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twdeadfanfic · 1 year

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No need for jealousy

Daryl Dixon x Reader

This was a requesto for season 2 Daryl with a crush on reader, jealous of her friendship with Rick, and it turned into a ver long one-shot. Season 1 and 2, Daryl being insecure and jealous, fluff.

Daryl glanced up from his arrows and towards you at the distant sound of laughter.

You were talking with Glenn, Andrea, and Amy, joking it seemed, while some stew brew over the campfire for dinner. He scoffed, wondering what you all could even have to joke about, and he looked back down at his arrows before you could catch him staring…it was bad enough that you did the day before.

His eyes, though, were stubborn and seemed to have power over his thoughts, because soon, they were darting to you again. This time, you looked at him before he could look down, and when you noticed it, you smiled at him, so Daryl quickly averted his eyes from you.

Soon enough, though, he heard steps approaching, and he looked up enough to check that it was you, walking towards his and his brother’s tents, a bowl of stew in each of your hands.

“Hey,” you greeted, but he didn’t say anything, eyes on his fingers, which were fidgeting with his arrows. “I bring some dinner.”

“Can cook my own,” he said, glancing at you just enough to see your smile faltering for a second before it was back as you shrugged.

“I know…but you already caught the rabbit that’s in this stew, so…” When he didn’t say anything, you lowered down enough to place the bowl of stew in front of him.

“Thanks.” The word slipped past his lips as a low rasp, even if Daryl hadn’t meant to speak, and his eyes once again looked from his arrows to you in time to see your smile. His lip twitch up at it into the smallest of the smiles, just a second, without him being able to stop it. Your smile went bigger at that and Daryl’s stomach did something weird, and he averted his eyes again.

You leaned to pass the other bowl to his brother, this time without a word or a smile, and Daryl braced himself. You and Merle didn’t get along, and he was hoping neither of you would snap…he knew he’d side with his brother, no questions asked, whether that made you angry at him too or not, but he usually felt like shit after it.

You didn’t say anything, it was usually Merle the one to start, but this time, he didn’t say anything. He had a mocking smirk and Daryl didn’t like the way he looked at you as he took the bowl, but at least he wasn’t saying a word and he was not upsetting you.

Turning around, you walked back to the main campfire and the others.

Daryl heard his brother chuckling but he ignored him as he began to eat the stew.

“Yer gonna have to do somethin’ better to get in her pants,” Merle said. “Somethin’ at all.”

“I don’t wanna get on no one’s pants,” Daryl snapped and he hoped that the heat he felt on his cheeks didn’t mean that he was blushing.

“Sure ya don't, lil’ bro.”

He didn’t…it was odd, though, and unwelcomed, how thoughts of you seemed to randomly pop in his head or how his eyes would sometimes look for you around the camp.

He wondered if it might be because he’d found you and brought you to the camp, so now maybe his brain had decided that he ought to check on you, like that time he found a hurt, stray dog and felt like he had to take care of him, hidden, until his father found out.

You had been wandering the woods, coming from the road after, as you explained later, your car stopped working when you rammed a bunch of walkers on your way. You had been looking rather lost, a dirty and crumpled map in your hand, as your scared and anxious eyes scanned the woods.

Daryl had been hunting when he spotted you. At first, he stayed hidden, crossbow ready, but soon he realized you were not a threat. You were alone, lost, scared, dirty, and unarmed…later, Daryl’d wondered how the hell hadn’t you become walker’s food already, traveling like that, and some nights he still wondered if you’d have died, maybe that same day, if he hadn’t found you, and the idea always sent an unpleasant feeling to his stomach.

He had never considered letting you wander on your own, he never harbored the thought, Daryl didn’t have to think it before he was already stepping out of his hiding spot and towards you, without a plan, pretty much just out of instinct.

Your anxious eyes had widened when you saw him and you seemed even more scared. You’d raised your hands and began to walk backward, as if you’d wanted to run away but didn’t dare to turn your back to him.

You were scared of him, Daryl’d realized, but could he blame you? He probably didn’t want to know all the things you had been fearing he might do to you…he knew what people thought of the Dixons…he couldn’t say they were wrong in thinking that way almost half of the time.

He hadn’t wanted you to run away and straight into a walker, though.

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he’d rushed to say. “I was huntin’ dinner when I saw ya.” He had pointed at the rabbit hanging from his belt but you hadn’t said anything, just looked at him, seeming bewildered at finding someone and scared still. “I, uh…I’m with more people, we got a camp, I can take ya,” Daryl had explained.

You were still frozen and even though he couldn’t blame you for not trusting him and being scared, it still stung a little. He’d considered if he could go to the camp, bring someone else, some of the women perhaps, and come back, if you wouldn’t be eaten in the meantime, or if you’d wait or not…

What did he care, though, if you went to the camp or not, he should just leave you to fend for yourself…but that was a residual thought, barely audible in his brain, and so he’d spoken again.

“I, uh…if ya wait here, I’ll bring someone else…if ya don’t wanna come with me…but, uh…”

You had spoken, then, when he hadn’t really known what to say. “You…you’d take me to a camp?”

Daryl still didn’t know what made you trust him, he wouldn’t have trusted himself, but you had done it, and he couldn’t help how good it made him feel, even if he felt ridiculous for feeling that way.

He had nodded and then your scared eyes had showed relief and what seemed almost like awe, your lips curling up into a smile that soon was a grin as you looked at him as if you couldn’t believe he was real, as if he was saving your life…Daryl guessed that he was doing that, but still, he didn’t think anyone had ever looked at him like that, and it had made him feel…he didn’t know how, but good.

“Thank you"

“Ain’t nothin’...come on.”

When you both had walked into the camp, you had seemed a bit confused, and Daryl wondered if you had been expecting one of those refugee camps the radio had been talking about before going silent…he wondered if those had ever been real.

Pretty soon, though, you had seemed more than happy and very much relieved to find welcoming people, to have a safe place, food…You had thanked everyone, smiled at everyone, and although Daryl had tried to sneak away from all the fussing people who he knew didn’t like him, your eyes had searched for him, finding him and giving him that nice smile, and though he’d walked away, he’d found himself looking at you through the evening, just to find you looking at him too more often than not, always ready to offer him a smile.

You still did. Whenever you bumped into each other around camp, you’d smile at him, and it’d make him feel all weird and look down, avoiding your eyes and that stupidly nice smile. What did anyone even have to smile about now…you smiled at everyone, though, always ready to offer that nice smile to everyone in the camp, but it still made Daryl feel all weird when you smiled at him, and he called himself a fool.

He liked it, though, to see you smiling around camp, even if he felt like an idiot…he was an idiot. He liked your smile, even if he’d not admit it even to himself, and if it was directed to him, then…he didn’t want to think about it. He was a fool.

Sometimes, you randomly walked to him, tried to start a conversation, or just brought him a meal or asked if there was something you could help with. He usually brushed you off, he didn’t know how to act around you, and so you did it less and less…he hated it, and he felt foolish for hating it. His brother was right, he was an idiot.

But yeah…maybe you were nice. Maybe he did want to make sure you were alright. Maybe he did kind of like it to see you smile, even more if it was at him. Maybe he liked that, even if everyone else disliked him, you didn’t seem to do so, you always had a nice word and a smile for him, even when he didn’t deserve it, even when you were angry at his brother…even if sometimes he was a dick, he knew he was, and you were upset, making him fear that you’d hate him now, eventually, you were back to smile at him when you caught him looking at you.

And…yeah, Daryl liked it.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to get in your pants.

It was nothing like that.

* His world had turned upside down and Daryl didn’t know what to do…well he did know what to do. Beat the shit out of the people who had abandoned his brother on a rooftop in Atlanta, chained without a way to escape, and then take the pickup and go bring Merle back.

But it hadn’t gone too great when he had tried. Shane and that other damn cop, Rick, the one to leave his brother, had stopped him, and the shame burned almost as much as the rage…and now he couldn’t leave right away, because, for some reason, that stupid new cop and some others like T-Dog and Glenn had decided they’d go with him back to Atlanta to retrieve Merle.

It was not because they liked him or his brother, though, Daryl was well aware. They’d probably be happy if Merle’d gotten eaten, but Daryl supposed that, somehow, they felt guilty nonetheless.

Most importantly, Daryl had heard Rick telling Shane about a bag full of guns he’d left in Atlanta. He was no fool, he knew that was the real reason why the cop was going back. He didn’t give a shit for his brother. Once he had Merle back, Daryl was claiming some of those guns for himself and his brother, no matter if he had to beat Rick for it, the cop could try fighting him without Shane backing him that time…

Daryl sat down on the ground, elbows resting on his knees, his back to the camp so he wouldn’t see the others and so he wouldn’t give in to the urge of trying to kick some ass again. His eyes burned and he buried the heels of his hands in them, embarrassed.

He heard footsteps approaching but he didn’t turn, whoever was coming was getting a fist to the face if they didn’t leave him alone, he didn’t have the patience to deal with any of those stupid assholes now…

“Daryl…”

Your voice…you were not getting a fist to the face, but neither a nice word nor a smile like the ones you used to freely offer around.

“What,” he snapped without looking at you.

“Are you…do you…uh…” You stammered as if you weren’t sure of what to say. “Do you need something?” You asked, sounding small and unsure, but Daryl was not in the mood to be patient or to deal with anyone, not even you.

He scoffed, looking at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, I need my brother back and I need to be away from this shit camp of useless assholes,” he snapped and when he saw you flinch at his words, something stabbed at his stomach, but it was quickly muffled by the thought of his brother.

You looked down and swallowed hard, speaking again with your eyes still on the ground. “I could, maybe, go to Atlanta and help?”

Daryl just scoffed again. “I don’t need no help,” he barked. “And I got no time to babysit ya so ya don't get yerself killed while I get my brother back.”

Shit, he was a dick, why was he speaking to you like that…he buried those feelings deep inside the back of his head, where he could ignore them, he didn’t need them, he was just saying the truth. Hell, he knew you’d probably be as glad as everyone else if Merle didn’t come back.

You didn’t say anything, but Daryl saw the hurt in your eyes, and he ignored the stab in his gut at it. You turned around and walked away, leaving him alone as he wanted.

Daryl wondered if this time he had driven you away from real…there wouldn’t be more smiles or nice words from you to him anymore…Daryl ignored the awful feeling in his belly at it, the foolish feeling. It didn’t matter anyway, as soon as he got his brother, Merle and him were leaving the camp, and therefore, you…and if the idea sent a dart to his heart, Daryl was quick to ignore it.

* Daryl and the others came back to a camp drowning in chaos and terror. He’d expected, hoped, to find his brother back and creating havoc around the camp after what they did to him, but he’d not been expecting this, to come back to this carnage as a group of walkers seemed to have wandered into the camp and were killing anyone they found who could not protect themselves.

He could hear some gunshots, but he knew there were barely any weapons. Rick was running and shooting at the same time, carrying the bag of guns they had retrieved from Atlanta, stopping just to toss guns to anyone he came across, whether they knew how to shoot or not.

Daryl bashed his crossbow into the head of the closer walkers while his eyes scanned the chaos, looking for you. He hadn’t meant what he told you and he was not about to let you get eaten…hell, what if you were dead already. It seemed like he had lost his brother and now he might also find your corpse.

Then, his eyes found you. You were still alive, trying to fight walkers with what seemed a big stick, while pushing Carl behind you. You weren’t doing a bad job at keeping walkers away, but Daryl felt his heart jump up his throat in fear anyway, sure that you were about to get bitten and ripped to shreds by walkers in a second.

He went to recharge his crossbow but then a gunshot put down one of the walkers closer to you, and Daryl saw Rick running to you and Carl, shooting at the walkers surrounding you both until they were all dead, taking his kid’s hand when he reached you and urging you both towards Shane, who was also shooting at the walkers threatening to close on Rick, Lori behind him.

You looked around and saw him, your eyes locking with with Daryl’s for a second, before you were rushing with Rick, and Daryl began shooting at the nearest walkers.

Later, once every walker had been put down, the camp was a mess of dead bodies, both from walkers and the people they had killed, and of mourning people…not that Daryl cared for any of them, and yet…yet his eyes scanned the camp for you.

You were looking from all the bodies to the woods around the camp, still holding that big stick on a shaky hand, and Daryl didn’t know why, but his legs carried him to you. You looked at him, eyes wet and scared, but didn’t say anything, and Daryl looked down, silent too for a few seconds, before he spoke.

“Ya can, uh…ya gotta hit them in the head,” he said as he gestured to the stick, but still looking at the ground.

“I know,” you said. “But I wasn’t sure if I could hit with enough force to break the skull and I was afraid the stick would break.”

Daryl nodded…valid points. Then something came to mind. “Can I, uh…” he gestured to the stick again. “I’ll give it back.”

“Sure…” You seemed confused but handed him the stick.

Daryl dropped down to the ground, taking his hunting knife, and he began sharpening the end of the stick. It wasn’t easy and it took him a while to finish, while you sat down next to him, looking at him working in silence.

“Here.” Daryl handed you the stick back once he’d given him a sharp, pointed end. “I ain’t sure ya can stab through the skull, but point at the eye socket or the temple, ya’ll stab the brain.”

“Okay…” You took the stick, giving it an unsure look, before you glanced at Daryl, a small, weak, and sad smile tugging at your lips, and Daryl made sure to ignore the way it made him feel. “Thanks,” you said and Daryl just shrugged. “Daryl…what…what happened to Merle?”

Your question felt like a stab to the gut, all Daryl’s pain, grief, and guilt taking over him, overwhelmingly so.

“He cut his own hand to escape the roof and left, I don’t know where he is, and it’s these people's fault,” he snapped, getting up and walking away from you.

* There were no more smiles from you to him, nor more nice words…not with him speaking his mind about how those assholes who left his brother to die had what had happened coming, with no patience for those who could not see how the people killed by walkers needed to be put down as soon as possible.

What the hell was he even still doing there with those people…but his brother was gone, and he was left alone again, like so many times, and he didn’t know what to do…he could stick around, maybe heading for the CDC wouldn’t be so bad…and his eyes stubbornly kept looking for you at the camp.

Whenever you found him looking at you, though, this time you wouldn’t smile, you looked hurt, your eyes reproachful when you looked at him, upset…it was like a stab to the gut, a stab that Daryl made sure to ignore, because it made him feel like a fool…what did he care if you hated him now…

Yet he did.

* The CDC was probably not what any of them had been expecting…but Daryl wasn’t going to complain. It was underground, protected from those flesh-eating freaks, there was plenty of food and booze, and Daryl was making good use of it.

Drinking straight from the bottle, Daryl realized he might be getting drunk, because the people on the table, laughing and joking, were starting to seem…well, not that bad.

You were sat down a couple of seats away from him, between Andrea and Rick, and for once, Daryl didn’t feel like a fool when he leaned over the table to look at you…he’d blame him on the alcohol. When you saw him looking, he gave you a smile, a real one, like a fool…he couldn’t help himself. He’d blame it on the alcohol too.

Then, he remembered that you were mad at him, that you hated him now, that you weren’t smiling at him anymore…but you did.

You looked at him for a second and then your lips were curling up into a smile, which turned into a full grin, as you shook your head, chuckling. “Dixon, you’re drunk already…look at you…”

Daryl didn’t fight it when you reached and playfully took the bottle of booze from his hand, slumping back against his chair, away from your line of sight, because…shit.

Whatever had he felt when you grinned at him that way, when you looked at him like that…well, that was something he’d better bury deep down, those twirls in his belly and that flutter in his chest was something he knew he should better ignore and forget, even if the booze didn’t seem to help.

* Later, almost everyone had gone to sleep, but Daryl was wandering around the place, a new bottle of booze in his hand, checking this and that…he was not looking for you, or stalking you, or anything like that. Not at all.

Yet he wondered where you were, you had not gone to your room, he hadn’t seen you, neither were you at the library or any other place he’d been checking, trying to make sense of the strange place. Whatever, it wasn’t like you could get lost in there.

Suddenly, he heard your laugh, and as he followed it, Daryl was puzzled to find you sat down on the floor of one of the corridors, leaning against the wall, with Rick, of all people, sat down next to you, an empty bottle of alcohol next to him, and another half emptied on his hand, that he passed to you while you both laughed, seeming thoroughly amused at Daryl didn’t know what. Daryl could tell that you were pretty drunk, and Rick was way worse.

“Daryl!”

You called his name when you spotted him, grinning with bright eyes, and any other moment it’d have made something flutter in Daryl’s belly, but this time, he just felt confused and wary at seeing you with Rick. What the hell were you two doing drinking together, joking, and laughing? Were you friends now? You had barely met the cop…yet you seemed to be having the time of your life.

“What are you doing still drinking?” You waved to the bottle in his hand. “I told you that you were already drunk!” You laughed as if you were amused with yourself…Daryl didn’t allow himself to think that it was cute and endearing, no, it was just ridiculous.

“Look who’s talkin’,” he scoffed.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m getting a bit drunk too…” You giggled and Rick snickered like an idiot. “It’s Rick’s fault, you see.”

“My fault?! It’s you who brought this bottle!” Rick slurred, nudging you with the half-emptied bottle of booze.

“Because you drank that bottle by yourself!” You said as you wiggled your hands. “And there’s no way we’re gonna speak of all the shit that’s going on without a drink.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Rick said, uncoordinatedly bringing the bottle to his mouth.

Daryl didn’t feel like dealing with two drunk idiots or trying to guess why suddenly Rick and you seemed to be best friends out of the blue, neither he felt like dealing with whatever was making him feel so irked, he just wanted to leave.

Turning around and walking away, he heard your voice calling for him.

“Daryl?! Where are you going? Wait, come sit with us…”

He looked over his shoulder and saw you struggling to get to your feet, which seemed to amuse Rick, and he tugged at your arm to make you lose your balance again, giggling. Yeah, Daryl was done with you both.

“Daryl! Wait…” You were making your way to him on wobbly legs. “Come on…you, you don’t even have to speak, just come drink with us.”

“I’ve got enough,” he scoffed, pushing his bottle into your hand, and he walked away, leaving you to have all the drunk fun that you wanted with Rick.

* Daryl should have known that good things didn’t last, but still, he hadn’t expected that he’d have to run out of what seemed a safe place, the CDC, after a mad scientist almost blew them up…well, he was still on time to blow them up, the countdown to the explosion kept tickling down, they had to left and put enough distance from them to the building if they wanted to survive the explosion.

As it had become a habit lately, Daryl looked around, searching for you, just to panic when he saw you were turning around instead of running to the door…what the hell were you doing?! Before he could do anything, Rick had realized it too and he had grabbed your arm, pushing you without any gentleness toward Lori and Carl.

“I think we left people behind!” You were saying.

“They don’t want to come!” Lori said, tugging at your hand so you almost fell out the broken door that the grenade had managed to open, making you walk out of the building too. There were walkers around and so Lori let go of your hand so she could hold Carl to her while everyone rushed to the vehicles.

Daryl didn’t think you’d be crazy enough to try and go back inside the CDC and you were eyeing the RV as if you were considering taking refuge inside, but Daryl’s free hand reached out for you anyway, grabbing your arm and tugging you with him towards his pick-up, making you run in front of him. You seemed a bit surprised but didn’t resist, keeping up Daryl’s pace. Once at the pick-up, you opened the door and Daryl pushed you inside unceremoniously.

“Down!”

You crawled into the space under the seats and Daryl rushed to get inside too, covering his body with yours, his forehead almost nudging the back of your shoulder as you both flattened yourselves against the floor of the car, bracing for the explosion.

It was even louder than Daryl expected, rattling the pick-up, and Daryl felt you flinching under him. Once his ears stopped ringing, he heard you panting, your body still shaking. He realized how his body was pressed against your back and he forced himself to pull back from you, flustered enough to not notice that he was shaking and breathing hard too.

“Ya okay?” He rasped and you nodded while you turned around to face him, looking as scared as the first time he saw you, alone and unarmed in the woods, or even more scared.

“Yeah…you?”

“The hell were ya doin’ tryin’ to go back?!” Daryl snapped instead of answering.

“I…don’t know…I thought we were leaving people behind, and I imagined, what if it was me, what if I couldn’t run or I tripped or something, and nobody waited for me and helped me, what if everyone left me…”

Daryl couldn’t get himself to snap at you again, even if he thought you were a reckless idiot, even if he was scared that you could have died…he got what you were saying…

He wouldn’t have left you, though, he knew that, but he guessed you didn’t know it and he didn’t know how to tell you, or if he even wanted to tell you, because it made him feel like a fool.

You looked at him, he wasn’t on top of you anymore but he was close enough that he could feel your body heat.

“Thank you,” you said softly and Daryl wasn’t very sure of what you were thanking him for, or if maybe somehow you knew he wouldn’t be able to leave you behind…foolish or not, he hoped that you knew.

Being so close to you, your eyes on his, was making him feel all flustered and awkward, but also, it might be the shock, but, did he want to kiss you? Daryl rushed to pull away from you completely, moving up from the floor to sit on the driver seat, and offering you a hand to help you up too.

While you moved to sit up on the passenger seat, Daryl let out a snort of disbelief as he looked out of the window, a smile tugging at his lips…you were going to like this.

“Look.”

You followed his gaze and gasped when you saw Andrea and Dale crawling out from behind some rubble, shaken but alive.

“They made it out!” You exclaimed. “But…Jacquie…”

Daryl didn’t say anything, giving you a size glance…judging by your face, you knew that Jacquie had died in the explosion. “We gotta leave,” he said. “The explosion’s bringin’ walkers.”

He could see a group of them already approaching, while Rick gestured from his car for everyone to get going…to where, Daryl didn’t know, but from now he’d follow Rick's car until they were away from walkers.

“I, uh…I can go to the RV…” You said but Daryl ignored you, fishing the keys out of his pocket and turning on the engine of the pickup.

You didn’t say anything either, but neither did you leave, leaning back against your seat and buckling up the seatbelt as Dary began to drive.

* The sea of vehicles was impossible to cross with the cars, much less the RV, and Daryl knew he might even have trouble with his bike. He knew he could pull through, though, but he didn’t really feel like leaving everyone else behind anymore.

He’d left his pickup behind, along with most of the cars, in order to save gas, and although he’d hated it at first, he knew the bike was more convenient to navigate places like this.

Daryl looked around, looking for you even if he told himself he was not. Since ditching the pickup, you’d been going on the RV. Daryl had been wondering sometimes about asking you if you wanted him to take you on his bike…he didn’t know why, though, he’d be more comfortable riding by himself, and you would say no anyway, so he quickly shut that annoying voice in his head.

His eyes found you hanging with Rick, as you always seemed to do lately, and Daryl didn’t get why he felt so annoyed by it, but he hated it and he felt ridiculous for it. You both were talking, Daryl didn’t know about what, and you were smiling…what you had to smile about in that graveyard…but there you were, smiling at Rick, nudging his arm as you both went back and forth about Daryl didn’t know what, but something bitter gripped at his gut.

Then, your eyes found him too, and you turned to smile at him…it was stupid, that you were smiling, given the situation, but yet, as always, your smile seemed to send those silly, stupid twirls to his belly, and his legs seemed to carry him by themselves to you, dragging his bike with him.

“If we don’t start movin’ cars we ain’t gonna leave before it gets dark,” he complained, had you all forgotten what you had to do…maybe he should really just ride away and leave you all there to fend for yourselves…but he couldn’t and he knew he wouldn’t.

“Yeah, I was just about to check the cars with Lori and some others, see if we find something useful,” you said, waving to Lori, who nodded along with Rick.

It was needed, Daryl knew it, you all better find some supplies because you had pretty much nothing left, or at the very least, not enough to reach Fort Benning as it was the plan. As soon as the road was free and you all found an area more secluded, Daryl should go hunting.

“Let’s get to it…we also need more fuel if we don’t want to leave more cars behind,” Rick said.

“Better hope no, I don’t think even more people can fit inside that RV,” you sighed, but you also were smiling as if you were joking or not really annoyed. “At this point, I think the one who’s more comfortable is Daryl on that bike.” You smiled at him again and Daryl looked down.

“Doubt it,” Rick snorted and Daryl glared at him even if he knew he was joking…his brother’s bike was great and he loved riding, so whatever.

“Well…maybe you can give me a ride someday and then I can judge,” you told Daryl…did you mean it? Or were you just joking…

“That seems really unsafe,” Lori said and Daryl scoffed.

“If you say so.” You rolled your eyes. “It seems to me Daryl has managed it just fine for now…so, yeah, would you take me on the bike one day? Just for a bit?” You asked and Daryl just shrugged, unable to say anything, eyes down.

“Anyway…come on, let’s check the car,” Rick said, starting to walk, and you nodded, smiling at Daryl again before you began inspecting the closest car.

Daryl didn’t know how he’d been so slow to realize how a big group of walkers was approaching, he didn’t notice it until it was too late and the freaks were on them, and he cursed at himself. Then again, there were more people and he was not the one on watch, but it seemed that yet again, they didn’t know how to do nothing by themselves.

He was couched down, hiding behind a car, knife on the ready, while his eyes frantically looked for you.

When he found you, ahead of him, you had tried to hide too, but it seemed a walker could hear you or smell you, and he’d gone straight for you.

Daryl was not about to look at you get torn to shreds without doing nothing, but before he could rush to you, you had already gotten up, the stick to which he’d carved a sharp end on your hands, and you stabbed it under the jaw of the monster, pushing it up towards the brain, and Daryl felt like cheering you, which he knew was utterly stupid.

The monster was still struggling, though, even though it was just managing to get more impaled in your stick, so it seemed you hadn’t reached the brain, and you were having trouble maneuvering like that, so Daryl ran to you, quickly stabbing the skull of the walker with his hunting knife, killing it and pushing it away from you, sliding it off your stick.

“Thanks,” you breathed out, panting, and Daryl didn’t say anything, scanning your surroundings to check the approaching walkers and to try and find a place to hide, while his hand quickly reached to hold your wrist.

Some people were hiding under cars, it seemed the quicker, safer option given the circumstances, and so Daryl ran to the closest one with enough space under it, pulling you with him.

“Down,” he whispered to you, and you didn’t lose time, crawling under the car, Daryl right behind you.

You had been under the car for less than a minute when Daryl heard you gasp and your hand squeezed his arm. He followed your gaze and saw T-Dog stumbling, his arm heavily bleeding as if he had cut it, while a couple of walkers headed to him…shit…

Daryl knew that if he got out from under the car, he might very well end like walker’s dinner himself too, and T-Dog was nothing to him, he left Merle to die, he hated him too, and yet…

“Stay here,” Daryl told you hushedly before he crawled from under the car, knife on the ready again as he ran to help T-Dog.

* Daryl knew that things could always get worse, but he wished that, for once, he’d been wrong.

Now Sophia was missing, lost in the woods, alone with nobody to help her from walkers, and Daryl had done his best to track her but he couldn’t find her.

He felt like a failure, looking at Carol felt like a punch to the gut, but the sun was going down and there was not much else he could do for now. He’d start looking for the little girl with the first light, though, and he’d find her.

Rick had been trying to help him, and even if Daryl was still very wary of the cop, he had to admit he hadn’t done bad, and he’d heard Lori saying that Rick had run right behind Sophia the moment she ran away without caring if a walker got him.

Carol, though, didn’t seem to think it was enough, but Daryl couldn’t blame her, considering that her daughter was lost in the woods at night. She blamed Rick for leaving her alone, for having gotten her lost.

Lori said that Rick had done the best he could, and you too spoke up for him, Daryl noticed it. When Carol reproached Rick again, before rushing to the RV, crying, and some people gave Rick looks too, you approached him, leaning closer to him, squeezing his arm, and saying something that Daryl couldn’t catch.

Something twisted in Daryl’s belly…yes, Rick didn’t deserve that treatment, he’d done what he could, and he’d tried helping him track…but Daryl didn’t see anyone saying thank you to him, not that he needed it, he wanted to find Sophia and he didn’t care what those people thought

But still…still, he was feeling pretty defeated and useless at that moment, so maybe, just maybe, part of him longed for you to comfort him too, to be nice and reassuring like you were being to Rick…

But no. He didn’t want that and he very much did not wish for it. It was a foolish thought, stupid, it was weakness.

He was going to find that little girl and he didn’t need no help, no thanks, or no nice words.

Turning around, Daryl went back into the woods, ignoring the darkness settling in and your voice calling for him as he walked away.

Not even an hour later, Daryl came back, empty-handed…what was he expecting, trying to track in the dark? At least he had checked that there weren’t walkers around, just one, so Sophia was probably hidden and safe.

He felt ridiculous for whatever you’d made him feel, for allowing you to make him feel upset enough that he left to try and track in the darkness, why was he even upset, whatever you made him feel was stupid, weakness…and yet, once again, his eyes looked for you, wondering if you were asleep.

He found you leaning against a car, talking with Rick…Daryl wasn’t surprised but for some reason he was annoyed anyway. He chose to ignore it. At least you two weren’t laughing now.

When you saw him, you told something to Rick. He placed a hand on your shoulder and you squeezed his hand, and something twisted in Daryl’s belly. Then, you made your way to him, and Daryl had to fight the ridiculous urge that made him want to retreat from you.

“Nothing?” You asked, and Daryl almost didn’t manage to stop himself from snapping at you, hating the way in which you made him feel. He just shook his head and you let out a sigh. “You’re trying, thank you for that,” you told him, taking him by surprise, and those stupid twirls stubbornly danced in his belly.

You were reaching to squeeze his hand, and even though he’d wanted you to do that, as you did to Rick, it still made him move his hand away from you harshly as if you had burned him.

“Can’t see shit,” he grumbled. “I’ll find her in the morning.”

You nodded at that, and you gave him a weak and tired smile…did you really mean it? Did you really think that he’d find Sophia? Some of the others didn’t seem too hopeful, even if they didn’t say anything in front of Carol. Maybe you were just being nice? It was foolish, it was weakness, but Daryl wanted to believe that you meant it, that you really thought he’d find the little girl in the morning…

“I’m gonna take watch,” he said, heading to the RV, Dale was on top but Daryl rather trusted himself.

“Hey, wait.” You followed him. “Somebody else will, we’ll take turns, you’ve been looking for Sophia and you said you’ll go again at sunrise, you’re the only one who can track her, so get some sleep, okay?” You told him and you kept going before Daryl could tell you to shut it. “I got a sleeping bag ready for you on the RV’s floor…it’s not too comfortable and it’s a tight fit, but there’s not much space left…”

Daryl looked up from the ground and at you at that, frowning. You had saved him a spot to sleep, while everyone was claiming car seats and any other space, and he just had his bike? You had even gotten him the sleeping bag ready for when he came back? Daryl tried his best to smother the feelings that the idea gave him.

“Uh…thanks…” He mumbled, looking down shyly, making the mistake to glance at you just in time to see your tired smile growing, making him feel all weird again, before you quietly ushered him into the RV.

Somehow, things just kept getting worse.

Sophia was still lost, he couldn’t find her no matter he went out everyday, people were starting to lose hope, and the other kid, Carl, had been shot in a hunting accident.

In a much-needed strike of luck, there was a farm owned by a veterinarian close, and Carl had been taken in and patched up, so he’d pulled through and in a little more than a couple of days he was already up, but it had been a close call.

Rick’d been a mess about it, pushing Sophia’s search to the side, but Daryl couldn’t blame him, not when his kid almost died, he got it. Rick had you by his side, though, Daryl could see you talking to him every day with comforting touches and words, hugging him, and Daryl felt like an asshole and like an idiot for the bitter way in which it made his gut twitch.

You were there for him too, though, always kind and supportive in his search for Sophia, despite it being a failure, and Daryl couldn’t help but shy away from you, even if he felt like an idiot.

Right now, he was coming back to the farm, empty-handed yet again, feeling like shit, a failure…

Approaching the area, he noticed that you and Rick were at the treeline near the woods, slightly hidden from view and away from the buildings and tents. You both were talking close to each other, your hands on his shoulders, and then Rick was leaning closer, hiding his face on your neck while you wrapped your arms around him, holding him to you.

The bitterness that clenched Daryl’s stomach was stronger than ever, an arrow seemed to twist in his heart, and he had to resist the stupid urge to go and shove Rick away from you.

He’d been thinking for a while now that you liked Rick, and he'd been trying to ignore how it made him feel as much as he tried to ignore the way in which you made him feel…Now there he had it, even clearer. Were you two sneaking to the woods to sleep together like Lori and Shane used to do? As if they needed more drama.

Daryl had thought that even if you liked Rick, you wouldn’t go after him because he was married, but it seemed you didn’t care, and Rick didn’t look like he cared about cheating either.

Whatever…Daryl didn’t have time for that nor for the feelings that were twisting his stomach…He should have left this group, he shouldn’t have agreed to follow Rick to Fort Benning…

He should have never cared for you…he didn’t, he didn’t feel anything for you, or for nobody, he needed nobody, he didn’t need your smile, or your touch, or your kindness, you could go and fuck Rick as much as you wanted, it was not his business…

So why did he feel like that, why did he feel that stab in his heart, why did he feel like crying…he was a weak fool…If Merle were there, he’d shake some sense into him…he’d be embarrassing his brother as much as he was embarrassing himself.

When you pulled back from Rick’s embrace, you said something to each other, before Rick began walking towards the buildings. You didn’t follow him, and Daryl bitterly wondered if you both didn’t want the others to see you walking back together after sneaking into the woods.

Then, though, he realized that it might be because you had seen him, you were looking straight at him, for some reason smiling, but your smile now just felt like a punch. You half-walked, half-jogged to him, but Daryl ignored you, walking away.

You followed him, though, calling for him. “Daryl! Hey, wait!”

What, did you want to ask him not to tell everyone that you were messing around with Rick in the woods? Daryl turned around, resisting every urge that asked him to yell at you, though he didn’t know why he didn’t do it, you’d probably leave him alone if he did.

His glare seemed to take you aback, and you stopped in your tracks, looking at him with a frown, but you spoke nonetheless, your voice soft. “Nothing again?” No, he didn’t find Sophia or any tracks, and it just irked him even more.

“Like ya care,” Daryl snapped, turning his back to you as he began to walk again.

“What…Daryl…” You rushed behind him until you could walk around and stop in front of him, and Daryl almost, almost felt like pushing you so he could keep walking away, but he wouldn’t lie a hand on you in that way, no matter when he was angry. “Why do you say that? You know I care…”

You looked hurt and it made Daryl feel like shit, which somehow just irked him more.

“Yeah…yeah, ya all care so much, yet I’m the only one lookin’ for Sophia,” Daryl snapped.

Truth be told, you had offered to help, but he’d dismissed you, he didn’t want you getting lost too, or cornered by walkers when you still didn’t fight them good enough...he had rudely pointed all that at you, and regretted how harsh his words had been.

“We care, Rick, he said-” You tried to say something, but the mention of Rick just vexed Daryl more.

“Yeah, Rick said he’d organize groups, ya said ya’d help, but ya both are too busy fuckin’ on the woods,” he snapped, glaring at you.

You looked at him, opening and closing your mouth without a sound, seeming dumbfounded…were you hoping he hadn’t noticed it? Daryl scoffed and began to walk again.

“What…what the hell are you talking about!” You called after him and when Daryl didn’t stop, he felt your hand grabbing his wrist, so he pulled his arm away, turning to glare at you. “Rick and I…we’re not sleeping together!”

“Sure…don’t worry, I ain’t gonna tell anyone, we ain’t needin’ more drama,” Daryl scoffed, trying to sound mocking instead of hurt.

“We’re not sleeping together! Why do you say that?!” You insisted. “Christ, Daryl, we were just hugging, Rick’s a married man! He’s not going to cheat on his wife! And do you think I’d do that to Lori?!”

No, he hadn’t thought so, but it was clear that he didn’t fucking know you. Daryl was still too upset to admit that he might be wrong about Rick and you…if maybe you weren’t fucking him yet because he was married, that didn’t mean you didn’t want to do it.

“Lori’s fuckin’ Shane so ask her and maybe she won’t mind that you shag her husband instead,” Daryl snapped it in his anger and cursed at himself right away…he should keep his mouth shut about that, he didn’t want to get dragged into that mess…but he’d leave as soon as he found Sophia anyway.

You gaped at him at that. “Are you…are you kidding me right now? How do you know…do you have any proof or you just saw them hugging too?” You looked at him warily, your words and look only serving to annoy Daryl more.

“Walked into them on the woods at the quarry a couple of times, they didn’t notice, could have been a walker for all they cared,” Daryl scoffed.

“Daryl…I need...I’m not sleeping with Rick, okay? But listen to me, please?” You asked and Daryl wanted to snap again and rush away from you, but there was something on your face, serious and urgent, that stopped him from doing so. “Are you serious? Did you really see them?” You asked and Daryl nodded. “Shit…when was the last time you saw them?”

“Couple of days before my brother went to Atlanta, before I went out huntin’,” Daryl told you, he didn’t know what that had to do with anything. “Why?”

“Shit…” You muttered, closing your eyes tight.

“What the hell’s goin’ on?” Daryl didn’t know if he was more annoyed or more confused.

“I…I shouldn’t…I’m not supposed to say…” You murmured, seeming torn, and Daryl was running low on patience. “Do you think I should tell Rick about Lori?”

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. “The fuck do I know or care?” He snapped. “But it doesn’t mean he’ll dump Lori for ya.” Daryl realized how bitter he sounded, but he couldn’t care.

“Damn, Daryl, I told you I don’t want to sleep with Rick!” You snapped back. “It’s just…shit…I…I’m not supposed to say but…just…promise me you won’t say anything…but…Lori’s pregnant,” you finally blurted out.

Daryl stared at you, dumbfounded, while you fidgeted as you looked down, seeming worried, and guilty that you had told him what seemed Rick and Lori’s secret…Pregnant in this world, having a baby surrounded by flesh-eating monsters, and while also sleeping with Shane…

“Shit…”

“Yeah…yeah, shit.” You nodded, brows furrowing. “That’s…that’s why Rick was worried and that’s why we were hugging, not…not for whatever you thought.” You shook your head, rolling your eyes, and Daryl couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed. “Lori, she’s scared, she wanted to get rid of it but she changed her mind…Rick really, really wants it, but that doesn’t mean he’s not scared…”

Yeah, no shit, Daryl got it…he wondered how he’d feel if he were in Rick’s place, what he’d do…it was overwhelming…

“Daryl…” You looked at him, still fidgeting. “Do you think…do you think the baby could be…Shane’s?” You whispered.

“Yeah.” Daryl nodded. “Big chance.” The mess that those three were was just going to get bigger…he couldn’t help but be glad and relieved that you were not part of it as he’d thought, but he tried to ignore it.

“Shit…” You cursed again and Daryl shared the sentiment enough to nod. “I…Rick should know, right? But…it’s not my place…or is it? I’m his friend…shit, what do I do? Should I tell him?”

Daryl didn’t have answers for you, and he shrugged. “Dunno…yeah, I suppose he should know but…what good is that gonna do? Dunno…this is a big fuckin’ mess…” And the last damn thing they needed, given the situation. “This group is worse than a soap opera,” he complained.

“Yeah,” you agreed, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Maybe Lori will tell him, maybe she already did and that’s why Rick was so upset…” You suggested and Daryl had no clue “I’m not…not judging Lori, really, it was not cheating, not really, she thought Rick was dead, and she and Shane were close and lonely…so…yeah? I don’t know…”

Daryl had nothing to tell you about that, and he just shrugged, trying to quiet or at least control the thousand thoughts in his mind.

“I’d be more worried ‘bout what Shane’s gonna do when he finds ‘bout the baby,” Daryl muttered.

He’d never been friends with Shane, hadn’t even really liked him, but he’d respected his efforts to keep the group safe and going, but for a while now, something about Shane felt off and Daryl had some dark suspicious about him that he hadn’t shared with anyone…you seemed worried enough, so he wouldn’t tell you for now either.

“No, I’d be more worried about the baby,” you sighed, and…okay, fair point. “Like…look at us, look at the world? How’s Lori going to be healthy during the pregnancy? And the baby? How are they going to be healthy, safe? This is a nightmare…”

Daryl hated to see you upset and worried, it clenched his heart in a different way than seeing you with Rick did…he wished to make you feel better.

“We’re in this farm now, it’s safe with the fences, we can grow crops and we got cattle, I can hunt in the woods, Hershel’s like a doctor,” he listed all the good things you all had now, omitting all the bad…but honestly, it was kind of better than how he’d grown up, just with different kind of monsters. “Everyone’s gonna pitch in to help with the baby.” Daryl may not see eye to eye with most of the group, he may not get along with most, but he still had no doubt that they’d help. “Lori and the baby are gonna be okay.”

He was surprised to realize that he almost believed his own words…it was stupid and naive, he should know better, you always had to expect the worst and be ready, he’d seen it time after time…but he couldn’t help it.

“That if Hershel doesn’t kick us out…” You sighed, looking down, but then you looked at him and gave him a small, weak smile. “But, yeah, you’re right, it could be worse.” The smile disappeared and you went serious again. “You can’t tell anyone, please…I wasn’t supposed to say it…”

“I won’t…” Daryl assured you…he was in no rush to speed up the drama that was coming.

“Thanks…All we can do is worry, I hate it, it feels like a bomb about to go off…” You complained with another sigh and Daryl nodded, he understood the feeling. “But our focus now should be on looking for Sophia.”

Daryl nodded, he agreed with that too…but he just kept being a failure and finding nothing. He expected you to call him out on it, but you didn’t, you just gave him a soft smile.

Your eyes looked over his dirt-stained face after a day of tracking in the woods, and Daryl couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. “You must be tired…I saved you some dinner, come on, I’ll heat it while you clean up a bit.”

You gestured at him to follow you as you began to walk towards the house, but Daryl could just look at you for a few seconds, wondering if that warmth that spread through his chest no matter that he tried to stop it was just gratitude, or also something more, something that he’d been trying to ignore and smother for a while now…

* Daryl tried to stay conscious but couldn’t, he could feel himself slipping in and out of it, the pain muffled now even if it was very much still there, but he felt so tired…

He couldn’t believe he’d been careless enough to not only let the stupid horse throw him, but also to fall onto his own arrow, pass out, and almost become some dead asshole’s dinner… He remembered Merle, but barely recalled how he’d managed to make it back to the farm…and then Andrea had shot him…fucking hell…

Everything was a blur after that…he was pretty sure Rick and Shane had dragged him to the house, Hershel had been patching him up, he remembered the pain and how annoyed the vet had seemed, and you had been there too…

Daryl forced himself to open his eyes, everything was blurry but the room was empty now, except for you, who was sitting down on the bed near him, leaning to look at him with worry, your hand hovering over the wound at the side of his head, but your touch was so soft that Daryl couldn’t even feel it.

“Hey…” You whispered when you saw him opening his eyes, and Daryl wanted to say something, he had to say something, there were things to do, Sophia…

Before he could try to say a word, though, he was falling unconscious again…

He didn’t know how much time was he out, but Daryl woke up to the pleasant feeling of your fingers softly caressing his face and hair. He almost hummed out loud, and he found himself wanting to feel that touch for the whole evening. He couldn’t will his eyes to open, he still ached everywhere and he was exhausted, but also he was afraid that if you knew he was awake, you might stop…

Soon, though, he remembered everything that he was supposed to be doing, and he forced his eyes to open, blinking blearily as he groaned.

“Hey…” You said softly as he tried to look at you and make your image focus. You were not caressing his face anymore, but your fingers were still on his cheek. “How are you? Does it hurt? You can’t take more painkillers until a couple of hours, I’m sorry…”

You seemed anxious and scared…were you really that worried for him? The thought was warm and soft, and overwhelming…

“I’m fine…” Daryl mumbled even if everything ached and his eyes wanted to close again. You pulled your hand away and Daryl had to muffle the sound of complaint that he almost let out at that. “Sophia…I, uh…”

“You found her doll, you brought it back,” you finished for him when his foggy brain didn’t seem to want to give him words. “Did you see Sophia? Is she…”

“She wasn’t there,” Daryl said before you could say what you were fearing. “But…the doll…Sophia, she can’t be far, and there was this cabin, someone was living there, someone small…” Everything was slowly coming back to his mind. “I…” He tried to sit up and groaned at how it hurt.

“Daryl, no,” you said firmly, but the hand that you placed on his chest to make him lay down again was gentle. “You’re very hurt, you could have died, Hershel said…you have to rest.”

“Nah…” Daryl grunted, trying to sit up again, but the pain in his side stopped him more than your hand on his sheet-covered chest. “Sophia can’t be far from there…” He’d lost enough days already trying to find any tracks, now he had something, he couldn’t lose more.

“Daryl, you can’t go, you’re very hurt, you’ll pass out,” you reminded him. “You can’t even leave the bed.”

Daryl tried to prove you wrong but couldn’t, he managed to sit up, but the pain on his side, where the arrow had gone through him, made him whimper and tear up, the throbbing of the wound at the side of his head seemed to reverberate through all his head, and he felt so, so tired and drained…he also felt weak and useless.

He let himself fall down on the pillow with a pained grunt, annoyed and upset. You looked at him, still seeming so worried, eyes so caring that Daryl couldn’t believe you were looking at him. You reached out as if to caress his face again, but you didn’t, and Daryl couldn’t help but wish that you had.

“I’ll go get Rick, you can tell him where you found the doll so he can go check the place for Sophia, okay?” You asked him softly…it was not okay, Rick couldn’t track, he probably wouldn’t want to go until the morning…but it was the best he could do for now, and so he nodded. “I’ll be back in a second.”

You rushed out of the room, but it didn’t take you long to come back, as if Rick had been close.

“Hey man,” the cop greeted, unfolding a map as he headed to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Daryl scoffed. Rick let out a chuckle, smirking and shaking his head, and Daryl was surprised to find that it didn’t annoy him, it didn’t feel like he was laughing at him. “Give me that map.”

Daryl pointed at best as possible to where he’d found the doll, instructed Rick on how to keep searching from there, and no matter if he was annoyed when Rick said he’d keep searching in the morning because now it'd gotten dark, the pain killers were wearing off and he felt so exhausted and in pain that Daryl knew he couldn’t go out to look for Sophia that evening.

When Rick walked out of the room, you looked at Daryl. “I’ll leave you to rest,” you told him, and Daryl knew that it was stupid, that it was weakness, but he didn’t want you to leave, he wanted you to stay there at his side, and maybe stroke his hair again.

Daryl pushed past his shyness, past his insecurities, past the voice of his brother in his head calling him weak and stupid, and everything else, to tell you that.

“Stay,” he rasped, eyeing the spot on the bed next to him where you had been sat down before he woke up.

You didn’t say anything and nerves clenched Daryl’s stomach, but when he glanced at you, keeping his head down, you were smiling softly. You sat down on the bed, smiling at him, but Daryl looked away, flustered and shy.

After a moment of silence, you spoke. “He’s impressed with you, you know, Rick…well, everyone is.”

Daryl scoffed at that. “What, that I fell down a horse and into my own damn arrow?”

“No, silly…” You sighed. “That you managed to come back like that. That you saw that small, dirty doll from afar.”

“I got eyes,” Daryl muttered, shrugging and closing his eyes tight for a second when the movement made him ache.

You let out a soft chuckle. “Observant, that’s what you said to Andrea the night that we stayed in a warehouse after the CDC, remember?” You asked and yes, he did. “There were corpses there, you said that alive people did that, not walkers, Andrea asked how you knew, and you told her it was called being observant.”

“Yeah…and she just shot me thinkin’ I was a walker.” Daryl remembered Andrea’s voice saying that, apologizing again and again while Rick and Shane dragged him to the house and he was almost unconscious. “I guess she ain’t that observant.”

“Well…you were far, and truly, you looked a bit like a walker,” you said but you were smiling as if joking, and Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t help his weak smirk.

There was a moment of silence, and then you spoke again. “You, uh…you’re not that observant either…not for everything at least…”

“What ya mean?” Daryl frowned at you.

“Well…you thought I had a thing with Rick, for starters,” you said.

“Yeah…well…” Daryl didn’t know what to say and he shifted on the bed awkwardly, regretting it when the movement made the ache worse. He wondered about telling you what he was thinking, he wasn’t sure, but it escaped past his lips. “What if, uh…if he wasn’t married?”

You let out a sigh that sounded almost exasperated. “It wouldn’t matter because I don’t like Rick like that, I’ve told you already.”

“Okay…” Daryl supposed he had to believe you.

There was another moment of silence before you spoke again.

“There’s something else that you didn’t see…” You said quietly.

Daryl thought you were teasing him, making conversation, but when he looked at you, you were fidgeting, seeming nervous and unsure.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Mmh mmh…” You nodded without looking at him. “I don’t like Rick…but I, uh…well…I like you. That is.”

Daryl blinked at you…were you joking? Taking the piss at him? No…you didn’t look like so…but, were you for real? You liked him? It couldn’t be…why…twirls were dancing in his belly and his heart sped up. He didn’t know what to do, and if he hadn’t been so hurt, he might have bolted out of the room and hid like a coward.

You looked at him, still fidgety and nervous, but now you also looked sad. “Okay…when you wake up tomorrow, we’re going to pretend that the painkillers made you dream that I said that…please…” You seemed so flustered and embarrassed.

“Wait,” Daryl called for you, you weren’t moving but you seemed nervous and he was afraid you may try to leave. “Do you, uh…did you mean it?”

“I…” You let out a sigh, still seeming embarrassed. “Yes.”

“Why?” Daryl frowned at you, and your brow was furrowed too when you glanced at him, as if he’d taken you aback.

“Why what?”

“Why…ya know…” Daryl said vaguely, he was feeling more than shy too.

“Why I like you? What…what kind of question is that…I just do… you saved my life, remember, that first day we met?” You asked, and of course,Daryl remembered. “You are brave, and sometimes you’re harsh and rude, but you are also selfless and kind, a good person, even if you say that you aren’t, you’ve always helped us, and look at you now looking for Sophia, and…well, you’re also kind of a rather interesting and handsome guy so…”

You seemed flustered, but Daryl was way worse. “I ain’t…ain’t that, selfless, or kind, or…handsome,” he scoffed, feeling his cheeks heating up more and more.

“Well…I just proved that you are not that observant, so maybe you don’t see yourself as you are.” You shrugged without looking at him. “But…don’t take it badly but it’s kind of embarrassing that I told you all that, so, again, please, let’s pretend it was a pain-induced dream…”

Daryl knew he had a chance, but he didn’t know if he was brave enough to take it, to speak up, no matter that you had said you thought he was brave. He knew what it was that he felt for you, no matter if he’d tried to ignore it, to negate it, to smother it, thinking that it made him stupid and weak, thinking that he didn’t have a chance…

Did he really want to take the chance, though? Did he want that with you? Or did it really make him stupid and weak, as Merle had told him when he was hallucinating? He wasn’t sure…he didn’t know…

But in the end, he couldn’t stop himself from speaking up…or from trying.

“I, uh…too…” He muttered and winced at himself, he wasn’t making sense. “I mean…that I, uh…like ya…”

“Daryl…” Your soft voice saved him from his babbled embarrassment. “You don’t have to say anything, okay, you’re in pain, and you’re exhausted, I shouldn’t have told you all that at this moment…”

“But I mean it…” Daryl told you quietly, afraid that you were going to backtrack and leave him now that he’d made up his mind.

“Yeah?” You asked, sounding unsure, and Daryl forced himself to push past his shyness to look at you. You were watching him intently and he nodded.

Nerves clenched his stomach when you didn’t say anything, but you reached to touch his cheek, and Daryl couldn’t stop himself from letting out a soft, content hum, or from leaning into your touch, and you smiled softly at that.

You moved closer to him, leaning over him, and Daryl didn’t want to do it, but instinct made him flinch as you approached him, getting so close, so you stopped moving immediately, frowning, and he couldn’t help but wonder and fear if his stupid reaction may have bothered you.

“Daryl, are you sure? Are you okay?” You asked him quietly, you didn’t seem annoyed, just concerned.

“Yeah,” he rasped.

“Okay…” You were still watching him intently but you seemed to believe him. “Tell me if you want me to move away, okay? It’ll be okay, I won’t mind.” Another nod and then your fingers were back on his cheek, caressing it softly, and Daryl breathed, trying to relax. “Can I kiss you?” You whispered.

Daryl swallowed hard. Yes, you could, and he wanted you to do it, so why was he so nervous? His brother would be laughing at him, getting so nervous just for a kiss, it was ridiculous…

“Yeah,” he murmured when his nod didn’t seem to be enough.

You moved slowly, as if you were trying not to startle him again and as if you wanted to give him time to change his mind. Daryl closed his eyes, and then he felt your lips softly kissing his forehead…he wondered how just that could make him feel like melting, could make something flutter in his belly. He felt a bit ridiculous, but mostly he just felt warm and good…

“Okay?” You asked him, your hand on his cheek. When Daryl nodded, you leaned in again, and this time you kissed the cheek that your fingers had been caressing. “Still okay?” You asked and Daryl nodded again. “Then…can I…” You whispered, glancing at his lips before looking at his eyes, and Daryl nodded.

You leaned in, slowly, as if waiting for him to change his mind, but he didn’t, and you kissed his lips, making Daryl’s heart jump as he seemed to almost forgot how to breathe, but he kissed you back when you began to move away.

He opened his eyes to find you smiling at him, looking happy and beautiful, and Daryl couldn’t help his own smile. He was content, happy even…it might make him stupid, weak, but…Daryl didn’t care.

“Okay?” You asked again and Daryl nodded.

“Yeah…” Better than okay.

Your smile grew at that, and then you were kissing him again. This time, the kiss was longer, it didn’t take a second for Daryl to kiss you back, his hand going to the back of your head, holding you close.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead on his, and it might be a small gesture, but Daryl thought he might melt. When eventually you moved back, you began to caress his face again, and Daryl closed his tired eyes, a hum of content making it past his lips.

“Daryl,” you called his name softly. “Do you want me to stay here with you tonight? Would it be okay?” Yeah…yeah, he wanted you and it’d be more than okay.

“Stay,” he told you, opening his eyes to look at you, pulling at the sheets to make space for you, in case you weren’t sure that he meant it, that he really wanted you to stay.

You smiled and lay down next to him. You reached out and, tentatively, placed an arm over him. It made Daryl feel warm and content in a way he was not used to, and he greedily soaked in the feeling, placing his hand over your arm and ever so softly wiggling closer to you, to which you moved closer to him too, curling to his side as you held him.

“Sleep,” you whispered. “You need it and you deserve it.” He was too tired to fight you on it.

Daryl closed his eyes with a content, satisfied sigh. It may make him silly, it may make him weak, but he couldn’t care, he felt warm, safe, and loved, falling asleep like that, with you holding him.

N/A

I’m not too happy with how this turned out, but I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, comments and reblogs mean the world.

As always, excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon/reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon & reader

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neteyamsoare · 7 months

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34 + 35 / rotxo is now live. 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

ಇ current game. rotxo takes away all your stress.

ಇ game warnings. minors and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, aged up! rotxo, fem! metkayina! reader, dom! rotxo, oral ( reader & rotxo rec ) + fingering ( reader rec ). words. 349.

ಇ slang. tiyawn ( love ).

ಇ things to note. this is kinda late but better than never. i love rotxo, had to do him with this prompt, he deserves more love. : masterlist / kinktober masterlist / previous fic / taglist

Thinking about how Rotxo would take good care of you after a stressful day.

He would lay down on his back and tell you to sit on his face and as soon as you do, he goes to town on you, slurping up all the sweet slick you’re producing.

“You taste so sweet, like my favorite fruit, tiyawn,” Rotxo spoke before placing his mouth back on your dripping cunt. You throw your head back in pleasure, soft moans leaving your mouth as you feel all the stress leave your body. He knew just how to make you feel good.

You wanted to return the favor, you can’t have all the fun, he deserved to be taken care of as well. Rotxo allows you to turn around, he goes back to tasting you after you get in the right position. You move his loincloth to the side, releasing his cock.

Precome leaks down from the slit, you waste no time licking it off, It tastes bitter and a bit sweet. You start off by licking from the base to the tip before attempting to put his length in your mouth. Rotxo moaned on your clit, sending vibrations through your body.

He would slide two of his fingers in your cunt as he sucks on your bud, only caring for your release because that’s what really mattered to him.

His wish comes true as you clench around his fingers and he continues to rut his fingers into and your legs start to tremble as you squirt all over his mouth and fingers, you moan onto his cock, feeling it twitch in your mouth.

You continue to suck as you stroke his cock, massaging his balls a little bit and he releases his hot come into your mouth, you stroke it some more to make sure you got everything.

“Feel better now, tiyawn?” he asked as he let out a chuckle, wanting to make sure his sweet girl was taken care of and you most definitely were, in your eyes, Rotxo and his tongue were the perfect combinations of a stress reliever.

ಇ chat. @zanabelle99, @moonchildxoxx, @jakescumdump, @btsiguess-kpop, @sweetdayme4427, @neytiriandronalswife, @shit-i-say-shit-i-think, @23victoria, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @lilmackiee, @kasai-https, @neo-novaa, @ami-s-k, @merlinbtch, @neteyamssyulang, @c4shces, @itsjazzsworld, @hadesbabygurl, @toadstoolmage32, @loaksx, @galactict3a, @blue-slxt, @neteyamsyawntu, @neteyamyawne.

#ಣ : sylaphone #rotxo x female reader #rotxo x y/n #rotxo x metkayina reader #rotxo x reader #rotxo x you #rotxo x reader smut #rotxo x fem!reader #atwow x reader smut #atwow x y/n #atwow x you #atwow x reader #avatar x fem reader #avatar x reader smut #avatar x you #avatar x reader #avatar x female reader #avatar x na'vi reader #avatar x y/n

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 3 months

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It's Who We Have | Part Four

Summary: After Nut's funeral, Billy and his estranged friend share some choice words | Word Count: 3.7k~ | Warnings below the cut!

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Warnings: language, mentions of neglect, mentions of bullying and sexual assault, islamophobia

“Take those fucking sunglasses off, you look like a prick.”

Billy winced when he knocked his right hand, bandaged and bloody, holding it close to his body, the other pulling the sunglasses that Paddy hated so much off his face.

“Why didn't you call your sister?”

Billy scoffed, “Like I'm gonna be the first to tell her. She'll find out in her own time.”

Paddy simply sighed from behind the steering wheel, his fingers twitching with the need to say something, but unsure how.

“A fucking Halal butchers? Who put you up to do that?”

Now it was Billy's turn to sigh, “nobody.”

“Oh yeah? Nothing to do with these English Flag-fucking-Crusaders, whatever they're called.”

“Listen mate, please, I don't need this right now.”

Paddy simply let out a frustrated breath, concentrating on now tailgating the car in front of him. Billy slumped in the passenger seat of his friend's car, feeling that Paddy amongst the little remaining group of friends, would be the least judgemental.

Turns out that wasn't true.

Billy resisted to cringe when he heard Paddy's voice on the other line when he'd rung him from the police station, hoping at least that he felt worse than he looked. And he looked pretty shit.

He thought, Lana wouldn't be faring much better.

He could feel the deep, dark judgement and anger seeping off Paddy, in the way he gripped the gearstick and his grunts of annoyance at usual menial things.

God fucking help him if she ever found out.

She'd pretend she didn't want to kill him, but would work on a way to do it in her head before she ever said it.

If he was being honest with himself. He'd had far too much (albeit not as much as Lana) and was angry, upset, annoyed. And he wasn't even sure what at.

At the time, it was easy to be annoyed at anything.

Just so happens the Halal butchers was right in front of him.

“Not told your sister then?” Paddy prodded whilst stopped at a red light.

Paddy was usually so sing-songy in the way he spoke, something carried down through his Irish family. And though he was technically the first of his generation to be born in England, the few times Billy and their mates had gone down to his for drinks, you’d be forgiven for thinking you were right back in the bustling centre of Londonderry, with the statue of Mary placed ceremoniously on the mantelpiece, as well as every shelf in every bedroom.

Not that Paddy himself would describe himself as religious.

Since meeting him in the first year of College, Billy had always tagged him a sort of ‘class clown’. It was easy to laugh when Paddy was around. And whether he meant to or not, he was just funny.

But here, sat beside him, being interrogated very much like he had felt the night before by the police officers who’d picked him up, that aloof, silliness that Paddy most often wore, was nowhere to be found.

“Not yet,” Billy answered simply, trying not to fiddle with the damp bandages around his hand. “You gonna?”

Billy shrugged, feeling as if this were only the beginning of the questions that he was likely to get from those closest around him.

And Paddy need not even say what was on his mind, his fallen expression of disappointment was enough as he pulled up beside Billy’s flat and pulled the handbrake up.

“Get out my fucking car.”

The door opened a good ten seconds after she’d knocked, and when Libby’s bright, blonde hair appeared in the doorway, a phone in one hand, her friend looked nothing short of shocked.

“Come in, just on FaceTime with Ami,” she muttered, ushering her in without question and closing the door, “No, no, I’m still here, carry on.”

“So anyway, this old Chinese lady is like ‘oh my god, I love your hair, you’re so lucky’ but she wouldn’t stop fucking touching me!”

She couldn’t help but grin as she heard Ami’s ramblings over the phone and Libby’s dramatic replies, all while they filed into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“Oh dear, Ami, however will you survive. There’s worse things than people touching your hair.”

“Not fucking much,” Ami answered with a huff, “anyway I’ve gotta go. Hi and bye, misery-guts!”

Libby snickered and turned her phone so that she could at least wave goodbye on the camera. To which she gave halfway between a playful smile and a grimace, and stuck two fingers up at her instead.

Once Libby hung up she snorted, “sarky bitch. Milk, no sugar?”

She nodded, “Yup, please. As long as you’re not too busy acting like a proper sister-in-law.”

Libby scoffed, handing one of her Emma Bridgewater mugs to her and leant back against the kitchen counter, “Abi has yet to pop the question yet, friendo.”

She hummed a laugh, tapping her fingernails against the mug.

“So…you saw him.”

“Unfortunately, yes. At the wake…”

“Jesus Christ. Billy there?”

She huffed a mirthless laugh again, “Unfortunately yes again. Billy punched him in the face.”

Libby cocked her head, a sort of worried grimace on her face, “Cute, I guess? Or stupid.”

The tea burned her tongue, but she was eager to do something to occupy herself, otherwise her thoughts would, “Probably a bit of both.”

“What is the deal with you and Billy?”

There it was. The golden question. An answer she’d like to know herself.

She sighed, “Libs-”

“I mean, you two used to be thick as thieves and then bam suddenly he can’t talk about you anymore. And now that you’re back, which I love by the way, it’s like whenever he sees you he sees a fucking…ghost or something.”

Suddenly Libby’s bright eyes seem much too intense, and she has to look between her feet to get a grip of herself, sighing as she taps her fingertips on the mug of tea she holds.

“Listen I know he’s not always been there for you in the way you needed-”

“It’s not- I don’t know. I always had this feeling like…he didn’t really like me, just tolerated me.”

She doesn't need to look back up at her friend to know there's a sad expression there. And the moment is so utterly quiet, that she can hear the neighbour next door mowing their lawn, both the smell and haze of fresh grass drifting lazily through the air.

It reminded her of Cranstead Fields.

Fuck, why did everything have to circle back to him.

“Billy is a lot of things. Cruel is not one of them,” Libs sighed, “maybe just stupid.”

When they both gave an exhausted and yet relieved laugh, the tension somewhat shifted.

“I love him, Libs. I don't know if I should, but I do.”

Her friend opened her mouth, about to reply or add something. But her lips clamped shut immediately.

“God, you're both insufferable,” Libs laughed, crossing her arms, “you two need to be adults and talk it out. Or do some therapy on the NHS, I know that really helped you.”

She rolled her eyes, “knowing my luck I’d have fucking Becky as my therapist. If that happens I'm face timing you from the edge of a bridge before I jump off.”

“Dramatic.”

“And don't mummy me, doesn't suit you.”

“Suits Abi just fine.”

“Ew, Libs.”

Libby had tried her best to make her feel better, and for that, she was nothing short of grateful. Some good needed to work its way back into her life at the moment. And the way her loving friend deemed fit to lift the mood, with a small glass of white wine, was not such a bad thing either.

In truth, she can’t help but wonder, that if she’d met Libby while she was at secondary school, she likely would’ve walked right past her.

Libby had always been popular, not by some maniacal grasp to preteen power, but through her bright, happy smile, stellar sense of humour and ability to make friends with just about anyone.

If Libby was the explosive, firework-like presence in school, then she was like a ghost, merely living between planes of existence, enough to interact with things and people around her, but not enough to leave any lasting impression.

Or at least that’s what she thought.

They were through the second episode of Gogglebox and nearing the end of the little glass of white when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

“Hang on, Libs. Lana’s calling me.”

Libs’ head pulled back as if in shock, “what she calling you for?”

She shrugged and pulled the phone to her ear. Lana sounded hurried and stressed, like she was holding too many things in her hands.

“Sorry to call you like this.”

“No, you’re alright, what’s up?”

“Listen, I know you and Billy aren’t exactly on great terms but do you mind checking on him? I was blackout last night and dunno what happened to him.”

“Uh- yeah, course.”

“Cheers. I’ll ping you his address.”

As soon as she hung up, Libby was instantly wide-eyed and nosy, asking a barrage of questions. All the while she tried to give any vague answer she could, scrolling her contacts for Paddy’s name.

“Jesus Christ, who you calling now?”

She held a finger up, “Hiya, Pad. Yeah I'm alright. Listen, you've not seen Billy about have you? What do you mean why am I asking you, you've still got Billy’s live location from that time he got lost having a piss at the club like two years ago, remember? You're my private investigator.”

She shot Libby a glare when she loudly sipped her wine loudly, to fill the silence.

She furrowed her brows, “when you say don't be mad, it insinuates I'm going to be mad, Patrick.”

Libby watched her friend's face fall, nearly losing grip on her phone held at her ear, and a sudden eerie silence when she heard Paddy's low voice on the other end.

“No, I won't tell him you told me, Lana asked me to go check on him anyway. Cheers, bye.”

She didn't spare Libby a look, her body suddenly pent up and eyes aflame. And her friend knew she meant business when she polished off the last slither of her wine before pulling herself up.

“Well?” Libby asked as she watched her pull on her coat hastily, getting frustrated when the zip wouldn't do up the first time.

“I'll tell you later, just know, I want to fucking kill him.”

Year 8 seemed to exist in a realm suspended between the innocence of Year 7 and the weighty responsibilities of Year 9, ensnared in the relentless passage of time. School, once brimming with purpose, now felt hollow, as did much else. Yet amidst the drudgery of daily life, the mundane trek home stood out as particularly grating, a constant reminder of the mundanity that had settled in.

Her mother's refusal to heed the school's advice regarding HPV jabs only added to the melancholy of the year. It was Miss Slator, her form tutor, who provided a semblance of maternal care, just as Mr. Thornby had the year before, acting as a paternal figure. Their concern and support, though appreciated, couldn't dispel the sense of disquiet that lingered within her.

The memory of receiving her first HPV jab during lunchtime, accompanied by Miss Slator, was tinged with discomfort, both physical and emotional. The sharp sting in her arm served as a poignant reminder of her vulnerability, exacerbated by the absence of her mother's reassuring presence.

She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, jumping out of her skin when Billy’s bag slumped down on the spot next to her.

“Is it sore?” he asked, huffing down on the bench beside her, looking out at a group of teens playing footie at Cranstead Fields, despite the looming grey cloud hanging above them.

She rolled her eyes, “course it hurts, you twa-ow!”

It was light, and friendly, the way he punched her left arm, the way all the boys had been doing to all the girls at school after their jabs. But it still fucking hurt.

“Dick.”

Billy smiled boyishly, pulling a bar of chocolate out his coat pocket.

“That for me?”

He nodded, as if it were obvious, “for being so brave.”

“Don’t be sarky,” she scoffed, smiling albeit gratefully and snatching the chocolate from him.

She folded it over in her fingers, the bright purple packaging tempting her to eat it now. And she didn’t say it, but she thought she might save it for later, so that she’d be less hungry if her mum chose to not cook any tea.

It was a sad thought to have, that she might rely on it.

“How is safeguarding,” he asked calmly, not reacting when her wide, panic-stricken eyes turned to him.

“How-”

“Saw you in Mr Healy’s office,” he interjects, pushing the blonde strands of hair off his forehead, waiting for her to say something.

Billy was almost disappointed at her response.

The soft glaze of her eyes, wide and embarrassed, but near longing to lift the weight off her conscience. The way her shoulders dropped to make herself appear small. Crossing her arms, rubbing them lovingly, like she was desperate for some semblance of touch like this.

He saw the bob of her throat and braced himself for those large thick walls she’d built before she even said it.

In that moment, as the crushing burden of her secrets threatened to suffocate her, she found a temporary reprieve in the simple act of confiding, even if just for a fleeting moment. And wanted to, so readily to trust him. Despite her best efforts to fortify her emotional barriers, the ache in her heart intensified, a visceral reminder of the profound yearning for the connection she so deeply desired.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

One could be mistaken for thinking it was early afternoon by the time she pulled up behind Billy's battered Vauxhall, it was still so bright outside.

With a heaved sigh, she threw her bag over her shoulder and locked her car, having to take steady, easy breaths to calm herself as she crossed the road to Billy's flat. Cigarette smoke clung to her clothes as she crushed it beneath the heel of her shoe, the smoke burning in her lungs and the lingering nagging at the back of her head that at some point, she had to make a point of giving up.

With a click, a man in a tracksuit and a cap slid out the door that led to the flats behind the row of shops. His eyes were hidden under a shadow, taking wide, calculated steps as if to place as much distance between him and the property he’d just come out of as possible.

As if being caught doing something he shouldn’t.

A shiver crept up her spine when they passed one another, and his stark eyes lit up under the tip of his cap, peering at her in suspicion.

She couldn’t shake that feeling even as she ascended the stairs to Billy’s flat. The sizzling nerves didn’t even seem to replace it.

Her stomach felt sick with emotion when he answered the door in tatty looking clothes, his shirt pilled up from years of use, hair somewhat greasy and an old, bloody bandage around his fist.

Billy took up the doorway with his height, his arm stretched across it in a gesture of defence. But it seemed as if when he laid his darkened and tired blue eyes on her, she saw him shrink.

“Can we have a word?” She asks, her tone flat in a manner that tells Billy he knows exactly what she's here for. In a manner that was tired, disappointed and saddened in equal measure.

“Fuck’s sake…”

Billy’s flat smelled of mildew, proven by the fact his clothes were still damp on the airer and all his windows were shut with the curtains drawn. His shoes were piled up in the hallway, one on top of the other, clearly favouring a particular pair that sat above them, as if he couldn’t be bothered even with the choice anymore.

He offered her a cup of tea, no doubt in an attempt to calm the rocky waves of panic surging through him. It was clear Billy was embarrassed by the state of his flat, as he glanced at her every now and then to make sure her expression was not one of judgement. The only one he found was one of despair.

Billy looked at his friend as if she was other-wordly. The world he’d made within the tight confines of his flat, did not have space to fit the idea of her inside of it.

His shoulders slumped, and the words that came out his mouth did not seem like his own as he sat awkwardly on his sofa, even that, covered in old clothes and crap. And all she could do was shake her head and peer out through his thin curtains, not able to look at the person she thought she had known once upon a time.

Both of them felt it.

The surge of heat that flooded their veins before an argument.

“I don’t need you to parent me. I’ve had enough of that already.”

She wanted to laugh bitterly at that, but managed herself somehow, “maybe you need it, Billy. These new mates of yours don’t seem to be doing you any favours, do they? Was it their fab idea for you to do it? Hm?”

“Does it matter?” he replied dismissively.

“Can't you see you're being fucking groomed, Billy? Fucking hell, what would Ami and Abi think?”

Their friends.

Did it mean nothing anymore?

“They’re different.”

“Oh, are they? Until they’re not. Until they do something to piss you off and then all of a sudden it’s ‘people like them’. What about their mum? Because fucking newsflash Billy, she wasn’t born here either, you’ve not got a fucking clue!”

He is quiet. His jaw tight, body wound so tight that even she could see his frustration.

“What’s next? Lobbing a brick through Mrs Ahmed’s window?”

He scoffs, his hair slipping off his head as he shakes it, “I fucking hate when you’re like this.”

“Like what? Speaking fucking sense?” she laughs bitterly, “I'm alright with that if I'm the only one holding you accountable!”

“When you’re stubborn.”

Billy needn’t ever shout.

She could sense his deep annoyance in not only his gaze, but his voice.

And she thought with anger in her veins, burning with fury, that what did he have to be annoyed about?

“Who the fuck even are you Billy.”

It came out her mouth without even really trying. She didn’t know if she regretted it or not when she saw his expression. He was still defensive, that much was clear, but in the way he looked at her, it seemed as if he was grasping for something.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked, almost desperately.

“Because I’m not used to this version of you.”

“Well, sorry Billy, I grew up. I of all people wish we could go back to the way we were, but here we are, fucking adults, avoiding each other like fucking teenagers!”

“There’s no need to shout.”

“Well give me something then!” she exclaims, “something, to let me know you give a shit.”

“Fucking hell, I punched the guy who broke your fucking heart, is that not enough?!”

“Now who’s the one shouting,” she claps back with venom, “And so what, you-”

She stops herself, her face falling somewhat. And when she’s quiet so suddenly, Billy’s bright eyes meet hers, hands clasped and rested on his knees, leaned forward on the sofa as if to appear smaller. His expression is confused and irritated in equal measure.

“What did you say?” she asks in a whisper, blinking slowly.

“I…punched the guy who broke your heart?”

She feels the lump form in the back of her throat, her eyes curiously flitting between either of his, trying to understand what he is thinking without having the courage to ask.

Billy shakes his head, “I mean- is that not what he did? He fucking dropped you like you were nothing.”

Silence envelops either of them for a solid few seconds. So long that it’s suffocating, like the walls are closing in around them for the first time in years. And for a split second, with her eyebrows furrowed in pain and hands shaking, she looks just as she did on the last day Billy saw her at college.

“You don’t know, do you?”

What she says then sends a full-body shiver that begins at the base of Billy’s neck and clatters all the way through his limbs. Blood turning cold immediately.

What does he not know?

He finds himself restless at the idea. That he was perhaps supposed to know something, but irrevocably doesn’t. That everyone else is aware of something so obvious.

He didn’t know it wasn’t just some nasty breakup.

He didn’t know that photos and videos of her in her most vulnerable moments were sent around the school, rumours circulating on MSN, hateful messages scribbled on her desk. And that she didn’t have the courage to tell anyone that the guy who had humiliated her and dragged her name through the mud, still had the indecency to rub it in her face.

He didn’t know that because of what happened, she nearly left school entirely, but that it was so late into the school year, she just waited it out before college. But that those few months, were absolute torture.

Billy never grasped the magnitude of her anguish—the nights spent in tears, the days clouded by despair. The sanctuary of school became a battleground, where every glance felt like an accusation, every whisper a condemnation. Yet, she soldiered on, clinging to the hope of escape, even as her spirit withered under the relentless assault.

He didn’t know that her mum berated her for weeks, even months. Didn’t give her bus money and didn’t wash her clothes, in what she perceived was fair punishment, thinking her daughter had purposely sent suggestive photos and videos to a random boy at school.

She had hoped he knew... but now faced with the daunting task of revealing her truth, she recoiled, sickened by the prospect of laying bare the depths of her suffering.

But in all that, as tears made her vision go blurry, a watery smile lifted to her lips at the memory of when he’d come to her at Cranstead Fields. He hadn’t been pushy and simply accepted that she needed comfort. And a friend. She remembered wetting his school shirt with her tears, and the smell of the detergent his mum used, with jasmine fabric conditioner pods. To which she thought now with delight, that he still smelled the same.

He was like home to her.

Home.

What was home now?

“Oh Billy…” she whispered through a choked, almost bitter laugh, “...it’s sweet…that you did all that just because you thought he broke my heart.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301@jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian@randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen

#billy washington x y/n #billy washington x oc #billy washington x reader #billy washington #billy washington x you #billy washington fanfic #billy washington trigger point #trigger point fanfic #trigger point series #trigger point #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington smut #billy washington angst #trigger point billy washington #billy washington fic #billy washington fluff #billy washington x fem!reader

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silvervioletvalentine · 1 year

Text

❣️Only love could hurt like this❣️

Pairing: max verstappenXCherrie. Word count:14k

Warnings:angst.cherries fathers death.serious miscommunication. But happy ending:))

Cherrie tried to walk away from the meeting room as fast as she possibly could without making it obvious that she was trying to run away from him, although she was sure that the unpleasant look on her face and the way that she had completely blanked him the whole time during the meeting, might have possibly gave herself away.

Hearing her assistant and close friend, Amy, whisper underneath her breath 'keep calm. Don't react please.' To her almost pleadingly as she got stopped by one of the team members before she could chase after her and make sure that Cherrie didn't cause a fight literally minutes after signing her contract.

Unfortunately for Amy, it meant that she was unable to stop Max from barging out of the room with a look of thunder on his face, quickly pacing after Cherrie , clearly ready to pick an argument with the bane of his existence.

He had spent the majority of the meeting glaring at her like he wanted to jump across the table and throttle her for even being there .

All the time she had just avoided his eyes and mainly kept quiet , humming along and nodding whenever someone spoke to her. Refusing to even look at max, even when he had stared her down the whole time with a scowl on his face.

She knew better than to fight him in front of her new team principal and team. She wasn't that stupid.

No. Instead she waited until they were far enough from everybody else, alone in a random corridor bedore abruptly stopping in her stride and spinning around on her heel to face him with a equally as pissed off glare .

"You should take a fucking picture max! Am I that irresistible that you just can't look away from me?!" She snapped at him sarcastically, crossing her arms across her chest confrontationally .

Broadening her shoulders and straightening her back as much as she could to look more intimidating, but by the twitching of his lips as he eyed her defensive posture, she could tell it didn't do much in the way of scaring him off.

It didn't help that she literally had to look up at him, max glaring down his nose at her judgmentally while she tried to remind herself to take some deep calming breaths.

That she could not attack him. That was wrong... really wrong but..

Max scoffed at her hatefully "you're such a fucking hypocrite! What happened to your unfading loyalty to ferrari? Or should we add liar along to your list of traits now too?" He spat at her, utterly furious by the way his life had just been completely turned upside down so quickly .

He had known that there had been rumours of Cherrie transferring to A different time seeing as her contract with Ferrari was up, but with the way that she had spent years driving for her fathers team, determine to win with the reds just like her dad did, max had genuinely been convinced that she would have taken the extended contract that Ferrari had practically begged her to sign.

She had been their number one driver after all and they couldn't really afford to lose her. Even with their shitty failure and terrible strategies, she had been bringing points to them.

Usually when she refused to listen to her team radio and instead did whatever she felt was right on the track instead . That was how she usually won, by ignoring them and doing her own strategy instead . Just like her legendary father had too.

Cherrie felt anger rush through her like hot lava, glaring back at him hatefully .

"Things change Max! This wasn't a decision that I just took over night. I'm just doing what's best for myself. You should understand that!" She threw back at him . Abruptly turning back around to continue getting as far away from him as possible .

Fighting back a loud groan of misery when she heard his hurried steps to catch up with her, his shoulder brushing hers as he scowled down at her , not finished with their argument yet.

Cherrie was convinced that no matter what she did or what she said, max would never leave her alone. He always had an opinion on what she did, always had to tell her it too. As though it was just impossible for him to just leave her the fuck alone instead .

She had expected this reaction from him of course, she wasn't naive. She knew that he wasn't going to be happy when he found out that she had signed a contract to become redbull's new driver. It was mostly likely a living nightmare for him.

Because it was no secret to anybody that the two of them didn't get along in the slightest. It had started from a very earlier age during karting, it had been a nasty rivalry in the making for the both of them.

It had started simply because Cherrie was dominating him in every race , with her fathers knowledge and winning practically in her blood, she was destined to become a racing champion.

She wouldn't stop until she did. It was expected of her , she had the whole legacy of her father waiting for her and there was no way in hell that she was going to step aside for anybody , definitely not max.

The two of them had spent years fighting for the title, going up in ranks and nearly matching points the whole time . Until Cherrie had finally did it, she won f2 and immediately she was signed onto Ferrari as a rookie when she was eighteen , becoming the first ever rookie to win world championship with them too.

She had been on top of the world and max didn't like it, the pressure from his father to be the best and become the champion falling heavy on his shoulders with each race that she won and had over him.

Then he had finally started to get close to beating her when redbull had given him a better car.

He was faster , he was determined and he wasn't going to let Cherrie beat him again. He just couldn’t.

Unfortunately while he was so determined to win, so locked in his own head that it was almost like he wasn't racing against any other drivers , he didn't care about them, he just wanted to beat Cherrie .

Which had led to him making some unforgivable mistakes and errors of judgment on his part, ones that he would never admit out loud that he regretted.

So lost in his own cloud of winning, so stubborn and determine not to let Cherrie beat him again, so sick of seeing the look of disgust and disappointment on his fathers face when she passed him over the finish line again and again, even with her shitty car.

Knowing that he had the power behind him to win , he had a better engine and a better team. Yet for some reason , Cherrie just seemed to pass him Each time like it was as easy as breathing to.

He had gotten frustrated and angry, more so at himself and the pressure that was being put on him to become the greatest. To beat her. That he had let the anger and resentment cloud his judgment and his morals.

The day that max had sent her spinning off the track , refusing to let her pass him on a sharp corner of the Spanish Grand Prix , had done nothing but make their animosity and hatred of each other get worse .

The look on her face when she finally pulled herself out of her car at the same time he did, the two of them glaring at each other with nothing but hatred in their eyes. Was the day that any hopes of the two ever being friendly went to absolute shit.

The battle had then become between the two of them instead .

They went wheel to wheel , both of them refusing to let the other one pass them which resulted in them crashing more than a couple of times. Because max would rather that they both lose than let her win him again.

So sick of hearing the ridicule and disbelief that was aimed at him when she stood first on the podium with a proud smirk on her face , a sea of red below her chanting her second name proudly .

The two had clashed so badly that their team had taken to making sure that the both of them were separated from each other as much as possible, only it was a pretty difficult thing to achieve when they both had to go to the cooling room together and then they both got podium .

That was also the first time that the world got to witness the bitterness between the two of them and how bad it really was.

It was also the first time that Cherrie had punched him on live tv. And It was also the first time that they got to hear max call her a conceited , narasstic , evil bitch to her face too.

Safe to say that they had both been given a hefty fine and forced to take anger mamnegmnt classes with a therapist for a couple of weeks.

It hadn't done much for their fury towards each other. Cause the a couple of weeks after that alteration , they had been caught screaming at each-other in the paddock again. Both of them refusing to admit which one was wrong after colliding again on the tracks.

It had gotten to the point where seeing the two top drivers verbally assaulting each other was just another day for everyone around them. Their teams having given up on trying to keep them separated and telling them to behave.

Instead they just sighed and muttered at them not to take it to a blood bath instead.

So yes. The two were not friends .

So the news of her being his new teammate , the same woman that did nothing but get underneath his skin and make him so fucking angry that he couldn't think straight, was now the woman that he was going to race side by side with, in the same fuckimg car, as a team?!

Yes, he was a little pissed.

He couldn't believe his luck at all. She had spent years beating him but the one thing that max always held onto to make himself feel better was the fact that he had the better car. Had the better team around him now.

And now she had to take that from him too?

"You have spent years trash talking redbull and now you're joining us?! Why not Mercedes?! I know they wanted you too!" It was true. In fact, every team wanted her, she was one of the best. Besides him of course.

So why did she have to chose redbull? Was she trying to ruin his life even more than she already did?!

Cherrie rolled her eyes, pulling a destained face at him. "No. I spent years trash talking you. Not your car! And I don't have to explain myself to you. I did what I had to do. End of!" She snapped at him before shoving past him, making sure she pettily bashed her shoulder against his arm roughly as she did so.

Max wasn't having it.

Scoffing loudly as he paced beside her , easily catching up as she stomped over to the nearest exit door possible.

"This is unbelievable." He stated more to himself disbelievingly . Wondering if he was really that evil in his past life to deserve this.

She lived rent free in his fucking mind when she was on a completely different team. How the hell was he supposed to cope as her teammate?

Feeling both anger and uneasiness fill his chest, knowing that only one of them would come out on top. They both couldn't be redbull's number one .

And statistically it was shown that out of the two of them, Cherrie was the winning one between them.

He blamed the fact that her father was literally a legend in formula one.

The man has been a sixth time world champion , dominating the sport like it was as easy as breathing to him. And the only reason why he still wasn't champion of the world was because life had cruelly took him away during a accident on the track .

But before he had died he had spent years teaching his little daughter , his only child, every single thing he knew making sure that she would grow up and continue to proudly bare his legacy and make their name stay legendary.

Her future had been destined . She had known what she was going to be since the moment she could walk and talk and be out into that kart .

And what did max have? A father that never believed in him. A father that had never told him that he could be world champion. One that only ever wanted anything to do with him when he was winning.

If he didn't bring home a tital or a win, then in his fathers eyes, he didn't deserve to even speak to him, he was a disappointment.

It only furthered to fuel his misguided anger towards Cherrie.

She had everything. She always had. She always came first and had everything that he ever wanted.

It wasn't fair.

Then he thought of her last teammate who was no doubt utterly heartbroken at her move and scoffed even louder.

Scrunching up his face bitterly "and I bet your human backpack is crying his heart out somewhere over the news. I doubt he's taking this well." Max sniped , taking a jab at their constant closeness to one another.

Another thing that he just couldn't stand. While max had to do this alone, barely making any friends and without anyone by his side to celebrate his wins.

Cherrie had everyone on her side. Because everybody loved her. She was the daughter of a racing legend , she was adored by all.

Every driver loved her. Max couldn't go a day without hearing someone gush about her and he had unfollowed her teammate on all socials the minute he started posting pictures of the two of them doing everything together . Holidays . Cooking videos. Cute little selfies in a hot tub together .

He decided then that he hated him too. It just wasn't fair at all.

How could he have been stuck with the shortest straw like this?

Cherrie looked over at him blankly , confusion taking away the need to kill him for a moment as she blurted out a "huh?" Wondering what the hell he was talking about.

Human backpack? What the fuck?

Max just smirked at her coldly , shaking his head as though he thought she was playing stupid.

There was no way that she didn't know who he was referring too. In fact, max was surprised that he wasn't right there beside her glued to her side while they argued too.

"I'm just saying . Charles can't be very happy with you leaving him on his own. Who is he going to cling to now?" He muttered bitterly , looking away from her striking eyes for a moment when her glare became too much for him to hold his gaze with.

Cherrie immediately shoved at his shoulder at his insult towards Charles , face darkening .

"Don't fucking talk about him like that. He has nothing to do with this." She spat at him.

Protective of the Ferrari driver that she had been lucky enough to grow close to over the years. They had become best friends and Cherrie had become incredibly protective over him.

And honestly one of the only reasons to why she had stayed clinging onto ferrari for so long was because she didn't want to leave him on his own to deal with all the shit that came along with their team.

He wasn't as mentally strong as she was. He was a people pleaser and didn't like to upset people, which meant he often let people upset him instead , not saying a word about his own feelings , not wanting to cause a scene.

That was where Cherrie had come in and where the two of them had become a good team. Because Cherrie wasn't afraid of opening her mouth and putting people in their rightful place . She didn't care who she had to upset .

If someone fucked her over then she made sure that her wrath was known. And over the years she had made sure that the team knew that if they fucked over Charles too, she would have their heads on a fucking flag pole, waving it at any other asshole who dared to piss her off again.

So yes, she was worried about Charles being on his own to defend himself now.

And she felt guilty about her sudden move to the 'dark side' but she had to be selfish for once . She wasn't going to keep winning if she stayed with Ferrari and she wasn't going to let her father down.

If he was looking down at her , she wanted to make him proud. And she knew that he would want her to do the right thing and Cherrie knew that this was it.

Ferrari had left her no other choice but to leave.

"And anyways, he's been very supportive . Because he's a good guy who wants whats best for me." She added on defensively . Not liking the way max was looking at her at her like she was a liar.

He couldn't have rolled his eyes any harder if he tried . Shaking his head in disbelief "yeah fucking right. Who's going to have your little boyfriends back now? I'm fact, I'm surprised that he's not begging for a contract with redbull too. Seeing as he never fucking leaves your side!" He exclaimed looking over at her judgmentally .

Because he was certain that the two of them were not 'just friends'. They were too close and too familiar with each other.

Max had seen the way that Charles lit up just at the sight of her . Hell, they even spent Christmas with his family! He had seen the cozy pictures of the two of them in matching pjs in front of a Christmas tree, hugging each other's side with matching smiles on their faces.

It was ridiculous. And every time that max saw the two of them giggling together, seemingly in their own little bubble where no one else existed, he wanted to be sick.

Because once again. It wasn't fair at all!

Cherrie wanted to strangle him.

Taking in a deep breath to calm the urge to go absolutely mental at him.

Instead she strided out into the parking lot and tried not to imagine hitting him with her car.

"He's not my boyfriend." Was all she muttered , absolutely done with his shit as she dug her car keys out of her pocket . Looking around the spaces as she tried to remember where she had parked her car.

Max got his own out of his pocket two, not even thinking about it as he gave her a little shove on her back to get her to walk in the direction of where her Ferrari was parked. Right next to his.

"You'd think you'd have better memory dipshit. And there is one thing that you and your boyfriend have in common ... you can't park for shit!" He insulted her, glancing pointedly at her car that was parked sideways over the white line, taking up two spots instead of one.

Cherrie looked at her parking and tongued her cheek , unable to disagree with him. Despite how much she wanted too.

He was right . Parking was not her strong suit, which was ironic considering her job.

Instead she just muttered a moody "shut up." And got into her car.

There was a long moment where they both just looked at eachother as she turned on her engine , bedore she slid some sunglasses over her eyes and looked away.

Max cleared his throat bedore forcing his eyes away from her, feeling uncomfortable as he opened the door to his car quickly and quickly got in.

Rolling Down his window so she could hear him , pushing away the strange feeling they came over him, instead he took on a bored tone .

And told her "don't forget the conference on Friday. We're not Ferrari. So don't show up late otherwise you'll make us all look bad." He condescendingly snided. Referring to her inability to arrive on time to any meeting ever.

Immediately all her distain for him came rushing back as she scoffed angrily at him.

Reviving her engine loudly "I will not be late asshole!" Was all she spat before quickly reversing out of her spot carelessly , almost crashing into a trash can bedore she sped out of there , her wheels screeching .

Leaving max to shake his head with a small chuckle to himself as he carefully put out his car , reversing perfectly .

"Can’t park and can't reverse either. Surprised she can actually drive a car." He muttered to himself in amusement bedore driving away.

Hoping that his new teammate and himself didn't kill eachother before the season ended.

Cherrie showed up late to the press conference. Because of course she did.

She sheepishly walked into the room, the cameras clicking as she avoided Max's smug expression , not looking at any of them as she slid carefully into her seat beside him.

Nodding at the press reluctantly , putting her bottle of water on the table. Smiling a little to herself as she glanced down at the vinyl picture of her and Charles on it that a fan had given her .

Had she brought it with her to spite max a little after his comments about Charles and her being too close?

Maybe.

Did she care? No.

Had she been warned not to provoke or start any shit up with max for her own entertainment? Also Yes.

Was she going to listen?

Absolutely not.

"Sorry I'm late . I didn't want to come." She spoke into the small microphone stand in front of her, grinning at them to let them know that she was just joking.

A little bit.

Her media manager, in charge of making sure she didn't do or saying anything wrong to the press that could get her into trouble , face palmed . Already knowing that Cherrie was not about to do as she was told at all.

Max eyed her water bottle with a grimace , crossing his arms over his chest and silently shaking his head to himself . Deciding to be the better behaved one out of the two.

To prove they he was the more mature one out of them, he smiled over at her deliberately knowing that it would piss her off.

"Nice to see you finally arrive. You look good in blue." He slyly said as he eyed her blue redbull shirt that she was wearing . Before looking at her head and realising that she was missing something.

He picked up his own hat that had number 1 written across it. From him winning world champion last year . Only by a single point between the two of them, something that max liked to smugly remind her of.

He reached over and placed his redbull champions cap ontop of her head, winding her up.

"Can't forget the hat. We'll have to get a runners up one for you." He smirked . Ignoring his own team sharing exasperated looks between each other .

"Not even a minute in and they're already starting." Amy sighed to Max's assistant, not surprised at all.

Cherrie picked the hat off her head and threw it at him , hard. Watching it bounce off his head and onto the floor with a little satisfaction.

But not enough.

Max only laughed and picked his hat back up, placing it back on his head smugly .

"Fuck off you twat!" She snapped at him before she could stop herself. Using the new swear word that lando had taught her over the summer .

She liked it. She thought that it was a name that she could call max regularly now.

Then she heard the clicking of cameras and both amused and shocked muttering of the press in front of them, swiftly reminding her of where she was.

Slowly turning her head to look at them. Clearing her throat a little guiltily , she leaned back into her chair and smiled as innocently as possible.

"Sorry. What were you saying?" She directed her question over to the man with the microphone who had been trying to ask her a question before max distracted her.

The man looked between the two of them warily. Everyone seeing the way that max was smirking over at her , clearly amused with how easy it was to wind her up. While Cherrie was trying to ignore him all together.

If I don't look at him, then he isn't there. Cherrie told herself over and over again.

"I was saying... that it has come as a big surprise to everyone when redbull announced you as their new driver . With people expecting you to extend your contract with Ferrari. It's said that they even offered you twice as much for you to stay on with them and that you turned it down. Is that true?" He asked her , camera's filming her steadily .

Cherrie fiddled with her water bottle , slowly nodding her head yes.

She knew that she was going to be getting a lot of backlash for her sudden move from the team that her father had won his last championship with. She knew that people expected her to stay with them out of loyalty and legacy.

But she just couldn't do it anymore. So people would just have to get used to it.

She didn't care what anyone thought of her move , she was doing what was right for her in the long run.

You had to be selfish If you wanted to win. Loyalty to a team that was rapidly falling apart wouldn't get her the championship.

"They did. And I said no. No amount of money could make me want to continue to drive a car that is no longer suited to me ." She confirmed to them simply , glancing over at her press officer to see her nodding her head at her , telling her that she had said the right thing.

The man looked surprised "your father spent ten years with Ferrari. And won all of his world championships with them too. Do you not want to follow in his footsteps? Some would say that Ferrari was literally in your blood. Your destiny-"

Cherrie cut him off before he could say anything more about her father and her destiny in the same sentence.

"My destiny is to win." She corrected him shortly , lacing her fingers together and reminding herself to be calm. "And I can't win in a car that isn't fast enough and isn't powerful enough for me to pass the finish line with. The Ferrari just wasn't what I needed anymore." She told them honestly, not feeling a need to lie.

It was a secret to no one that she hadn't been very happy with her car for a long time. She had told her team so and told the press too on multiple occasions that it wasn't up to her standard anymore .

It had literally been falling apart on the track and Cherrie simply couldn't take it anymore.

Because while her father had won in a Ferrari , they seemed to forget that he also died in one too.

She didn't want to repeat history that way. And when she had to drag herself out of her car when her engine had caught fire last year without warning, she had made her decision there and then.

She wanted to be like her dad, but she didn't want to go out like him either.

Max was silently nodding along to what she was saying , understanding where she was coming from.

He hated to admit it but she was right.

The reporter was frowning "the team principal did say that they were working on improving the Ferrari and making sure that there wasn't a repeat of last years failures . Was that not enough reassurance to convince you to stay?" He followed up with , everyone silent as they waited for her answer.

Cherrie just looked at him blankly , shaking her head.

"No it wasn't. I told them before last year that they either got their shit together and fixed the car and gave me something good to drive ... or i wasn't driving it at all. I gave them the data, I gave them my advice and my options. I told them what to do and they couldn't do it." She bluntly answered, done sugarcoating how much shit she had to deal with while driving for the red team.

She wasn't going to beat around the bush anymore , Ferrari had done this to themselves. She was done.

She took a sip of her water and swallowed before continuing . "- and ya know, it doesn't matter how good of a driver you are. If you've been given a shit

Box that it literally falling apart and you have a team that are giving you soft tires instead of hard and giving you strategy's that make no sense.." she sighed in annoyance "well, you can't win at all."

Max smiled a little , looking over at her in slight amusement .

"So you tried to blackmail them into giving you a better car?" He mused .

Cherrie just nodded her head , barely glancing at him.

"Yeah. And it didn't work so.." she just shrugged , nothing more to say.

The reporter nodded and moved on, looking over to max instead .

"And how about you max? How are you feeling about having Cherrie as your new teammate this year? It's no secret that there's a bit of rocky history between you two..." he voiced the obvious .

Looking between the two of them curiously , wondering how a partnership between the two rivals could possibly work.

Max took a moment to think about his answer , knowing that telling him that 'this was the worse thing to ever happen to him' wouldn't help the tension at all.

He decided to be strategic about his reply , clearing his throat and sitting straighter in his seat again, keeping a calm facade .

"There is. We have always fought against each other on the track ..." he agreed bedore adding "but she is also a good driver and a former champion.." he couldn't help the little dig at his dethroning of her title .

Cherrie subtly rolling her eyes at him.

"But maybe we will be able to work together to keep others away. And bringing another win home to redbull. We are rivals second but a team first now. And I'm sure that we can remain professional and do what's best for the team." He simply answered. Doubting his own words even as he said them.

Cherrie nodded along in agreement .

"Yeah.. it's not me that you have to worry about."

She couldn't help but mutter, side eyeing him.

Max frowned at her "I'm not the problem either. Who-"

The man quickly butted in before they could start bickering about who the one with the issues was.

"And do you think that you two can put your differences aside and become reliable teammates? Do you trust max to have your back Cherrie?"

She just pursed her lips and picked up her water bottle with her and Charles on it, then she casually reached her arm out and knocked his redbull water bottle off the table.

Placing hers in its place instead.

All the while smiling innocently "if he looks out for me then I will do the same. If he doesn't give me the support then he will not receive it from me either." She told them simply, looking over at max pointedly , meaning it too.

She didn't want to have a teammate that was an enemy. But she wasn't going to trust him without any evidence of him wanting the same thing.

"Time will just have to tell I suppose.." was all she ended with when max didn't say anything else in return.

Merely clenching his jaw and glaring down at the picture of her and Charles on her bottle in front of him.

Reaching down to pick up his own bottle that only had his name written across it. Nothing personal at all.

It wasn't fair. Was all he could keep thinking.

Looking away from the picture of the the former teammates and best friends , swallowing the sudden ball he felt rising in his throat.

When was he going to get someone to support him like that?

Why couldn't he have what she had? What more did he have to do to prove himself?

The next two months we're spent with nothing but tension and avoidance . The two teammates not eager to get along as their history threatened to tear them apart before they even began.

Cherrie struggled to let max pass her when he was clearly able to push more than she was, and max just couldn't let her pass him without a fight either.

Both of the drivers ignoring their team radios instructions to let the other through, instead taking it upon themselves to see which one of them would pass the waving flag first.

Wheel to wheel and risking all their hard work for Petty rivalry , bickering between each other on the podium and refusing to give in and start again.

Things were tense and max was struggling to contain his overwhelming emotions as he crossed the line, pursing his lips beneath his helmet as he swallowed thickly .

She had won. Again.

Easily overtaking him on the last lap, he had fought and fought to take back his place and was unable to do so no matter how much he tried.

Pulling up in front of the p2 sign, he switched off his engine and just sat there for a moment. Silently watching as Cherrie pulled herself up out of the car and jumped into the arms of their celebrating team, all of them so happy and proud of her as she brought them more points again.

She had won every single race so far. Max always just half a second behind her. Just like when they were kids.

He wanted to scream.

Instead he blinked back the tears in his eyes , already knowing that his dad would have left the moment that Cherrie overtook him and it became clear who was going to win, again.

He was on his own.

He took in a deep breath and lifted the wheel, pulling himself out of the car and onto the ground.

Being immediately patted on the back by their team, he merely nodded his head absentmindedly , still watching Cherrie as she jumped up and down in excitement , laughing happily at yet another win.

He felt some of his anger fade as he watched her look around the crowd, clearly overwhelmed with the way the fans were all screaming her name. Even the Ferrari fans were clapping, proud of her.

He pulled off his gloves and looked away, ready to walk off to the go to the cooling room alone.

Only for his eyes to widened in shock as she looked over to him, waving her hand for her him to wait up as she jogged over to him while pulling off her helmet , max doing the same cautiously.

Wondering if they were about to have another argument about the way they had fought it out on the track yet again.

Only to be surprised and frozen in shock as he watched her lips tilt up and smile at him happily.

"That was a good race! That overtake you did on Hamilton was just -" she made a chefs kiss with her fingers . Too filled with adrenaline to see how he shocked he was at her suddenly talking to him.

Usually she just ignored him and ran over to Charles to celebrate. But not this time.

Max felt pressure in his chest, clearly his throat and looking away from her for a moment.

Flushing a little at the amazed look on her face as she rambled on about his manoeuvre , his shock only growing when she casually walked alongside him to the cooling room.

"Er thank you." He muttered not knowing what else to say to her sudden compliment. Wondering if he was dreaming.

He wiped his face down with a towel and took a sip of his drink, looking at the screens that replayed the moments between them in the track.

Watching a replay of the way she had gone wide at the corner and smoothly passed him without even coming close to him, he sighed and had to give it to her.

"You raced good.that was a smart move that you did out there. I didn't even notice you behind me , I just blinked and you passed me." He mumbled a little quietly . Not used to talking to her like this.

He was so used to them arguing and insulting eachother that he wasn't sure how to be normal around her.

It made him feel uneasy and he felt his stomach flip as she looked over at him with another easy smile, patting him on the back happily as she reached over him to grab the first place cap from the table and putting it on top of her sweaty head proudly.

"I know right?" She laughed a little, still out of breath as she tried to calm down.

Seeing their team motion for them to get to the podium , shaking hands with Lewis on the way who came third place behind max.

Max just nodded at him respectfully , jogging over to catch up with Cherrie so that they were side by side , he looked down at her quietly. Still not knowing how to take her sudden niceness towards him.

His words were hesitant as he muttered "are you- are you going to the party after this? We got 2 for 2 so I'm sure it'll be quite a big one ." He wasn't even sure why he was mentioning it to her.

He was reminded quickly of why he didn't usually even bother asking her if she was coming along as she shook her head with a smile, her eyes no longer looking at him , instead she was searching the crowd below them for someone else.

Max watched her whole face light up as she spotted Charles waving up at her with a proud smile on his face despite not getting podium himself, feeling his mood crash down again.

"I always celebrate with Charles . We're gonna get some dinner and then hang out with the rest of our friends at the hotel . Do you-" she was about to turn back to him and ask him if he wanted to come along but she was cut off before she could even try.

Max scoffed and moved away from her quickly , not looking at her as he shook his head .

"Typical. Putting your little boyfriend over your team. You're still Ferrari." He snapped at her bitterly , his anger overtaking him before he could even notice the way she had been about to invite him along with a hopeful smile.

Her face dropped, any niceness Quickly dissipating as she glared at him , shoving away the sting she felt at his reaction. Suddenly glad that she hadn't gotten the chance to invite him along If this was his reaction .

"Forget it max. I was just trying to be nice." She mutteeed , looking away from him with a upset frown.

Max felt the pressure in his chest almost crush him, unable to look at her anymore. Convinced that he would never get his chance.

"Well don't be. I don't need you to pretend to be nice to me. I'm not your friend. So fuck off." He snapped at her, walking away bedore he could see the hurt that crossed her face and the way she pursed her lips to stop them from trembling.

Fine. She thought to herself meeting Charles concerned eyes and plastering a fake smile onto her face. Giving him a thumbs up to assure him that she was okay.

Fuck him. She thought angrily . He didn't deserve her kindness anyways .

Unable to believe that for a moment she had actually wanted to be his friend .

When the Monaco race rolled around, there was a somber yet determined mood taking over Cherrie as she solemnly walked the track that had taken her fathers life so many years ago.

Everyone else knew to leave her alone to her silent grief, everybody but Charles who knew just what she was feeling as they both slowly came to a stop at the sharp corner , both glancing over to the gate that had fresh flowers tied to it. It was covered in them and covered in sweet messages that the fans had left too.

She sighed softly , leaning her head against Charles arm as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Both of them quiet as he rested his head against the sides of hers , reflecting. His hand rubbing soothing circles over her back , waiting for her to speak patiently . Knowing that she would when she was ready.

Finally she spoke up, voice hardly above a whisper , familiar pain filling her voice .

"I miss him." She simply admitted , kneeling down to the gate and picking up one of the pictures that had been left beside some flowers.

Feeling herself choke up as she stared tearfully down at the picture of her father and herself at only eight years old, him holding her on his shoulders on the podium with the biggest of smiles on their faces.

The last race that he ever won.

She remembered the day she lost him like it was yesterday . Remembered the way her father had confidently told her that he was going to win their home race without any problems , taking her over to his car and letting her sit inside of it as he knelt down beside her proudly.

She had been eight years old and the light of her fathers life . His future .

He had gently stroked her hair away from her eyes and told her proudly .

"You're going to win this race too someday. In fact, you're going to win them all. Just like me." He had said it so matter of factly.

Believing in her so strongly that even being so young then, she believed his words too.

"I'm gonna be like you daddy. Do you think that we can win together? Then we can both be on the podium!" She had exclaimed excitedly , beaming up at him. Thrilled at the mere thought of being able to race alongside her own father someday.

He had always told her that he wouldn't retire until he was forced too. He was still in the prime of his life with no future of stopping.

Her dad had smiled fondly at her, lifting her out of the car and holding her in his arms.

He had kissed her still chubby cheeks and promised her.

"I'm going to be right there beside you. Every step of the way. Cause I love you . No matter what you do and what you achieve. You're always going to be my star okay?" He had said it with so much love and conviction , smiling down at her with care.

Cherrie had been passed over to his assistant as the crew surrounded him, watching him with wide eyes so full of amazement and awe as he pulled on his helmet and pulled himself inside the Ferrari .

He had gave her a thumbs up , clutching the wheel in his steady hands. Taking a deep breath and looking at her one last time .

"I love you daddy! You're going to win!" She had giggled at him unknowingly , waving her hands excitedly as she watched the car be pushed out the garage and over to the line.

Then she had been lead back with the crew and been seated on a chair in front of all the screens that showed the race happening, headphones put over her ears so she could hear everything. So fascinated by everything that surrounded her.

Then she had watched , at just eight years old as her fathers teammate tried to overtake him at the sharp corner where it was only big enough for one car to come through.

Their wheels had made contact and she had watched with tears in her eyes as her fathers car flew into the air , spinning and spinning bedore crashing into the barrier , immediately crushed into pieces as everything fell ontop of the remains of the Ferrari.

There had been shocked and horrified silence as she had listened to her fathers engineer repeatedly asked him if he was okay over the radio. Everyone watching with tears in there eyes as the minutes passed by and he didn't get out .

Her father didn't answer the radio , there was nothing but static silence as she had started to cry hysterically as she watched the medics pull out her fathers unmoving body, shaking their heads sorrowfully as they placed him on a stretcher and covered him with a sheet.

She never saw her father again.

He didn't win the race.

He didn't make it out of Monaco Alive.

He was gone. Just like that.

For years she has lived with his words of belief in her head, encouraging her to make him proud. To carry on her fathers legacy.

"I'm going to win this race. I'm going to win for him just like he told me I could." She breathed out to Charles determinedly . This meaning so much to her .

She had to win. For him.

Charles smiled at her softly , squeezing her close as he gently kissed the side of her head proudly .

"And you will. You can do anything you want to do Cherrie. I believe in you." He told her with a heartfelt smile, meaning every word.

Both of them unaware of the cameras filming them and her teammate watching them on the large screen with his chest tightening as he watched Cherrie wrapped her arms around cherries and kiss his cheeks, smiling up at him with softness written across her face as they whispered to each other .

To him it looked like a lovers embrace . Like two people that were so in love that they couldn't help but show the world .

He felt sick. He felt angry. He felt so frustrated that he turned away from the screen with a scowl, fingers tightening into fists as he stormed away to get ready for the race .

All sense of rationality leaving him as he saw red. All he could picture in his mind was Cherrie and Charles embracing each other , smiling at each other like they were each other's whole world.

He felt bitter determination fill him, anger fuelling his steps. He was going to win this race and prove her wrong.

He didn't care. He didn't need her as his teammate. He could win all on his own.

Her winning steak was over.

Cherrie could feel her heart racing as she flew down the straight , sparks flying from her wheels as the laps seemed to pass her by. Minutes feeling like mere seconds as she clutched onto her wheel tightly, blocking out every single distraction possible as she focused on keeping her place.

She was neck to with max, Lewis and charles not too far behind her as they all fought to pass each other, Cherrie managing to keep her corners tight as she clung to the back of her teammate in front of her.

Hearing her team come over her radio as the laps narrowed down quickly , only a few more left to go.

She felt adrenaline fill her as she heard their strategist speak, a certain pride filling his voice , everyone knowing that this was her moment to win.

This was her home race. This was the moment that she could make her father proud.

Everybody was holding their breaths and praying as they watched her close the gap between herself and max quickly , easily gaining on him.

"We've told max to let you past . He can defend and keep the Mercedes from your back. You can push- just two more laps-" he told her bedore pausing .

Cherrie heard multiple voices of her team, sounding confused and angry as they muttered between themselves . Sounding unhappy .

"What's going on? I can push! I am faster! I can do it!" She breathed out bedore inhaling sharply and only managing to avoid a Collasion between herself and max as he suddenly went wide, blocking her from getting through.

She felt anger light her up, panic also filling her too as her front wheel grew closer and closer to his.

"What is he doing?! I can win! I need to -" she gasped , heart pounding in her chest as she rapidly flickered her eyes between Max's car and the sharp corner that was quickly approaching them at the end of the track.

The same corner where her father had lost his life.

She felt her heart sink to her stomach as her engineer came over the radio, sounding both angry and upset as he informed her of what was happening.

"He's refusing to let you past Cherrie . He's ignoring team orders. I'm so sorry but you need to pull back to avoid-" he apologetic voice only enraged her further.

"No!no! No!" She shouted upset . Shaking her head and ignoring him telling her to pull back

"This is -" she choked in her words , both panic and rage filling her.

"I have to win this! My dad-" she couldn't even finish her pleading . Too upset to think straight .

She needed to win this race. She was so close - she just had to get passed max. She could do this without him.

If he wasn't going to let her past then she would make him.

She couldn't lose this race. She couldn't-

So with nothing but anger and grief filling her , she Ignored her frantic team over her radio and pressed full throttle as they came around the corner .

"Please max!" She shouted over the radio knowing that he couldn’t hear her. Expecting him to pull aside and let her pass.

He knew how much this meant to her. He knew what had happened here in monaco. He knew!

She could only watch in what felt like slow motion as max jolted his steering wheel . But instead of pulling away from her, he took the inside of the corner , giving her no time to pull away as their front wheels collided , sparks flying in the air.

Then she was flying.

Her car spinning off the track and turning around and around , clutching her fists to her chest as she gasped and cried out , her body rattling around from the sheer force as her car crashed into the exact gate that her father had crashed into all those years ago.

She saw the flower of memorials raining down onto of her car , petals falling all around her as the car finally came to a horrifying stop.

Then there was stillness .

She felt absolutely nothing but numbness as she glanced down at the picture that she had taped beside her wheel . The same picture that had been left with the flowers of her and her father , the last photo she had of them together on the podium.

She had taped it there for good luck.

As she looked at her fathers smiling face looking back at her, she swallowed.

Hearing the frantic calls of her team over the radio begging her to be okay.

The race hosts gasping in disbelief as they bellowed

"This is unbelievable! Serious de ja vu as Cherrie has been forced off the track by her own teammate! Crashing into the corner in the exact same spot where her fathers tragic accident took place! This hurts to watch- I hope she's okay!"

She inhaled deeply as she cut off her engine. Blankly looking at the photo of her dad one last time before looking away.

Exhaling shakily as she finally responded to their desperate calls.

"Are you okay Cherrie?! Please tell us that you're okay! Medics are on the way!"

She glanced over to the other crashed redbull that had spun off to the opposite side of the track, watching as max pulled himself out quickly.

His helmet covered head quickly turning in her direction , she swallowed , tears clouding her vision.

"I lost." Was all she could breath out in misery as the realisation that she was out of the one race that she needed to win.

She couldn't make her father proud.

She had lost.

Because of max.

There was a loud sigh of relief "that doesn't matter right now Cherrie. We are so happy that you're okay! Can you get out of the car?" He rushed out worriedly, everybody getting horrific flashbacks to her father dying in that very same spot.

Cherrie didn't answer.

Instead she just exhaled shakily, not even looking up as a shadow came over her.

Max heavy breathing heard as he knelt beside her car hurriedly , desperation filling his voice as he felt panic take over him.

"Are you okay?!" He rushed out in panic . Overcome with guilt as it finally crashed down on him what he had just done .

Swallowing down the lump in his throat as he looked at all the broken up flowers that surrounded her, before his eyes settled on the picture of her and her father taped beside her wheel.

Remorse making him feel sick to his stomach as he reached out his hands for her to grab so that he could pull her out.

"Cherrie please-"

She slapped his hands away violently and pulled herself out without his help. Unable to even look at him as anger finally took its rightful place.

"Don't fucking touch me." She spat at him.

Shoving at his shoulders roughly sending him a few steps back as he quickly lifted up his visor so he could see her, his own eyes pooling with tears as he saw the heartbreak in her eyes as she looked over to her crashed car.

"I'm so sorry. I am so fucking sorry! I wasn't thinking and I just - I-" he stammered to explain his stupid actions.

Not knowing how to admit that he had been so fucking upset and angry at never coming first. At never having anyone by his side.

That jealously had overcome him as soon as he saw her and Charles cosied up to each other on the track together when he had been just about to head out to find her and make sure that she was okay.

Wanting to be the one to comfort her. Wanting to be there for her . Wanting to apologise for the way he had been behaving because he was bitter and jealous and she had everything he wanted including herself .

But his anger had gotten the best of him and he was forced to face the consequences of his careless actions again.

Only this time it was worse, he didn't think that she would forgive him for this.

He didn't think that he could forgive himself either.

"I just wanted to make him proud." Was all she muttered , chewing on the inside of her cheek as she wrapped her arms around herself . Feeling like she was heading into a state of shock.

Max exhaled shakily , taking another step towards her and feeling his own heart crack as she took another away from him. Still not looking at him.

"You have - this isn't your fault. I shouldn't have - I didn't mean to! God Cherrie! I am so fucking sorry! You have to believe me-!" He was babbling away barely making any sense as he started to cry, the guilt nearly killing him.

Cherrie just shook her head and finally glanced his way, and the way she looked at him made him freeze in his spot as medics rushed over to them.

There was nothing but hatred in her eyes as she told him calmly , voice void of any emotion.

"I hate you." Before she was pulled away by the medics .

Leaving him to stand there with his heart at his feet, sobbing into his helmet as it all came crashing down around him.

She meant it. He felt it.

And he loved her.

Yet he had let his own insecurities and anger ruin it again.

She hated him.

But he hated himself more then.

Cherrie didn't look at him for a month straight .

She Didn't speak to him unless it was absolutely necessary.

Max had tried almost everyday to apologise to her , to speak to her to try and fix everything. The guilt making him unable to sleep at night, flashes of their crash replaying in his mind.

Everybody hated him for it. He knew they did.

He had almost killed her. He had crashed into her the same way her father had lost his life by his own teammate so long ago.

He couldn't forgive himself. He didn't want to.

He just wanted her to look at him again. Even if it was just to shout at him, to scream at him- to hit him and hurt him.

To do anything . As long as she looked at him again he didn't care what she did to him.

He finally got his chance to speak to her on his own birthday .

He was spending it alone, declining the persistent texts from his friends and from the team to go out and have some fun with them.

He told them that he had a headache . That he wasn't in the mood but to have a drink on him.

Then he shut off his phone and curled up in his bed , blankly staring up at the ceiling of the hotel room as he felt the numbness sink deep in his chest.

He was alone and it was all his fault .

Then as the sky's darkened and he finally managed to pull himself up in the bed , he heard rapid knocking at his door. It didn't stop even when he shouted at them to go away.

Then he froze as he heard her annoyed voice echo loudly through the door.

"Open the fucking door max before I kick it down!" She threatened him impatiently , balancing two bags between her arms with a huff.

Max hurried over to the door and quickly swung it open, looking down at her with wide eyes, shocked at the sight of her .

"Cherrie?" He gasped . Looking at her in amazement , wondering if he was dreaming .

She just rolled her eyes at him and pushed past him into the room. Huffing at him unhappily.

"What are you doing?" She demanded to know as she glanced around at his pity party. Seeing multiple empty plates and empty cans of red bull stacked up on the bedside tables.

His room was a mess. She took a glance back at his tried eyes and down turned lips . Dark circles underneath his upset eyes as he kept his gaze down to his sock clad feet as though he was too scared to even look at her.

She felt her own heart sink.

She had a lot of time to think about what had happened and what had been happening between them for a long time now.

Having sat down and talked to Charles about how she and max have always been pitted against each other their whole careers , the rivalry having been practically spoon fed to them the minute they arrived on track.

She had seen the way that max would silently walk away whenever she won a race, while she would have a team of people and friends gathering her in their arms to celebrate her win.

Max went home alone.

It was as though unless he won, his own father didn't want anything to do with him. And Cherrie had noticed the way that max tried so hard to prove his worth to him, the way he looked up to him and only wanted to make him proud.

Just like she did with her own father. Only her dad had believed in her and had been supportive , had been kind and gentle with his encouragement.

He had told her that if she wanted to be champion of the world , then she would be. As simple as that.

Max's dad had never told him such a thing and she only realised now with a sour taste in her mouth that perhaps his anger towards her over these years , was more so anger towards himself for not achieving what he thought he should . And anger at his dad for never being there unless he won.

She felt guilty as she thought back to all those times over the years when she had seen max looking over at her celebrating . The way he seemed to watch every thing she did with wonder , clearly wanting to do the same as she did.

Because despite his 'hatred' of her, she had seen the way that he had looked at her with pride when she won her first ever championship , with tears in her eyes as she pointed her finger to the sky, she had caught Max's eyes in the crowd below her and he had smiled.

She wished that she would have spoken to him then. Wished that she wouldn't have let her own pettiness and stubbornness stop them from being friends.

He was hurting. She could see that now.

Perhaps it was never just as simple as on track rivalry.

Because if max truly hated her and wanted her gone, then why did he look so heartbroken? Why did he look so desperate and afraid when he had rushed over to her crashed car after spinning her off the track?

Max fiddled with his fingers nervously , slowly walking over to his bed and taking a seat at the end of the mattress.

"What do you mean?" He murmured. Still shocked that she was there, in his room, willingly speaking to him.

Glancing up to see her stood in front of him with a frown, worry written across her face as she carefully placed the bags in her hands down onto the floor instead .

"It's your birthday." She stated the obvious "why aren't you celebrating?"

Max looked at her like she was insane , scoffing. "I'm not really in the mood to have fun Cherrie. I almost killed you a few weeks ago. Or have you forgotten?" He snapped at her without meaning to, so overcome with guilt and anger at himself that he could barely think straight .

Cherrie didn't react other than a small raising of her brow , making him look away from her when she just continued to look at him , unimpressed with him snapping at her.

"I haven't forgotten." She finally said after a long, tense silence . Before letting out a long sigh and kneeling down in front of him on the soft carpet .

Max looked at her with wide eyes "what are you doing?!" He exclaimed.

Warily eyeing her kneeling between his legs and wondering if he had accidentally taken some drug instead of his vitamins before she arrived.

She just rolled her eyes at him and pulled one of the bags over to her.

"It's your birthday." She repeated casually "and I got you a present." She then proceeded to pull out a familiar helmet for him to see.

Max frowned, looking between the colourful helmet that she had worn when she had crashed. When he had made her crash and almost killed her, and back down to her in disbelief .

His stomach dropping in unease "is this a joke? Cause it's not funny Cherrie. I know that I fucked up, I don't need a painful reminder of how much-"

Cherrie didn't let him finish his upset rant. Instead she just placed the helmet in his lap and nodded down to it calmly .

"Look inside it." She simply instructed him, watching his face carefully .

He gave her one last look before carefully holding her helmet , his fingers tracing over the pretty design that hardly had a dent despite the awful impact it had taken.

Then he turned the helmet over and lifted the visor, his fingers freezing as he read the words that were written messily inside of it. Swallowing audibly as he read the small words of her handwriting over and over again.

Believe in yourself like I believe in you. It read.

He exhaled shakily and glanced up at her unsurely , his lips parting yet not knowing what to say.

Cherrie just smiled a little and told him "it's what my dad always told me when I was younger . To believe in myself like he believed in me. How can you reach for the stars if there's no one to help you there? Success is nothing but a empty room if there's no one there to share it with." Her voice was quiet and reflective.

Having spent the last few weeks really thinking about how wrong she had been. How differently she wished that she had acted .

Max just looked at her silently , his heart racing in his chest as he watched her face soften towards him.

She had never looked at him like that before. No matter how many times he had wished for her to, he had only ever seen her smile at Charles like that.

He cleared his throat "why- why are you giving me this? What-" what does it mean? Went unsaid.

Luckily Cherrie understood and simply shrugged her shoulders , sighing .

"Well that helmet saved my life . And those words did too. I thought that it's only right for you to have it. And maybe - maybe it can help you to? I don't know - it's stupid-" it was her time to be unsure as she nervously glanced away from him.

Not knowing how to say that she was sorry. For everything .

Simply saying it didn't seem like enough .

Max quickly shook his head "no! No! It's not stupid- it's really - it's really thoughtful actually . I-" he inhaled shakily , clutching onto the helmet tightly with trembling fingers .

"I wish that I had words like that to carry around with me. Maybe I would have been less of an asshole." He muttered still angry with himself for all that he had done.

Cherrie reached up and grabbed one of his hands in her own making him glance back down at her in shock, his eyes widening as she gently squeezed the palm of his hand .

Smiling up at him sheepishly "well, I know it's not- it probably doesn't mean anything coming from me but-" she laughed a little nervously "maybe they can be your words too?"

Max felt like he couldn't breath. His eyes locked down to her hand in his with building hope.

"What do you mean? I almost killed you cherrie! I was so stupid and-"

She shook her head at him gently "I forgive you max. I know that it wasn't on purpose and I know that you regret it. I should have let you apologise because honestly-" she inhaled deeply , gathering her own courage.

"I'm sorry too." She told him honestly .

He frowned at her, confused . "What? What are you sorry for? You have every right to hate me after everything I've done!" His voice rose incredulously, his flickering between her own desperately, heart pounding in his chest.

Cherrie just squeezed his hand again, swallowing thickly as she saw the guilt and self hatred written across his face .

"No. I don't hate you max." She told him firmly needing him to know how she really felt.

"And I'm sorry for never giving you a chance. You- I think I may have taken things wrongly. Ya know like that time when we were sixteen and you came over to me and said 'you take the corners like a devil'" she recalled that particular memory with a wince.

Max also grimacing as he remembered how he had gathered all of his courage just to go over to her after another race between them, having wanted to be her friend.

Only it had all gone to absolute shit when he blurted out that she was a devil instead.

"I meant that as a compliment. That you were really fast and fearless on the corners.." he mumbled , embarrassed by how he just couldn't hold his tongue around her.

He had been accidentally insulting her since day one , when really all he wanted to do was tell her how amazing he thought she was.

How much he wanted to be like her , learn from her...

Instead he had become her enemy Instead. Talk about putting his foot in his mouth...

Cherrie groaned in misery , letting go of his hand so that she could cover her face in embarrassment at how hot headed she had always been.

This was her fault too. If she had just given him a chance ...

"God! I just thought you were saying that I drove dangerously or something! I'm sorry! I just- we were also put against each other and everyone always expected us to be rivals and.. it's always between just us.." she trailed off , feeling terrible for what could have been.

So influenced by others and the need for success that she had forgotten to listen to herself and what she knew best.

Max laughed a little , carefully setting aside the helmet on the bed. He planned to put it in his front room with the other two helmets he had of hers.

He told her so with a small , sheepish grin. "You know that I still have two of your helmets. I'm gonna put this one right in the middle of them."

Cherrie paused , eyeing him in confusion . "Two of them?" She couldn't remember ever giving him two.

Max nodded his head, chuckling as he scratched the side of his neck nervously.

"Yeah. The first one was when we swapped helmets when we were eighteen... well, we were forced to. You practically threw it at me." He reminded her in amusement . It was a pink helmet with flowers all over it and her name written across it in big letters.

Cherrie went pink like the helmet was. Grimacing guilty as the memory came back to her.

It was a rare race where he had beaten her and she hadn't been very happy at all. He had handed her his helmet with a smile, telling her congratulations and that it was a good race.

Cherrie had thought he was mocking her.

So she had told him to fuck off and then proceeded to practically throw her helmet at him before childishly stomping off to sulk.

She groaned again "oh god. Max I'm so sorry-"

He just waved off her guilt with a laugh, the pressure slowly lifting from his chest piece by piece as he looked down at her.

Feeling his heart lighten at the guilty little smile on her pretty face , her eyes pleading for him to forgive her for being such a hot headed woman. Unable to believe that perhaps everything had just been a series of misunderstandings between them all along .

"No, no. It's okay." He laughed "honestly maybe I should be saying sorry to you because I also.." he hesitated to admit it, his cheeks flushing red .

Cherrie eyed him warily "oh god what did you do?" The amused tone of her voice made him admit it.

"I stole your helmet in silverstone. I saw Charles give you his and we had both been on the podium together and I wanted to be the one to swap helmets with you but-" he rushed out covering his bright red face with his hands. Muffling his words.

Cherrie gasped out a laugh. Leaning forward on her knees and placed her hands on his thighs as she pushed herself up, slapping at his arm in amusement .

"Max! I can't believe it was you! I was so confused when I turned around and my helmet was gone! Oh my god!" She couldn't stop giggling at him.

Max slowly uncovered his face and gazed down at her pretty smile , her eyes crinkled at the corners as she laughed at him. Feeling his heart flutter at the way he had done that, he had made her laugh. Nobody else. Him.

He chuckled "you're not mad?" His breathed out in relief . Still Scanning her still smiling face in awe.

She was so beautiful that he found it hard to breathe. He always had done. She made him do and say stupid things. It was ridiculous the way he couldn't just behave normally around her . To nervous to think straight . She made him into a giant mess. Cherrie just shook her head at him, sighing loudly as she looked down at his flustered face softly.

"No max I'm not mad. I just wish you would have talked to me . All this time I've wasted being angry at you and -" she struggled to even explain what she was feeling . Upset with herself for always thinking the worse of him.

He gently took ahold of her arms and made her look at him again, smiling softly at her.

"There was times I deserved it though. I did deliberately wind you up and push you to snap back at me ." He admitted quietly , gently stroking the soft skin of her arms .

She frowned "why though? Why pick at me like that when you know how easy I snap back?" She asked him curiously .

Max pursed his lips , avoiding her eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in defeat. He couldn't keep lying to himself or to Cherrie any longer.

If he had been honest right from the start then maybe none of this drama would have ever taken place . Maybe things would have been easier. Maybe he wouldn't have had to do this alone.

"Because that was the only way I could get your attention. It's was stupid and childish. I just wanted you to see me because-" he looked at her , ashamed.

"Because I've always seen you. I have- you've always been somebody that I've looked up to and wanted to be like. You've always achieved everything first , always beat me and I was jealous." He admitted to her quietly .

"I wanted to be your friend when we were kids . But I could never say the right thing. I didn't know how to get you to like me." He muttered, his hands sliding down her arms to grab at her hands instead , fiddling with her fingers anxiously.

Cherrie just interlaced their fingers and listened to him quietly . Her face open and soft .

He inhaled deeply and continued on while he still had the courage to look her in her eyes and tell her the truth.

"And then we grew older and I still wanted to be you but I wanted to be with you even more so. But then you became so close with Charles and I got even more jealous because that was all I wanted. I don't even know how .. or when it happened." He sighed quietly . His eyes filling with tears again.

He shook his head at himself , sniffling. "I just - one day I looked at you and all I saw was who I wanted to be. And I saw you smile at Charles and i just wanted you to look at me like that- I wanted you to see me-" his voice broke before he could even finish.

Cherrie leaned forward and took him in her arms, cradling his head into her neck as she tangled her hand into his hair, her other hand stroking circles into his back as he started to cry. Clutching onto her tightly , she felt her eyes own pool with tears as he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight, like he was afraid to let go in case she ran away.

"Shhh max. It's okay. It's okay- I did see you . I have always seen you!" She rushed to tell him , pulling back enough so that she could take ahold of his cheeks on her hands, caressing his face gently.

His eyes searching her desperately, clutching onto her waist with his hands .

"I have always thought of you max. You drove me crazy! And every time I walked into a room the first person I looked for has always been you. Even when we were fighting- even when we were at each other's throat- I always looked for you-"

He cried in relief , heart feeling like it was trying to beat right out of his chest. Overwhelmed with his feelings that he had tried for so long to push away.

"Oh my god. You feel it too?" He breathed out in disbelief .

Letting out a breathless laugh, letting go of her waist and clutching at her beautiful face instead , his thumbs quickly wiping away the tears that pooled between her lashes .

Both of them smiling in disbelief , in relief and joy.

She let out a shocked laugh "I do! I just- I thought you hated me and -"

Max's eyes were wild , shaking his head rapidly in denial.

"No. No! Never hated you! Never!" He pushed her hair behind her ears , grinning at her in awe.

Then he breathed out and whispered "I love you. I'm in love with you. I love you so fucking much-"

Cherrie couldn't believe it. Laughing breathlessly, she just shook her head in disbelief at how stupid the both of them had been.

All this time ...Then she surged forward and kissed him like she should have been kissing him all this time.

No more wasting time. She promised herself silently as she felt him moan against her mouth in relief , his hands clutching at her like he was afraid to let go.

The kiss was messy and frantic . Teeth clashing and tongues exploring each other's mouths as she pushed him onto his back on the bed, her helmet right beside them proudly .

“I love you max. Fuck.." she breathed out giggling as she pulled away enough to kiss all over his face, beaming down at him in disbelief .

Similar emotions written across his face as he gaped up at her , heart pounding in his chest. She looked at the words written on the helmet and smiled , shaking her head.

"And I'm so proud of you. Every win- I'm gonna be there. Because I love you and I believe in you. Because we're- we're teammates now remember? We have each other's back. I'm never gonna not be there for you again okay?" She promised him seriously , kissing him again.

Max choked on a cry, laughing and crying at the same time as he clutched her body to him . Looking up at her like she was his god.

That was all he had ever wanted to hear . It was all he had ever dreamed of.

She loved him. And she was proud of him. Finally , somebody was proud of him.

Max's smile took over his whole face , their teeth knocking together as they both giggled into the kiss . Happiness filling their hearts, their heads and their lungs as they both gasped for breath.

"And I'm gonna be there for you too Cherrie. Because I love you and I'm gonna continue loving you for as long as you let me. You're my girl." He told her , overcome with love.

Cherrie just smiled and kissed him again.

"you're gonna be loving me a long time then. Because I want you forever." She whispered against his lips.

Max just sighed contently, pulling away to gaze into her eyes and seeing his future there.

"I'm gonna love you in every life. I'm gonna be your best friend and your lover too ." He promised her.

He was going to make sure that they never made the same mistakes again. All those years arguing. All the miscommunication and jealously ... he was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

She was going to win the race but he was going to win her trust , and her heart.

'Believe in yourself like I believe in you'

Her father always had been right .

He was never going to doubt himself again. He had her love and that was more than enough for him.

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #max verstappen oneshot #formula one imagine

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luxthestrange · 9 months

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WTDSIK Incorrect Quotes#28 Mama bears

Spoiler if you're not up to date with the manga and The Deviculum arc

You are Coming as Kalego Plus one to keep a check on Your Son and...Figure out What the deal with Naberius Narnia, You were of course still in awe when Kalego played the piano...when Azz & Ameri sought you and his mother when they saw ¨Fenrir¨ being hostile with Iruma

Azz: I need a word with you, my lady!

Y/n*Chatting with Amaryllis when Kalego went off to search for Narnia*Azz?Just how fast did you get here?

Azz: I had some help

Ameri*Blushing and rigid like* H-Hello, Mother in L-I MEAN!? Ms.Suzuki!!!

Y/n*Eye twitches and smiles*He doing what?

Both You & Amaryllis notice Iruma being towered down his whole body language shows he is terrified...Alerting both of you

Azz: Yeah!That Bastard!!!

When Amaryllis got in front of ¨Fenrir¨ with a smile...and slapped the bitch outta him...

Y/n*Smiles and walks up to her with a gentle voice, as You watch ¨Fenrir¨ stand up to almost glare at you*Please, can you help me up?

Amy*Giggles and picks you up in her arms to his height*

Y/n @ Narnia "Fenrir"

Y/n: Thank you~*Snaps head to give "Fenrir" one last "TRY ME BITCH" look*

"Fen"*Eyes widen taken aback*!?!

Azz*Raising his hand up*...Uh, can I get a slap, too?

Baal*Watching from the sidelines and winces at the triple slap you gave Narnia*...better move before-AH*Saw you noticed him*

Y/n*Looking at him*...

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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

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baby mine

pairing: rhett abbott x wife!reader

author’s note: been feeling very inspired by lewis rhett lately, and also in the mood for some angst, so here is where we ended up!

warnings: angst with a happy ending, pregnancy, blood, fear of miscarriage, medical crisis, rhett attempting to pray, and a little smattering of fluff

If anyone had asked you to describe your experience of pregnancy, you would have summed it up as follows:

It was easy until it wasn’t.

Your first trimester had been a breeze. Beyond a couple of queasy mornings, quickly remedied by dry toast and some fresh air, you didn’t experience morning sickness at all. In fact, you woke up every morning more chipper than usual, to the point that Rhett often checked that you didn’t have some sort of fever. He even wondered aloud over breakfast one day if you’d been getting sick in secret, so surprised was he at your perfect health.

“Not every woman gets morning sickness, baby,” you’d laughed, running your fingers through his hair as you stood over him to refill his coffee cup.

“Well aren’t you a lucky one?” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your still-flat stomach.

You were. For a while.

As the weeks, and then months slipped by, your belly grew rounder and rounder as your pregnancy progressed, all the ultrasounds and tests coming back to show that you were carrying a perfectly healthy baby girl.

“She’s glowing, Rhett,” Cecilia often commented whenever you and your husband visited the Abbott ranch for dinner.

“I didn’t even know a pregnant lady could be that happy,” Perry added one night, chuckling as he watched you and Amy playing in the living room, Amy showing you a project she’d been working on in school. “Rebecca was miserable the entire time she was carrying Amy, I swear.”

Rhett just smiled in response, like he always did. “That’s my honeybee,” he murmured proudly, catching your eye and winking at you.

No morning sickness. No weird cravings or aversions to any of your favorite foods. No major mood swings beyond what you were already used to. No massive weight gain. It was like you were walking on a cloud.

“Better watch out, honeybee,” Rhett teased one day when the two of you drove to town to grab lunch, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he bent his head to whisper in your ear. “I think Katie Hamilton’s gonna make a voodoo doll of you and poke it with pins every night before bed,” he chuckled, subtly nodding his head in the direction of one of your childhood classmates. Nemesis probably would have been a more apt description.

Lifting your eyes, you glanced across the diner, where you were standing in wait for a table, and caught sight of Katie, who was glaring daggers at you. The two of you had never really gotten along, but her look was particularly venomous today.

“What’s her problem?” you muttered, raising your eyebrows as you turned to look back at Rhett. “I haven’t done anything to her. Lately.”

Your husband just laughed, shaking his head as he smoothed one hand over your swollen belly. “That’s pure jealousy, honeybee. Because you look like a damn goddess right now, and she got fat,” he smirked. Rhett had never forgiven Katie Hamilton for all the times she’d made you cry back when you were growing up.

“Rhett,” you scolded, poking him in the side and trying to hide the way your lips were twitching in amusement.

There was a strange sense of justice in Miss Queen Bee, who’d made all the girls feel miserable about their looks throughout middle school and high school, losing some of her shine during her pregnancy.

“What?” Rhett demanded, his eyes widening innocently. He laughed at your pointed look, ducking his head to kiss you. “Sorry, baby, but it’s true. Pregnancy looks much better on you.”

Truth be told, pregnancy did suit you. And you assumed it would keep on suiting you until the time came for you to deliver your little bundle of joy.

But then your third trimester hit.

It started out innocuously enough. You tired out more easily and needed to sit down more often. Your back started to ache when you went grocery shopping with Cecilia or your mama. You found yourself getting winded when cooking and setting the table for dinner.

All of it just seemed part and parcel of growing a little human inside you.

“Honeybee, sit down,” Rhett would tell you whenever he caught you rubbing at your lower back, trying to ease the tension that seemed to be lodging itself there with increasing frequency. “I can do the dishes.”

“I can do the laundry.”

“I can run to the store.”

There was nothing your husband wasn’t willing to do for you.

But you turned him down every time.

“I’m fine, baby,” you always told him, even when you had to say it through gritted teeth to mask the discomfort. “I can do it.”

“You need to rest,” he was constantly reminding you, forcing you to take a break whenever he was able to.

“There won’t be any rest once the baby comes along. This is good practice,” you usually responded, grinning as you rested a hand atop your growing bump. At seven and a half months along, it was rather unwieldy at this point.

“You are one stubborn woman, honeybee,” Rhett sighed with a shake of his head, eyeing you carefully as you carried on with your household chores.

You were determined to continue doing just as much around the house and the ranch as you’d done before you’d gotten pregnant. You could do it. You could continue to make Rhett proud, just as you’d done in your first two trimesters.

But it was starting to seem that all your good fortune was drying up and that all the discomfort you’d avoided at the start of your pregnancy was now catching up with you in full force. Maybe Katie Hamilton really had made a voodoo doll of you, like Rhett had joked that day at the diner.

The tiredness was quickly turning to exhaustion, and the slight aches were evolving into an incessant discomfort that bordered on pain. You found yourself catching your breath all the time now, clutching your belly as cramps passed through you on a regular basis.

Every time Rhett asked if you were doing alright, however, you forced yourself to smile and told him, “Just fine, baby.”

It wasn’t that you were trying to lie to him. But you knew that he was always carrying so much. It seemed as if your husband was constantly trying to balance the weight of the world on his shoulders. Since you’d gotten pregnant, your health and the health of the baby had been at the top of his priority list. He worried all the time, even when you assured him he had no reason to. That was just Rhett, and you loved him for it. You loved him so much, in fact, that you didn’t want him worrying himself sick over something that was beyond his control—something that you were assuming was common in this stage of pregnancy, from everything you’d read and heard from others.

Today, however, didn’t feel very common. You’d been experiencing shooting pain down your back all day, to the point that you had to spend most of the afternoon curled up on the couch, whimpering miserably to yourself in an attempt just to get some of the tension out of your body. You also felt a bit nauseous and could sense a headache forming in the back of your skull.

At this point, you knew you were just being the stubborn woman Rhett affectionately accused you of being. You needed to ask for help. You needed to tell your husband how you were feeling.

By the time Rhett arrived home, however, the sun had long set and he was so exhausted that all he wanted to do was take a quick shower and fall into bed.

“Never been so damn tired before,” he mumbled, pecking you softly on the lips before tugging his shirt over his head and trudging towards the bathroom.

You would just talk to him tomorrow, you resolved, chewing on your bottom lip as you changed into a pair of pajamas and turned the covers down. That was probably a better idea anyway. In the light of day, you’d both be more well-rested and you’d be able to get in touch with your doctor.

Yeah. Tomorrow.

Rhett was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, his hair still damp from his shower, and you quickly followed suit, shifting until you managed to find a semi-comfortable position. Closing your eyes, you found yourself drifting off sooner than expected.

When you woke a few hours later, startled out of a dreamless sleep, you could feel the hair standing up on your arms and the back of your neck, a cold, uneasy feeling gnawing at your insides.

Something was wrong.

Sitting up gingerly, you sucked in a sharp breath as a fierce pain tore across your abdomen. You had to close your eyes for a moment to steady yourself, one hand resting on your belly as you attempted to swing your legs over the side of the bed.

“What is it, honeybee?” Rhett croaked from the darkness beside you, sounding only half conscious.

“Nothing,” you lied, biting down on your hand to keep from crying out as you slid off the bed. “Just have to go to the bathroom.”

Your husband simply hummed in response, already back to sleep.

Trying to quell the panic that was quickly rising up inside you, you carefully wobbled towards the bathroom, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth all the while. Maybe this was Braxton Hicks? You’d heard plenty about the “false alarm” contractions that many women faced during their pregnancies. But this didn’t feel like contractions. This felt like something much more serious.

Flicking the lights on in the bathroom, you stumbled to the counter and took in your bleary-eyed, exhausted appearance. Your face looked almost ghostly, matching the ominous shiver that suddenly passed through your body.

You clutched your stomach as another sharp pain knocked the breath out of your lungs, which sent you tottering over to the toilet. Yanking your shorts down, you took a seat and then let out a horrified gasp at the sight you were met with.

Blood.

Your underwear was soaked with bright red blood, the metallic scent of iron assaulting your nose and making you gag.

“Rhett!” you cried out, your voice tearing from your throat so violently that you were almost worried you’d damaged your vocal chords. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the awful reality staring you in the face.

Something about the tone of your voice evidently broke through the exhausted haze in which your husband had been ensnared because seconds later he was barging his way into the bathroom, looking more awake and alert than you’d ever seen him.

“Baby, what is it? What’s wrong?” he demanded to know, flying to your side in an instant and crouching down beside you.

“I—I—” You couldn’t even get the words out, couldn’t bear to say them out loud. So instead, you pointed with a trembling finger, squeezing your eyes shut as tears began to roll down your cheeks. You didn’t want to look anymore.

Rhett followed the direction of your finger, gazing downward at the mess of blood coating your underwear and staining your inner thighs. His blue eyes widened and his face paled considerably, but he didn’t freak out. He didn’t jump up or start flailing or demand you tell him what to do. Instead, he reached up and cupped your face between his hands, his touch gentle yet insistent.

“Honeybee,” he said, his calm voice belying the anxiety that was currently making his heart race a million miles an hour. “Baby, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”

You did as he said, slowly opening your watery eyes and meeting his direct gaze. “Rhett, the baby…” you whimpered, a fresh wave of terror crashing over you as you caught sight of the blood once more. You could feel that it was still leaking out of you as you sat there, staining the water in the toilet a dark, violent red.

“Sh, honeybee, sh,” Rhett murmured, his voice as gentle and as soothing as it was when he was talking to a skittish horse. “Talk to me. Keep your eyes on me and talk to me. It’s gonna be alright. What happened?”

You were grateful that he was somehow managing to remain so collected and rational, considering you felt anything but. But that was Rhett. He’d experienced his own fair share of brutal injuries and had seen plenty of blood and gore between the rodeo circuit and his time on the ranch, so these sorts of things didn’t faze him the way they did other people. Your husband was the perfect person to have around in a crisis because he knew how to handle it.

You, on the other hand, did not.

“P-pain,” you sobbed out, able to keep your eyes trained on Rhett only because he was still holding your face in his grasp, his calloused thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “There was this p-pain—in my back a-and my stomach—woke me up—and when I-I got to the b-bathroom—so much b-b-blood,” you wailed, terror gripping you in its iron grasp.

The baby! What was going to happen to the baby?!

“Okay, okay, honeybee. I’ve got you, baby. I’m right here,” Rhett assured you. His voice was still calm, but you noticed a flash of raw fear in his eyes as he looked down once more. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital, alright? It’s gonna be alright.” You weren’t sure at this point if he was trying to reassure you or himself.

“Rhett! I need—I can’t—the blood!” you gasped out, clutching onto his arms.

“I know,” Rhett nodded, pressing a tender kiss to your knee. “I know. I’ll take care of it, baby. Just stay right here.” He carefully pulled your bloodied shorts and underwear down your legs, standing up and throwing them into the sink. “I’ll be right back, honeybee,” he promised, turning and hurrying out of the bathroom.

He was back in a flash, a clean pair of underwear and your favorite pair of sweatpants in hand.

“Alright, baby, where’d you put your pads?” Rhett asked, his eyes quickly scanning every available surface in the bathroom.

It had been so long since you’d needed them.

“In the closet, on the top shelf,” you told him hoarsely, your throat still clogged with tears.

If you weren’t so overwhelmed with fear, you might have been impressed by how quickly Rhett pulled down your pack of pads, tearing a couple of them open and lining your underwear with them before walking back over to you, kneeling down on the cold bathroom floor.

“Okay, baby, we’ll get these on and get you dressed and then we’ll get in the car and get you to the hospital,” Rhett told you, grasping your ankles gently as he slipped them through the openings in the fabric of your underwear.

As tender as your husband was being, you felt like you were going to be sick. “Rhett!” you cried, gripping his bare shoulders roughly. “Rhett, the baby! What if the baby—”

“Sh,” Rhett soothed, brushing your hair back from your face. “We’re not gonna think like that, baby. Let me help you up.”

It all felt like a blur. Like a terrible, horrifying blur. Rhett helped you get dressed before throwing on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans himself. You were vaguely conscious of the fact that he was grabbing towels and a blanket, murmuring softly to you, though you weren’t even registering his words.

Were you going to lose your baby? Were you miscarrying at that very moment, the blood that was seeping out of your body robbing you of the precious baby girl that you and Rhett had been so eagerly anticipating the arrival of? Your daughter? The one you had loved from the moment you knew she existed?

If you lost her, it would be your fault.

Your stubbornness. Your pride. Your refusal to admit when something was wrong.

And now something was really wrong.

If you lost her, it would be all your fault.

“Honeybee, c‘mon, I’ve got you.” Rhett’s voice cut through the misery of your thoughts as he draped a jacket around your shoulders, one hand around your waist as he led you out of the house and towards the truck. It was already running, and you could see as you approached that Rhett had laid down a few towels on the bench. “There you go,” he murmured, helping to lift you up into the bed. Once you were seated, he reached over to settle a blanket over your lap. “There you go, baby.” Closing the door, he raced over to the driver’s side and hopped into the truck, peeling off down the drive almost before he’d even pulled his seatbelt on.

You moaned softly as another wave of pain washed over you, clutching your belly and weeping softly.

“Just rest now, honeybee. Please,” Rhett begged plaintively, reaching over to rest one hand on your stomach.

“It’s my fault,” you told him, nearly incoherent with anxiety and worry. “It’s my fault. If anything happens, it’s—”

“Hey now, no talking like that,” he told you sternly, keeping his eyes fixed ahead on the road despite the fact that he wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you. “Everything’s going to be fine. It will. You and the baby are going to be fine.”

Maybe if he kept saying it enough, one of you would start to believe it.

“I should have told you,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks as you gathered the blanket more tightly around you. “I should have told you.”

Rhett glanced over at you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Lay your head back and rest, honeybee. I’m gonna get you to the hospital real soon.”

The nearest hospital was well over an hour away, but with the way Rhett was driving, he managed to get you there in under forty-five minutes. You were feeling weak and exhausted by the time you arrived, so your husband lifted you into his arms, holding on tightly as he ran you inside.

“Please,” he called out, some of his calm facade cracking as he hurried to the front desk. “Please, my wife. Help my wife. She’s pregnant and she’s bleeding and she—”

Before he could even finish his jumbled explanation, a couple nurses were hurrying forward with a wheelchair, firing out directives and guiding the two of you to a room down a long hallway.

Suddenly there were doctors and nurses surrounding you, stripping you out of your clothes and laying you down in bed and poking and prodding and asking too many questions and telling you to remain calm, but all you really wanted was—

“Rhett!” you sobbed, reaching out and trying to find your husband’s hand. “Rhett!”

“I’m here, baby, I’m here!” Rhett called back. But he sounded so far away. And you couldn’t feel his hand in yours, no matter how hard you reached for him.

“Rhett!” You were hysterical now, you could feel it. Your voice felt harsh and raw as you continued to cry out, the salty tears burning your eyes and cheeks. “The baby! My baby!”

In the back of your mind, you thought you heard one of the doctors say something about sedation, but all you could think about were Rhett and the baby. They were all that mattered. They were the only ones who mattered.

Within seconds, your mind grew hazy and your eyes felt heavy, your aching body sinking into the hospital bed as your consciousness slowly floated away. Before darkness engulfed you completely, you could have sworn you heard Rhett whispering your name.

You couldn’t say with any certainty how long you were out for, but as you slowly started to come to, you could feel the early morning sunlight pressing against your eyelids, so you knew a couple hours at least must have passed. Not quite ready to open your eyes and face whatever news the doctors had to give you, you just lay there quietly, the sound of your own heartbeat rushing in your eyes.

It took a couple moments before you realized that there was a weight pressed against your side, pinning your hand to the bed. Cracking your eyes open just the tiniest fraction, you glanced down and saw that it was Rhett. He had pulled a chair up beside your bed and his head was bowed low, covering your hand and pressing against your thigh. You thought for a second that he might be asleep, but then you saw the slight shudder pass through his shoulders and heard the soft sniffle and you realized the truth.

He was crying.

Your big, strong cowboy of a husband hardly ever cried. Whenever he did, it broke your heart. You wanted nothing more than to reach down and gently stroke his hair, to offer him some comfort, but it was rather difficult to do so with your hand still caught beneath him.

And then he started talking. But you quickly realized he wasn’t talking to you, so you shut your eyes once more to give him some privacy.

“Please, God,” he rasped, lifting his head just enough so that he could take your hand between both of his own. “I know I ain’t never been much of a praying man. Not much a church-going man either. And I guess You’d be right for not listening to me now. But I’m begging You, God. Please. Please protect our baby. Please let her be okay. And please protect my wife. I love her so much, God, and if I ever lost her—my life wouldn’t mean anything if I—oh, please. Please,” he softly prayed, his head falling forward against the bed once again as he quietly sobbed.

You felt your heart splinter into a million tiny pieces as you listened to your husband’s earnest pleas and felt his tears soak into your blanket. He’d been so strong for you this whole time, but the truth was that he was just as terrified. Listening to him now, you felt yourself falling even more in love with him than ever before.

“Sh,” you murmured tenderly, squeezing his hand lightly as you slowly opened your eyes. “I’m right here. It’s okay,” you whispered.

Rhett’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice and he turned to look at you, his beautiful blue eyes bloodshot and heavy laden with the weight of his sorrow.

“Honeybee,” he breathed out, rising from his chair so that he could lean over you and press a soft kiss to your lips. “Oh, baby, there you are. There you are,” he whispered, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“What happened?” you asked him in a small voice, terrified to actually know the answer.

“They had to sedate you a little bit, baby,” Rhett explained, smoothing your hair back with one hand. “You were getting real upset and they figured it would make it easier to do their exams. They ran a few tests and they’ve been monitoring you this whole time.”

“But the baby,” you said, gazing up at him with worried eyes. “What did they say about the baby?”

Was your baby going to make it?

Rhett’s expression fell slightly, which made your heart jump into your throat. “They haven’t said anything yet, honeybee. I think they’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

You could feel the tears pricking your eyes again. “I’m scared, Rhett,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” Rhett nodded solemnly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “So am I.” He ran a hand over your belly, bending his head to kiss it and then rest his cheek atop it. “Mommy and Daddy are right here, baby girl,” he whispered, his voice thick with feeling.

Swallowing the emotion that was threatening to drown you, you reached down and carded your fingers through Rhett’s hair, holding him close to you.

At that moment, the door to your room popped open and a nurse stuck her head inside. “Oh! Mrs. Abbott, you’re awake! I’ll go get the doctor,” she said, scurrying off before you could even open your mouth.

Turning to look at Rhett, you saw the fear that you had been battling all night reflected in his eyes as he lifted your hand and pressed it to his lips. He opened his mouth, as if to reassure you that it was going to be okay, but then he seemed to think better of it.

Was it going to be okay?

You didn’t think minutes had ever ticked by slower. By the time the door finally opened again, an older doctor in a white lab coat stepping into the room, you thought you were going to jump out of your skin. You must have startled slightly because Rhett rested his hand on your arm, stroking it softly in comfort.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Abbott,” the doctor said with a kind smile. He had lines around his eyes that told you he had spent a lot of time laughing and smiling. It was a strange detail to notice at that moment, given the circumstances, but you found it oddly comforting. His smile was focused on you as he pulled up a stool and sat beside your bed, across from Rhett. “My name is Dr. Cunningham. I’m the obstetrician on call, and I’m the one who examined you when you came in.”

“I don’t really remember,” you admitted, a bit embarrassed as you shook your head slowly.

“That’s quite alright. You had quite a shock, and things were a bit hectic when you came in,” Dr. Cunningham replied gently, his voice and demeanor putting you at ease. “We felt it was best to put you under a light sedation so that we could examine you without causing any more distress,” he explained.

You felt Rhett’s fingers wrapping around yours, squeezing gently. Your free hand moved to rest atop your rounded belly, as if trying to shield your child from the doctor’s words.

“Dr. Cunningham, please tell us. Is our baby okay?” you asked, your voice cracking towards the end. Fat, hot tears began to spill forth once more, dribbling down your cheeks and spilling off your chin.

The gray-haired doctor reached out to rest a consoling hand on your arm. “Your baby is just fine. In fact, she’s perfect.”

More precious words had never been spoken. Letting out a loud sob of relief, you turned to look at Rhett, who was already up out of his seat, reaching for you. Burying your face in his neck, you wept for joy, his tears spilling into your hair as he rubbed your back with his large hands.

Dr. Cunningham tactfully sat back and allowed the two of you to take a private moment to rest in the solace of his news.

“She’s okay,” you whispered, your lips ghosting across your husband’s skin. “She’s okay.” You said it over and over again until the words took root under your skin, in your brain, in your heart.

Rhett nodded, pressing kisses to the top of your head. “She’s okay, honeybee,” he murmured in response, reaching down to rest his hand over yours, where it was still clutching your belly.

After a couple more moments, Rhett shifted and sat back in his chair, his fingers still tightly intertwined with yours. “So what happened, Dr. Cunningham? Why was she bleeding?”

Taking on a look of deep professionalism, Dr. Cunningham leaned forward and flipped open your medical chart. “It seems, Mrs. Abbott, that you were experiencing something known as placenta previa. It’s fairly rare, but women have been known to experience it in the third trimester of their pregnancies.” At yours and Rhett’s concerned looks, he hastened to explain. “Basically, the placenta was partially covering the opening in your cervix. That’s what caused the bleeding, and the pain I’m sure you were experiencing.”

“But the baby’s okay?” you questioned, suddenly doubting the validity of that statement. “I mean, there was so much blood and—”

“Your baby is fine, I promise you,” Dr. Cunningham interjected, patting your arm in a fatherly gesture. “I ran the tests myself. Fetal heartbeat is strong and vitals look good—for both of you. I know this must have been traumatic, but we’ve stopped the bleeding. That’s what’s most important. And thankfully, your case was fairly mild as far as placenta previa goes.”

“Is it life threatening?” you asked, sensing without having to look at him the way Rhett tensed up beside you.

Dr. Cunningham hesitated a moment before answering truthfully. “It can be. But like I said, your case was thankfully on the milder side. And it’s good your husband got you here as fast as he did.”

Gazing at Rhett, you reached out to cup his cheek, caressing his skin lightly with your thumb. His blue eyes were focused on you as he turned his head to brush a kiss against the palm of your hand.

“What do we need to do?” he asked, tearing his gaze away from your face to look at the doctor. “Whatever she needs. I want to make sure that the both of them stay safe,” he said, his eyes flicking down to your stomach.

“Bed rest is key,” Dr. Cunningham emphasized firmly. “I suspect pushing your body a bit too hard may have had something to do with this. So limiting all physical activity is crucial.”

“Done,” Rhett nodded, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “She’s not gonna lift a finger, I promise.”

“That also means no sex,” Dr. Cunningham said bluntly, looking between the two of you. “From here on out, you’re going to have to refrain from any sexual activity. We don’t want to risk a placental abruption.”

Rhett nodded again, despite that bit of news being less than enthusing. “Understood,” he said firmly. “Anything to keep the baby safe.”

“I’m also going to write you a prescription for a medication to prevent early labor,” the doctor said, looking at you. At your alarmed expression, he held up his hands. “A precautionary measure, that’s all. Everything is going to be fine. So long as you take your bed rest seriously, you should be able to have a very healthy labor and delivery—at the appropriate time.”

“Thank you, Dr. Cunningham,” you murmured, your head swimming as you tried to take in all this information.

As if reading your mind, Dr. Cunningham smiled and rose from his stool. “I know that was a lot that I threw at you. I’ll give the two of you some time to talk and decompress. We’d like to keep you overnight, Mrs. Abbott, just to monitor things, but you should be good to go tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you,” Rhett said, rising as well and holding out his hand for a sturdy handshake.

“Of course,” Dr. Cunningham nodded, smiling as he stepped towards the door. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to call.”

As soon as he was gone, Rhett collapsed back into his chair, running his hands down his face and letting out a deep sigh. “Thank God,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Thank You, God.”

Running your hands over your belly, you were startled when you suddenly felt a swift kick to your lower abdomen.

There she was. There was your baby girl.

Lowering your head, you began to sob all over again, relief coursing through your veins.

“Aw, hey, baby,” Rhett murmured, standing up and leaning over you, brushing your tears away with the tips of his fingers. “Don’t cry. It’s all going to be okay. You heard the doctor. You and baby girl are going to be okay.”

“I know,” you nodded, sniffling. “I can feel her,” you explained, grabbing his hand and pressing it tightly across your stomach.

It took a minute, but you knew Rhett had felt her moving the second his eyes lit up and his face split into the hugest grin you’d ever seen.

“There she is,” he mumbled in awe, crouching down to kiss the spot where he’d felt her kick. “There you are, baby girl,” he said, speaking directly to her. “You gave us a quite a scare. But you’re alright. You and your mama are both alright. I love you both so much, you know that? You’re my whole world,” he told her, massaging your belly with shockingly gentle fingers.

“And you’re ours,” you murmured, running your fingers through his hair.

Rhett lifted his eyes and captured your hand between both of his, peppering it with soft kisses.

“God, you had me so scared, honeybee,” he admitted, stroking your wrist with his calloused fingers.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my whole life,” you confessed in return, biting down roughly on your lower lip to keep from crying again.

Rhett was quiet for a moment, just gazing at you. “Baby?” he prompted, pulling his chair closer to the head of the bed and sitting back down. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded, resting your head back against your pillows.

“On the drive here—well, I know you were upset and barely thinking straight. But you kept saying you should have told me something,” Rhett explained slowly, looking into your eyes. “What was it, honeybee? What should you have told me?”

You lowered your head at his words, shame blazing through you. Dr. Cunningham had said you’d been pushing yourself too hard, which had probably contributed to this condition. Why hadn’t you just been honest with your husband? Why had you tried to keep your troubles from him?

“Baby, please. Talk to me,” Rhett begged, stroking your hand gently.

“I—I should have told you that—that I’ve been struggling these past few weeks,” you confessed, your voice tinged with guilt and regret. “I felt like everything was going so smoothly, and then as soon as my third trimester hit, everything caught up to me all at once. I was tired all the time, and sometimes I would get this terrible pain in my back. And it was hard to do all the things I normally do around the house.”

“Honeybee, why didn’t you tell me?” Rhett demanded, looking hurt that you’d kept this from him.

“I—I’m sorry that I didn’t,” you apologized in a small voice, chin trembling. “You asked so many times if I was okay and I should have just been honest with you. But…I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why?” Rhett pressed, lifting your hand to his cheek. “Don’t you know you can tell me anything?”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment as you nodded, a few salty tears streaming out of your closed lids. “I know. I do know that. But I didn’t want to worry you. And you just—you seemed so happy, you know? So proud of the fact that everything was going so smoothly with my pregnancy. That it was so easy.” You shrugged your shoulders sadly, voicing out loud the truth that you hadn’t wanted to admit. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Rhett sucked in a breath, his eyes widening as he looked up at you. “Oh, baby,” he breathed out, practically knocking his chair backward in his haste to stand up and take your face in his hands. “Baby,” he said again, kissing you softly. “You could never disappoint me. Never. I’m so proud of you always. Did you really think I would be disappointed that you were having a hard time?”

“I don’t know,” you sniffled, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “I just—I wanted you to be happy.”

“Honeybee,” he said gently, stroking your cheek. “I’m happy when you’re happy. The only reason I was so happy that your pregnancy was so easy is because I hate watching you suffer. It had nothing to do with me being proud of you or not,” he said firmly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I’m so proud of you. So, so proud. Especially after all this.”

You started crying in earnest at his words, the floodgates of your heart opening as you let loose all the worry and anxiety and stress you’d been feeling lately. Rhett just held you and let you cry, rubbing small, soothing circles on your back.

“I love you so much, honeybee,” he whispered, resting his cheek atop your head.

“I love you, too,” you told him, burying your face in his chest.

The two of you sat together in peaceful silence for a while, the soft hum and beeps of monitors the only sounds in the room.

“I’m sorry, Rhett,” you finally said, your voice a little hoarse from all your tears. “I should have been honest with you. I put our daughter’s life at risk because of it.”

“Hey,” he murmured, shaking his head as he cupped your face in his hands. “No blaming yourself. She’s okay, and you’re okay, and that’s all that matters,” he insisted, kissing your forehead.

“I promise I won’t keep anything from you again,” you vowed, resting a hand over one of his and stroking the back of it with your thumb.

“You can always tell me everything, honeybee. Always,” Rhett promised you, lowering his forehead until it was pressed against yours.

“Everything?” you asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Everything,” he nodded.

“Okay, well in that case—I’m a little bummed that we can’t have anymore sex until after the baby comes,” you said, your eyes twinkling as your mouth curved up in amusement.

Rhett blinked a couple times in surprise, then threw his head back laughing. “There’s my honeybee,” he teased, kissing the tip of your nose. “Truth be told, I’m a little bummed, too,” he grinned.

“You really going to hold me to that bed rest rule like you told Dr. Cunningham?” you chuckled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“You bet your ass I am, you stubborn woman,” Rhett shot back, arching his eyebrows pointedly.

You laughed aloud at that, poking him affectionately. “But I’m your stubborn woman.”

“That you are, honeybee,” Rhett smiled, running a finger along your wedding band as he took his seat beside you once more. “That you are.”

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett x reader #x reader #x female reader #outer range #lewis pullman

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