back while she tried to bat the blast away with an iron tail. Since it was so low, she had to move more than usual. Even largely blocked, though, it was a solid hit.

He was, however, on the ground.

Max split the difference and lobbed a bolt right between the two flames before he could get up. It flashed through the fading smokescreen and revealed an Ithos shaped shadow rather close to where she heard a yelp. She fanned some air into the smoke before letting her tail relax back to fur. The extra wind did just enough to split the cloud in two and thinned enough that she could make out Ithos on the right.

Max shot another charge to him before he could start blocking her vision again, making the charmander-shaped light bulb seize in place. She’d gotten two hits in, but both were at range. If she wanted to do damage, she’d need to get up close.

Ithos gave her the perfect opportunity to do just that. As the last of the smoke dissipated, he sputtered out a weak wave of embers right between them. Max caught a glimpse of his eyes before the ember obscured the sight: scared. She dropped down to dash around the attack and pulled in a charge while running right for him.

With every leap, she shot the electricity into a flow around her and completely saturated herself in the charge. Ithos barely registered her in the corner of his vision before she flung herself at him with lightning all over her and—hot, scalding—he was hot!

Ignoring the shocks, Ithos turned to snatch her before she could get away and burst into an inferno so hot Max was sure her eyes had melted before she could close them. Well into the attack, he released his grip and let her fly away. She couldn’t bother trying to land on any particular side, and it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. Everywhere hurt. Skidding across the ground felt, again, familiar.

Still, even with all of her fur burning against her skin, she couldn’t help a little smile hearing that roaring cheer from him. She could remember cheering about the same the first time she got a leg up on him. It wasn’t a strong enough smile to endure trying to get up.

“Kachu ka, Pika,” Max groaned as she pushed herself up to sit. Even putting her paws on the ground hurt. He didn’t knock her out, but she wished he had. He better have an oran ready for her.

Surprisingly, she still didn’t hear him coming over to help her up. Instead, she heard him eagerly bragging to someone with just as much if not more to say. She didn’t recognize the new voice or the cyndaquil it came from when she got a good look. Ithos seemed happy to see them, though.

She forced herself up with her own strength and headed over with a limp. Cyndaquil hushed Ithos and nodded her way when she started to get close. Ithos gave her a confused glance and shrugged as he acquiesced.

“Hey, great job!” Max said with as much cheer as she could manage. Ithos beamed a weak smile in answer. He was exhausted, too, but she could barely stand. She was already even shorter than both of them, so she accepted her fate and sat down. “Whatcha talking about?”

“Guy stuff,” Cyndaquil said. Max almost forgot that excluded her (and realizing it did gave her an odd bit of excitement). Ithos elbowed him for her, though.

“C’mon,” Ithos chuckled. He followed her lead and sat down, too, with a shake of his head. “Max, this is Ashton.”

“What?!” Max spouted before she could stop herself. It wasn’t even the same name, but it clicked in her head. She suddenly remembered her own first time getting a leg up on Ithos. That had been when she met Oshton.

“It’s Ash,” Ash grumbled. That didn’t sound like Oshton at all. “If you keep calling me that, you’ll learn to live life without a tail.” Max tried to check how genuine that threat was, but his eyes didn’t exactly give much away. Ithos looked all right, though, so she didn’t worry about interceding.

“Congrats on the win, young man!” a familiar voice said. Max froze in place—it couldn’t, not yet! But Grovyle dropped right next to her to spritz her with a spray bottle before she could deny it. “That looked serious, though, so I’ll just need to check up on her.” She held her paw up to block the spray, objections stuck in her throat, when he grabbed her by the nape just like a month ago.

“I-Ithos!” Max whimpered. She wished she could’ve screamed, gotten him to help her, but she couldn’t muster the energy. She couldn’t even say goodbye. This was it. Grovyle burst through a door and plopped her down on a table before spritzing the rest of the bottle all over her. “G-Grovyle, please! I-I ca—not yet, please!!”

“Oh, would you stop it?” Grovyle grumbled. He tried to shake another spray from the bottle, but it was spent. “I’m not taking you yet.” Max flopped down in relief. “Probably.” The lingering threat made her worry just enough to get back up.

“Then why are you here?” Max asked. She looked across herself to all the spots he’d spritzed and watched the scorch marks disappear. Burnt fur shed with fresh fur growing right underneath.

“Hello, nice seeing you again, too!” Grovyle said. He shook his head and tossed the bottle Max almost recognized into his bag. “Whatever happened to pleasantries? To being friendly?” He looked some amount of judgmentally down at Max, who just glared up at him with her arms crossed.

“You grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and yanked me into a room without even saying hi,” Max said. “What part of that was friendly?”

Grovyle raised a finger before slowly lowering it, mumbling, “Touche.” A thought seemed to strike him, and he reached into his bag before turning to face the door. Max winced away from an earache of a sound that went on until the tumblers let out a thick clunk. “There, locked. Don’t want any disturbances.” Max raised a brow and tried to get a look at what he’d used, but he hid it in his bag before she could.

“Hello,” Grovyle said, this time without the sarcasm. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, little missy.” He crossed his arms to lean against the door, and Max started getting flashbacks to last time.

“Grovyle,” Max sighed, rubbing her face. “I already told you. I don’t know!”

“No tremors,” Grovyle spat. “Not a one.” He narrowed his eyes and stared down at her. Even placing her on a counter, he towered well over her. “I’ve had tremors happen, albeit benign, from one word, one step, one stone that shouldn’t be there. Then, I let you have your fun for a week, and nothing. Not a one. Not even the champagne you drank caused so much as a wrinkle in time!”

“What?” Max asked. She immediately thought back to that first mission. How had getting rid of Nuzleaf not caused any changes? She wouldn’t admit to trying that, though, so she focused on another angle. “A week?” Grovyle eyed her, waiting for her point. “Grovyle, it’s been a month.”

“That’s even worse!” Grovyle said. “How—tell me, how—that after a month, you haven’t caused anything to change?” He kept a close eye on her reaction to every word, getting more frustrated with every second he didn’t get one. “You are someone who isn’t supposed to be here. Worse, you’re someone who isn’t supposed to be here taking the place of someone who is. Do you know how disastrous that should be?”

“I mean,” Max mumbled, shrugging. “Time usually has a way of self-correcting, right? It’s not exactly fate, but aren’t there fixe-”

“I knew it!” Grovyle shouted with a snap of a vine. He towered over her with his arms crossed in his assumed victory. “You know more than you’re letting on.” Again, he watched her carefully with his smirk as strong as it could be, and again, she gave him vanishingly little until eventually, she started to chuckle.

“Guessing,” Max said. “I’m just guessing based off shows and stuff.” Grovyle’s victorious grin turned to a sneer, so Max crossed her arms in a victory of her own. He kept looking at her every movement, every micro-expression until finally seeming to step just a bit away from anger.

“Max, look,” Grovyle said. “I know you miss him, but this isn’t right.” All of a sudden, he seemed even more urgent, yet still looked like he was holding himself back. Max’s tail flicked behind her at the shift. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. “This isn’t your Ithos.” Max started to grit her teeth, tail flicking much more as her frustration built. “I know it’s hard to let go, but trust me.”

The shift finally showed its purpose as his voice began to crack. His fate defying certainty in himself suddenly faltered as, for just a moment, his heart broke again. “You can’t go back. You can’t get that time back.” Max felt her frustration fade in the face of his despair. “He’s not your Ithos. It’s not right.”

“Why not?!” Max suddenly barked, surprising even herself as she leapt to her hindpaws. He’d smacked into a fresh nerve. “It’s—a lot’s different, but it’s still him!” She stared up, pleading. “I have—it’s him! He sounds the same, looks the same, he’s too similar to be different!” She had trouble staying together as she went on, and Grovyle gained a layer of empathy to his despair. “He’s Ithos. I know it.”

She’d started crying without noticing. Now that she did, though, she couldn’t stay up. She fell back, cradling her left arm in its twin. Grovyle stared at her with a storm of conflict. Max could almost hear the yelling of an internal debate as he jerked his head to the side to rub at the back of his neck. He pulled both paws to the back of his neck and rubbed them to the front.

“All right, fine,” Grovyle whispered. “Yes, it’s Ithos. It’s the Ithos you know.” Max rubbed the tears away to stare at him in frustration. That much was painfully obvious. “He likely never told you because he never knew, either.” His paw came to rub at his head as he tried to decide how much more to say, clearly already unhappy with how much he already had.

“He wiped his own memory after this,” he said; Max froze. She knew clearly, painfully clearly, how severe a step that is. “Because this is when Ithos fails.”

“What?” Max asked. After the first week, she’d stopped doubting this was well further in the past than her first time. “He can’t, though.” She shook her head, trying to imagine how Dark Matter could succeed, yet still leave a world behind. “How?”

When she looked up, though, she could tell that was all Grovyle would tell her. Some understanding started to grow in his eyes, too, that she couldn’t quite place. Then, it hit her, too. “He wiped….” She stared blank off to the distance. All the time she thought she’d gotten back would all be thrown away. She clenched her paws in building rage. How could he just throw it all away?

Grovyle tried to put a paw on her shoulder, but she smacked it off. “You need to let go,” he said. “You need to go back to where you belong.”

“Why?” Max said with spite. “If he’ll just forget it all, what’s the difference?”

“Time, Max!” Grovyle said. Whatever empathy he had for her position had started running thin. “I can’t let you stay here! Time can’t just correct itself for every little thing.” Something clicked in Max’s head.

“Correct what?” Max asked. She looked up at him to see a similar thought in his eyes. “If there aren’t any tremors, ripples, whatever.” She raised her brow at him. “Why are you here? What’s there to fix?” As she thought about it, she started hatching a plan. If Ithos wipes his memory to try again….

“Nothing,” Grovyle mumbled. He brought a claw to his chin as he thought again. “Not just a week, but a month, and nothing.” That new look he’d started giving her came back with a vengeance. He stared at her while looking right through her. Whatever he was thinking had nothing and everything to do with her. “It’s not impossible.”

“What?” Max asked, tired of being stared at. It seemed to snap Grovyle out of his thoughts, only for him to stare at her again. At least this time, he looked at her like she was a living creature.

“How has your relationship with Ithos been?” Grovyle asked. It seemed innocent enough, but the look he gave her didn’t. “What do you think of him?” Max started to glare a bit as the direction made a bit more sense. “As a friend, or were you maybe hoping for something m-”

Thanks to the added height of the counter top, Max could easily hop up and slap him across the face. After the initial shock, Grovyle simply nodded. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“Yes,” Max growled. “You did.” Even still, she didn’t like the smirk he started to have. It still wasn’t enough to dull the sting in the back of her mind, though. With every day, she felt the memories she’d thrown away torment her. She’d lost everything, friends, years, even simple facts about herself, in the worst desperation of her life. She couldn’t imagine Ithos ever doing the same.

She couldn’t let him.

“I can’t,” Max mumbled.

“Max,” Grovyle whispered. Again, he had that empathy in his voice. He almost seemed to have finally stopped thinking of her as his enemy. “You can’t change this.”

“You can’t stop me,” Max growled back. She pushed up to her hindpaws and pulled her tail forward. Locking the door wouldn’t stop her.

Grovyle didn’t move beyond shaking his head with a sad smile. “You misunderstand me,” he said. The certainty in his voice had returned, the cut of grief replacing the slice of anger. “You can’t change this.” Again, just by looking, Max could tell he wouldn’t tell her more. He relaxed as he looked at her even though she hadn’t stood down quite yet.

He watched her with growing amusement. Max brought her tail back behind her, feeling a bit ridiculous, but that didn’t stop his stare. She started to consider smacking him out of it before he chuckled, shaking his head. “I suppose I was wrong about you,” he said.

Max didn’t bother asking for clarification. He’d keep talking without her.

“I might not need to stop you at all,” he said. Max’s ears popped up in excitement before she could stop them, making Grovyle’s smile wider. As he chuckled again, Max felt a flutter of hope building.

“Does that mean you’ll leave me alone?” Max asked.

“Oh, definitely not,” Grovyle said. He shook his head, but his grin stayed exactly the same. “No, if you’d been a threat, it’d be open and shut. I’d get you back where you belong, and everything would be back as it should.” The glee in his eyes made Max feel like a mix of trapped prey and a lab rat. “Now, though, I’m interested.” His grin grew as he spoke. “Disastrous for you, if you wanted rid of me.” He let out a laugh.

Max didn’t care about the megalomaniacal laugh as her excitement built. She barely felt safe entertaining the thought. “I don’t have to go?” she asked. Grovyle looked at her again, getting another chuckle from her wet, desperate eyes.

“If I’m right,” Grovyle said, drawing out every word to torment her with the answer’s length. “Then, well, I suppose you might be able to-”

“Thank you!” Max squealed as she threw herself at him. She squeezed her arms around his neck. Her arms were already sore from the exercise, but that didn’t stop her. They squeezed as tight as they could while Grovyle let out his laughter. Some part of her didn’t appreciate the jostling, though.

“Kaaa chuuuu,” she groaned. She turned to hop off him, but the sudden cramp in her stomach liked that idea even less. As she pulled one arm to massage the ache away, Grovyle took ginger hold of her and put her back on the counter.

“Easy does it, little lady,” Grovyle said. “Something wrong?” He knelt to get a closer look on where she was holding, but Max quickly covered herself with her tail, sparks bouncing off her cheeks. He gave her a curious glance before rolling his eyes with another chuckle. “Weren’t you the one who called me a doctor?”

“Not the same,” Max grumbled. Whatever she had in her gut started to soften its approach until suddenly taking hold of her insides and twisting it with spite. She let out a yelp and fell back, both arms holding her belly now. It seemed to calm ever so slightly, but she didn’t let herself relax yet.

“Eat something bad?” Grovyle suggested. His paw went to his bag and started digging through, but he kept his attention on her. “I’m no doctor, but I can help in a pinch.” He pulled out an oran to prove his point.

“Thanks,” Max said. She risked reaching one paw out and started nibbling on it. “I guess I ate something, I don’t know.” The cramps threatened a return as she swallowed before ultimately standing down. She let out a breath of relief. “Just been having cramps today.”

“Does it feel like food poisoning?” Grovyle asked. As he watched her, though, Max got the feeling he already had a different hypothesis brewing.

Max barely gave it a thought before shaking her head. She’d had simple stomach aches before. This wasn’t anything similar. A lighter wave came through and had her wincing as she grumbled, “It feels like a part of my gut I’ve never felt before.”

“Oh, you are an interesting one,” Grovyle chuckled. A perfect world would’ve dropped a meteor on him for doing such when she was in the exact opposite of a joking mood, so Max reasoned she didn’t live in one. After his fun, though, he started digging through his bag with a knowing nod. “You said it’s been a month?” Max nodded.

“Yes, I have an idea,” he said as his paw scrounged through his bag. He needed to dig deep for it. It almost seemed deeper than the bag was. “Just a little monthly thing, but don’t worry too much.” Max really didn’t like that knowing grin growing, but she hated the ‘monthly’ mention more. “Believe it or not, it’s a common condition among humans that come here, well,” he glanced at her tail, “half of them.”

“Half?” Max grumbled. Her eyes narrowed as she looked to the side. “Right, of course.” The new body. It must have been an exact half, then. She didn’t have whatever this was before. “I luck out the first time, then I’m stuck in the other….” a gleam started to join Grovyle’s knowing grin as a look of horror grew in her eyes.

“Half,” she said. He’d glanced at her tail. “Oh, come on!” A new cramp came to accentuate her suffering. She shoved the rest of the oran berry in her mouth with one eye stuck shut in a wince.

“Yes, the first one’s always the worst,” Grovyle said. Max tried to look up with curiosity, but she couldn’t unscrew her face enough. “Well, so I’ve heard.” He flashed his teeth in a smile and made her want to strangle him. His eyes flashed as he finally grabbed whatever he’d been searching for and yanked it out.

“I’ve also heard humans are always thrilled to hear bleeding won’t be an issue,” he explained as he gave her an opaque bottle. True to the rumors, Max let out a deep sigh of relief.

Max took the bottle and said, “Thanks.” She spun it around to read the label, raising a brow. “Ibuprofen?”

“A girl’s best friend,” Grovyle explained. Max hurriedly fiddled with the cap before dumping one pill out and tossing it back. “You learn a lot in my line of work.” He watched her look up with a silent question and seemed eager to answer it. “Time Thief.” Because, of course, Max could never meet someone normal. She held the bottle back out to him, but he refused it. “Consider it an apology.”

Max gladly pulled it back. She didn’t have anywhere to put it, though, so she set it down next to her. “Apology?” she hummed. A smirk started to spread her lips. “That mean you’re sorry?”

Grovyle furrowed his brow and stared her down with a lighthearted glare. “Don’t you push it, missy,” he said. Max put her paws up in surrender with a little chuckle. The way he consistently referred to her, though, didn’t escape her notice. Either that’s just how he spoke, or he had a goal in mind. Of course, it’s not like he had any way of knowing.

“Hope this doesn’t sour your second go ‘round, too much,” Grovyle said. Max flinched. He did, in fact, have any way of knowing. She needed to get better at hiding that—though it’s not like she’d had ideal circumstances to hide it. The only two people who knew were the only two people who knew she had a new body.

“I think I’ll manage,” Max said, bringing her tail around. Even after all this time, it still made her grin to look at. Another, fading cramp came to challenge her claim, and she was glad she’d had the oran.

“See?” Grovyle said. He took a deep breath in to stretch and stared down at her as if he’d made some point. “Isn’t this so much nicer?” He crossed his arms, pointing his nose up to look down at her. “Better than being at my throat, don’t you think?”

“Don’t you push it,” Max said, crossing her arms again. “Who locked who in a cage?”

“Wasn’t locked,” Grovyle said. That hardly mattered in principle, but it was a pointless avenue. Aside from clearly not seeing an issue with it, he’d started looking at her in naked intrigue again.

It left Max time with her own thoughts. She didn’t really want the time, but they came on their own schedule. Every moment she’d spent with Ithos so far might disappear forever. She knew, better than anyone, what giving up your memories was. Even though Neb and Cori had saved her, she’d died. She’d gotten what she wanted out of it and then had to live through the consequences. She shook her head.

Ithos could never do that. She’d never let him.

“Hey, hey,” Grovyle whined. “What happened? We were getting somewhere!” Max flinched out of her thoughts. “What’s so wrong, all the sudden?” Open tenderness resounded below the veneer of snark.

Already, Max could feel herself closing up. She’d had to hide most of her worries all month. Ithos was the sweetest guy she’d ever known, but it’s not like she could really tell him all her worries. She wanted to let the impulse run its course, anyway. Even if Grovyle was a bit nicer all of a sudden, he wasn’t exactly a close friend.

But who else did she have?

It took some time to force herself, but she eventually managed to sigh out, “Ithos.” Ever since Goon reminded her of his name, saying it had a certain pain. Having him with her again, she hadn’t felt it again until now. “How can he just forget this?”

Grovyle didn’t move, but she felt him struggle to stay together. That vein of shared suffering she’d hit earlier seeped up to the surface again. Rather than say anything, he brought a paw to her shoulder and waited. A hurricane of thoughts tormented Max. She’d need to get that out before even thinking about an answer.

“What’s the point?” she asked. “Why am I here—why bother with a second chance if he’s just throwing it away?!” Rage started to build with helplessness before her own regret awoke to cut them down. This was just what she’d done to him.

“I can’t tell you,” Grovyle said. “The meaning is yours to find.” Already, she regretted talking to him. This worthless, non-answer therapy wouldn’t mend anything. “But I’ll tell you this. The time we spend with others is ours as much as it is theirs.” For an instant, he lost the reins on his composure, and then it came back. “To love is as good for you as it is for him.”

Max looked into his eyes and saw loss. She saw herself. It was as if Grovyle was seeing his own world die before his very eyes again. For a brief second, she felt like someone else understood. She felt the broken heart that could only come from losing love.

“Thanks,” she said. She brought her paw up to wipe her tears away so she could look away. Evidently, he’d had more than a worthless non-answer. Loving Ithos had already made her feel whole in a way she’d long since given up on. It finally started to make sense when she thought about his wording for a second. “Love?” She kept a close eye on his face, watching for any movement, any micro-expression.

He knew what was supposed to happen.

“Well, many kinds of it,” Grovyle answered. He had incredible control of himself, staying almost unreadable. When he turned away, though, for just an instant, she saw his frustration. He got up to pick at the leaves on his wrist. “Friends, family, couples, throuples, plenty.”

“Right,” Max said. Her grin started to grow when she saw another brief slip of panic. Maybe she hadn’t ruined her chances with Ithos, after all.

The same piercing buzzing from earlier tore her out of her thoughts. She flopped her ears to her head and slapped her paws on top. Under the squealing that stabbed into her eardrums, though, she could almost recognize the buzz, and the lock’s tumblers falling into place made her a bit more certain.

“About time I headed out,” Grovyle said. He put his paw on the knob and looked expectantly at her. “Come, if you like. Can’t save the world cooped up in here, can you?”

“Oh, can’t I?” Max said. She tried desperately not to think much on what he said. Saving the world was stressful enough the first time. She didn’t need to think about doing it again. Luckily, he simply shrugged and tugged the door open. She started hopping behind when a vine flicked out beside her and yanked the bottle she’d forgotten to her paw.

“Right, thanks,” she said. Grovyle was gone by the time she’d looked up. She scurried out through the door before it closed and couldn’t see a trace of him. Even running further into the main area, she didn’t see so much as a leaf.

“Looking for something?” a different voice drawled from behind her. She jumped around to see Ash leaning against a wall. Ash quickly threw up an open paw. “Don’t you worry. I’ve got exactly what you’re looking for.” He put his paw down and started to saunter over while Max tilted her head in confusion. Did Ash know Grovyle? Once he was just a bit uncomfortably close, he gestured to himself.

“Here it is,” he said. His permanent squint made it difficult to read his expression, but he almost seemed to be smirking. Max waited for him to finish his thought, but he didn’t go on.

“Here what is?” Max asked. She’d known this guy for less than a few minutes. He wasn’t exactly predictable to her yet. As he looked her up and down, though, she started to get a bit of an idea. As is typical of this kind of interaction, it only got worse once he continued talking.

“The perfect guy for a cute little thing like you,” Ash said with all the extra savoir-faire of bread just moldy enough to gain sentience. Despite that, he seemed entirely confident in his delivery.

Max hadn’t really gone through this kind of thing before. Like the ailment her ibuprofen intended to alleviate, it was a new experience for her. She didn’t know exactly what to do. A few educated guesses came to mind. For one, she obviously knew it’d be rude to laugh, so she made sure to try and hide the chuckles with a paw. Ideally, she’d deliver a gentle and polite, ‘No thanks.’

Instead, a piercing squeak of a laugh forced its way out before she could stop it. She tried to pull it back when another cramp echoed out from under the medicine, bringing a paw to her belly. “Sorry!” she forced out, desperately trying to reign herself in.

“Well,” Ash said, matter of factly. “Worth a try.” Max desperately hoped he was all right behind his perpetual squint. “Thinking I’ll die, now.”

“Hey, wait, sorry,” Max said. She forced herself to sober up and play nice. “Look, I just didn’t expect it. You’re, y’know.” She got a sudden insight into how Ithos felt the day of their first mission while she tried to think of a compliment for someone she’d exchanged scant few sentences with. Her cheeks sparked at the mere thought of it, and she shook herself out of it. Better to start fresh.

“Thanks for the flattery,” she said. “That was really sweet of you. I’m really sorry for laughing.” She dared to step a bit closer and pat his shoulder. “Putting yourself out there takes guts.” As she pulled back, she saw him relaxing a bit. “I’m sure you’re great, but I just don’t know you.”

“Gotcha,” Ash said with a nod. Even if it was a bit less, Max could feel the unease dripping off him. “Good thing we’ll know each other a lot better soon.” Before that could even start to make sense, a shout yanked them both out of conversation.

“Max!” Ithos screamed from half-way across the gym. He barreled over with utter disregard for the several pokémon that had to jerk out of his way to avoid collision until he skid to a stop less than a foot away. “Sorry! Are you all right?!” He grabbed hold of her shoulders and started to look her over. A yelp squeaked out of Max when he did, sparks spewing down her cheeks, but she didn’t move to stop him.

“Ohhhh,” Ash said. He looked between Ithos and her reaction to him with a knowing nod. “Got it.” Whatever he got seemed to soothe the blow a bit. He gave her a knowing smirk.

“Oh no, was it that bad?” Ithos asked. Max had to shake herself out of watching Ash to find Ithos had zeroed in on the ibuprofen. “Did I—are you gonna be all right? Here, you need to rest.” He started trying to sit her down and Max had to push him back.

“No, no, it’s all right,” Max chuckled, taking a few steps back. “This wasn’t you, don’t worry.” She showed it to him for a second before letting her arm relax. “Just some hu-,” Ash was right there, “—little cramping.”

“Oh, thank Mew,” Ithos sighed. He rolled his shoulders to let the relief through and soothe the sore muscles. Now that his panic had subsided, he still looked pretty exhausted from his attack. He pulled his left arm up with his right, trying to twist the scales enough that he could see his elbow. “I think I overdid it today.”

“Let me see,” Max said. Without giving him a chance to answer, she set the bottle down to look his arm over. All along the length, patches of his scales looked worn and raw. “What did you do?” She rubbed a nubbin across one, and he yanked his arm back with a hiss.

“Ash’s idea,” Ithos said with a nod to the cyndaquil. He took another quick look, then let his arm fall to the side. Max looked over and waited for Ash to explain himself. Despite how minor the scrapes were, she felt some anger building. It didn’t help that she could still feel her insides trying to wring themselves out.

“Evasion training,” Ash rushed to say. He threw up his paws in surrender at Max’s unintended glare. “You know, just, dodging attacks.” He gingerly lowered his paws while keeping careful watch on Max. It was a perfectly sensible idea. She didn’t have any reason to be mad, but that tickle of frustration wouldn’t leave the back of her mind. “I don’t think he knows how to roll yet, though.”

Ithos looked away, bringing a paw to another raw patch of scales on his arm. Both of them had an eye on Max, though. She was struggling to relax her expression.

“Sorry,” Max said. A paw went to hold her gut while she shook her head. “I don’t know what’s up with me.” Although another quick cramp gave her an idea. She gave Ash an apologetic smile dulled by the sudden wince. “I’m not really good at first impressions.”

“No kidding,” Ithos said with a smirk. Max was already eager to lightly strangle him for whatever snark he had planned. Luckily for both of them, he didn’t go on to say more. Instead, he turned to Ash with an excited bounce. “Did you tell her about it?” That little hop managed to soften Max’s wince into a smile as the cramp subsided.

“About what?” Max asked. Ithos’ eyes shot over to her, eager and wide. Just like she’d hoped, he couldn’t wait to tell her.

“The Expedition Society!” Ithos cheered. Max felt her smile falter, but Ithos was too excited to notice. “It’s a new group that’s setting up in the Water Continent! He thinks he can get us in!” He turned to Ash for confirmation, and Ash nodded.

“Yeah,” Ash said. “I’ve got some friends and favors to ask, but I couldn’t find anyone willing to move.” It matched Max’s memory better for them to join, but the idea still felt weird. This also seemed strangely exclusive, though she couldn’t remember if the Expedition Society she remembered had been like that, too. “The places they’ve got for members are way nicer, though.”

Ithos grabbed her paws with a few bounces of excitement. Max meeped at the sudden touch, a few sparks bouncing down her cheeks while she looked at her paws in his. “Isn’t that great?!” Ithos asked. Now that he was looking right at her, though, he could see the conflict in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“S-sorry,” Max said, shaking her head. They’d been in the Expedition Society to fight Dark Matter. This was the way it was supposed to be, but part of her couldn’t get over what Grovyle said. Would this help, or just ensure he’s the Ithos that fails?

“I think it’s me,” Ash said. He turned to the side to scratch at the back of his head. “Didn’t exactly paint myself as a great new teammate while you were gone.” To this point, Max hadn’t even realized he was joining.

“What?” Ithos asked. He glanced over before suddenly letting one of Max’s paws go to turn to him. “Dude, really?” His paw came up to slap his face; Max kept her eyes on the paw still holding hers. “Come on, man, I told you not to try that.” It was so warm.

“Well, why not?” Ash asked. He crossed his arms defensively. “You said you weren’t interested.” The warmth in Ithos’ paw suddenly burned.

“Wh-what?!” Ithos stuttered, looking between both of them. “I-”

“Let’s do it,” Max said. She yanked her paw out of Ithos’ while a few sparks bounced down her cheeks. After the initial surprise, Ithos crumpled a little while pulling his paw closer. He seemed oddly dejected for someone not interested, but Max didn’t let herself linger on hope. “Look, I was just worried about typing,” she explained with a forced smile.

Ash let out an audible breath of relief, and the sparkle returned to Ithos’ eyes. It made it a lot easier to smile for Max. The joy it always gave him made her love telling Ithos yes. “We’re still gonna be Team Plasma, though, right?”

“Yes!” Ithos cheered as he yanked Max up into a hug. The cramps strongly disagreed with the ensuing bounces, but she was too happy feeling his arms around her. Ithos was the only person she didn’t mind picking her up. After a few bounces, though, she couldn’t keep her groans suppressed. Ithos rushed to put her down, smile still wide. “Right, sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Max forced through grit teeth. She located the ibuprofen bottle and tossed another pill back, praying it would help again. Until then, she let herself sit down. “So, where do we sign?”

“Well, we’re not in yet,” Ash said. His paws rubbed over each other, a few little spurts of flame flaring up on his back. He looked hesitant to share the last part. He’d seemed excited and open about all the details earlier. This nervousness brought back the worry Max felt earlier. “There’s still auditions and initiation.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Ithos asked. He rested his paws on his hips with brazen confidence. “That’ll be a cinch for us!”

Max wasn’t so sure, but she smiled when he looked at her anyway. She shared a glance with Ash after. Someone worried about something with a very innocuous sounding name never ended well. The dread on Ash’s face gave Max a growing weight in her stomach that complimented the cramps something fierce.

#Pikachu #charmander #hitokage #cyndaquil #pokemon mystery dungeon fanfic #pokemon super mystery dungeon #fanfiction #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd fanfic #electric type #trans character #canon trans charcter #trans story #grovyle #mystery dungeon #time travel

1 note · View note

madmazmind · 2 years ago

Note

Ao3 wrapped: 6 and 29

I already answered 6 and I think you can guess it!

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

It probably should have been hard to pick, but it's the early-ish section in Want with Daniel's thoughts. It just embodied internalised homophobia in a few lines and when I read it back I was like damn... this is nice. Also, I wrote it on a plane, which meant I was so focused and in his head that it was easy.

Under the cut, if you want a reminder...

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What was that? Shut up, you piece of shit.

Daniel moved towards the sink, turning on the tap and making sure it ran cold before splashing himself in the face in an attempt to sober himself. His brain was out of control, taking him back to a scorching afternoon in Perth, of the day that he had laughed along with his friends when that kid in their class had told them he was bisexual. To the first time he had sex with his teenage girlfriend and the relief he had felt when he had enjoyed it. The day his best friend had fallen asleep in his bed and the way Daniel had felt when he had woken up pressed against him half hard. To the shame he felt jerking off to the feeling of it later. To the tears that he had let himself cry after Max had kissed him and he pushed him away, calling him disgusting.

“Pull it together,” Daniel said to himself. “This is just the alcohol making you feel like this.”

It isn’t. Lier.

In his head, he and his dad were sitting on a beach in LA, drinking beer and laughing. His dad mentioned the “fags that had just moved in down the street” and Daniel didn’t correct the slur. He saw his mum's face when he had brought a girl home, brimming with hope and pride. Then there was Max again, and that feeling of want that he had never had with any girl until she was physically touching him. The relief every time he stayed hard long enough for her to pretend to be satisfied. The way his mind drifted to firm chests and broad shoulders and stubble whenever he had his dick in his hand.

He looked up at his reflection in the mirror, he could see the rise and fall of his chest, still moving too fast and deep for comfort.

“You are over thirty years old, when are you going to let yourself have what you want?” He asked.

For years, Daniel genuinely believed that he was straight. He had always been good at getting girls and he enjoyed being with them. He still enjoyed it, but he had to try. For some time, he had found solace in his strength. It was another workout. Keeping his brain under control. He thought about that girl who asked if she could finger his arse while she blew him and the way he had fucked her so hard to prove to her that he wasn’t gay. Then the way it had felt so right when he had tried it on himself the night after, like it was what his body was made for.

The bathroom door opened.

#Thanks Melissa!#asks #madmaz writing

2 notes · View notes

wishful-soda · 3 years ago

Text

Speak of the Devil - Ch. 10 Sneak Peek

**Note; this is a snippet and is not the beginning of the chapter but it’s a part I love 💁‍♀️

“So I haven’t heard the story yet and I need you to fill me in on all the little details.” A tipsy Charles grinned at you.

“What story?”

“The story of Daniel rescuing you that you are trying to pretend was coincidence.”

“It was a coincidence, asshole.” You flipped him off, biting back a chuckle.

“Listen. It’s me. It’s Charles. You can tell me.”

“You’re a- wait a second.” You frowned, realizing what it meant if Charles was here, celebrating Max’s win. “Why aren’t you with Dan? Celebrating his birthday?”

“He said he wasn’t doing anything for his birthday. Just went back to his room.”

Charles kept talking but you didn’t hear it, your stomach just felt sick. Dan was in his room. Alone. On his birthday. After a DNF. Something in your chest hurt. If you left right now, it would be too obvious where you went. You tapped your fingers on your thigh as you tried to come up with a reason to slip away that couldn’t be misconstrued.

You glanced down at the glass in your hand and as soon as Charles’ eyes were off you, you sloshed cold liquid on your skin tight dress and gasped loudly.

“Oh shit!” You feigned frustration and pretended to fumble around for a napkin, hoping anyone watching would think you’d just made a tipsy mistake.

Max and Chares flinched, both turning, their eyes questioning you.

“Jesus, your dress is ruined.” Charles commented, taking your hand to help you stand while looking around for something to hand you to help you clean up the mess. He handed you a tiny thin cocktail napkin and you laughed when it crumbled as soon as it touched the liquid that was soaking into the fabric.

“I gotta go change.” You gave a disappointed breath, shaking your head as if you couldn’t believe that you were such an idiot.

Max didn’t even look at you twice, he simply nodded in acknowledgement and got back to the conversation he was having with a dark haired female.

“Do you want me to walk you back or are you alright?” Charles asked. “I’m no Daniel, but I will do my best to protect you if there is a bad man.”

You laughed loudly and shook your head. “You would be more of a liability than protection.”

Charles giggled and hiccuped before handing you another napkin he’d found somewhere as you began to walk out, a sympathetic smile on his face. He absolutely bought it. Perfect.

You hurried out of the hotel bar, glancing over your shoulder to ensure no one was following you or watching you as you hurried to the elevator, pulling your phone out of your small purse.

What room are you in? You quickly sent the message, hoping Daniel would answer quickly.

1330. Daniel’s reply popped up quickly, much to your surprise. He didn’t even question why you needed to know?

You pressed the button to his floor before you could change your mind, busying yourself with trying to use the tiny cocktail napkin to lessen the soaking wet splotch on your dress, your mind still reeling.

What was Dan even doing in his room alone on his birthday? The king of partying was just skipping his birthday?

Once the doors opened, you hurried down the hall with a purpose, determined not to let him pout alone and feel sorry for himself. That wasn’t the asshole you knew.

You rapped on the door, looking down at your dress again and huffing. If this dress didn’t come clean, Dan better realize what you sacrificed for him.

The door opened, and there stood Daniel, in joggers and a hoodie, the hood pulled up over his head. He looked like he didn’t plan to leave his room at all. He looked cute though, you thought.

“Hey.” You said softly, giving him a small smirk, trying to pull a smile out of him. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks.” Daniel gave you a single nod of his head and you couldn’t find a trace of happiness in his eyes.

“Can I come in?” You raised an eyebrow, chewing on the inside of your lip nervously.

Daniel didn’t respond, but he looked surprised as he stepped aside, holding the door open for you as you walked in. The space felt so….Daniel. His smell was everywhere. You weren’t sure where to stand or sit. Why does it feel so awkward?

Daniel looked at you curiously as you turned to where he stood, leaning against the wood desk his stuff was strewn across, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats.

“I was hoping I could borrow a dress.” You joked, gesturing to the mess on the front of yours. The corners of Daniel’s mouth pulled up slightly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I lent my only slinky dress to Pierre, sorry.” Daniel quipped back, his eyes calling you out, as if to ask why you were really here.

“Slinky?” You gasped, turning your gaze from him to glance around the room. It was too hard to keep looking at him. When he didn’t say anything, you turned back to him, that expectant look still on his face, like he wasn’t going to waste any more time with your bullshit.

“It’s your birthday. You’re in your room alone.” You sighed, gesturing to the room.

“I didn’t feel like going out, it was a hectic day.” He shrugged.

“Have you ever not gone out on a birthday?”

“Don’t pretend like you know me well enough to say that.”

You blinked. It took you a second to process that he snapped at you like that. He had a shit day. You didn’t want to give up this easily.

“Look, I know today sucked but you won in Monaco. Your season isn’t a total bust. Besides, there’s still so much of it left.” You took a step towards where Daniel sat on the bed, trying to assess if you could sit next to him or not. “And your pace was really good today.”

“You’re not a race engineer, what do you know?”

His tone. The look on his face. You knew he was upset and in a bad mood, and rightfully so, but there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop the way your blood boiled. There was nothing you could do to stop the rage that bubbled up when you looked at his smug face.

“Hey. Fuck you.” You spat back, your hands going to your hips. Anyone else would have been appalled. Daniel just took it in stride, you’d said much worse to him in the past.

“Anything else?” He asked, nodding towards the door to suggest you could leave.

“Yeah, actually. Several other things.”

Daniel gestured for you to go on, an uninterested look on his face. It pissed you off even more.

#speak of the devil #speak of the devil sneak peek #chapter 10

52 notes · View notes

young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years ago

Text

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 11

Cult Girl goes on a little solo excursion while Hannibal works.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: (fake) blood, mentions of death overseas, anti-choice harassment, discussion of abortion

Archie and Max leaving the picture was a problem you couldn't bring yourself to deal with when you awoke the next day. You anticipated a massive downward spiral if you didn't do something for yourself and fast. You'd spent so much time worrying about your schoolwork and your baby that it was long past due.

You made a couple of phone calls and found a GameStop a little out of the way with a used copy of Pokémon Alpha Sapphire for sale. About twenty minutes drive. Hannibal had back-to-back appointments clogging up his day, so it gave you an excuse to go on a little excursion.

You climbed into your car, picked an extensive playlist of your favorite songs and set off. You plugged the directions into your phone and let the map guide you. The roads narrowed as you watched your surroundings grow less and less familiar.

Soon enough, you pulled into a parking lot. Nestled between a Planned Parenthood and a used bookstore, the GameStop beckoned you. At the end of your tunnel vision was that game and nothing could stop you from getting it.

Certainly not from lack of trying.

"Stop right there!" A voice said. It chuckled, trying to make the rude interruption seem friendly.

An obstacle appeared in your line of sight: a plain-looking middle-aged white woman with dyed blonde hair. Just your garden variety Karen.

"Can I help you?" You said, giving your voice a distinct, annoyed bite.

She smiled, though not without discomfort. "Are you going, y'know, in there?"

She gestured to the building behind you. Uncertain of what she wanted or why she was making a trip to the GameStop so weird, you answered in the affirmative.

"Yeah, why?"

She wrapped her hand around your arm, as if to restrain you. Her touch made your skin crawl.

"I really don't think you should go in there."

You finally put the pieces together. This lady was just some anti-choice maniac, waiting outside a Planned Parenthood for any random pregnant woman to approach.

"Yeah, I totally carried this baby for five months just to get rid of it within a week of the legal termination threshold." You rolled your eyes. "I just want it to feel the maximum possible amount of pain when I destroy it."

The woman's face turned into one of abject horror and you smiled, feeling proud of yourself. You yanked your arm from her hand with full intent to walk away. That should have been the end of it.

"Wait!" She shouted, snatching you by the shoulder. "Please, reconsider. God gave you that little one because he wants you to be a mommy!"

"For the love of fuck, woman." You snarled. "Can you seriously not pick up on sarcasm? I'm not even going to the clinic. I'm going to the GameStop."

She wasn't convinced. "See, I think you're lying to me. I think you're telling me one thing and then you're gonna do another thing."

"What the hell is it any of your business, Karen?" You scowled at her. "Leave me alone!"

"Just pray about it, please!" She pleaded. "What if your baby grows up to be a soldier? Protecting your freedom?"

"Oh, then I should definitely kill it now." You snarked. "Would save him the trouble of getting blown up by other Americans in a senseless war like my dad."

Adda girl, [F/N]! You thought to yourself. Nothing gets nosy strangers to go away quite like revealing even more personal information!

She put both her hands on your protruding belly. "Don't worry, angel. Mommy isn't going to kill you! Aunt Laurie won't allow it!"

You vaguely remembered your obstetrician saying something about how twenty-week fetuses could hear the outside world. You weren't planning on subjecting the kid to violence this early on, but desperate times call for desperation.

You grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her down. She screamed, getting the attention of a few onlookers.

"Help!" She wailed, lying on the ground as if she couldn't get up. "I'm being attacked!"

You dashed as quickly as your legs could carry you into the GameStop. The lone cashier, a purple-haired girl with a nose ring, pretended that she hadn't been watching the altercation and looked back down at her sandwich.

"Welcome to GameStop." She said, hesitantly. "Are you... [F/N]?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm here for that copy of Alpha Sapphire."

"Tubular." She rummaged in a drawer beside her for the envelope.

A rather massive eevee plush displayed behind the counter caught your eye. "How much for her?"

The cashier placed the game on the counter and looked back at the massive eevee. "Fourty-four ninety-five."

"I'll take her too." You said.

The cashier pulled the eevee down from the shelf and scanned its tag.

"Aight, your total is sixty-nine eighty." She said.

"Nice." You snickered, reaching for your credit card.

The cashier smirked as you inserted the chip. "Hey, was that crazy lady accosting you outside?"

"I take it she does that a lot?" You asked.

She heaved a sigh. "You have no idea."

You looked behind at the large windows and saw the woman standing outside the door, waiting for you. You felt like a caged animal. Your eyes scanned the room and landed on a couple ketchup packets. A sick idea formed in your head.

"Are you gonna use those?" You asked, pointing to them.

The cashier glanced at the woman and raised her eyebrow. "Not if you have a better use for them."

The bell jangled as you walked out of the store with a shopping bag around your wrist and a ketchup packet in each hand. Just as suspected, the woman grabbed your arm.

"Oh, honey!" She exclaimed. "Before you leave, god put it on my mind to say a little prayer for the unborn soldier he's gifted you in your womb."

"I'd rather you not." You said, trying to yank your arm out of her surprisingly strong grip.

"You're brave, but foolish, girl." She barked, positioning herself in front of you. You fidgeted with the ketchup packets behind your back, opening them just enough.

The woman put both her hands on your belly. The second you felt her touch, you threw yourself backwards. You landed, not without pain, squarely on your ass.

"Oh my?" The woman covered her mouth with her fingertips. "Are you--"

You leaned forward and moaned in pain, clutching your baby bump with one hand while drenching your shorts in ketchup with the other. You pretended to cave around the pain, then threw yourself back, revealing a bloody stain leaking from between your legs. The woman shrieked.

"Oh my fucking god!" The cashier from the store said, rushing to your side. She put her hand on your shoulder and glared at the woman. "What did you do?!?"

"She pushed me and I think it hurt my baby!" You wailed.

"Holy shit, why would you hurt her baby?!" The cashier shouted, allowing you to slink your arm around her shoulder for support. She then snatched your shopping bag from the ground.

"I didn't mean to, honest!" She said, on the verge of tears. "I was just trying to spread god's love and joy-"

"By assaulting a pregnant woman?!" The cashier yelled. You were clutching your stomach in fake pain. She helped you to your feet. "Come on, let's get you to the clinic."

You conjured up some fake tears. "You killed my baby!"

"You wicked woman!" She cried out. Her voice faded out as you approached the clinic. "You don’t deserve a baby!"

You kept up the crying and wailing until you arrived at the Planned Parenthood. More interested in covering her own ass than begging for forgiveness, the crazy woman made herself scarce. Entering the clinic with an incriminating bloodstain on your pants was awkward, for a moment. But it was easy enough to explain and even earned a laugh or two from the doctors on staff.

Once you were completely certain the crazy lady had left, you scooped up your shopping bag, said goodbye to the cashier and climbed into the car.

Before you put the key in the ignition, you took a moment. You took a moment to do something you knew you shouldn't have.

You placed your hand on your belly and stroked it. "We make a pretty good team, huh?"

You didn't know why you paused. It wasn't like the fetus was going to answer.

"Sorry you had to see that." You said. "Or, I guess, hear that. I wish I could tell you that people aren't really like that in real life, but I can't. Either that or I'm just a magnet for insane people. Hope that it's not genetic."

It just occurred to you that, if your obstetrician was right, the fetus heard everything that you said about killing it. Logically speaking, you knew it wasn't developed enough to comprehend what you were saying, but you still felt like you owed it an apology.

"Hey, scamp." You said, appropriating a nickname your grandfather gave you. "I'm sorry that I talked all that shit back there. About killing you and whatnot. I don't want to kill you. I actually want you to live an amazing life."

Just then, you felt a kick. The doctor war right: there was no mistaking it. The baby kicked.

Your mouth hung dumbly open, delight and fear chasing each other around in your mind. "Holy crap!"

You drove home as fast as legally possible. You needed to get home. As you pulled into the driveway, you noticed that Hannibal's car wasn't there.

He'll be home any minute, you thought. Might as well stay out here to catch him when he arrives.

That was an hour ago. Not that you'd noticed. You would have sat in that car, talking to your baby for an eternity. It wasn't until you heard a tapping on the window did you exit your trance.

Hannibal examined the scene. The ketchup, the massive eevee and his suddenly very chatty fiancée shooting the breeze with her fetus. He smirked.

"Did we have a fun afternoon?"

#hannibal x you #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #cult girl #cult girl doctorate #cult girl 2 #tw abortion #tw pro life #Karen

87 notes · View notes

lightsovermonaco · 3 years ago

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 11 (NSFW)

Masterlist

IT’S THE MOMENT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR BESTIES! Thanks as always to @acollectionofficsandshit I think I broke her with this chapter! She also found the song for this chapter so special thanks for that as well ❤

Word Count: 7.6k

Recommended song: “The Man Who Can’t be Moved” by the Script

The steam of the shower cleanses your senses and washes away the sweat from your workout. Crisp September air rushes through the open window and raises goosebumps on your skin as you step out. You turn off the tap and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel in an attempt to ward off the chill. A glance at the clock tells you that you have a half hour to get ready before your date picks you up.

Peter was one of the few guys in your major that paid you any attention. Most of them tolerated you at best but it had never bothered you. You were independent enough that you could make it through class on your own and google what you didn’t understand afterward and learn it before the exam.

It had been fairly easy to fall in with Peter and a few others during the first few weeks of summer classes. What began with group study sessions and quickly developed into hanging out one on one with Peter on the weekends to go to coffee shops or play video games.

When Peter had asked you out two months ago, Pierre's voice nagged in the back of your head. He asked if you were ready to move on from him and if you could really forget him.

The simple answer was no, forgetting him was impossible. No matter how many years passed, he would always own a part of you.

Peter was sweet and he cared about you but you were quickly realizing the bond you shared with him didn't run as deep as it had with Pierre. He started as your friend and you really didn't feel right letting it develop past that. Although you had agreed to that date and plenty more in the time since, it still didn’t feel like a relationship. You had to stop yourself from imagining someone else's arm around you when you lounged on the sofa or someone else's lips kissing you goodnight.

You slip into a form fitting red cocktail dress and sweep your hair over a shoulder, banishing the memory. The person staring back at you in the mirror is a stranger, a ghost of who you once were. You pull your lips into a smile nowhere near as bright as it was months ago.

A knock on your apartment door startles you from your trance. Peter holds a bouquet of flowers, a broad grin on his face. He was handsome in a traditional sense, with a sharp jawline and playful forest green eyes that promised a good time. He was adventurous; a night in wasn’t in the cards. Everything was an event with him and you didn’t mind the distractions one bit.

"You look amazing as always," he says, stepping inside and kissing your cheek. You sniff the flowers lightly. Daisies were some of your least favorite flowers but the gesture was too sweet to point that out.

"So do you," you respond, gaze sweeping from his scuffed wingtip shoes to his crisp blue button down shirt. Ocean blue, washed out against Peter's pale skin, but would have looked perfect on Pierre's golden complexion.

You had to stop thinking about him. You saw him everywhere. On more than one occasion, you dropped out of a conversation when you caught a glimpse of blond hair bobbing through a crowd or heard a laugh startlingly similar to his. You couldn’t escape the idea of him whether you liked it or not.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks, touching your elbow.

God, you were so far from okay. Your mind was a melted mess of memories of a blond Frenchman and all the broken promises between the pair of you. This was pointless. You were wasting your time with Peter. He was great and should have been everything you wanted but he just wasn't enough.

"I'm so sorry," you start, handing back the flowers. "I don't think this is going to work."

"Oh thank god," he says, shoulders drooping as he runs a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking the same thing, I just didn't want to be the one to say it." You both laugh, the tension ebbing from your frame.

"Don't get me wrong," he continues, "You're amazing. There's just no…"

"Spark," you finish. "Yeah, I agree. Friends?"

You stick out your hand and he shakes it firmly. "Sounds like a plan. No hard feelings. See you in class on Monday?"

"I'll be there."

You slip out of your heels with a sigh, glad you don't have to endure that form of torture any longer. For the first time in months, you allow yourself to scroll through Pierre's Instagram.

Instead of being flooded with personal pictures it had become mostly posed shoots.it was the kind of thing that seemed staged, like he was only posted because his PR team deemed it necessary.

As time went on the content became more and more clinical. He was giving fans less of an insight into his personal life and focusing on racing content. You knew he had probably thrown everything he had into the season in an attempt to move on and you couldn't blame him.

If his Insta was to be believed, he had earned a handful of podiums in the four months since you had mostly lost interest in the sport. After Austin it had been nearly impossible to watch a full race and you had instead been getting your biased updates from Max, who conveniently left out all but the barest details of anyone’s race weekend but his own.

There was no point in trying to convince yourself you no longer felt anything for Pierre. Just scrolling through his page reignites the flame in your chest that had been burning far too dimly for far too long.

Heart pounding, you double tap a photoset of him modeling for Alpha Tauri, the lighting accenting his eyes. Their distinct, rich blue had always been your weakness.

Your fingers find their way to the charm at your throat. You hadn't taken it off once since the gala. It was pointless to deny the sway he still held over you all these months later. Maybe it was time you stopped pretending you were fine and finally give in to the pull.

The past few months have given you plenty of time to reflect. The media would hound you like dogs but at least while you were in London they would leave your family alone. And really, enduring their scrutiny was a small price to pay if it meant loving Pierre.

“I’m an idiot,” you mumble, pulling up his contact in your phone. Breaking up with him had been the dumbest decision of your life. You’d watched him from afar as he traveled from grand prix to grand prix, touring cities and sleeping everywhere except where he belonged: curled up next to you in your tiny London flat, whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you both fell asleep.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Fuck what anyone would say. Nothing could be worse than knowing your soulmate was out there and you let him go.

Heart pounding, you type out a text. I miss you.

Shaking your head, you erase it. How are you? Seemed more appropriate.

"Here goes nothing," you murmur and hit send.

**********

It started off as any other free Sunday did: Charles and Charlotte arriving at his apartment carrying snacks and beer which neither of them would tell their trainers about tomorrow and plopping in front of the television to watch the PSG match.

The trio roared at the screen at poor calls and yelled when a goal was scored, all completely lost in the sport.

Pierre absently registers his phone buzzing during the last few minutes of the match but ignores it. PSG comes out on top and he finally checks it, nearly choking on the pretzels he was eating.

How are you?

Pierre has to read it thrice before he’s convinced it’s real.

"Holy fuck," he says softly, tipping the phone so Charles can see.

"Told you mate." He takes Charlotte's hand and stands. Football match completely forgotten, Pierre lifts a hand in a wave as the couple leaves. His eyes are fixed on the screen as he tries to comprehend the gravity your words carry.

After months of waiting in agony and wondering if you still cared, you’d texted him.

He had no idea how he managed to keep his feet on the floor. He was completely weightless, reading your message over and over again until it sinks in.

He takes the three simple words as permission to finally delve back into your life, immediately scrolling through your instagram to catch up. He double taps every post save for the ones with you and some tall, handsome guy. His stomach twists.

Fuck it. Even if you just wanted to catch up, he'd take it. If you told him you were with someone else and you were happy, he'd learn to live with it. He was starved of you and was prepared to beg for crumbs of your life.

I'm fine. You have time for a phone call?

It was a leap but he acknowledged and accepted the risks.

Yeah. That would be good.

You pick up on the second ring.

"Hey."

Pierre squeezes his eyes shut, pushing back the lump in his throat. Years of memories rush over him in the space of a breath. The shock in your voice when you found out he was a driver for the first time. Your smile and breathless laugh when you met him in the garage in Brazil after his first podium in Formula 1. The tentative glances he had thrown your way for months after he finally accepted that he had begun to fall for you. The way your velvet lips felt when he made a gamble and kissed you for the first time. The drunken lilt of your voice when you told him you loved him that night in London.

Before he can stop it the bad comes rushing back too. The memory of the terror on your face when he let it slip that you were together sends a chill through him. If there was one moment he could change, it wouldn’t be the time he fucked up and lost his seat at Red Bull. It would be to keep his damned mouth shut at that karting track and preserve the bliss of that day and tuck it away in a bulletproof case that he could pull out and look at whenever he wanted.

"Hey you," he manages, silently thanking whoever is listening that he keeps the tremble out of his voice. "Been awhile."

"Yeah," you say sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he says quickly. "You never need to apologize to me."

You were the last one that needed to apologize for anything. He should be the one beginning for forgiveness. It was his fault you’d panicked. He should have fought harder for you, proved that he could make it work and save you both from months of heartache. But then again, maybe you had moved on. He couldn’t expect you to wait for him forever.

He doesn’t realize he’s been silent for so long until you clear your throat. For the first time he can recall, the silence is thick and heavy with unspoken words. It had always been effortless, the stories and words flowing like a babbling brook between the two of you. Now the confessions on his tongue remain poised there, too terrified to give them the light of day.

"How's your season been?" He’s thankful you break the quiet first but the question makes his stomach sink.

"You haven't been watching?"

"Not really."

"Oh." It made sense that you would distance yourself from him and that was fine, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. "It's been decent. Red Bull wants me to come to Milton for contract discussions this week, actually."

"You're moving back up?"

"Potentially." Horner had only called him earlier that week to discuss the potential of him returning to Red Bull next year. The informal agreement was that if he could make seventh in the championship in a midfield car, they would bump him back for the following season.

It wasn’t a concrete guarantee- that’s why Horner wanted to speak with him in person. He had a year left in his contract and being in a Red Bull meant he would be able to prove his worth to other teams and potentially secure a world championship worthy seat at a team that actually appreciated his talent.

He draws a breath before continuing, "I'll be in London on Monday. You know- if you wanna get together."

You stay silent for a touch too long and he panics. It was too soon. He should have kept his mouth shut because now he’d driven you away again. “Nevermind, forget I said anything-"

"No," you interrupt, "no, I'd love to see you and catch up. I don't have classes on Tuesdays. Have any free time then?"

His eyes slide shut and he exhales. The flack he would undoubtedly catch for shuffling around a few interviews would be worth it to see you. "Yeah. I can swing by your apartment around seven?"

"Okay," you say, a touch of excitement lacing your voice. "I'll make myself presentable."

"I-" he stops himself before the words can slip past his lips. "I'll see you then."

*********

Pierre blows out a breath and adjusts his backpack. He stands at the threshold of your building, keys in hand, unsure if he should let himself in. The dilemma had kept him rooted to the spot for nearly ten minutes now, weighing the pros and cons of his options.

“Hey you, blond fucker.” Pierre whips around and is met by Daniel’s girlfriend glaring up at him from the sidewalk. She tips her head to the side to study him. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that had to cancel plans to be here tonight. “You gonna grow a pair and go up there or just keep staring at the door all day?”

“I’m going,” he grumbles, “are you?”

“Oh, I was going to but clearly whatever you have planned is more important.” Her grin splits her face ear to ear. “About damn time she got ahold of you. I was getting sick of listening to her gripe about you twenty four seven.”

“Didn’t she tell you I was coming by? If you guys have plans I can come back later.”

She waves a hand and dismisses the offer. “Absolutely not. Go get your girl.”

“She’s not-” The glare she cuts him snatches the words from his mouth. She makes a shooing motion before setting off down the sidewalk, munching on whatever snacks were in her shopping bag.

Pierre shakes out his hands and tries to gather the courage to use his key. The hopeless romantic argued that you would expect him to use it because you would know he still had it. The rational side of him butts in to point out that it might catch you off guard if he showed up without warning. He settles on buzzing your unit, your answer fuzzy from the distortion.

"Pierre?"

Even with the warbly static in your voice, his name on your lips is the salvation he’s been dreaming about for months. "Yeah it's me."

"Don't you have a key?"

"I wasn't sure if I should use it."

You don't answer, instead letting the buzz of the electronic lock do the talking. He takes the stairs three at a time, barely winded by the time he reaches the third floor. He doesn't even have to knock, your door swinging open as he steps up. The sight of you knocks the breath from his lungs.

It didn't matter that you were in a simple hoodie and jeans, feet bare and hair swept back in a low bun. You are the most beautiful person he's ever seen and after months apart he nearly falls to his knees then and there to beg for your forgiveness, to get lost in you until two souls became one and he never had to live another second apart from you.

"Are you gonna stand there or do you wanna come in?"

God, he had missed your teasing jabs. His fingers ache for contact with your soft skin and he curls them into a fist to resist the urge. “Coming in,” he says softly, purposefully brushing your arm as he skirts past you. Every inch of him sings from the barely there touch, his soul aching for more.

Just stepping foot into your quaint flat has the weight he had been carrying on his chest for months beginning to ease up. Nothing beat the elation of being back where he belonged, not even spraying champagne from the top step on a podium.

Determined not to scare you off before he could have a proper conversation with you, Pierre opts for falling into the same humor you had used earlier. The corners of his mouth twitch upward. "Is that takeout I smell?"

You nod, your cheeks turning a pale pink. “I got you two orders of beef lo mein. I figured you might be hungry.”

As if summoned, his stomach growls. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since breakfast."

“Figures,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief as you settle into the plush carpet and pull a takeout box towards you. "I got it from that place across town, the one you liked best." Pierre perches on the edge of the sofa and snags the plastic tray with his name on it, eyes never leaving yours.

Now that you were mere feet from him he found it increasingly difficult to deny himself the relief of kissing you here and now. He wanted to trace his thumb over your lips before replacing it with his own, to slot his mouth over yours until time was nothing and he was no one other than yours.

You clear your throat and drop his gaze first, sending him crashing back to reality. “So, ninth huh? Glad to see you cracked the top ten.”

Pierre scrunches his nose and spears a piece of broccoli. He was shit with chopsticks but you always got a kick out of him fumbling with them. “Not where I’d like to be but I’ll take it. Horner took notice obviously, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“I think an invitation to Milton Keynes is enough reason to hope," you say around a mouthful of sticky rice.

This interaction was reason to hope. The fact that you were once again on speaking terms, that things were finally returning to some semblance of normal, was enough for him to believe that one day everything would be back to how it was before. That maybe, just maybe, he could hold you in his arms again and fall asleep to the soundtrack of your heart beating in his ear.

Remembering the guy from your instagram, he scans the room for any sign of a male companion. Finding none, he asks, “How’s your boyfriend?”

It probably would have been a good idea to go about this particular line of questioning with a bit more tact. Inquiring so blatantly betrayed his inner thoughts, laid all his cards on the table. He didn't have it in him to care, not when his world might be turned upside down by your answer.

“Oh, you mean Peter?” You sip your water, seemingly working up the courage to explain. Each moment that the silence dragged on it became more of a physical monster. Pierre could feel it growing until it threatened to sink his claws in him and drag him deeper into the pits of his insecurity.

“If that’s his name, yeah.” Pierre braces himself for whatever comes next, reminding himself to be happy for you no matter what you choose. It would take time but he could put aside what he still felt for you and learn to accept your choice if it meant staying in your life.

You shake your head. “He’s a friend from uni. He’s not my boyfriend. At least not anymore.”

“Oh,” he says, frowning down at his food to cover the way his heart skips. “But he was?”

He had expected you to move on, if he was being honest. No way in hell did you deserve to be as miserable as he had been since you'd left- you deserved all the happiness he couldn't seem to give you and more. And if someone else had been the one to grant you that happiness, he should thank them.

“For a little while,” you say softly, like it would cushion the blow. “It didn’t feel right.”

He was familiar with that feeling. Nothing he did felt right after the break up. Just about the only thing that kept him sane was telling himself that you’d come to your senses sooner or later.

And now that he was here, his world was beginning to right itself.

“Earth to Pierre,” you say teasingly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I just- I’ve missed this,” he says, picking at his food.

“What, eating subpar takeout in my tiny apartment?” You laugh and stuff another bite in your mouth. God, you could be so oblivious. It was one of the many things he adored about you.

“I do. I miss doing anything that involves you, actually.”

There it was. His heart laid bare before you for the second time, waiting to see how you would respond. You set down your chopsticks and wipe your lips. His eyes track their movement as you whisper, “I’ve missed you too.”

Four syllables and he melts. It takes all he has to keep himself from sobbing with relief. It was everything he had come here hoping to hear. He couldn’t endure this again, couldn’t lose you for a second time-

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he pleads, body thrumming with the need to wrap you in his arms. “Don’t put me through this again unless you’re here to stay.”

He wasn't strong enough to tell you to stop. He would let you wreck him and he would be completely powerless to stop it. He would welcome it if it meant you granting him a sliver of your time. It would ruin him for anyone else but he didn’t have it in him to turn you away.

You rise to your feet and pad around the low table until you’re standing knee to knee, his neck craned up to study your face. You just keep looking at him, the leash on his carefully controlled restraint slipping as he rambles, “Because I can’t take it if you leave me again, I won’t-”

You simply nod, as if that’s all the answer he should need. But it’s not enough. “Tell me,” he pleads. “Tell me you mean it.”

He didn’t care that he was begging. He didn’t care that you had reduced his normally impenetrably stoic mentality to a jumble of you. If he was being honest with himself, you were the light of his life, the reason he pushed so hard for results on track. Everything had gone black and white when you left and racing had been the only thing keeping him from falling apart at the seams. The need to make you proud still propelled him forward even if he'd had no idea if you still cared.

So no, he didn’t care at all that he was practically on his knees. He would grovel at your feet for his entire life if it meant you’d grant him one more day to be with you.

“I mean it,” you murmur and place a hand on his cheek. He draws a shaky breath, leaning into you. Home, home, home, his head screams, acutely aware of every square inch of contact between the two of you.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, and I’ve finally come to terms with it- your lifestyle. If I love you, I have to accept it being public. I have to build myself a shelter to withstand the storm, but I’ll make it big enough for two.”

It takes everything in him to keep from crushing you to his chest and never letting go. He had to ask, had to be certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was forever. “Promise me you won’t leave again if things get hard. Promise me we’ll get through whatever they throw at us together.”

“I promise. I’m not afraid anymore,” you murmur. Pierre’s head falls forward to rest on your hip bone, your fingers threading in his hair. “Daniel’s girlfriend helped me see that it doesn’t matter what anyone says. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I haven't been the same since I…”

“Neither have I.” His thumb winds under your shirt to sweep over your soft skin. “You’re safe with me, you know that right? I can protect you from whatever they say and you’re right, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is this-” he finally lets himself look up at you- “what we have. I’ve never stopped loving you, not once.”

Your smile is soft and tentative as you climb into his lap. His hands slide up your sides to pull you closer, refusing to let an inch separate you now that you’d bridged the gap. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. I learned my lesson.”

You lean down to ghost your lips over his brow, his closed eyelids, his nose. He can feel himself reconstructing under your touch, that final piece of the puzzle clicking home after being lost for so long. “I promise that I’m yours until the last star falls from the sky.”

He had lost four months of time with you. He wouldn't allow another second to slip through his fingers.

Anticipating his movements, you meet him halfway. Fireworks explode as his lips finally return home and his world is finally, finally righted. Your nails scratch lightly at the nape of his neck, drawing him impossibly closer as your body moulds against his. He had nearly forgotten how perfectly your curves fit against him after all this time. He was determined to memorize every mountain and valley of you by the night's end.

His hands grip your thighs and he stands. Your arms automatically wind around his neck to keep from falling. He carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the edge of the island, never breaking the kiss. Nothing mattered outside of this apartment; not his career, not any baseless gossip, nothing existed beyond the space where your skin met his.

Pierre pulls back long enough to remove his shirt. Your fingers dance over his skin, relearning the planes of his chest like you had all the time in the world. And you did; he would stay here as long as you let him, reveling in the way you drank up every inch of his body like it was the first time you’d seen it.

“I love you,” you say as he kisses along your jaw.

How many times had he dreamt of you whispering that to him the past four months? How many times had it echoed in his head before a race, taunting him? He could scarcely believe his mind wasn’t playing more tricks on him now. He had to be certain it was real.

“Say it again,” he breathes. “Please. Please, tell me again.”

“I love you,” you repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss. “I love you Pierre, my champion, my heart, my everything.”

Pierre groans against your mouth, knotting his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back to expose your throat. He nips at the soft skin, not caring that he was leaving a trail of tiny marks in his wake. His focus was entirely on the gasps he was dragging from you with each touch, your heels digging into his ass and begging for him to be closer.

"My sweet, kindhearted man," you continue breathlessly. He didn't know if the words were for your benefit or his. "My best friend. My one and only love."

In that moment, you could ask him to bring you a star from the midnight sky and he wouldn't stop until he found a way to make it happen. You could ask for his last dollar and he would hand it to you with a smile on his face, completely enthralled with the way his name sounds on your tongue, professing that you still wanted him as much as he wanted you.

You were his undoing.

“Off,” he growls, tugging at your sweatshirt. You obey instantly and fling it aside, neither of you caring when dishes clatter to the tile floor and undoubtedly break. Your jeans follow suit after he helps you slip out of them. He runs his fingers over the delicate black lace of your bra and panties and pauses to appreciate that you knew exactly where the night would lead.

His cock twitches as you reach between your bodies to run a knuckle over his clothed length. “Your turn.” You undo the button with practiced ease, taking your sweet time as his breath comes in ragged gasps. He’d had a taste of you and hadn’t forgotten how you’d felt around him. He needed you more than he needed the air he breathed, his desperation taking over as he swats your hand aside and strips off his jeans and boxers himself.

He drops to his knees and grips your thighs, pulling you forward until your center is inches from his face. The yelp that escapes you is intoxicating, your hands flying back to catch yourself. His teeth sink none too gently into the flesh of your thigh and he’s rewarded with a moan before he flicks his tongue over the hurt.

Your head falls back and Pierre places one of your legs over his shoulder. “Mon amour,” he purrs, garnering your attention. Your head lolls forward and he waits until you meet his gaze to speak again. “You know I love you, right?”

“I never doubted it,” you confirm, lips curling in a smile. “But why don’t you prove it to me again?”

He pulls your panties aside and blows lightly. You groan, thighs tensing under his fingers as your toes curl and he chuckles. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you really want to tease me?”

“What I want,” he says sharply, “is to have you moaning my name until it's the only word you know.” His tongue flicks out to dance over your thigh, dangerously close to where he knows you want him. “What I want is to make up for lost time.” He rips through the thin lace of your panties and lets the ruined scraps fall to the floor.

“Those were expensive.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

He would buy you an entire lingerie store if he could rip every set of it off you. He didn’t care how much it costed, it was never too much when it came to you.

“What I want most, my love,” he murmurs, smiling when his hot breath curls over your dripping cunt and you squirm, “is to forget everything else and stay here forever.”

You cry out when his tongue finally flicks through your folds. Pierre hums approvingly at your reaction, one arm snaking up to pin your hips in place. He sucks lightly at your clit and your fingers tangle in his hair.

“P-Pierre,” you breathe. He pulls back and you whine at the loss of contact. He grins up at you, the wickedness of it dragging the moan from your lips that he was after. He was drunk on the sound, desperate to hear it again and again.

“There’s my good girl.” He runs his tongue flat over your sex, savoring the taste as you squirm under him. You let out a choked noise when he repeats the motion before fucking you with his tongue, his nose hitting your clit with each stroke.

He doesn’t miss the way your lip wobbles and Pierre knows you’re ready to cry with frustration. He decides he’s tortured you enough for now and relents, putting two fingers in his mouth to wet them before plunging them inside you.

His mouth is spelling his name on your clit a moment later, your walls already clamping down on his fingers as your orgasm nears. In the handful of times he’d taken you to bed, he had already learned that when your head rolls back like that and your breathing stops, you’re seconds away from climaxing. He doesn’t let up until you’re shaking beneath him, finally slowing to work you through your orgasm without making you hypersensitive.

“Baby,” you groan breathlessly. Pierre slowly withdraws his fingers and wipes them on his thigh before pressing a final, tender kiss to your center that makes you jump.

“Use my name,” he demands, uncoiling to his full height. He grips your wrist and hauls your boneless body up, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.

“Pierre,” you murmur and he grinds his hips against you in approval. He captures your mouth with his, taking advantage of your hazy mind to lazily explore it.

You hum into the kiss, managing to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Suddenly the column of your neck is all he can think about and he wraps a hand around it, squeezing with enough force that you pull back with a gasp.

“Too much?” He murmurs, lessening his grip. Your brows knit together and your lower lips juts out, begging for him to take it between his teeth. He leans in and gives in to the impulse as he swipes his thumb under your jaw.

“Tell me if you want my hand on your throat, my love. I need to hear you say it.”

“Please,” you say finally. Your eyes are cloudy when they meet his. “Keep it there.”

He shows his approval in the form of a light squeeze. You angle your hips up, nudging his cock with your center. You reach a hand down to wrap around his shaft and drag the head through your folds, teasing him as he had done to you. The grip on your throat tightens to a point bordering blissfully between pain and pleasure, both a warning and an order to continue.

If you knew how close he was to flipping you on your stomach and slamming into you, you’d call him crazy. Or maybe you’d like it, judging by the way your head falls back as he rocks his hips and inches into you.

You both moan when he decides the time for restraint has passed and he slams into you. You lift your hips to meet his with every thrust, clearly missing this just as much as he had. God, he’d lost months of fucking you, of feeling you clench around him and writhe beneath him. If he could stay like this forever he would, his hand around your neck and cock splitting you open as he laps up your moans like sweet candy.

“I’m- Pierre,” you squeak out, and he knows you’re barreling towards your second orgasm of the night. He pulls you up by your neck until you’re eye to eye and forced to look at him.

“Come for me,” he whispers, slamming into you again and again. “Come on my cock mon amour and I might just cum inside you.”

His words are your undoing, pleasure rippling from you in waves as your mouth falls open in a silent plea. He grants you no clemency as your cunt twitches around him, instead following through on his promise and following your lead.

You pants mix with his own as he struggles to keep both of you upright, his knees turned to jelly. Your head rests on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your temple, slowly pulling out of you. A pitiful whimper escapes your throat involuntarily.

“I know,” Pierre murmurs, reaching over to start the kitchen sink. He wets a clean cloth and runs it between your legs, still supporting you as he doesn’t trust that your legs won't give out if he doesn’t. When it’s clear you can barely form a coherent thought, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to your room. He nudges the bathroom door open with his hip and sets you on the vanity.

The absence of his body heat makes you shiver when he goes to turn on the shower, adjusting the knobs until he’s satisfied with the temperature. He gathers you in his arms and steps into the tub, your sigh audible as the warm water hits your skin.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs before kissing your temple. You nod against his chest and he sets you down, keeping his hands on your waist just in case. You’re thankful for it when your knees wobble, a hand flying out to steady yourself.

“I’m okay,” you say after a beat and grin up at him. “I can stand, promise.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m taking my hands off you,” he says, grinning right back. “At least not for long.” He reaches over your shoulder for the shampoo and gestures for you to turn around. You obey, tipping your head back to wet your hair. A blissful sigh escapes you when his fingers meet your scalp, the cherry blossom scent blooming in the air as he works it into a lather.

Taking care of you was just as satisfying as the sex was. He cherished the intimacy of taking this small burden from your shoulders. The seemingly simple task was one of deep seated trust and it proved to him that your love ran bone deep. There was a level of trust in you letting him wash you that he didn't want to have with anyone else. It was reserved for you and you alone.

“Close your eyes,” he warns before guiding your head back under the water for a rinse. He cups a hand to your forehead to keep the soap from your eyes. Your smile is soft but unrestrained as you lean further into him until your back is pressed to his chest.

You both stay silent as he runs the creamy conditioner through the ends of your hair. His hand cups your jaw and tips your head back for a lazy kiss before he rinses that too and cuts the tap.

Once you're wrapped in a fuzzy white towel he finally dries himself off, fighting off a chill. He doesn't realize you're watching him until he turns around and notices you standing in the doorway.

"What?"

You push off the wall and pad back to where he stands to wrap your arms around his middle. His thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, perfectly content to stand there dripping on the tile until morning.

When it's clear you're lost in thought he speaks up. "What's on your mind?"

"When did you know you loved me?"

"Like the exact moment?" He asks, caught off guard. You nod against his chest.

"When you visited me in Milan last summer," he says a few heartbeats later. That night insisted on making guacamole at two in the morning and woke me up because you couldn't find a lime. You told me you couldn't sleep because it was all you could think about after you saw that couple at the cafe eating it."

"Why then?"

"Because I knew I didn't have a lime but I was fully prepared to knock on every door in the building to find you one. Because in that moment all that mattered was seeing your face light up when I handed it to you and knowing that it was me that made you smile like that. I knew then that I’d do anything for you."

It still amazed him how a lime of all things was the tipping point. In that moment, a lime was important to you and it so naturally became important to him. If anyone else had woken him from his deep sleep he would have grumbled and told them off. But you, seeing your face inches from his, the light from the hall casting a warm halo around your frame as you whispered his name, he hadn’t cared at all.

"But then I found the juice in the fridge," you recall and glance up at him.

"Yeah, you did. And you felt so bad for waking me up- you had no idea that I had already fallen so hard that I had to keep myself from shutting you up with a kiss.”

The easy admission seems to stir something in you and you rise up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. “I knew that time you sent food to my dorm at midnight when I was pulling an all nighter. I was studying for my calculus final, remember?”

Pierre nods. “I was in Barcelona. You weren’t answering your phone so I sent a message with the takeout guy.” He had been wholly enamored with you at that point, having quickly learned that trying to keep his feelings buried deep was an option that would never work. So he leaned into it, letting little bits of it shine through in hopes that you might pick up on it.

Your laugh rumbles through him. “It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. I hadn’t eaten all day. I was too nervous.”

“Took us long enough to figure it out didn’t it?” He untangles himself from you and leads you to bed.

“I’m just glad we did eventually.” You let him guide you to the mattress while he stays standing and goes to your closet. He hunts for the shirt he wants to see you in, praying you hadn’t gotten rid of it. He finally finds it tucked back in the corner and pulls it out, the cobalt blue fabric a little faded from how often you’d worn it over the years.

“I remember that,” you say softly as he returns with it and slips it over your head.

It was the first shirt he had ever gotten upon entering Formula 1 and somehow you had wound up snagging it from his closet while he cleaned up the mess in the kitchen during that same trip to Milan. He had choked on his guac when you reappeared wearing it, eyes lingering on the Torro Rosso logo on the chest and his name splayed across your back like a claiming.

"I don't have sweatpants for you anymore," you point out with an apologetic wince. "I got rid of them."

Pierre just shrugs and hands you the shirt. "I have a change of clothes in my backpack. I was planning on working out to blow off some steam if…"

He trails off and you nod in silent acknowledgement. He didn’t have to voice the thought, you were already in his head and knew exactly what he meant. Unable to help himself, he kisses your head just because he can before retrieving his bag from the kitchen. "I have something for you," he says and lets the towel around his waist drop.

You let out a low whistle and grin at him as your eyes slide over every inch of his body. He takes more time than necessary to pull out his shorts, appreciating your gaze. You're still watching him as he slips them on and brings his bag to you.

"Do you wanna see what I got you or are you gonna stare at me all night?"

"I think I'll stare."

Pierre rolls his eyes and chuckles, plopping down next to you. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

You do as he asks but not before cocking a brow at him. Knowing the sound of the package will give it away, he does his best to draw out the first item as quietly as he can. The second he sets it in your hands a smile splits your face. He'd tear down the energy station with his bare hands to keep that expression on your face.

"It's candy." Your eyes open and you gasp. "Laffy taffy? But you can only get this-"

"In the states," He finishes. “I got as much as the store had.” The chewy, fruity candy was your absolute favorite and every once in a while you craved it. His backpack was currently stuffed full of it and various other packages of sweets, having been collected at every gp he had been to since Austin.

You tear into the package and dig for a pink one. You hold it out to him triumphantly and somehow, it’s that simple gesture that makes him melt. “You like the strawberry ones don’t you?”

“Yes baby, I do.” He lets you pop the sweet in his mouth - Pyry would certainly not approve- and grins at you. “If you eat too many before bed you won’t be able to sleep.”

“It’s still early,” you point out but don’t hesitate to set the sweets aside and cuddle up to him when he lays back. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I have to be at Milton by eight,” he says, wrapping an arm around your middle. “But you’re coming with me.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @ricciartodododo

If you have asked to be tagged in the past and I missed you I apologize! Just comment below and I’ll get you added for future updates. Thanks for reading ❤

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly fanfiction #pierre gasly x reader #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #my writing #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf

173 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Note

How do you think Max and Alistair would act when the reader is pregnant? Tbh I don’t see Alistair as a jealous sibling he seems too sweet for that

Bundle of Joy [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: 13+

Warnings: pregnancy, allusions to sex, pregnancy symptoms such as descriptions of morning sickness and loss of appetite, food and drink mention

Masterlist

You sat on the edge of the bathtub, waiting for what felt like a lifetime. You'd been feeling nauseous for the past two weeks. Max knew there was something wrong, but he hadn't been feeling too well either after you both visited a new seafood restaurant in the city. It made sense— you both getting ill. You shrugged it off as food poisoning, and it made sense at first. Max began to feel better within days, but you still weren't yourself. You were throwing up every morning, sometimes as early as three a.m. This morning was the worst.

"Oh honey," Max cooed, rubbing his eyes and following you into the en-suite bathroom where he kneeled by your side and held you as you threw up your dinner from the night before. "It's been weeks, maybe I should call the doctor?"

"N-no," you shook your head, wiping the tears that pricked your eyes and flushed the toilet. Max handed you a paper towel to wipe your mouth with, and dampened a washcloth to rest over your forehead. "I'll be fine." you reassured him, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as he helped you to your feet and guided you back into bed. He shut out the bathroom light and crawled in next to you, falling asleep within a matter of minutes. You, however, couldn't sleep. You stared at the ceiling for what felt like forever— pondering.

It wasn't until the morning light crept through the curtains and illuminated Max just enough for you to turn over and admire him. His snores were light and shallow and you watched as his chest rose and fell. It was the one time you could see him at peace, before the day consumed him with stress and work. As you took in his features, the curve of his nose and his disheveled dark blonde hair, a thought struck you.

It came out of nowhere. It was something you hadn't even considered. Could you be… pregnant? It would explain the nausea. Your hands cradled your stomach as you furrowed your eyebrows together, trying to work it out in your head. There was no way— you and Max always made sure to stay protected. You don't remember a time where you had forgotten to take your pill… but that's when it hit you. The night of New Years Eve. You had left Alistair with a sitter and it was yours and Max's first night alone together in months. So, you had both got very drunk very fast. The night was a blur, and so was the next morning, but you remembered the sex very clearly— with Maxwell, it was always memorable. Your intoxicated state meant there was no way of knowing for sure whether or not you had taken the pill. There was always going to be a chance that you had forgotten.

You couldn't get back to sleep that morning, the thoughts racing through your head. By 6 a.m., you quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake your husband, and padded into your closet, finding a comfortable outfit to change into. You slipped into a pair of ballet pumps and grabbed your purse, throwing it over your shoulder. You walked to the pharmacy that wasn't too far from your home and purchased a pregnancy test. By the time you had come back, Maxwell and Alistair were already awake eating breakfast.

"Where did you go this morning?" Maxwell asked, sounding concerned. You sighed, slipping into the unoccupied seat next to Alistair and poured him a glass of orange juice.

"The pharmacy," you admitted, pointing to the paper bag on the counter. "I needed some fresh air. I got you some more vitamins." you told Max. A little white lie would do no harm until you had figured out what exactly was going on with your body. Maxwell nodded as he handed you the bowl of fruit he'd prepared while you were gone.

You began nudging at the melon medley. It was normally your favourite, and Max knew this, but you had completely lost your appetite. The smell of breakfast and Max's black coffee was knocking you sick again, and you couldn't even touch your food before you had to run to the bathroom to throw up.

"Is mommy okay?" Alistair whispered sadly, looking at Max.

Even Maxwell was concerned. He wasn't sure if you were okay, but he wasn't going to let his son worry about you. "She'll be fine." Maxwell reassured Alistair, ruffling his soft black hair affectionately.

You waited about an hour before you took the test, the anticipation killing you. Maxwell and Alistair were in the other room watching The Little Mermaid and playing with Lego. And here you were, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, waiting to see your result. You had taken Max's golden Cartier wristwatch into the bathroom with you, shakily setting the timer for three minutes. It beeped accordingly and you took a deep breath, slowly stalking towards the pregnancy test that was sat in the kitchen sink. Two lines. Positive.

You were pregnant. You and Max were going to be parents again. You felt tears well up in your eyes as you cradled your stomach, feeling nothing but love for the child you were bearing. You didn't know how you'd feel, but now you were filled with joy and happiness. Of course, the pregnancy wasn't planned, but you knew that no matter what, you'd love this child unconditionally.

Now you just had to tell Maxwell. You fumbled with your thumbs nervously, pacing around in circles. You found yourself checking the test multiple times, making sure it was still definitely positive. Every time you saw the two lines your heart swelled with love and excitement. You couldn't wait to tell Max. There was no way of judging his reaction, but he was your husband and you just couldn't keep it to yourself any longer. You slipped the test in the pocket of your oversized hoodie and walked into the living room.

You smiled when you saw Alistair and Maxwell sitting on the floor, playing together. "Mommy!" Alistair cried excitedly, waving you over. Despite you being Alistair's stepmother, it always warmed you when he called you mommy. Maxwell would always say how you were an amazing parent to Alistair, better than his own blood related mother, and your loving actions made Max into a better father. You were the one who had encouraged Maxwell to spend less time working and more time playing with his son— and now, Max wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hey baby," you smiled. "What are you making?"

Alistair lifted up a multi-coloured and unfinished Lego house. "It's our house!" he exclaimed excitedly. You could barely see the resemblance, but still humoured the six year olds enthusiasm. "Daddy helped but I did most of it."

Maxwell was smiling to himself and you curled your finger, gesturing for Max to stand up and come over to you. He did so, willingly. "Everything okay?" Maxwell asked as you briefly pulled him to the corner of the living room.

"What were you smiling at?" you cooed, flattening the palms of your hands against his chest and smoothing down his shirt.

"I'm just so proud of him," Maxwell revealed with a blush, looking back at his son who was bopping along to 'Under The Sea' from The Little Mermaid. By the looks of it, he was pretending to be Sebastian, waddling around the living room pretending his fingers were crab claws.

"He's proud of you too," you whispered, wrapping your arms around Maxwell's waist and pulling yourself into a hug.

"There's something going on with you," Maxwell sensed, pressing a gentle kiss into your hair.

"You're right," you hummed, pulling away from him but not tearing your gaze away from his chocolate brown eyes. You dug your hand into your pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test, placing it in his hand. "I'm pregnant." you said with shaky exhale.

Maxwell didn't say anything at first. He looked down at the test, his eyebrows furrowed together like it was some kind of complex puzzle he was trying to work out. Then, he looked back at you, the same bewildered look written all over his face. And finally, he looked back down at the test. You wanted to burst into a fit of laughter at his expression. He put the test in his pants pocket and pulled you into a cuddle. "For real?" he whispered in disbelief, happy tears glazing his eyes.

"For real." you confirmed, nuzzling your head into his chest as he swayed his hips against yours.

"But- but when? And how?" Maxwell asked you.

"I'm not sure," you admitted with a sigh. "Maybe New Years Eve?"

Max's smile grew into a grin. "I'm so excited darling," he exclaimed, curling his finger around your chin and pulling you into a kiss. "I know it's not something we've really talked about, but when I see you with Alistair… and I see how amazing of a mother you are… it's hard not to imagine you carrying my child. I knew from the very start I wanted a family with you."

"I was worried," you huffed against your husband's lips. "I was afraid you'd freak out."

"Maybe once upon a time I'd freak out, sure," Maxwell chuckled. "But you showed me what it takes to be a good father. I'm not afraid anymore."

"I love you so much." you smiled, crinkles appearing in the corner of your eyes.

"I love you too honey."

You and Max decided to wait a little while to tell anyone about the pregnancy. You had been to two doctor's appointments, both confirming that you were, indeed, with-child. You even got your first scan, admiring your little peanut shaped baby like it was the cutest thing you had ever seen.

"When are we going to tell Alistair?" you asked during the car ride home from the hospital. Maxwell was tapping his feet impatiently. It had been five months, you had started showing, and you and Max had just found out the gender of your baby.

"I say we tell him as soon as we get home," Max smirked, taking your hand in his.

"It's finally starting to feel real," you sigh with contentment.

"I'm so excited." Max revealed, pressing a kiss into your jaw.

You paid the sitter and grinned as you watched Alistair run into his father's arms. "Mommy! Daddy!" Alistair cried. "I missed you!"

"We missed you too baby," Maxwell grinned, picking his son up in his arms and carrying him into the kitchen. You followed the boys and Max set Alistair down on the counter. "Alistair, we have something important to tell you." Maxwell whispered, taking his son's small hands in his own.

"What is it?" Alistair questioned curiously.

"It's very exciting." Maxwell grinned, nodding knowingly.

"Disneyland?" Alistair gasped and you scrunched up your nose.

"No sweetie, not Disneyland." you giggle and watch as Alistair frowns. "No don't be upset!" you fish into your purse and bring out the sonogram, showing Alistair. "Do you know what this is?" Alistair shook his head, clearly confused. "It's a baby," you explained with a small smile. Maxwell pointed out the peanut shaped fetus and it only made Alistair look even more perplexed. "It's mommy and daddy's baby."

Alistair's eyes shot up and flicked between you and Max, his jaw dropping slightly. "Huh?" he asked and Max smirked.

"You're going to be a big brother Alistair," Maxwell grinned, pressing a kiss into Alistair's hair. "Isn't that exciting?"

"...Me? A big- a big brother?" Alistair bubbled.

"Yes Alistair, you," you giggled, pinching his chubby cheek. "You're going to have a little sister."

"A sister!?" Alistair gasped excitedly, kicking his legs against the kitchen counter. "I'm going to love her so much!" he squealed, his expressions almost animated as he put his hands over his mouth in surprise.

"She already loves you so much too Alistair!" you cooed, wrapping your arms around your son and pulling him into a tight hug.

"We're going to be best friends," Alistair announced proudly. "I'm going to build her a house- no, a palace out of Lego!"

"Oh Alistair, that's lovely," you giggle, helping him down from the kitchen counter.

"I love you baby sister!" he shouted as he waddled back into the living room. You could already hear the clashing sound as he got out the Lego.

You turned to Maxwell with a sheepish smile, your eyes widening slightly when you saw his appearance. His cheeks were rosy and his brown eyes were shiny with unshed tears. "What is it Maxie?" you ask quietly, resting your hand against his cheek.

"I spent so long not knowing what exactly I wanted in life," Maxwell revealed. "But this is it. This is what I was made for. This is what I want. Me, you, Alistair, and our little princess. Darling, I've never been happier."

Taglists— let me know if you wish to be added!

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie

Maxwell Lord: @mrschiltoncat

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84 #wonder woman 1984 #alistair lord #maxwell loranzano

343 notes · View notes

spooky-z · 4 years ago

Text

Leaving the Mask Behind

Warning:

This story contains language, OOC, Asian bamfs and moral ambiguity.

Maribat by @ozmav

9.3K

Translations for this story:

妹妹 (mèi mei) – young sister

姉貴 (aneki) – older sister

anh - elder brother / em – younger brother

混蛋 (hún dàn) – bastard

やりまん (yariman) – slu*

女武芸者 (onna-bugeisha) – female martial artist

瓢虫 (piáo chóng) – ladybug

竜 (ryū) – dragon

con khỉ - monkey

大人 (dàrén) - used for an official or a person in authority

meaning "chief" or "leader" - رئیس (raʾīs)

さま(sama) – respectful to higher rank person

悪霊(akuryoo) – demon / biblical type

▫▪▪

"I don't believe that... That... Ugh!" Marinette screamed angrily at the walls of her room.

It had been almost twenty minutes since she had been walking back and forth grunting in anger and cursing Lila Rossi's existence. Marinette couldn't believe the audacity of that freaking Italian! She really did that.

“妹妹(mèi mei)! What happened this time?” Kagami invaded the nervous girl's room, without bothering to knock on the hatch door, after all, Kagami Tsurugi was part of the family.

"She did it again, 姉貴(aneki)!" Marinette replied, throwing a paper ball into Kagami's hands. “That 混蛋(hún dàn)! If I get my hands on that Italian, I'll kill her!”

Ignoring Marinette's outbreak in the background, Kagami carefully stretched the paper, trying not to tear it. She thought it was just another bad joke that Lila had made again; like the one from the previous week, where she wrote a letter all in Italian offending Marinette and lying to the class saying it was a letter praising the girl.

Of course, not even in a million years, she expected to find the "ULTIMATE WARRIOR" in thick letters, painted in red and gold on top of the paper. Much less the words “SELECTED” and the names of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Kagami Tsurugi and Lê Chiến Kim.

Kagami had to read and reread what was written on the paper because she was too stunned by what she was seeing. She couldn't believe that Lila had the courage to enroll them in a combat competition program.

Even more because it was no secret that the program was the extreme of the extreme. Kagami still remembered a competitor who had to be forcibly removed from the competition, for having left three teams - nine people - disabled beyond measure; one of the victims had almost lost his leg movements because he was hit hard by the guy's blade.

For God's sake! Competitors had to sign documents exempting the program from any liability in the event of a fatality.

And Lila signed them up for it. Even though she knew everything, she signed them up because she wanted to see them suffer.

“That やりまん(yariman)!” Kagami spat, crumpling the paper again and throwing it to the floor in anger. "Let me get my 短刀(tantō) and we can cut her throat without having to get our hands dirty with her rotten blood."

Marinette sighed in devastation.

"I knew that defending Chloe from Lila's lies would have consequences, but that?" She pointed to the paper ball on the floor. "This is sadism."

Kagami sat on the chaise, pulling the girl with her. She was still simmering with anger, but remembered that she was the oldest there, by a year, but older. So Kagami had to show maturity and comfort her younger sister.

"What she’s doing- what did she did... This is no longer about revenge, mèi mei." Kagami put her arm around the girl's shoulders in comfort. “She's doing it all just to hurt you. Even if you didn't defend Chloe, Lila would find another way to attack you.”

Marinette dropped her head on Kagami's shoulder, tired of it. Tired of Lila Rossi.

“If it were just me, that's would be fine. I would accept it because it wouldn't make a difference to me, but it involved you and anh.”

Kagami laughed. The truth and certainty in Marinette's words made her happy. Knowing that she had a person beside her like Marinette - and Kim - was a gift that she would never be able to pay her parents.

"But at least it's me and em." She answered. "Have you ever thought if she put Chloe and that girl- Rose?"

Marinette snorted, imagining that. "That would have been a colossal disaster."

The two sat on the chaise in a comfortable silence. It was normal, when the two were without Kim, for silence to be part of their day. Both Kagami and Marinette expressed their feelings better through actions.

They were both sitting for a few minutes when the sound of doors slamming and heavy footsteps running downstairs caught their attention. Both recognizing the rhino that was tap dancing around Marinette's house.

It wasn't long before a very smiling Kim's head appeared in the open hatch.

He paced the room in a familiar comfort. Kim practically lived there.

"Mèi mei, aneki!" He said excitedly. "Why do you two looks like death?"

Kagami pointed the paper ball to the floor. "Read."

The boy frowned at Kagami's tone. She hardly spoke like that when it was just the three of them, keeping her cold behavior only to people outside the family.

He picked up the crumpled paper and stretched it without care, his eyes skimming over the written words.

Kim looked up at them. His expression was unreadable.

"You who signed us up, mèi mei?"

Marinette snorted insulted, and pulled her head away from Kagami's shoulder.

“Of course not, anh. This is the work of our dear and beloved, Lila Rossi."

'Hm' came from him. The eyes going back to the paper, analytical. Probably thinking about something that Marinette and Kagami hadn't thought of yet, as they were both too angry for that.

Many believed that Kim was a silly boy. Obviously, he made a point of acting like the jester with his classmates and in a way, he was, but no one but the family knew about the real Kim.

The smart, cold, strategist and merciless Kim. Of the three, Kim was the most likely to participate in a carnage and still make it look like a trip to the mall.

"I think we should accept this opportunity, 灌(Guàn)." He said clinical.

Kagami shuddered in surprise at the boy's words. Marinette beside the girl, had the same reaction. Of the three there, Kim was the most heavily camouflaged, so for him to suggest that meant...

"... You don't intend to pretend anymore." Marinette said Kagami's thoughts aloud.

The boy sighed, looking older and more tired. The paper was still firm in his hand.

"Technically, we are not pretending, just... not being completely sincere." He pointed. "But yes. That's exactly what I'm saying.”

"But Kim-Giáp, you know that as soon as we are 'sincere', things will change." Kagami said, hope growing in her heart. She hated having to put on a mask to leave home and interact with people. "There will be no turning back."

“There is nothing else for us here. Guàn has been suffering to remain civilized in order not to attract the attention of her parents, I am tired of having to make a fool of myself for those idiots and you, Kagami, also do not like having to put on the ‘girl without friends’ mask, to keep the peace." He sat down heavily next to Marinette. "Mars, if you agree, I want to do this."

Marinette stared at the floor, lost in thought.

Kim was right, of course. None of the three could take it until they were eighteen or finished the lycée to get rid of their classmates, Bustier or Lila. But Marinette also feared, because of the three, she was the person who would have the most changes in life.

After all, the agreement was that as soon as she decided to become Cheng's head, the engagement- her engagement, would be understood as accepted. And maybe Marinette was still a little afraid to leave the comfort, because she didn't know who her promised husband was.

But then she thought about the hell that Dupont was being and how just changing schools would not solve the problems of the three. They were suffocating being something they were not.

She lifted her head and looked at the boy.

"So, you better say goodbye to that blond hair." And smiled. Kagami practically vibrated with joy beside her.

Kim rolled his eyes before shoving her with his shoulder.

"At least I won't be forced to see those awful pig tails anymore."

"HEY!"

"He's right."

“Aneki!”

Now they just needed to finish enrolling for the program, let families know about the change in plans and what the expected consequences are.

They only had a month to settle everything and compete in the program.

▫▪▪

For a month the trio did not appear in Dupont.

In the first week, Lila was easily the first to notice the lack of a certain girl in the classroom, internally congratulating herself for breaking another one.

Next were Max and Alix, believing that Kim was sick. They went to the boy's house only to come across a “property for sale” sign. Needless to say, they came back to school confused and sad.

The third person to notice was surprisingly, Chloe Bourgeois. The girl only realized that Dupain-Cheng and Lê Chiến were missing when Lila started spreading lies about her and Marinette was not there to act as guardian of morals.

Nino and Sabrina noticed at the same time, but neither of them paid much attention because they knew the duo and knew that sporadically, Marinette and Kim (and Kagami) would disappear for a while and then return as if nothing had happened.

The rest of the class noticed at the same time as Bustier. One Wednesday, in the middle of the third week absent, the teacher entered the classroom with heavy eyes and hunched shoulders. The word "transferred" and the names "Marinette, Kim" were all they got before Alix became a berserker.

Alya didn't even blink at the announcement. Glad that Lila was safe now that her mother managed to get rid of her daughter's bullies.

Adrien failed to maintain the perfect model expression. When he arrived at the Dupain-Cheng bakery, he was greeted with employees never seen before. No sign of Marinette or her parents.

He also realized that Kagami was strangely absent from fencing classes and that the calls went directly to voicemail. The blood ran cold in his veins.

▫▪��

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, on a strangely sunny Monday in Gotham; a letter with a thick envelope and sealed with a ladybug coat of arms arrived at Wayne Mansion.

They were all together for breakfast when Alfred, the butler, handed the red, black wax-sealed envelope to Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne's youngest son.

His father, his brothers and his almost brothers, curious about the unusual situation.

When he opened the letter and realized its contents, a deformed smile took over the face that until then, was always frowning.

Everyone was able to hear the ‘Finally’ coming from the boy, before he disappeared upstairs without exchanging a word with the family.

“Damian Al Ghul Wayne, we would like to announce that Cheng Guàn will finally be taking over the Cheng head next month. She accepted her role as head of the family and will be announcing through her participation in Ultimate Warrior, accompanied by the heads of Tsurugi and Lê.

We would like to challenge you one last time, as a demonstration that Cheng Guàn is more than able to walk and fight alongside you.

Best regards,

Cheng Hua.”

Not very traditional, but it would do.

As he read the program rules, the only thought in the boy's mind was that he and his brothers were going to have a lot of fun ending up with anyone who wasn't even minimally decent.

▫▪▪

Marinette was just finishing tying the laces on her boot when Kim fully armored came in with the phone to the ear.

While he was finishing talking to what was probably his ‘war assistant’ - if the Vietnamese indicated anything - she watched her brother well, now that he wasn’t trying to hide under the jester mask.

Giáp had dyed his hair back to its natural color, removing the blonde once and for all. He preferred not to cut his hair completely, leaving the sides and nape shorter than the top, combed with gel to the side. Like a businessman.

His tactical military suit was identical to that of Kagami and Guàn, only further reinforced in places of impact such as fists and knees. The face had full protection to prevent accidents, only the eyes uncovered, but only because he had taken off his glasses since they were not yet in the field.

He would fight only with fists at first.

Kagami was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, meditating. Her tactical suit was a little more mixed with her kendo suit, since she was wearing her armor over her clothes. The 胴(dō) on her chest, 小手(kote) on her wrists, 垂れ(tare) on her waist, and the 面(men) lying comfortably on the floor beside her, along with her twin 刀(katana) with red blades and the 十文字槍(jūmonji yari) that she had won for her sixteenth birthday last year.

There was also a cloth mask covering her nose and mouth, and sports glasses over her eyes to keep out dust.

Guàn wore the totally pure military tactical suit. A little more pulled into an anti-riot suit, but not as bulky, because she didn't want to impair her mobility and her mask was a totally black ballistic mask.

On the table in the tiny waiting room - a tent - there were two types of rifles: A Colt M4 and an Arctic Warfare; two Glock and a Revolver with tranquilizer ammunition ready to reload. The five were airsoft guns. In addition to two training Cold Steel. The armament just for her.

It was as soon as Giáp hung up the phone and Kagami opened her eyes, that a staff appeared at the door of their tent warning that the competition would start in five minutes, saying it was time to finish getting ready because they would soon come to pick them up.

The three looked at each other with equally bloody smiles.

▫▪▪

ULTIMATE WARRIOR is a war-type competition program.

With each team consisting of three (3) competitors, they will have to fight against each group in order to redeem the One (1) Million Euro prize. That is, the team must defeat all other teams in order to redeem the prize. Only one team leaves UW undefeated.

The competition takes place once a year and is hosted in ghost towns around the world and recorded live for TV channels. It has no minimum duration, with the maximum reached being 5h.

UW is a very prestigious event; participants are usually military or combatants of some kind.

The minimum age for participation is sixteen (16) and the maximum is thirty (30).

Non-lethal weapons are allowed.

Competitors are eliminated by voluntary withdrawal, if they are knocked out or by serious injuries.

Any type of aggression that results in fatalities or near fatalities is completely prohibited. The punishment for breaking the rule is jail.

▫▪▪

As the UW was something really important worldwide, almost like the Olympics or the World Cup, the day was given as a holiday by all countries in the world; then everyone would sit in front of their televisions and watch the competition cheering for their favorite or those from their country.

In Paris, the city hall set up a screen under the Eiffel Tower and the population came with their families to watch with the rest of the Parisians.

That was no different that year. Mlle. Bustier’s class all together, some accompanied by their parents or siblings and others - like Lila - alone or with their bodyguards - like Adrien -.

They were sitting on the lawn having silly conversations when Mylène's voice caught everyone's attention.

“... Isn't that Adrien's friend? Kagami? I guess." The blonde raised his head to look around, but couldn't find the girl.

"I don't see anyone like her." He replied confused.

"Oh." Rose sighed. “On the screen. It's Kim.”

And everyone turned to see that it was actually Kim, Kagami and Marinette on the screen, being announced as Team B.

"What..." Alix sighed in disbelief.

"... And in team B, we have Lê Chiến Giáp, only 16 years old." The camera focused on who Kim should be - they were not sure, as the person was completely camouflaged in tactical clothing and a mask, and the hair did not appear to be blond -, standing with a broad chest and quite intimidating.

Half the screen was divided, one that filmed Kim and the other with his info and a 3x4 photo of his face.

"He will be the fists of team B. The boy knows how to throw a punch, Will!" One of the narrators continued.

"Yeah, Smith! But have you seen his teammate, Tsurugi Kagami?" The camera started to focus on Kagami, dressed as a Japanese warrior, but also totally unrecognizable. There were two swords stuck in her back - camera showing details of the armor - and in her hand, a trident-like spear. "She is 17 years old!"

Like Kim, there was a 3x4 photo of her with the written info.

“The girl is a real 女武芸者(onna-bugeisha)!” The first narrator, Will, said excitedly.

"But let's not forget about 16-year-old Cheng Guàn!" The footage changed to the third person, fully dressed as a military soldier, a plain black mask that left only her blue eyes uncovered. She, Guàn, had two rifles attached to her back, a Glock attached to each thigh, a Revolver just below the Glock on her right thigh. In addition to a black knife attached to each boot.

The 3x4 photo of Marinette Dupain-Cheng appearing on the screen with the info.

"She'll be the team's sniper!" Smith announced. "This year's contestants..." And they started talking about the rest of the participants, but Mlle. Bustier’s class stopped paying attention.

They were unresponsive.

Or at least almost everyone.

"Wow, I didn't know they were going to participate." Nino commented surprised, but not shocked like the rest of the class. "Did you know that, Chloe?"

The blonde - who for some reason had accompanied them, even without being invited - looked at the boy shaking her head. "No. I was not informed that they would participate. Only that they wouldn't be available for a while.” She sighed. “Did you hear anything, ‘Brina?”

Sabrina looked up from the tablet, shrugging. "Only they'll be back in a week." She replied softly. "Mom has been getting busier and busier, but she told me that soon they would tell us."

Nino nodded, seeming to understand what Sabrina meant and Chloe leaned back in the beach chair she had taken. The conversation dying there.

"Since when are you close to Marinette or Kim?" Ivan asked confused. He never saw any of them minimally close to each other.

"And the ice queen." Alya commented acidly, eyes narrowed on Nino.

"Ah, our parents work for them." Sabrina replied disinterestedly.

"We've known each other since diapers, dude." Nino shook his head.

"What- and why I never heard about it before?” Alix asked with their disregard. "I'm Kim's best friend and he never told me about it."

"Maybe because he didn't want to tell." Chloe murmured, not loud enough for Alix to hear, but loud enough for Adrien and Lila, who were closest to her besides Sabrina and Nino.

Adrien winced at the sharp edge of the words. He didn't like that at all.

Lila, on the other hand, was excited to watch Marinette suffer live for the whole world, but was also a little irritated by the attention she was receiving.

"But I don't understand..." She sighed in delight; they were once again focused on her. “Marinette's parents are just bakers, Kagami's mother is just a fencer and Kim's... What do Kim's parents do? I don't think I've met them before.” She frowned.

She had never seen or heard of Kim's parents.

"Now that you mention it, I also never saw Kim's parents." Max said shocked. "Every time I went to his house, he was alone."

Alya looked back at the atypical trio. Chloe, Nino and Sabrina.

"You are going to tell us right now what is happening!"

Chloe raised her eyebrow, not liking Alya's demanding tone. "Or what, Césaire?"

Alya opened her mouth to reply, but Adrien was faster.

"Nino?"

“My bad, dude. It is not something I am allowed to tell.” The boy shrugged guiltily.

"Yet." Sabrina said out of the blue and everyone looked at the girl waiting for her to elaborate, but she kept quiet.

"-Oh, it's starting." Rose pointed to the screen and the students soon calmed down, their eyes avid on the screen.

▫▪▪

"... 竜(ryū) there are two heading your way." Guàn said in the communicator, her voice muffled by the ballistic mask.

The trained eyes on the street below her, providing cover for Kagami and Giáp to eliminate the other competitors.

"Understood." She heard Kagami respond through the headset. “Con khỉ goes on the right and I on the left. Do any of them have weapons, 瓢虫(piáo chóng)?”

She watched Giáp hide against the stone walls of the hut across the street and Kagami disappear into the hut a little further from where she and Giáp were.

“One unarmed and one with knives. I'm trying to find the third, but no sign of him." She breathed heavily. “Con khỉ the target is fast approaching. Ryū, target at ninety degrees.”

Guàn didn't need to see to know that both Giáp and Kagami had ambushed their targets, but even so, she didn't take her eyes off them.

It was always beautiful to see how gracefully Kagami handled the jūmonji yari or how Giáp did not hesitate to reach the pressure points on the enemy's body, never using too much brute force, only skill and knowledge.

That was why she was almost a little too late to notice the presence in the ruin in which she was hiding. But it was only almost.

The competitor - Team E, she read on the stripe attached to his arm, not much older than her -, didn't have time to react. She was flexible and had the knowledge. Even though he was a combatant, he was no match for her at full capacity.

Guàn was quick to take the knife out of her boot and throw it at him as a distraction. The sniper rifle forgotten in the previous post. She ran while he fumbled with the gun in his hands; she didn't think twice about kicking the back of his knee and when he fell heavily on the clay floor, she didn't hesitate to shoot twice with the Glock.

One dart in the thigh and one in the arm. Where protection was less effective, since the Kevlar did not cover and was just the fabric of the suit covering.

"The third has been neutralized." She said as she put the Glock back in her thigh holster.

"The second too." Giáp replied a little breathlessly. That mask was probably restricting his breathing. Even more because he was a heavy fighter.

"The first one gave up." Kagami said with a mocking tone. The girl hated it when she started to cheer up in a fight and then the person just gave up, for not being able to keep up with her.

“Calm down, Ryū. There are still three- “A siren sounded; the team alert cleared.

"Team E, Team A, Team C eliminated." The announcer's voice loud enough for all the competitors in the Craco ruin - Italy - to be able to hear. “We will have a ten-minute break for competitors to hydrate and replenish their energy.”

"What were you going to say?" Kagami snorted.

It hadn't even been an hour of combat and three teams had already been eliminated. They had taken team E and team A.

Team A was a bunch of filthy elitist pigs, acting contemptuously with them as if they were Asian, were worth less or were easy to beat.

Guàn loved to break the jaw of the leader of the three, Kagami may have stabbed the third a little more violently than recommended and Giáp may have broken the tibia of the second. But it wasn’t like they got a reprimand for it.

Perhaps the producers have turned a blind eye to the rules, only to see the three white supremacists having their asses delivered by three Asian teenagers.

"Okay, we have two to eliminate yet."

She expected them to be a little more challenging.

▫▪▪

In Paris, the class was at different levels of breathing difficulties, but of all, Lila was the most affected.

She didn't know that Dupain-Cheng could be so scary.

"How can she move like this, if she can barely walk straight without falling or hitting something?!" Alya seemed personally offended by Marinette's recent acquired skill.

Chloe snorted mocking the girl.

"Are you serious, Césaire?" She crossed her arms, without patience. "You said you were the girl's best friend for almost a year and you don't know that she can knock someone out with her eyes closed and her hands tied?!"

Alya opened her mouth, but nothing came out in her defense.

"Chloe!" Nino scolded the blonde and Alya felt her heart heat up for being defended by the boy. "It is not their fault that they are ignorant about Guàn's life." And Alya's heart ached with the harsh words.

"They can't talk about it, remember Chlo?" Sabrina asked sweetly, trying to calm Chloe.

The blonde turned her face in a tantrum. There was a pout there.

"I didn't know that Kim knew how to fight." Nathaniel said softly, almost without a voice.

“There is a lot that you don't know about Kim. Or Marinette.” Sabrina said enigmatically.

Adrien was starting to think that they didn't really know anything about the two classmates and the only three who did for some reason wouldn't open their mouth at all.

But he had faith that when the two returned, everything would finally come together. And he would have a very serious conversation with Kagami about hiding things from him.

▫▪▪

Damian was growing more and more impatient. Until that moment he had not yet found his fiancée.

Sure, he had a brief glimpse of her and the other two heads, but all three were armored to the top and he couldn't even make out what color her eyes were. Only that her hair was long and so dark that when the sunlight hit, the color changed to a deep blue.

He, Dick and Jason had eliminated two teams - C and D - with only team B missing. Her team. But somehow, they couldn't find the team anywhere in the ruins of Craco. It was as if they had evaporated with the air.

"I spotted them Demon!" Jason's voice came over the communicator. “They are at the highest point on the e-ek hill! Shit I almost got hit by a dart.”

Damian didn't think twice about leaving his post and running the streets of Craco, closer and closer to the top. On the way, he spotted Dick fighting the man of Team B.

He found Jason crouched behind a rock that was supposed to be the wall of one of the houses, trying not to be hit by the tranquilizer projectiles.

"I'm going up!" He signaled to Jason. "Cover me."

He ran to the entrance to the tower, barely avoiding the projectiles being fired at him. Jason right behind him and Dick alone fighting the other guy.

Damian barely stepped on the top floor when he had to block the yari's blade with his katana. He was fighting the Team B swordswoman and Jason going head to head with Cheng Guàn, Damian's fiancée. The two of them in a shooting contest.

▫▪▪

The Parisian population was quiet. All barely breathing with their eyes glued to the screen. The class was not much different from them. Even Nino, Chloe and Sabrina watched the final confrontation with glazed eyes.

They watched as both Marinette and the other competitor- Jason ran out of ammunition and weapons, without thinking twice about throwing themselves into a fist fight.

They held their breath when it looked like Marinette was finally running out of stamina, Jason taking more and more of the girl's escape routes. Until-

"Piáo chóng!" Kagami screamed, distracting Jason momentarily, while throwing the trident towards Marinette before blocking the sword of the other competitor- Damian, with her own sword.

The girl was not at all surprised by the call and took the trident effortlessly, looking used to the movement. And before Jason could hit her, Marinette threw herself out the window.

"IS SHE CRAZY?!" Surprisingly it was Juleka who screamed. The shy girl was paler than normal.

But no one looked away from the screen. Everyone watching the way Marinette stuck the trident in the clay wall of the house, stopping her fall and the way she landed on the shoulders of Team F’s third competitor-Dick, strangling him with her thighs.

"DO YOU SURRENDER?!" She shouted at him, squeezing his neck even tighter.

"..." Dick was still standing, slapping his hands on her legs and trying to dislodge the girl off him, but the guy had no chance.

As soon as he managed to loosen her grip and breathe properly, three projectiles hit one on the butt, and the other two on each thigh. He fell hard to the ground, Marinette barely having time to jump out of the man. Kim standing behind them with Marinette's revolver.

“Thanks, Con khỉ-“ She didn't finish speaking before running away from Dick's body, Jason arriving like a bull. "GIÁP!"

Kim threw the revolver at Marinette and she fired at the enemy without even thinking. They blinked in time to see five projectiles lodged in his neck before Jason passed out. Avoiding Dick's body for just a few inches.

"Wow, they were a lot more trained than the others." Marinette commented to Kim, neither of them looking worried about Kagami, who was still fighting Damian inside the house.

The split screen showing Kagami's fight and the street where Kim and Marinette were.

“Well, he managed to hit me five times. That means something.” Kim replied relaxed.

"Oh really? This is surprising.” Marinette whistled, impressed.

There was an awkward silence.

"Shall we help aneki?"

“Nah. Let her have fun.”

And the two sat on the floor, watching the group of rescuers on the show take Jason and Dick away.

"I wish I had brought a book." Kim sighed in disappointment and soon Kagami and Damian's fight took over the entire screen.

What the hell?!

▫▪▪

Tsurugi and Wayne were walking in circles, analyzing the level of danger and skill.

Kagami knew who Damian was, she knew this was Guàn's fiancé, because it was her idea to send the letter inviting him to participate in the competition. Because she wanted to make sure he was able to accompany Guàn when she demanded.

Of course, Kagami knew that it was impossible for Damian to be completely useless because he was the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul, grandson of Ra’s Al Ghul; but she wanted to personally test how good he was, because she would accept nothing but the best for Guàn.

Then she convinced Sabine Cheng-Cheng Hua to send the letter.

"I'm glad you accepted our invitation, 悪霊(akuryoo)." She said, the tip of the katana towards the ground.

Damian tilted his head, intrigued by the way he was called.

It was not popular knowledge the way his family called him.

"I'm grateful." He nods. "It’s always good to test my skills with experienced people."

"Let's finish this."

"D'accord."

▫▪▪

Damian had given up.

Damian Al Ghul Wayne had given up.

After Tsurugi declared defeat, Damian lowered the katana and said 'I give up' directly to the camera, leaving the clay house with her.

That was a shock to Damian's family. But Alfred's discreet smile said that giving up had a much deeper reason than just giving up a fight.

▫▪▪

Guàn and Giáp got off the ground as soon as they saw movements coming from the house where Kagami was fighting with the other competitor.

Guàn had the revolver hidden behind her back, cautious. Until the fireworks went off in the sky.

"Team B is the winner of Ultimate Warrior!" The announcer shouted excitedly. “For the first time since Ultimate Warrior debuted, a group of teenagers won the contest! What a day my friends, what a day!”

The announcer was speaking something, the program staff showing up from where they were hiding, Giáp was snorting with pride as he took off his mask and glasses, but Guàn was more focused on the teenager who accompanied Kagami.

In the middle of the dispute she barely had time to analyze him while running away from his teammate's punches, but at that moment, without imminent danger, Guàn's eyes were solely focused on him.

And he was not much different from her.

Guàn barely had time to pull the ballistic mask off her face before he was standing inches from her, forcing her to lift her chin so she could look him in the eye.

"It’s a pleasure to finally be able to meet my fiancée." The boy took her hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on her knuckles without caring about the glove. "You were magnificent against my brother." He said as he lowered her hand.

Guàn raised an eyebrow, a charming smile taking over her expression.

“Oh? I am flattered." She replied, the words sliding sweet as honey. "Cheng Guàn, head of the Cheng." Inclining her head, as an informal bow, Guàn didn’t look away from him for a second.

"Damian Al Ghul Wayne, current Demon’s head."

Demon's head, huh.

She liked the sound of that.

▫▪▪

Adrien was feeling strange.

Marinette's team had won and so she was fraternizing with the enemy in a very non-Marinette way.

"It’s a pleasure to finally be able to meet my fiancée.” And he kissed her hand, his greedy, sticky eyes on the girl.

They still had communicators, so everyone was able to hear what they were talking about.

"Fiancée? Did I hear that right?” Max murmured.

"Oh, so this is him." Chloe said disinterestedly.

"He still looks like a serial killer." Nino said, an amused tone in his voice.

"Cheng Guàn, head of the Cheng." Marinette's voice cut through the confused murmurs.

Cheng Guàn? Cheng's head? What the hell was Marinette talking about?!

Classmates seemed increasingly lost.

"Damian Al Ghul Wayne, current Demon’s head." The boy with Marinette replied.

... they were really confused.

And Adrien strangely homicidal.

▫▪▪

After receiving the check of one million-euro, Guàn, Kagami and Giáp were in the car driven by Bai, the driver of the Cheng family.

There was a car in the front with Cheng's bodyguards and another in the back with Tsurugi and Lê's.

After her fiancé introduced themselves, they talked for a while without tactical microphones, being formally introduced to his brothers.

The warning had been given.

Cheng's head was engaged to the demon's head and anyone who tried anything against either of them should expect retaliation from Tsurugi, Lê and Wayne. In addition of Al Ghul.

▫▪▪

It had been a week.

A week since Ultimate Warrior, since Kagami, Marinette and Kim won the competition exhibiting skills that no one knew they had.

The situation in the classroom was a little more tense than usual.

Alya having argued with Nino because he refused to say anything about what happened and ended up breaking up with the boy, thinking he would reconsider for loving her, but he hadn't even blinked twice before leaving the girl talking to herself.

Since then, he sat in the back with Chloe and Sabrina. The three of them sitting comfortably in one seat.

Adrien had tried to extract something from Chloe, using the excuse of best friend wanting to spend time together; but the girl was not fooled by the trick, dismissing Adrien as soon as the boy opened his mouth to speak.

Lila was strangely sulky and silent. Even Alya was unable to cheer up the Italian. She was constantly having to answer mysterious phone calls that only made her more and more furious. Nobody knew how to bring it up, fearing that she would fight with them for meddling in her private affairs, so they just kept their distance.

It was on a Wednesday, exactly a month and fifteen days after they disappeared from Paris, that the class got their first glimpse of Kim, inside a luxury car accompanied by three men twice as big as him. But it had been too quick for them to be sure it was really the boy, so in the end they ignored what they saw.

But it was on Friday, a month and seventeen days, that they actually saw Marinette coming out of the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

Alya didn't think twice before running up to her, dragging the entire class along - not that they didn't want to go -. She wanted answers and she was going to get it!

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you're going to tell me right now what's going on-" She shouted at first, not caring how much attention she was drawing from the people around her, but the words died in her mouth. For the first time noticing what Marinette was wearing.

The girl was wearing something that Alya had only seen in the Chinese dramas that Marinette watched with her when they were still friends. She remembers the name, hanfu, when the girl explained the different types.

The top was pearly white, the neckline crossed in a 'y' shape. The pleated skirt was a light blue with embroidery of white roses on the hem, the length reaching above the foot - maxi, she remembered Marinette saying -. At the waist, the white lace of the skirt wrapped around the waistband, holding the skirt in place; the same embroidery on the hem of the skirt was also on the ends of the white fabric. Above the hanfu, a thin transparent peach tunic.

On her feet, white kitten heels and the hair, was loose reaching the middle of her back.

She looked ethereal.

"Oh, Alya." The girl sighed as if she had barely recognized Alya. "How are you?" She asks.

Besides clothing, Marinette's way of talking had changed abruptly. There was a delicacy, but also a certain kind of power. As if she were a very important person who had cleared five minutes of her busy schedule to exchange a few words with her classmates.

"Wwhy are you dressed like that, Marinette?" Rose stammered.

It wasn't a strange outfit, not really. It was very beautiful and sophisticated, but very different from what Marinette used to wear normally. Not even the familiar pig tails were in sight.

"Family business." Marinette replied without going into details.

Suddenly, a man wearing a black suit stepped out of the BMW parked on the sidewalk and approached Marinette nimbly. Not sparing even a glance at the group of teenagers around her.

“Guàn 大人(dàrén) I was informed that Al Ghul dàrén is on his way.” The man said to the girl. He put a finger to his ear, where everyone noticed a discreet phone - like those American movies about secret agents -. "Lê and Tsurugi dàrén are accompanying him."

“Thank you, Bai. I will wait inside.” She smiled softly at the man who, after a complete bow, went back inside the black BMW.

"Who is he? And why is he calling you that strange way?” Alix asked, annoyed. She was sure the man was talking about Kim.

Marinette looked back at the class, focusing on Alix.

"This is Cheng Bai, my driver and bodyguard." She responded politely. "I wish I could stay and talk, but I really have to get in." Marinette pointed to the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

The girl didn't wait for anyone to answer, before turning around so she could enter the bakery. She was totally insensitive to her classmates.

"Dàrén!" They recognized Sabrina's voice before they even saw her leaving the bakery with Chloe and Nino right behind. “I have updates from- oh! Hey guys, what are you doing here?” She changed the subject when she noticed the class frozen on the sidewalk.

"... We saw Marinette." Juleka replied blandly. She was feeling super uncomfortable with that situation.

"Oh, I understand." The redhead waved mechanically, looking just as uncomfortable.

Chloe ignored the class completely, talking quietly to Marinette and Nino just waved from a distance, showing no desire to approach, even with Adrien in the middle of his colleagues.

Alya seemed to wake up when she saw the three around Marinette. A feeling of betrayal burning in her stomach, but not knowing if it was about Marinette or Nino.

“Girl, what's going on? Why did you disappear?” She asked. "You went missing for a month with Kim, came out of nowhere on a show that I didn't even know you liked, and you were acting different!"

Marinette stopped talking to Chloe to look at Alya. The blank expression, hard as marble.

“Does this have anything to do with Lila? Is that why you are doing this?” Alya continued, not caring about anything else. “We can help you, Marinette. If you leave us, we can help you get over it!”

Chloe, Sabrina and Nino had incredulous expressions on their faces. None of the three believed in Alya's lack of awareness. The blogger seemed unable to think rationally before acting or speaking.

Perhaps that was why Lila had clawed at her so deeply.

"Why would mèi mei need your help?" Someone behind the class asked and they turned around in alarm, only to find Kim, Kagami and- was that Ultimate Warrior contestant Damian Wayne?!

There were also five men and two women in the same style as the man before, Bai, following them closely.

"Kim?!"

"Kagami!"

"What the hell is he doing here?" Adrien murmured poisonously. The look piercing Damian.

The three newcomers were wearing traditional clothing from their culture, as was Marinette.

Kim was wearing slim fit pants, probably cotton, as it didn't look rough. Over his pants, there was a - ao dai, Alix thought. Having seen Kim wear them before, but the old ones were much simpler than what he wore at that moment - which reached knee-high, with buttons on the right side of his chest - like a chef's jacket - and golden embroidery along the sleeves, hem and along the left shoulder to the end of the rib on the right side. There were two slits, one on each side of the body. Derby shined on his feet.

The entire set was black, except for the golden embroidery of ao dai.

Kagami's style was vaguely similar to Marinette's, but with very noticeable differences and a little ‘heavier’. Kimono was the name? Ivan was not sure.

The top part was made up of two layers. The first was white, visible through the collar of the second, which was black with a floral print that varied between purple, white, pink and orange. Both 'y' shaped collars. The sleeves were relatively large, with pieces falling by the side even though the girl had her arm raised between Kim's. The skirt as well as the top was in two layers. The first was a dark green, only two inches showing and the second was red. Pleated and tied right below the chest.

It was less flowing than Marinette's.

On her feet, white socks and wooden sandals.

The third- Damian Al Ghul Wayne, the demon head, was wearing a... dress? No, Nathaniel did not know the name for that outfit, but he did know that most men in the Middle East wore it.

The fabric was pure white - looking quite expensive -; in the throat there was a detail that went down to the middle of the chest, it was probably hiding a zipper or buttons; there was a discreet pocket on his right chest and long sleeves, adjusted on the wrist with the same detail that was around his neck. The hem of the garment reached to the middle of the shin, where it was possible to see centimeters of cotton trousers also white and on his feet, beige Oxford.

Finally, he had a scarf squared with red and white, wrapped around his hair.

"I’m waiting, Césaire." Kim asked again, not looking happy with the lack of response. "Why would she need help?"

Alya snorted, annoyed by the question.

"For what else, Kim?" She asked petulantly. "I'm talking about this obsession and envy that Marinette has towards Lila."

While Kim kept a blank expression, Kagami raised an eyebrow, a scornful smile opening on her lips. Damian hadn't even stopped to greet them, he just walked right past them before pulling Marinette into a tight hug.

Kagami gently tapped Kim's arm that was wrapped around hers and he let her go, while maintaining his haughty pose.

"Why would mèi mei envy Lila, when Lila is just a cockroach?" She asked, Adrien winced at the hardness of her words. “Who is Lila compared to Cheng Guàn? No one. So, I don't know why you insist on this idea of envy.”

Mlle. Bustier's students were in various degrees scandalized. They were used to Kagami's abruptness, but she was always a blunt-non-aggressive type, where words came out rude without intention.

But here she was, being rude and deliberately aggressive.

Lila was soon putting on her best victim mask. With tearful eyes and a fluttering pout.

“Wwhy would you say something like that, Kagami? I never did you any harm, so why are you being a bully?” She sniffed, her voice shrill and fake.

Alya wrapped her arms around the Italian, Rose following closely, sandwiching the girl between them.

"Kagami, don't you think you're being too harsh?" Adrien asked, a pleading gleam in his eyes. "This is just a misunderstanding, isn't it?!" He smiled hopefully, believing that Kagami, like Marinette, would let Lila through without a hitch.

"Why the hell would it be a misunderstanding?" Kagami countered, her eyes growing colder and colder. Kim beside her had a disgusted expression. "She knows pretty well that she is on a tightrope, so she shouldn't be feeding Césaire's stupidity."

And Lila stiffened between the two girls, her face going pale.

"What does that mean?" Mylène asked.

"It means that mother Rossi found out about baby Rossi's antics after she was demoted from her embassy position." Kim replied, satisfaction dripping from his words.

Alya's eyes widened, Adrien gasped in shock and the rest of the class was incredulous.

"Did you dare to conspire against Lila's mother, Marinette?!" She turned to the girl who was talking privately with Nino, Sabrina, Chloe and Damian. Alya's voice caught their attention, again. "Have you gotten so mean, to the point of destroying an honest woman's career?"

Marinette's expression hardened, her gaze sharpening in a way they had never seen before.

"Have you ever in your life stopped to think before opening your mouth?" She asked acidly. "Eventually you're going to piss off someone not as benevolent as me and the results will be disastrous for you."

"... That seemed like a threat." Ivan murmured, his eyes darting nervously over the men and women in suits and possibly armed around them.

"The Cheng don't make threats, Ivan." Marinette looked at him. The icy blue of her eyes pierced him. "They just go and do it."

"That right there! What is this about Chengs, the Demon's head? Why are you acting this way? And why did you move out?” Alix asked, already irritated by everything. Frustrated by the lack of answers.

"You were born in Paris and live here, but have never heard of the Three Families?" Damian asked skeptically. "I understand that you don't know what the Demon's Head means, but not knowing about the Three Families is at least stupid."

"Is this about that legend of France's three richest families?" Nathaniel asked confused. ‘Three Families’ was no stranger to him, but he couldn’t remember exactly where he had heard about it.

“Not exactly... The Three Families are, as the name says, three families. The three main families of the global mafia." Max replied, his eyes wide as he understood the general situation. "The Three Families are composed of Tsuruchi- or rather, Tsurugi." He looked at Kagami. "Lien-Lê," He looks at Kim. "And the Chang-Cheng." And finally, he looks at Marinette.

"Alternative names have been used to hide the real identities of families, but valid information is available to those who are really looking." Kim nodded, enjoying Max's intelligence.

"And if I'm not wrong, the Demon's Head correlates with the League of Assassins, a highly trained clan of hired assassins." The boy spoke again, his eyes flicking over Damian.

Damian smiled scarily. "This and much more." He says in response. "It’s good that there is someone with brain cells in this class."

"So, you mean you four are part of the mafia?" Rose asked shakily.

"We are not part of the mafia." Kagami replied.

"We are the mafia." Marinette completed.

"Then again, why the hell would Guàn be jealous of an Italian girl who only gets attention by lying every second she breathes?" Kim crossed his arms, demanding a response from Alya.

The girl flinched, instinctively turning away from him and Lila.

"III-" She closed her mouth, not knowing what to say. For the first time using reason before emotion.

“Well, while this little meeting has been good, Guàn, Giáp, Damian and I have a place to be. So, if you would excuse us, we’d like to go now.” Kagami said rudely, before dragging Kim and Marinette by the arms to the bakery.

Damian, Chloe, Nino and Sabrina following behind with the bodyguards.

"Ah!" Marinette stopped abruptly, turning back to the class. "Adrien?"

The model jumped, surprised to be called.

"Yes?" He asked cautiously.

"Let Gabriel know that his presence was requested at an audience with the Three Families." She said. Adrien felt like there was a glacier in his stomach. "We have some pending issues to deal with."

Marinette looked at the model waiting for confirmation that he understood what she had said and he nodded mechanically. Fear licking his bones.

She smiled at him before looking at Lila, who was strangely pale next to Rose.

"And Lila?" The girl barely looked up to face her. "Behave. You and I know that you don't want my wrath.”

The girl looked down at the floor, completely subdued and Marinette went back into the bakery without looking back. Everyone coming in soon after, just Sabrina staying behind.

“Max, you will receive an email with important documents about Mlle. Rossi.” She said to the boy. "I hope you make good use of it."

Lila saw her reign collapse like a tower of cards.

And there was no way to escape because she knew she wouldn't be safe anywhere.

▫▪▪

"Cheng-さま(sama), was it really wise to expose yourself like that?" Tetsuya, one of Kagami's bodyguards, asked respectfully. "You are at risk of them opening their mouth to someone who might be really problematic."

Guàn smiled kindly at the man, finding his concern cute.

"They are not going to do that."

"How can you be so sure?"

"First because they are too scared of possible retaliation, second that they are too busy now tearing up Lila Rossi." She replied nonchalantly. "Sabrina sent a compilation of all her lies with evidence and facts to Max. They will keep themselves busy for at least until next month with this."

"The only persons we should be concerned with at the moment are Lila Rossi and Alya Césaire." Giáp said seriously. The hard line of his mouth showed how uncomfortable he was with the two girls.

"... Can't we just disappear with them?" Damian asked condescendingly. Caring nothing for the implications of his words.

"No." Kagami was succinct. "If they disappeared now, we would be the prime suspects and even if justice cannot touch us, we would be in evidence." The frown said how bitter she felt about it. "More than we already are."

Kagami would be the first person of the three to suggest getting rid of the problem, but because the three of them in evidence - for having participated in the UW -, that would not be possible.

"Why don't we leave Lila to the police to handle?" Sabrina asked uncertainly, everyone turning to look at her. "She's old enough to be judged by the justice both here and in Italy."

"Wait-" Nino looked at Sabrina in surprise. "Is Lila a criminal or are we planting evidence?"

"Oh, please!" Chloe rolled her eyes. “Rossi doesn't need us to do the dirty work. Her file is dirtier than the sewers in Paris.”

“So, we have a solution for Lila. Thanks Sabrina.” Guàn smiled at the redhead and the girl screeched, before hiding her red face behind the tablet.

Kagami and Guàn were two frighteningly charming young women and Sabrina's gay heart was too weak to withstand such direct attacks.

"Now we need something about Césaire and her gossip blog." Giáp said.

They all sat in silence pondering possible routes.

"Oh!" Nino sighed, an idea forming in his head.

"What is it, Nino?" Kagami asked.

"What is the best way to destroy a journalist?"

Everyone looked at each other in confusion until Damian smiled badly. "A journalist is destroyed by his reputation." He replied. "Spreading fake news, being a tabloid writer and things like that."

"Exactly." Nino nodded his head.

"If Alya tried to expose us, her blog would be enough for all credibility to fall apart." Damian continued. "I've seen one of my dad's associates use this to stifle any news about our... Activities, that escaped to the media."

"Not to mention that she is just a teenager." Qadira, one of Damian's bodyguards, said it out loud. She opened her eyes wide when she noticed everyone looking at her and then she lowered her head to Damian, her expression chastened. "I'm sorry for my boldness, رئیس(raʾīs)."

The sharp edges on Damian's mouth softened.

“Relax Qadira. We are among friends.” He replies and the woman straightens up, slowly nodding at him. "Now elaborate what you said to us."

She hesitated for a few seconds before speaking again.

“I meant that she is just a teenager. No adult will take her seriously, even if her blog is not brought as evidence of her inability to judge or check the facts.”

"Not to mention that she seemed to be a very troubled teenager." Oma, Damian's second bodyguard, pointed. “I don't think she is an immediate risk here. She’s too volatile to be taken seriously.” She shrugged.

"Well, it looks like everything is settled." Giáp raised his arm to check the time on his wristwatch. "Just in time for us to kick Gabriel Agreste's ass."

Marinette turned to Kagami's bodyguard, a sweet smile on her face.

"See, Tetsuya?" She said. "Nothing to worry about."

▫▪▪

"So mèi mei is engaged to the Demon's head." Giáp said suddenly. "That means we have to find our own, aneki."

He and Kagami were sitting on the leather couch, reading some important documents about companies belonging to the Three Families.

The girl looked up from the paper in her hands, no reaction beyond that.

"... I call dibs on Sabrina and Chloe." She responded quickly.

Giáp smiled conspiratorially.

"Great, because Nino is mine."

And then the two went back to reading the documents lying on the table.

... Totally ignoring the people around them, including the three mentioned, who were at different levels of embarrassment.

[tag list]

@justafanwarrior @ash-amg @neakco @g-arya @loveswifi @actual-disaster-human @wannajointhecrabcult @lozzybowe @iamablinkmarvelarmy @saays-bitch @xxmdsxx @nicknnie @damianette-is-life @thegirlwhosawdeath

#kagami x chloe x sabrina #kim x nino #ml salt #lila salt #alya salt #mafia au #maribat #daminette #ml x dc #miraculous ladybug

987 notes · View notes

purrincess-chat · 3 years ago

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH21

We’ve done it! We’re caught up to AO3! As such, I will be taking the next month off from posting to get AO3 updated and take a short break. I will resume posting on AO3 first, then tumblr right after starting on July 2, 2021! Can’t wait for you all to see the rest of this story! I have a lot of changes coming.

Previous First Next AO3

------------------------------

Chapter 21: Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince

The next morning, Adrien’s stomach churned on the way to school. Chloe sat beside him adjusting her makeup while Gorilla was stopped at a red light. Everyone would know about their interview now. He expected backlash, but not like this. Pulling out his phone, he opened the article again.

Ladybug’s #1 Fan Deletes Blog After Scathing Final Video

“It’s like I don’t even know who she is anymore. I thought she was this amazing, genuine person, but in reality, she doesn’t care about any of us,” Alya said in the clip.

“Sources speculate this video was posted in response to the interview Ladybug did prior yesterday afternoon with the daughter of Paris’s own Mayor Bourgeois and the son of famous fashion mogul, Gabriel Agreste. In the interview, Ladybug denounced clout-chasers using her name to get attention, stating that such actions are “dangerous” and “need to stop.” The blogger behind the popular Ladyblog seemed to find fault with these comments and was akumatized shortly after the interview. It seems that bad blood has brewed between the blogger and the heroine even after the day was saved. The Ladyblogger posted one final video lashing out at the superheroine before deleting her blog altogether.”

“Ugh, stop reading that. Who cares?” Chloe groaned, swiping Adrien’s phone from his hands. “That brat doesn’t have brain cells if she believes a nobody like Lila over a superhero.”

“Alya devoted a lot of time to that blog, and she really looked up to Ladybug. She’s probably crushed right now,” Adrien said.

Chloe rolled her eyes and pulled out her lip gloss. “So let her be. She did this to herself by siding with that wannabe. If any of these losers have a brain, then Lila’s going to be finished today. I’ll be shocked if she’s even here.”

“Uh, I think we have other things to worry about.” Adrien pointed to the crowd waiting at the bottom of the stairs as their car rolled up to the curb. Their classmates had formed a wall between them and the inside of the school like a group of knights defending their queen. Lila was waiting safely inside, no doubt. She never liked getting her hands dirty unless she had to.

“You don’t think she’ll get away with this and make everyone hate us, do you?” Adrien asked.

“Everyone already hates me, Adrikins. I have nothing to lose.” Chloe snapped her compact shut and dropped it into her purse. “But it looks like we’ll have to finish the job ourselves. I’m going to need a spa day after working so hard.”

A pit tangled in Adrien’s stomach as they climbed from the car, the angry expressions of their classmates sending a chill up his spine. When they’d done the interview, Adrien expected everyone to be mad at Lila, not him. How did she weasel her way out of this one?

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” Alya said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where’s your bff Ladybug?”

“She’s got better things to do than worry about you losers,” Chloe said without missing a beat, completely undeterred by the mob in front of them. “Now, move, you’re blocking the stairs.”

“Ya know, I’ve always known you were evil, but this is really low, even for you.” Alya shook her head.

“Yeah! Tricking Ladybug is way uncool, Chloe,” Nino said.

“Yeah!” Several classmates echoed their agreement.

“Ladybug spoke the honest truth. All I did was ask the questions.” Chloe examined her nails.

“Stop pretending to be innocent. I overheard you and Adrien plotting to trick Ladybug into saying incriminating things about Lila, so don’t even lie to us.” Alya shot Adrien a glare that cut through his chest like a knife. “And what do you have to say for yourself? Teaming up with the wicked witch. We all thought you denounced Chloe’s actions, but I guess the silver spoon doesn’t fall far from the table.”

“Ugh, she’s delusional. Come on, Adrikins.” Chloe tugged his arm, but he remained rooted in place.

“No, she’s right. Chloe and I did conspire to trick Ladybug into admitting she and Lila were never friends,” Adrien said, and Chloe shot him a warning glare. “But that’s not actually what happened.”

“Really? So you two didn’t do a live interview where Ladybug said she doesn’t have any non-superhero friends?” Alya quirked a brow.

“Chloe and I originally planned to trick Ladybug, yes, but I didn’t feel right about it, so before the interview, I told Ladybug the truth. She went into that interviewing knowing what we were going to ask her, and she agreed,” Adrien said.

“What?” Chloe gasped.

“What Ladybug said was her choice. Lila’s lies have gotten out of hand, and she knows that better than anyone,” Adrien said.

“Why should we believe you?” Nathaniel grunted. “You teamed up with Chloe, so obviously you’re not the innocent sunshine boy everyone thinks you are.”

“Yeah, Chloe’s the worst!” Sabrina shouted, and Chloe’s gaze locked on her.

“How dare you! You’re not allowed to side with those losers. Get over here!” Chloe demanded, but Alya draped an arm around Sabrina’s shoulders.

“She’s done putting up with your crud, Chloe. We all are,” Alya said. “Lila hasn’t done anything to deserve all the hate from you or Marinette or Ladybug or anybody!”

“So, you losers are really going to believe some random girl who walked in off the street and started telling all of these amazing stories without evidence to back them up over a superhero?” Chloe cocked a hip. “You’re all more pathetic than I thought.”

“You’re the pathetic one! You two and Marinette have been plotting against Lila for weeks, haven’t you?” Alya shot back.

“Whoa, Marinette has nothing to do with any of this,” Adrien said. “This was all me and Chloe.”

“I heard you two talking. You said you were doing it for Marinette, or did I hear you incorrectly?” Alya challenged.

Adrien sighed. “No, we did say that, and I did do it for Marinette.”

“Ha!”

“But not because she told me to.” Adrien took a deep breath and turned to his classmates. “All of you, don’t you miss Marinette? Rose, don’t you miss when she would bring you extra fabric for your scrapbook projects? And Nathaniel, don’t you miss when she’d offer suggestions for your comic books?”

When they remained quiet, he continued, “Marinette left this school feeling hurt and empty. She felt like all of her friends turned their backs on her for a new girl. She poured her heart and soul into everything she did here, and Lila drove her away. Marinette knew the truth, so Lila threatened to take everything away from her. And she did which is why I teamed up with Chloe to stop her. Marinette doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. Not after everything she’s done.”

Everyone was quiet. Even Alya’s resolve seemed shaken, but she squared her shoulders.

“I can’t believe you when you’re standing next to her.” She nodded at Chloe.

Kim pursed his lips, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I dunno, it doesn’t make sense. Marinette would never do something like that. Adrien can be protective of people he cares about, but that doesn’t make him a bad guy.”

“Yeah, Marinette is like the nicest person in the world. She’d never go against someone without a reason, especially if it involves teaming up with Chloe,” Alix agreed.

“And Marinette was always looking out for everyone before Lila showed up,” Ivan said.

They moved to stand beside Adrien, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, I’m not siding with Chloe, even if Marinette was nice to me sometimes.” Nathaniel crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, I’m done being your bff. You’ll have to get someone else to do your homework from now on,” Sabrina said with a humph.

Myléne flicked her gaze between the forming groups, curling her shoulders. “Sorry, but they’re right. Chloe is always being mean. I don’t really think Marinette is involved, but this seems very typical for Chloe.”

Max tapped his chin with one finger. “It’s true that this type of behavior is very typical of Chloe, but senseless cruelty is atypical of Adrien. However, acting in defense of a dear friend is a trait Adrien and Marinette have demonstrated on numerous occasions, and Lila’s stories can be outlandish at times. Then there’s the issue of the interview with Ladybu-”

“Oh, just pick a side!” Chloe groaned.

“I-” Max glanced between his friends. “I am choosing to abstain from taking sides until I have further evidence. Both Lila and Marinette are my friends.”

“Ugh, whatever. What about you two?” Chloe turned to Juleka and Rose.

Juleka mumbled something no one understood but moved to stand by Alix. Rose cupped a hand over her mouth, shifting between Alya and Adrien.

“Rose?” Adrien prompted.

Her shoulders curled, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t want to pick! I don’t want anyone to fight anymore.” She covered her face with a whimper, and Nino placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he said.

“Nino?” Adrien asked hopefully, but his best bud lowered his head, red cap covering his eyes.

“Sorry, bro. I know you and Chloe have always been tight, but that doesn’t mean she and I have to be,” Nino said, taking a purposeful step toward Alya.

“Well, looks like more people are on my side than yours.” Chloe gloated.

“Hold up,” Alix said. “No one on this side picked you. We just believe Marinette is innocent, and Adrien was acting to protect her.”

“Yeah, you’re still the worst. We’re on Marinette’s team,” Ivan added. Chloe scowled but didn’t argue further.

A cold anger burned behind Alya’s eyes, the hurt she was feeling bubbling just beneath the surface. Adrien shivered. This wasn’t what he wanted when they did the interview. He wanted everyone to be free from Lila’s influence, especially Alya, but Lila’s hooks were in too deep. He never should have let things get this bad. If he’d acted sooner, then Marinette never would have left. Their classmates would be free, and no one would have to feel torn.

When the bell rang, their classmates dispersed, filing into the school one-by-one. Chloe fell into step beside Adrien.

“Now what?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I need time to forget about the fact that I’m Team Marinette.” Chloe shuddered.

“We’ve got enough people who at least believe Marinette is innocent, but we can’t get too cocky. That’s not the same thing as believing Lila is guilty,” Adrien said.

“We’ll figure something out. We just need time and a little precision,” Chloe said.

Adrien gulped, gripping the strap on his bag tighter. For their sake, he hoped they thought of something soon.

♪♫♪ Learn to Let Go ♪♫♪

“Take a deep breath in,” Macy said.

Marinette sat cross-legged on a bright blue yoga mat. Sunlight streaming in from the skylights warmed Marinette’s bare shoulders while soothing music played softly in the background. After the past few days, Marinette’s anxiety was at an all-time high, so a meditation session was in order. She followed Macy’s instructions, but it did little to relax her.

“Now, breathe out all of that negative energy. Let it all leave your body,” Macy continued. “Think of all the things in your life that make you happy and push out the things that don’t.”

Marinette took another breath, but the events of the last two days flashed vividly in her mind. The interview, Ladyblogger, the hurt look in Alya’s eyes when Ladybug captured her akuma, the video… Marinette breathed out.

Alya deleted the Ladyblog. Lila had done the impossible and turned Ladybug’s biggest fan into one of her biggest detractors. Granted, Ladybug might have helped by replacing Rena Rouge, but what was Marinette supposed to do? Working with Alya wasn’t an option after everything—it would have been too painful. Even still, Marinette would be lying if she said watching Alya lose faith in Ladybug didn’t rip another hole in her chest. Despite ending their friendship, Marinette still wished Alya the best, even if she was running with Lila.

“You’re not letting go of the negative energy,” Macy said.

Marinette blinked her eyes open and sighed, letting her posture fall. “Sorry, it’s been a rough few days.”

Macy turned to face Marinette with a smile. “Why don’t we talk about it instead? Maybe it will help if you get it all off your chest.”

“Maybe…” Marinette picked at a loose thread on her pants. She shifted to face Macy, chest tight. “It’s just…my old school. When I left, I didn’t want to look back, but it feels like no matter what I do, I can’t leave it behind.”

“Well, you had a lot of friends at your old school, right? It’s not easy to walk away from people you care about,” Macy said. “Especially when you know someone is using them.”

“I guess.” Marinette hugged her knees to her chest. “I thought I’d been gone long enough to not care anymore, but when Alya got akumatized, I just felt so sad.”

“Of course, you did! She was your best friend.” Macy pulled the tea table closer and prepared a cup. “It’s not easy to see someone you love in that much pain. You’re not a robot, Marinette. It’s okay to care.”

Macy pushed a cup toward her, but when she made no move to accept it, Macy changed the subject. “What about Adrien? Have you heard from him?”

Marinette flicked her gaze to her phone and shook her head. “No. Not since yesterday. I think he’s avoiding me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I dunno.” Marinette shrugged. “He’s been texting me all the time lately, but now all of a sudden, he just stopped.”

“Boys are flaky like that sometimes. Give him time. I’m sure he’ll come around,” Macy assured her.

“I know, and I know it’s probably because of the interview he did with Ladybug.” Marinette sighed. “He probably thinks I’m mad at him.”

“How do you know?” Macy asked.

Marinette shifted to tuck her legs under the table and pulled her cup closer. She stared at her reflection in the tea and shrugged. “Because I thought the same thing when I changed schools behind his back. I thought he’d be disappointed.”

“Was he?” Macy asked.

“No, but I didn’t know that until he talked to me.” Marinette took a long sip. “I just feel bad that he did all of that for me. He shouldn’t have to deal with my problems.”

Macy surveyed her with a frown. “That’s something I’ve noticed about you, ya know,” she said thoughtfully. “You’re quick to shoulder everyone’s burdens when you think they need help, but you never expect anyone to do it for you.”

“I just want to be there for my friends, that’s all.” Marinette deflected as if it were no big deal, but Macy shot her a chiding look.

“Marinette, that’s very noble and sweet, but the same is true for you, ya know,” Macy said. “Everyone else’s burdens aren’t yours to bear. You’re going to break your back carrying so much weight around.” When Marinette remained quiet, Macy sighed. “Well, then I guess I have no choice.”

“What do you mean?” Marinette blinked up at her.

“If you’re running head-first into everyone’s problems, then I’m coming too,” Macy said. “I’m not going to let you do it all alone, and I don’t think Martin and Eliott will either. Adrien certainly isn’t.”

“But-”

“Marinette!” Macy threw her head back with a groan. “What I’m trying to say is… Your friends have your back, okay? So don’t worry about anything. We’re right behind you all the way.”

Macy’s smile was soft and genuine, and Marinette shivered, the fear and uncertainty floating to the surface. She leaned against Macy’s chest as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks, and her friend patted her hair, whispering encouragement while Marinette sobbed. The dull ache that had plagued her all month lightened as each tear carried away her pain.

Macy didn’t let go until her whimpers quieted, and when Marinette sat up, the weight on her shoulders felt lighter. She took a deep breath and exhaled all of her worry just like Macy said. Even if she didn’t have her old friends anymore, she had new ones, and she had to admit—they were pretty hard to beat.

♪♫♪ Daylight ♪♫♪

Adrien faced his mother’s statue in the garden with a sigh. Things were messier now than they had been a few days ago, and he didn’t know what to do anymore. No matter what they threw at Lila, she always managed to wiggle out of it. Would they ever be rid of Lila Rossi? At least some of their classmates still believed in Marinette. She’d be happy to hear that she didn’t lose everyone at Francoise-Dupont.

He flicked his gaze down to his phone with a sigh. They hadn’t spoken since before the interview. Adrien couldn’t bring himself to after everything that happened with Alya. She was bound to know the truth now—that he’d teamed up with Chloe to stop Lila, despite how she’d refused. How much more pain had he caused her by trying to fix her problems? He was afraid to know. He’d betrayed her wishes, but hopefully she’d understand that his heart was in the right place. She was all his heart ever talked about these days. Avoiding her was agony, and his heart ached every time he looked at his phone.

“I don’t know what to do, Mom,” he murmured. He shifted to press his back to the statue, resting his cheek against her lap. “No matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. Sometimes I wish you were still here to tell me everything will be alright.”

He closed his eyes, listening to the birds chirping and the hum of the city beyond the walls. When had life gotten so complicated? He longed for freedom for so long, but he never imagined what it would cost. The pain he would endure. But he’d take this pain over isolation. He never wanted to be locked up again. One day he’d be free from his father’s control, then he and Marinette could be together whenever they wanted. One day…

“Adrien?”

He sat up, cheek sore from resting against the stone. When had he fallen asleep? Red and black spots filled his vision, awakening his heart with a jolt.

“Ladybug?” He blinked, rubbing his eyes as if expecting her to be a dream.

“Sorry, I was just passing overhead, and I saw you sitting down here. I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Stay. I could use the company.”

“That makes two of us,” she said, taking a seat beside him with a sigh. “We really made a mess of things.”

“Yeah…” Adrien rested his chin on his fist. “I don’t know how she gets away with it every time.”

Ladybug leaned her head back with a sigh. “Lila is crafty. She targeted Alya specifically because she knew she’d be her most powerful ally.”

“I just feel so bad. I was hoping we could finally make everyone see the truth, but it looks like we just made things worse. Marinette was right, I shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he said, “but I couldn’t help it. Not after everything Lila has done to her.”

“You really care about this girl, don’t you?” Ladybug smiled.

His cheeks warmed, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, more than anything. But I feel like all I ever do is cause her trouble. She’s probably furious with me.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ladybug said. “From what I know of her, a gesture like that would mean the world to her, and I’ll bet she’s not as angry as you think.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because you wouldn’t go out of your way to help her if you didn’t share a special bond. You’re probably just as important to her as she is to you,” Ladybug said. “Talk to her. I think it will make you both feel better.”

Adrien pulled up his messages, thumb hovering over her name. Ladybug was right. The longer he avoided her, the longer they’d both feel this pain. Marinette would understand. He loved her, and he believed that she loved him too. Everything would be alright in the end so long as they had each other.

“Thanks, Ladybug,” he murmured.

“I’ll leave you alone now.” She palmed her yoyo but hesitated, turning over her shoulder. “That girl is really lucky to have someone like you watching over her.”

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed her yoyo and shot off into the rooftops. Adrien drummed his fingers on his thigh, then stood up and headed into the house. Gorilla was playing a game on his tablet in the foyer when Adrien found him.

“There’s somewhere I need to go.”

♪♫♪ Death of a Bachelor ♪♫♪

Marinette hummed to herself while waiting for the kettle to boil. She stole glances at her phone, but it stayed quiet. Maybe he was just trying to figure out what to say. He was bound to call sooner or later.

When the doorbell rang, her heart jumped up to her throat. She raced to the front door, hoping her clumsy footsteps didn’t betray her eagerness. Taking a composing breath, she opened the door.

His head was low, one hand shoved in his pocket, and he looked up at her through timid eyelashes. He opened his mouth, but no words came out, his fear written all over his face. Marinette smiled, gesturing him inside, but he remained rooted in place.

“Marinette, I-”

“I know,” she said.

“You’re not mad?” he asked.

“Adrien,” Marinette sighed, giving him a gentle, scolding look. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You are the sweetest boy I know. How could I ever be mad at you?”

Adrien stood stiffly in silence before his shoulders began to shake. He gripped fistfuls of her shirt, wetting her shoulder and nuzzling into her neck. Marinette held him, letting all of his worry wash between them like rain flowing down a roof. When clouds grew too heavy, they unloaded their burdens on everyone below, so Marinette stood under Adrien and let him rain.

“I’m sorry!” he cried. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay. I forgive you,” Marinette whispered, trailing her fingers through his soft hair. “I forgive you, Adrien.”

His sobs quieted, and he sat up, rubbing a hand across his red nose. The kettle on the stove screeched, and Marinette gestured him in again.

“Come on. I’ll make us some tea,” she said.

Adrien sat at the table, combing his fingers through his hair. She passed him a cup with a smile and took a seat beside him.

“I take it things didn’t go as planned with the interview?” Marinette asked.

“Not exactly,” Adrien grunted as if that were an understatement and took a sip. “Alya and some others still believe Lila is innocent, but there are a lot of us who think you are too.”

“Adrien.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have gotten involved.” He swirled his finger around the rim of the cup. “But I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. You mean the world to me, Marinette.”

Marinette’s heart fluttered, and she took a sip to hide her blush. The chamomile wasn’t strong enough to calm her nerves when he said things like that to her. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to pass out.

Setting her cup down, she cupped his cheek, tilting his chin to face her. “Thank you for looking out for me. It’s really sweet, but you don’t have to solve all of my problems. Sometimes it’s okay to just let things go.”

“Yeah…” Adrien sighed.

“Promise me you won’t get involved anymore. Lila will dig her own grave eventually. It’s better if we just let it go and move on,” Marinette said.

Adrien leaned into her touch, pressing a soft kiss to her palm.

“I promise,” he murmured.

Her pulse quickened when those gorgeous green eyes softened on her. The air hung heavy around them, warming her skin from her cheeks to the very fingertips touching his skin. Goosebumps tickled the tiny hairs of her arms, Adrien’s magnetic pull drawing her in.

Marinette slipped her fingers behind his neck and tugged ever-so-gently. Adrien leaned forward, eyelids hooding. His lips parted, warm breath swirling against her own. Marinette closed her eyes, tilting her head to finally give respite to the tension that had been building between them for weeks.

But relief never came.

Her father threw open the front door, and the sparks between them crackled. They jolted away from each other, clumsily grasping for their cups as her dad waltzed in with a fresh loaf of bread. He read the tension between them, and undoubtedly, noticed their rosy cheeks.

“Am I interrupting something?” His eyes narrowed.

“No, Papa!”

“No, sir. No way.” Adrien took a long sip and cleared his throat.

“Are you sure? I was just bringing up some fresh bread to go with dinner. I can leave if you two are-”

“Papa!” Marinette growled.

“Actually, I should get going. My father will want me home soon.” Adrien stood up. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Yeah, no biggie,” Marinette insisted.

Adrien hesitated, flicking a quick glance at her dad, then lifting her hand to his lips. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles before fleeing out the front door. Marinette sat back, letting out a ragged breath.

“I ruined a moment, didn’t I?” Her dad winced.

Marinette offered him a smile, jumping up to place a kiss on his cheek. “It’s not the first time.”

“Is everything alright?” Marinette’s mother came through the door. “I passed Adrien on the stairs, he was redder than the strawberries on the cake we baked for Manon’s birthday.”

“I interrupted a moment,” her dad confessed.

“They were having a moment?” her mom gasped excitedly.

“Maman!” Marinette groaned.

“My little girl’s growing up so fast. She’s already got her first boyfriend. Before we know it, they’ll be bringing their kids over for Sunday brunch.” Her dad rubbed the tears forming in his eyes.

Marinette covered her face, willing this all to be a dream, but alas, she couldn’t fly away.

“Do you think Adrien would ever take an interest in baking?” her dad asked, and Marinette let out a moan.

“I’m going to my room. Call me when dinner’s ready,” she said.

“Next time Adrien comes over, we promise not to interrupt!” her mom called as she made her way up the stairs.

“That’s enough!”

“Should we invite him to dinner?” her dad asked.

“Good night!”

Marinette slammed her trap door shut and flopped against it with a sigh. She’d almost kissed Adrien—again! And after confessing how important they were to each other. Did this mean they were dating? Neither of them said the l-word, but maybe sometime soon…

She covered her face and giggled. Her boyfriend Adrien. She could get used to that.

#mdcspr #mdcsp #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

92 notes · View notes