#eddie has enough cake to ride them both

[incorrect911argoship]

Bobby: Where's Eddie?

Hen: He was supposed to ride with Buck.

Chim: Did you forget to pick him up?

Buck: Of course not. He told me he got a ride already, so I assumed he was with one of you.

*Eddie running up the stairs*

Eddie: Sorry cap, Tommy had to do a last minute stop that took longer than we thought.

Buck: Tommy? Pilot Tommy, who we just met 1 week ago?

Eddie: Yeah, he was near my place and told me I could ride with him-

Buck: How can you ride him when you barely know the guy?

Eddie: Wait, I didn't-

Buck: I thought you were MY passenger princess. I guess you ride any guy that offers.

#incorrect 911 quotes #incorrect buddie #buddie #911 #911 abc #bobby nash #evan buckley #chimney han #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #hen wilson #ravi panikkar #jealous buck #possessive buck #buck is going through it #eddie has enough cake to ride them both

[aidaronan]

No Vecna/S4 horrors, just... Steve who's so insecure and afraid of being abandoned that he can't help but think Eddie's replacing him in the eyes of the kids. That's the real reason he won't play D&D and avoids HFC. Because he feels like almost everyone he loves eventually slips away and this is just it happening again. (He never tells Robin how scared he is that once she goes off to college, he'll lose her too. Same with Nancy.) Eddie who projects this massive weirdo vibe because society can't reject him if he rejects himself. Afraid he'll never be as cool as Steve to the kids even as much as they love him as a DM. He feels like shit every time the kids go into Steve hero worship mode again because no one has ever talked about Eddie like that. And once he's not their DM anymore, well... (He never tells anyone that one reason he works so hard at guitar is to make himself irreplaceable.) This comes to a head at Dustin's birthday party. Steve and Eddie are taking verbal swipes at each other. It gets bad enough that Dustin plots and locks them both in a closet together. "Oh no, the lock broke and can only be opened through the power of two LEGAL ADULTS getting their SHIT TOGETHER." For a while, Steve and Eddie sit in silence, arms crossed. The tension finally breaks with Steve cracking a joke about Dustin's attitude problem, Eddie playfully joking back.

And then it's Eddie telling Steve about the way Dustin worships him, about the way the kids constantly talk about Steve with wonder and so much obvious love. How they spent a whole session fighting over who'd get to invite Steve to Christmas dinner, not out of pity, but because they all wanted him around.

And it's Steve telling Eddie the kids haven't shut up about him since they met him. How in November, Dustin was already mourning Eddie graduating, not because Eddie's an incredible DM, but because he gave them a space to be strange and different without fear. He never asked them to change and never wanted them to. They talk for ages until Dustin comes and lets them out for cake. When the party's over and they've split up ride duty, they meet up for milkshakes and talk more. By the time the day is over, they wonder why they haven't been friends the whole time.

And something feels different when it's all said and done. Settled. It's a frequent thing after that, for them to share the nice things that get said about the other behind their back.

It's like they're both acting as mirrors, held up to show the other that they do have people who care deeply, that they have a family, that said family's not going anywhere soon. (For them to start having their own nice things to say to the other's face, for them to realize that families always have room to grow.)

#thoughts and rambles #pre-steddie #or maybe they're just a couple'a guys being pals #stranger things

[biillys]

wayne knowing about eddie and billy and just accepting that billy's gonna more or less move into the trailer, into eddies room. not even bothering trying to fight it cos eddie's an adult, and billy's a few weeks shy of being one. becos they're both gonna be leaving soon, and he's honestly gonna fucking miss them. becos he doesn't know neil hargrove personally, but he doesn't trust that man one bit. becos he actually likes billy. likes the way he treats his nephew, like he matters, and that's all he's ever wanted for eddie.

hopper knowing about billy and eddie and being tired at most, amused at best. they're not sneaky, they're not subtle, they're typical stupid in-love teenagers. but small towns are dangerous, and these kids have been through enough, so hopper makes sure to make his presence known before knocking on the car window to tell them to take it somewhere more private, makes sure to be the one to attend and deal with the bar fight that broke out at the hideout. let's them off with barely a slap on the wrist and no permanent records whenever he has to drag them to the station, to help keep up appearances.

benny knowing about the hargrove boy and the munson boy, and after the 6th time he watches them play fucking footsie under the table, watches them let their hands wander over the table - so fucking close - only to snatch them away at last second, he's had enough. walks over and brings their regular order, even though they've already eaten, adds an extra piece of cake to the mix, and says 'happy 6 months. it's on the house.' becos they're not exactly quiet, then walks away. leaves them spluttering and coughing, clearing their throats, denials at the ready, but then he hears forks scraping across plates, and nervous laughter, and when he looks over next, they're hands aren't quite touching, but they're more relaxed than he's ever seen them, and they're the only one's in the dinner like they always are at this time of night, and he thinks if one of the only things he can give the people of this town is a safe space to be themselves, then that's something he can live with.

max knowing about her brother and dustin's new bff, not becos they've told her, but becos it's the only thing that makes sense. billy not flying off the handle as easily these days, eddie not being able to sneak out billy's window anywhere near as quietly as lucas can sneak out hers, the fucking mixtape that permanently lives in billy's car these days. honestly it's insane that the entire state of indiana doesn't know. but max knows for as loud and obnoxious and fucking annoying as billy is, that this is something personal, private, and that if anyone - if neil - found out, god knows what the consequences would be. so she plays oblivious and obtuse, even though the second they're alone, she's instantly bullying him for being dumb and in love, even if he does give it right back, rolling his eyes at how eddie's gleefully bragged about running into lucas in the bushes at the side of the hargrove-mayfield residence multiple times, offering him a ride home every time, says they're gonna start their own side club to hellfire, some stupid dumb long title that's something like it's 4am i'm your daddy's worst nightmare i'm in your bushes i'm climbing your windows i'm in your house i'm fucking your son club but then billy's giving her a considering look from the drivers seat of his car and saying 'or daughter, i guess.' and max is sinking down in her seat and smacking billy on the arm and 'shut the fuck up, billy.'

#does the upside down exist here? is it modern au? we just don't know! #idk what this is im watching shrek so like. obviously this is where my heads at #m #nqff #/ eddie munson #mungrove #ignores all the bits and pieces i have in my drafts and writes whatever the fuck this is 😇

[yournowheregirl]

Today I present to you, a silly little headcanon that’s near and dear to my heart: Eddie Munson, local carnival freak.

At the edge of Hawkins, there’s a year-round carnival, lively and loud from spring through fall, and quiet and deserted during the winter time. There are stands where you play games to win prizes, food stalls with delicious sweets, attractions that make your head spin, and in the middle of it all, the freak show.

That’s where little Eddie Munson grows up, in between the strange and bizarre. His parents both work at the carnival, his dad at the shooting range, his mom at the freak show as a so-called ‘real-life mermaid’ (when Eddie was a baby, they even dressed him up in a similar mermaid tail, showcasing him as a merbaby). Eddie’s uncle Wayne also works at the freak show, but doing behind the scenes jobs, rather than acting.

For a kid, growing up at a carnival feels magical. Every day, Eddie run around across the grounds, goes on rides for free, and gets doted on by the the nice ladies at the funnel cake stand, who always saves him a little extra. He also learns all the behind the scenes secrets, like how balloon popping stand is kind of rigged and how the bearded lady glues on extra hair to make her beard look fuller. For him, it’s paradise.

His father wants him to get his hands dirty as soon as he’s old enough, teaching how to clean the rifles and how to make the customer think they’re about to win big, when in actuality, they’re sure to lose. Eddie doesn’t like working with his dad, he always loses his temper whenever Eddie messes something up or complains that his dad didn’t play fair.

And while he doesn’t like working at the shooting range, he loves working at the freak show. He’d spent ages backstage, watching the actors get ready, listening to his mom talk as she did her make-up and got into her costume, helping uncle Wayne count the tickets in the ticket booth.

But what really gets Eddie’s heart racing is when the lights went out and the show’s announcer, Theodore, walks on stage. He’s the one outside in his velvet top hat and cherry red tails who lures people in with promises of a magical and mysterious show, and that showmanship continues inside the tent. With flailing hands and a deep, mesmerizing voice, he compels the audience as he introduces the acts and Eddie watches him with big eyes everyday. When he grows up, he wants to be exactly like Theo.

Theo takes him under his wing, teaches him the secrets of presentation and storytelling but every time Eddie begs him to get on stage, Theo shakes his head and tells him he’s not ready yet. Eddie practices and practices, talking to himself in the ticket booth - Wayne said he’s old enough to run that by himself now - and telling his mother the most elaborate stories. Still, he’s stuck in the ticket booth most of the days, scribbling stories he’d tell one day on a notepad.

One day, Theo is up on his soapbox in front of the tent, when he has the worst coughing fit Eddie has ever seen. He swears he’s too sick to continue so Wayne pushes Eddie forward. He tumbles onto the wooden crate, his limbs trembling as he watches the carnival goers passing by. His voice is shaky at first, but then he remembers Theo’s advice: get their attention and make sure you keep it.

So, Eddie howls like a goddamn wolf, the carnival visitors turn their heads in curiosity and then Eddie presents the freak show like he has done so a thousand times before.

It works.

It works really well, in fact.

Turns out, people go crazy for a scrawny kid with messy curls who promises them a show beyond their wildest imagination. Even people who’d normally never set foot inside, like those preppy kids in their spotless white polos and perfectly coiffed hair, are fascinated by Eddie’s voice and showmanship.

Eddie’s heart is racing once he’s back inside the tent, his mouth going a hundred miles an hour as he tells his mom about what just happened. She just smiles and ruffles his curls and tells him she’s so proud of him. Wayne claps him on the back, tells him a nice work, kiddo and hurries back to start the show.

Eddie follows him, confused because how is the show going to start when Theo is too sick to even speak and why is Theo all dressed up in his top hat and tailcoat sauntering across the stage already? But then, Theo catches his eye from across the tent and winks at him and Eddie knows it was an all act to give his first taste of actual showmanship. And now, he’s hungry for more, so he and Theo make a deal. Eddie’s allowed to be announcer outside, doing whatever it takes to get people inside the tent, and Theo takes care of the presentation inside, saying that Eddie has to work hard to earn his top hat and tails.

It’s a perfectly good solution, except that people outside the carnival start to notice too. The kids who walk past him as he stands on his soapbox, are the same kids that walk past him in the hallways at school and once word gets out that Eddie is the one pulling crazy stunts to get people to see the most bizarre things, they start to make fun of him for it. They whisper rumors behind his back and some girls act all scared as he sits down in class. Some of the boys are shoving him and taunting him to tell them a good story. When he freezes on the spot, unable to speak, they laugh at him and one boy even says that he can see why they hired Eddie because he’s just as big of a freak as the rest of them.

After yet another day of people taunting him for no reason, Eddie cries on the way home. Not because they hurt his feelings, but because he doesn’t understand what his classmates see, he doesn’t see how people could ever think that the people he grew up with, could ever be scary. Because those are the same people who help him with his math homework, who tell jokes and make him laugh until his stomach hurts, who hold his hand when his mom gets sick and his dad gets home drunk out of his mind. Just because they are (or act) a little different, doesn’t mean they’re scary or weird, just means they’re unique.

From that moment on, Eddie wears his newly acquired nickname with pride because his classmates might not see it, but he’s proud to be a freak.

#eddie munson #eddie munson ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #listen!! i am a carnival child #i grew up on traveling fun fairs #and my grandma worked at a freak show as a mermaid when she was young #(shout out to you grandma <3) #so this is very dear to my heart #and since i'm probably gonna write a part 2 (maybe 3) with steve's pov #i'm gonna also gonna tag this as #steddie #my writing

[mmtions]

re: your reply to schrödinger’s love confession: YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES! THAT IS IT EXACTLY!!!! 2/3 of the fic are Eddie and the readers slowly descending into madness, and Linda finding the whole thing extremely entertaining. and yes, whether they were or weren't together the whole time is left unclear, because who cares right, at until the epilogue when their one year anniversary is coming up and eddie realises he can't be sure when it is.

btw, i told myself i wouldn't do this today that id wait a few days but then i got another idea halp me the buddie mania has taken me

however, with the texas madness I got another fun working theory I’m going to call: FOOD IS THE FOOD OF LOVE! (because taking Shakespearean quotes and using them for my evil headcanon purposes gives me great pleasure)

basically, now after Texas, the floodgates are really truly open and eddie needs to cook for the ones he loves. so, does he go a little overboard, perhaps. but does he get a little over ambitious, going around and spouting his new personal motto “hey, if you can read the recipe, you can make the recipe” , maybe. look, eddie is an intense guy and if he's going to do something, he's gonna go all in. plus, you know what, when it comes to cooking, a little confidence and some trial and error go a long way and soon, he can use a pressure-cooker and a oven thermometer with the best of them.

and then christopher discovers the chocolate guy videos.

and then buck’s birthday is coming up.

and look, eddie isn’t an idiot. he knows that he isn’t anywhere near the level of skill of the chocolate guy. but it gives him an idea. it inspires him, ok. because surely, he should be able to make a birthday cake for buck from scratch. you know, as a thank you for all the times buck’s been there for him in the past year. not as a declaration of love or anything. there’s totally not a lot riding on the success of this. 

and after all, he is a firefighter, he works in extreme conditions every day of the week. how difficult can it really be to make gooey salted caramel for the filling, anyway.

okay listen thATs tHe ThING i'm SENSITIVE ABOUT. did you see that post like eddie cooking for his sisters aged 12 and then never again. god. everytime i think i'm over like five minutes of eddie content from yesterday it turns out i'm absolutely not. the tamales!!!

anyway yes. i absolutely believe eddie is a rigid recipe follower and does not trust his instincts at all. which actually makes him a better baker than cook technically, though he's getting better at both. it's maybe time to admit he's a control freak when he suddenly has thirteen different ways of checking the temperature of his oven. (I was going to list out the different treats he makes each of the 118 - AND CARLA HE MAKES LOTS OF GOODIES FOR CARLA because she deserves it i stg s6 better bring some appreciation for carla - but i hate baking with a passion and i'm in the uk so even if i could name some baked treats i bet they'll all be called different things anyway).

anyway yes he tries to bake for buck but like it's his narrative so in his head they're disasters. and he keeps foisting them off on various people (christopher's class has diabetes now after the fourth attempt) because they're terrible and not good enough. and literally everyone responds to him like "um eddie these were delicious what are u talking about" and he's like no not good enough. eddie control freak my beloved.

anyway eddie is still trying to perfect the recipe when Buck literally just finds some leftovers in the fridge and scarfs them down with absolutely no discrimination. and he's says they're delicious, with caramel stuck to his bottom lip, and eddie just has to kiss him - mostly because buck looks delicious, but also partly out of relief that he doesn't have to bake that recipe anymore.

(later eddie claims he successfully courted buck - buck privately thinks courting should involve a bit more than launching oneself around the kitchen table for a searing kiss, but he's not complaining)

#asks #thanks beloved anon!

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Birthday

Summary: could you do a hs losers x reader where the readers new to town and hates her bday bc each year her past friends and family had always forgotten or did nothing so when richie finds out her bdays coming up he tells the losers and they all plan a special surprise party and richie saves up and gets her something super special and the losers r all like wow he’s never gotten anyone anything like this b4 so she finds out that he likes her or something so it’s like the best bday she’s ever had

Richie bikes swiftly passed you, faster than he usually does, which can only mean he’s trying to surpass you. You barely refrain from flipping him the bird in public, as you too throw your weight into peddling. It’s no use, Richie is more athletic than you by a long shot, and he’s been practicing with Eddie for track. You’ll never be able to catch up with him with no viable effort.

‘You asshole,’ you yell out to him, noticing an elder woman pledging through her yard too late to stop your exclamation. She regards the both of you with malcontent, stabbing her hark too brutally in the soil of her allotment for it to be a coincidence.

‘Not my fault your short legs can’t reach the peddles.’

You growl, lifting up from your saddle to race faster, but Richie sees you do it and does nothing but laugh.

Any other time you might give him hell for it, but today, you are in no mood to indulge in Richie’s escapades.

It’s your birthday, and while for most that equalizes a fun day stacked with presents and cake, to you it stands for a day full of misery.

Your birthday is cursed. And no, that is not you being dramatic. At your ninth birthday, your cake got slammed into floor, therefor ruing the gift your parents had been working on for weeks, and which was their only present.

At age ten, you fell off your brand new bike into a ravine and had to go to the hospital to get eleven stitches. On your fourteenth birthday, you and your parents got into such a huge fight they send you up to your room and forbad you from sneaking down at any point in the day.

There are more examples to back up your claim for the terrible birthdays, but you have tried to desperately block them all out, so you won’t rehash them.

That’s why your so peeved that Richie is forcing you to the quarry.

‘If you could tell me where I’m supposed to be going to bet u could find a short cut and be there faster than you.’

‘Nice try Dora, I’m not telling you anything. It’s a surprise.’

‘Alright, I get two attempts. If I can’t guess where we’re going, I’ll do your homework for a week.’

‘And if you do guess it?’

‘Then you owe me a favor and no matter for what reason I cash it in, you don’t get to complain.’

‘Fine, bring it miss know it all.’ Richie slows down to slide next to you, the wind picking up as the two of you descend down the mountain. His smile is mischievous and cheeky, probably too confident to think you’ll be able to reckon the spot he has in mind.

If only he knew that you had limited the possibilities to two places, the exact amount of guess you were granted.

‘Hm, are we going to the arcade?’ Your first theory is. Richie doesn’t have anything on him right now, except pennies that have been rinkeling inside his pockets the entire bike ride, the only thing he needs to go to the arcade.

Richie smirks, and shakes his head. ‘Try one my dear, may I say that the odds aren’t in your favor right now?’

His impressive ego in the way he taunts you with the right answer fuels your desire to be right. ‘Are we going to the Barrens?’ You sing, smiling wide as Richie’s shrinks.

‘Eh, no?’ He says, but he sounds petulant. ‘Fuck this shit, what gave it away?’

‘A girl never reveals her secrets’, you say covertly, forgetting momentarily about the agitating day. You suspect that might have been Richie’s intention.

It’s not like the Barrens is such a stretch in the first place, the losers and you have made that place your own, but you do hypothesize that he may have planned something special for you.

Your theory turns out to be true, as you can spot a long table at the end of the dirt path you and Richie are currently riding on to get to the clubhouse. The table is stacked with a variety of candies, your favorite, drinks that are sweet enough to rot your teeth, something Richie should be more aware off - having a dad who is a dentist-, and a giant cake with eight candles on. Each one representing a loser.

You say nothing as you approach, in a sneaky way torturing Richie a bit more before revealing that you’re at the verge of tears of this nice gesture. Richie slows down his speed by dragging his shoes along the dirt, glances darting nervously towards your face.

‘I know you said no parties, but how else was I supposed to show off my rocking dance moves?’

‘Do you mean the moves you make that look like you’re dying?’ Stan chides, him and the rest of the losers rolling up behind you two. They’re all walking next to their bikes, and Bill’s hands are smudges with cake residue he somehow missed while cleaning up. They didn’t want to be here before you and ruin the ‘surprise’, but it’s clear everyone has worked hard to organize this for you.

‘Fuck you Stan the man, the color green doesn’t fit you.’

‘Happy’, Bev grounds out, leveling Richie with one look, the way only Bev can, and then address you. ‘Birthday.’ She hugs you despite you still holding your bike, and you let it clatter to the ground with a loud bang.

‘Thanks Bev.’

‘Happy Birthday’, the other losers also call out, because there’s just too many of them for each to wait their turn.

‘We hope you don’t mind we don’t have any presents, we spend basically all of it getting ingredients for the cake, which we had to redo- twice.’

They don’t offer any other explanation about why the cake had to be remade two times, but by Eddie’s scowl you can fill in the blanks.

‘No, honestly, this is already too much.’ It is too much, but their efforts are so kind and heartwarming that you have to bit back a happy squall. No one has ever bothered to organize anything for your birthday, whether it be purchasing a two dollar present or even ordering a cake, but these people that you had met less then a year ago were willing to scramble together all the money they could, just so they could turn your day special. Thank god for moving to Derry.

For the first time in years, your birthday has brought smiles and laughter, and no tears and weeping moods.

‘Nonsense my dearest young lady, this is but a blip on our radar, a speck of dust on the tv, nothing compared too-‘

‘Can we please cut the cake now? Before something else goes wrong with it?’ Eddie glowers, refuting to wait for an affirmative.

‘Don’t forget the candles,’ Ben says as he follows Eddie to the table. You’re about to join them, when a hand on your wrists stops you.

‘Hey, Y/N? You really don’t mind this right? I know you said you didn’t want anything but I know how nice it is be caught off guard with something like this.’ Richie rubs the back of his head as if that makes him see any less anxious. It’s incredible how smart someone can be while simultaneously also being so dense.

‘Richie’, you say as you smile, unable to hide it any longer. ‘It’s amazing, thank you so much. If there is any way I can repay you I’ll do that. I’m really happy with this.’

‘That’s good, not that I was worried about it, who isn’t a fan of everything I do?’

Rolling your eyes only spurs Richie on, but it’s become an automatic response now, you can’t help but do it.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. I did get you another gift. Two actually, if you count my huge dong as one.’

‘Gross Richie, why do you always have to add something sexual to everything?’

‘It’s my game babe, love it or leave it. Anyway, here is the gift if you want it. If you don’t that’s fine too.’

‘Don’t get all shy on me now Rich’, you tease as your bump your arm into his while grabbing the package. ‘I’ve just gotten used to your antics.’

The package isn’t heavy, but it also isn’t light. It’s wrapped in enough layer that you can’t feel what’s inside of it just by holding it, but that was probably Richie’s intention. That or he is simply horrible at wrapping up.

While you carefully peel off each layer, you begin to speculate on what it could be. It could be a gag gift, but Richie looked sincere, and his eyes behind his glasses are magnified in true anticipation, a gag gift wouldn’t illicit that response.

As soon as the final layer is detached, you gasp, armored by the actual gift. It’s a blue bracelet, covered in butterfly pattering. You once mentioned having a similar one as a kid that you loved but lost one day while playing outside and had been sad about for weeks.

You can’t believe Richie had kept it in his mind, and had gone out to look for it.

‘Richie… I don’t even know what to say right now.’ You exclaim, squeezing the bracelet in your hand tightly, a blush covering your face. Richie’s mimics yours. ‘Thank you’, you say while reaching out to him and kissing him on the cheek. Richie face burns a brighter red.

‘Yeah… glad to be of service.’ His mind is ball parks away, and he is left dazed.

‘Come on Y/N, it’s time for you to blow out the candles.’

You go easily, letting your hand linger around Richie’s, deciding mentally that you’ll do it tonight before you go home. Your birthday has already been better than anything you could have imagined, and maybe it has one more miracle left to give. If Richie says yes to your question about going on a date, then this will truly have been the best birthday you have every had. By the love struck expression Richie is walking around with, you have an inkling as to what his response might be.

You blow out your candles, but you don’t need to make a wish. You already have everything you could possibly want.

----

‘Off course that asshole buys her a gift, but never returns the money I loaned him so long ago. I’m not a fucking bank.’

‘I think it’s cute.’

‘No, Eddie is right, I’m also waiting on my refund.’

‘It’s adorable he bought her something, he really can’t hide his crush anymore.’

#richie tozier #My writing #richie x reader #the losers x reader #it x reader #it imagines #richie tozier x reader

[rhaenyratargeryn]

Exit Wounds (Cyberpunk 2077)

Pairing: Takemura Goro x (female) V Rating: Mature Summary: When his plans for revenge fail, V and Takemura are left right where they once started. A dying thief and a disgraced soldier, with as much in common as they lack and an improbable bond that holds them to one another. Notes: Post-Canon, Nomad ending. Spoilers for post-game! Read on AO3

They’d picked up a tail somewhere around the border. Whomever it was, they were skillful and cautious, but even still the Aldecaldos were able to lose them in a sandstorm across the Mojave. After a few weeks, it seemed that maybe they had even died out there in the hot sands.

Panam had taken V to a few experts along their trail, people who had done work for the family but so far, there had been little more than additional pills to take. She was swallowing a pharmacy every morning just to keep blood out of her mouth, but the worst of the seizures were under control and well— there was still time. Six months Alt had said, but maybe more. One had already passed and V felt better. 

Well. Physically at least. 

Inside her head things had changed, for better or for worse, was an academic argument that V hadn’t the time to ponder. She had, god forbid it, gotten used to having Silverhand in her head. The lack of Johnny’s familiar presence in her mind had left a strange sort of… loneliness in her. A feeling that wouldn’t leave her, a gnawing sensation that something was missing.

She had Johnny’s memories still and her own of him, though it did little to console her. She sat on the dusty fender of one of the trucks, rubbing a smudge from Johnny’s aviators, one of the handful of tangible mementos she kept of the old rocker. The sun above was already searing hot, the heat like a burn on the back of V’s neck.

“How far out did you spot um?” Mitch’s voice cut through her thoughts and V squinted against the bright daylight up at the two younger nomad drivers, Fiona and Tiger. They’d been sent out on a water run, returning from the nearest town several miles out with gallons full to keep the Aldecaldos going further across the desert.

“Cut us off. Started a fire fight. It was fuckin’ dicey, Mitch. We got lucky. Fiona clipped him and then his hood. Whole ride started smoking and then died under him.”

“Was it Arasaka?” V asked, replacing the aviators over her eyes.

Tiger and Fiona shared looks and then with a tentative nod, Fiona answered in the affirmative.

“We think so. He moved like a damn one man army, even with how fucked up he seemed.”

“Fucked up?”

“The guy was a monster, but it was like… I dunno. Like he was hurt?”

“Never corner a wounded animal…” Panam offered cryptically from where she sat alongside V, shooting her a worried look.

“Wounded animals got nothin’ to lose,” V said in agreement, then got up with a sigh, “You said you shot him? His car broke down too?”

“Yeah, probably right where we left um… you want us to go back, Panam? Make sure he dropped?”

“I’ll tag along. Hitch over with you both.” V said, Panam frowning at the suggestion, “I could jack in, find out what info he has got. I know Arasaka, Panam, I’m the best to check it out.”

“You don’t need my permission, V—”

“But?”

Panam scowled, turning her eyes to the other Aldecaldos and jerking her head to the side in a silent scram. They left, Mitch stayed, crossing his arms.

“The guy is toast. Why not just leave him?” Panam said, a sigh in her throat, “I dunno. I don’t like this, V. Arasaka hasn’t made a peep since we left. Thought we were keeping under the radar…”

“Clearly not.” Mitch said with a shrug, “And he might be toast. Or he mighta had back up. He might be on his way back to the NC to give up our location. We should make sure he is flatlined, if anything.”

Panam was the head of the family now, her word given final weight of law, but more often than not they had worked together as a sort of “council”. Panam was still getting used to Saul’s absence, an empty void that no one attempted to fill, because no one could ever do so. She looked to V and Mitch for guidance and right now it was obvious in the way she worried her bottom lip and flashed a look up and down V that she wished Mitch had agreed with her.

“You’ll keep outta trouble?” Panam said and V couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“I’m already dyin’, what other shenanigans could I get up to?”

Panam scoffed, clearly not liking the answer.

“Ugh, just be safe! Come back in one piece... or this shitty ass trip has been for nothin’.”

This was what having a family was all about though. Caring. Scolding. And now that she had it, V wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not for all the eddies and fame in Night City.

“Be back soon then.” V said, meeting back up with Fiona and Tiger with a short wave behind her.

---

It wasn’t a long drive to the spot where they had tangled with the possible Arasaka soldier and that actually genuinely worried V. They’d gotten close. Too close.

“There it is, can you see?” Fiona said, pointing her cigarette towards the ever larger growing mass of grey smoke.

“Pull off up here… Fiona, you stay with the car and I’ll take Tiger with me. You hear shots or us hollerin’ you peel outta here and go get the others, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Got it.” Fiona flicked ash unto the sand as she pulled the car up slowly to the patch of dried red earth, hidden in the shadow of a high rock and threw the gear into park.

Tiger followed V out, his rifle at the ready as he hung back a few steps. V had Johnny’s— no, her pistol. It was strange how well it fit in her hand, a perfectly balanced weapon that she loaded and readied with the familiarity of one who had used it for years, not a few weeks.

The remnants of the enemy jeep were still burning, fire crackling faintly from beneath the blackened and smoke streaked hood. The thing was already doomed before it took a few good shots to the metal, the paint peeling from the sides everywhere from overexposure to sunlight and rough sands. It was a junker, not exactly the kind of thing an Arasaka soldier would drive.

V came up around the drivers side while Tiger kept back, rifle ready for longshots. No one seemed to be in the car. V checked the handle with the back of her hand, feeling only the heat from the sun on it. She opened it quickly, hand going back to hold her pistol ready as she checked the passenger seat and back. 

No one.

Frowning, she noticed blood on the driver’s seat, smeared across the old cracked leather. The trail continued on the ground, darkening the already caked red dirt with splotches. Any rations or water the truck held were taken and whomever was driving had begun to walk, following the tire tracks Fiona and Tiger had originally left behind.

V felt her blood run cold as the depth of her mistake fell on her.

“Tiger! Turn ‘round, get back to Fiona!”

“W-what?” the young man sputtered, gun up and ready as the panic in V’s voice clearly showed through.

“Get back to the damn car!”

V broke out in a run, leaving him behind as she tried not to let her heart surge with panic. Her eyes caught the blood trail on the ground… making its way to the same rock, the only place of shade, where they had parked the car.

By the time V was back in the shadow of the dark rock formation, her fear was confirmed.

Fiona was out of the car, her eyes wide and fearful and her hands behind her head as the man behind her pointed a gun to her temple.

A man whose cold, mechanical grey eyes cut right through V’s chest and threatened to suck the breath from her lungs.

Takemura’s lips twitched into a smile that was more sneer than anything. Surprise registering just for a moment on his features, or maybe it was more like shock.

“The very woman I have been looking for.”

Tiger had been right. Takemora was a mess. Even without the gunshot wound bleeding sluggishly at his side, his usual immaculate bun was loosened, strands falling across his sun-scorched face, darkening his already warm complexion with deep reds.

He was indeed a wounded animal, a wounded wolf, snarling and ready to take its prey with it to the grave.

V brought her hands up, holding her pistol out and quickly ejecting the clip and then the bullet in the chamber. Carefully, she set the pistol on the ground.

“A wise choice.” Takemura said, accepting her silent surrender.

“Let her go, Goro.”

“You insult me.” he spat, Fiona crying out as his grip tightened and jerked at the back of her neck.

“Fine! Fine— Takemura. Let her go. You came out here for me, yeah? Don’t need the kid.”

“What is one more life to you, V? You already have so many to answer for.” Takemura said, but despite his words, his grip relented on Fiona, “I am here only for one. One that mattered most…”

Takemura took the gun from Fiona’s belt, tossing it far off into the dirt before shoving Fiona away from him dispassionately.

“Do not move.” was all he said to Fiona, his eyes never leaving V’s. Takemura staggered forward. He tried not to let the pain show, but it was obvious he had lost too much blood. He wouldn’t survive that wound without help, but something in his eyes made V think… he didn’t intend to.

V didn’t run, didn’t even struggle as he reached out and grabbed her throat with a hand, sticky with dried blood. He dragged her in close, close enough that she could smell the smoke on his clothes and feel the heat of his breath.

A quiet seemed to come over him, an almost peaceful stillness. His eyes were half lidded as he looked down at her, his hand moving to hold the back of her neck more gently, almost in an embrace as the other held the pistol close to her head.

“... you should have left me to die that da-”

Takemura’s words were cut off with a strangled cry of pain as Tiger’s rifle thundered and a shot grazed over his shoulder and tore fabric and flesh from him. The impact was enough to throw Takemura off balance, giving V enough time to force him back onto the ground, scrambling for the pistol in his hand.

It was a dirty fight— more of a scuffle than anything as blood loss and dehydration seemingly had already sapped the former Arasaka bodyguard of much of his strength. V did him the favor of knocking him across the head with the butt of his pistol before he could get up and risk another shot from Tiger. Somehow, V felt the younger man wouldn’t miss the second time around.

Tiger clamored down from the rockface, rifle still up and ready for another shot.

“No! He’s down!” V hovered over Takemura, shielding him from Tiger’s barrel.

“I missed um, V! Fucker still breathing.”

Fiona had scrambled up from the dirt, rubbing away the clean spots where her tears had made trails down her cheeks.

“Yeah and he’s gonna stay that way, alright? Just… just check on Fiona and get the damn car going. We’re taking him back to camp.”

“V, what? No. No, no way. We can’t take some Arasaka spy back with us!”

“He ain’t Arasaka.” V said behind clenched teeth, straining to haul up the dead weight of her former partner in crime, “Eh… hey, help me here will ya?”

Tiger stared, dumbfounded as his rifle went lax in his hands.

“Look, we need to know what he knows. We can do that better somewhere safe and with him not leaking to death so help me get him in the damn car.”

--

If V had thought Tiger and Fiona put up a fuss on the drive back, she had not fully imagined how Panam would react. V wondered to herself if Saul had ever yelled at Panam this way before, because it certainly matched the kind of ferocity she had seen between the pair.

“Are you listening to me, V?!”

How could you miss it?

V’s inner voice, which sometimes still sounded a lot like one Mr. Silverhand, provided in his deadpan voice. It was an imagined voice, but it still brought a smile to her lips as V let herself indulge in the fantasy that he remained with her.

“Jesus… completely ignoring me. V. You brought an Arasaka spy to the camp. We can’t let him go now! Our best bet is to put two in his skull and burying him in a sand drift and hope his friends don’t come looking!”

“No one is gonna come lookin’, Panam. He’s former Arasaka. Outcasted. Exiled— whatever you wanna call it. He doesn’t got any back up. They don’t even know he is here and would kill him as surely they would any of us.” V said, leaning back in one of the camp’s creaky metal folding chairs.

Even in the firelight it was easy to see the lack of faith in Panam’s expression as she paced around the firepit, raking her hands roughly over her face.

“Former Arsaka, current Arasaka. Shit, V, you think that matters? I got a half dead highly trained killer in this camp who wants to off you.”

V shrugged.

“Oh my god, you are impossible!”

“I’m the only one he is a danger to, so I don’t know why—”

“Do not finish that sentence. You know damn well why.”

Still managing to piss off everyone, I see. Fucked off to the furthest outer reaches of the net and Johnny’s words still somehow played in her head. 

“Sorry.” V said with a grumble, resting all four legs of the chair back to the ground, “He might know something. And if he does or doesn’t, we can just patch him up and drop him at the nearest town.”

“Oh, yeah. Real nice, V. So he can come after us again?”

“I’m not gonna kill him.”

Panam sighed— well. It was more like a half assed hoarse yell from the back of her throat, but V thought she meant it as a sigh.

“... they manage to fix him up at all?”

“Yeah… yeah it looks like he had one shot of Bounce Back left. Kept him from flatlining when he took that hit to the side. He was already healin’ up. Bullet was through and through. Tiger only managed to graze him. Kid got nervous or else your old friend wouldn’t have a face right now.”

Panam crossed her arms, still fidgeting from side to side.

“That ain’t even his worst problems. Guy probably hasn’t eaten in days and his water ran out long off too. This… well. I don’t think he was planning on going back to NC.”

After a moment, V stood, rubbing both hands up behind her neck and then back down with a groan.

“I don’t think so either.”

“You… gonna see him?”

“You got him restrained?”

“Yeah, V. He’s in and out. Was delirious for a bit, but they managed to get some water in him. V… he’s in a bad way.”

“...s’my fault.” V said, words a half mumble, “You heard on the radio. Our plan got Hanako Arasaka killed. I… didn’t want that, but Alt had her own plans, ya know? Christ, at the time I didn’t even think to know, I was just trying to keep alive.”

Panam shook her head, “We lost people too. Saul. Teddy. Bob. … fuck, nearly lost more. You didn’t know Alt was going to stage a hostile god damn take over. He can’t blame you.”

“He will.” V said, her voice quiet, “I… I’ll try to talk to him. At least keep him from doing anything stupid thinking we got plans to flatline him.”

“Yeah, just… be careful, V. Like I said. The sun does weird bullshit to your head out in this place.”

V only nodded, gripping Panam’s shoulder just briefly as she passed towards the tent where they were keeping Takemura.

---

Two armed nomads were outside the tent while another two had been inside while Tom, a former ripperdoc and current nomad senior, had worked on Takemura. The three had left to give V some space, but the other guards remained outside nearby.

Takemura was laid out on one of the cots, his ruined shirt cut and stripped from him, leaving him bare from the waist up except where bandages were wrapped tightly around his middle and then up around his shoulder and back. V had always seen the exposed trace of chrome that wrapped around his neck and along his jaw, but now she could see where cyberware traced across his bare arms and lined one side of his ribs. Their purpose, V couldn’t say, and most likely, they didn’t work anymore given Takemura’s burned status with Arasaka.

The rest of his body was, at least by appearances, organic. Smooth olive complected skin over toned muscle. Takemura’s face gave away his age. The lines on his forehead and around his mouth indicated years of deep thinking… or deep scowling, but otherwise he had kept himself at peak condition. A work requirement no doubt of being a top Arasaka bodyguard.

His breathing was sharp, but steady enough. His eyes were closed, but a grimace rested permanently across his features even in sleep.

V pulled up a chair, turning it backwards as she straddled it and leaned her arms against the back frame.

“... you look like shit, man.” she said, not expecting an answer. She didn’t get one either, not a vocal one. Instead she got the faint clatter of metal against metal as Takemura moved and the cuffs holding his arms to the bed rattled against the frame.

She had flinched at the sound, embarrassing herself.

His eyes opened, the pale grey like moonlight slicing through darkened clouds. He looked hazy, drugged up… his eyes looked over at her with only the vaguest recognition.

“... V?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I am… not dead. A dissapointment.”

“Sorry— you were hoping we’d put two in your head while you slept?”

Takemura made a gruff sound that V took as an affirmative.

“Would have made it easier.”

“Uh huh, you know they got hotlines for this kinda thing.”

Takemura groaned, “I remember. You said same thing in Night City.”

“I’m sure someone in camp would be happy to help you out if you try shooting me again.”

Takemura went silent at that, turning his eyes upwards towards the top of the tent with a deep frown. Like he was remembering something he had, for a moment, forgotten.

“I will kill you, V. For what has been done.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with Hana-”

“You insult her by speaking her name.” his voice was harsh, pain straining the words as he tried to sit up and found himself unable to bear his wounds.

“...I’m sorry, Takemura. I didn’t— it wasn’t— I didn’t want anyone to get hurt… I was dying. Like literally in that moment fucking flatlining. I did what I had to try and sever that relic from my head and… and that AI did what she wanted.”

“You let it in. It turned systems against Arasaka. Hanako-sama— Hanako-sama was shredded by hacked mech units. Beyond recognition! And you tell me you didn’t know? You knew it would be nothing good.”

“... when I was there, when Alt took over… she was only attacking soldiers who attacked us. I don’t know what happened with Hanako-sama, but—”

“And now I have told you what happened to Hanako-sama.” Takemura said, his words clipped, “Get out— better still, let me die having done my duty.”

V swallowed thickly, rolling her lips together before she said quietly, “I’m not gonna do that.” 

Takemura did not respond. He shut his eyes, as if he refused to even give V the dignity of looking at them. His brow was tight, pained and yet still grimly determined. 

There were things she still needed to ask him— did Arasaka know where he was? Did he still plan to bide his time and kill her? V felt her heart throb at the very idea that this man who she had trusted, had worked with, had saved her… now utterly hated her.

He had sent her one message after she had left Night City, standing among the rubble and ruin of Arasaka Tower.

Rot in hell, クソ野郎.

In all honesty, the way he had spoken, the things he said… well, she hadn’t expected to hear or see him again. V had done with that knowledge what she did with most things… hit delete on the message and then buried it in the back of her thoughts with Jackie and the other countless people she had let down. These things were all just part of the sins she figured she would pay for in six months when her body finally succeeded in killing itself. A part of her had even wondered if the agony of that, the pain of each seizure, the waking exhaustion, nausea and memory loss… if her suffering could tip those scales even the slightest. Make it even. 

Just another fairy-tale dream. Johnny’s voice scoffed in her imagination.

Maybe suicide was still his intention, but it was obvious now to V the means of that demise had changed. Takemura couldn’t get Yorinobu now, but he could get her. The one who had promised to help him gain his revenge and then denied it for him forever.

V stood and quietly left through the tent flap, barely giving an appreciative nod to the guards out front as she staggered off to her own tent, feeling sick from the faint throb that had begun to pulse in the back of her neck… from regret. From guilt.

Her vision cut, lines of static racing across her sight and making shapes turn into nothing more than incomprehensible blurs. V felt the world shift and jerk from side to side, the ground rising up to meet her as she tripped over her own feet and fell with a thud to the dirt.

Even laying there, voices of alarm tuned out and far away, faces blurred and unidentifiable, V could feel the churning turning sensation as the Earth spun slowly through space. Falling, through silent cold space.

Like Jackie, like T-Bug. Like Johnny.

Like all the dead that had come before her. 

Breathing deeply, V curled her fingers into the red sand, and held on.

Not yet, V. Not yet.

#goro takemura x v #goro takemura #v cyberpunk 2077 #cp 2077 v #goro takemura x female v #takemura x v #takemura x female v #cp 2077 #cp2077 #cp 2077 fanfic #cp2077 fanfic #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #multi chapter #friends to enemies and then enemies to friends and friends to lovers #fun fun fun

[dual1pa]

the fair

Eddie x fem!reader (has nothing to do with the plot of Buffy)

Warnings: fluff, heavy make outs, characters are both 18+

A/N: I don't think I've seen imagines about Eddie but this could easily lead to a part 2. thanks for reading :)

She always had a crush on him. Ever since he sat next to her in Chemistry class. It’s like her teacher, Mr. Miller, knew she was in love with him because he made them lab partners. Ever since then, they would eat lunch together, he would meet her at her locker every day to walk her to her bus. He always had his hands tucked into his pockets and looked down at his feet.

Before she got onto the bus, he stopped her, “Hey. There’s this fair tonight down at the firehouse, something about them collecting money for the year, would you, uh, wanna go with me?”

She smiles widely, “Eddie, I would love to. I love carnivals!”

Eddie’s face lit up, “Great. Should I pick you up at your house or do you wanna meet me there.”

“Eastend street. Third house on the left, it has purple shutters, can’t miss it.” she quickly kissed him on the cheek and ran onto the bus.”

He touched the place where she kissed and blushed, finding his car through the endless amount of cars of the senior class. He mentally beat himself up as to why he didn’t ask to just give her a ride home. He shook the negative thoughts out of his head and put the keys into the ignition of his car, figuring out what the hell he was going to wear.

When she found an empty seat, she internally screamed that he finally asked her out. She put in her headphones and turned on her favorite music, as well as responding to unread messages. As she stared out the window at the buildings and homes she passed by thousands of times on the way home from school. She thanked God it was the weekend and could finally take a break from the books to focus on what she was going to wear to impress the guy she really liked.

Once she found a cute dress and a pair of white sneakers, she paced back and forth in her living room, constantly looking out the window watching for Eddie’s car to pull up.

“I’m so glad you’re finally going out with that boy you’re always talking about.” her mother said, not taking her eyes off the book she was reading.

“You have no idea how happy I am. Also, could you guys like… not be awkward and weird and just stay here when the doorbell rings?” she scolded her mother and father until they gave her the answer she wanted, which was “fine, I won’t say a word.”

Just as their conversation was ending, they all heard the doorbell ring.

“Remember. Say nothing until you hear that door shut.”

“Just go have fun with him! But, curfew is midnight.” her father said.

“Alright, alright. See you guys later.” she ran to grab her small purse filled with her driver’s license, some extra cash, some lip gloss, and chapstick.

She double-checked her makeup and hair in the small mirror. She opened the door to see Eddie, wearing a blue jacket with a white shirt underneath and a pair of khakis. His hair was brushed to the side.

“Hi.” she smiled clutching onto her small bag that’s attached to her hip.

“Hey. These are for you.” he handed her a bouquet of flowers of her favorite colors.

She gasped, “These are beautiful.” She brought them up to her nose to smell the wonderful scent.

“I remember you told me these were your favorite flowers and I couldn’t show up empty handed.”

“It would have been fine if you did. All I need is you here, but thank you for the flowers.” she quickly put them on the table in the foyer and shut the door behind her, following Eddie to his car parked in the driveway. He opened the car door for her and waited patiently for her to put her seatbelt on before he carefully shut the door.

The way to the carnival was peacefully quiet. The air from outside coming in from his half opened window, his hair slightly blowing in the wind. She couldn’t help but smile at the scene she was witnessing. His one hand was on the wheel and the other was resting on his leg.

“Do you like to listen to music? I don’t have an AUX cord in my car anymore, it broke. However, I do have the radio. Any stations you listen to?”

“Any station that plays pop music.” you smile.

“No problem.” he flipped through the many stations until he found something that sounded similar to a pop song.

“Is this one okay?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” you said.

As Eddie pulled into the grass area of the firehouse, it was already packed. Many families, people they recognized from school, and couples on dates. The field lit up with dozens of different colors and the environment was filled with laughs and screams. She considered herself a ride lover, she’ll go on any ride no matter how scary they look. She hoped he was the same.

“Man, it sure is packed and it’s not even 7 yet.” he looked at his watch after he parked the car.

“I know. But, it is a Friday night and the rides actually look good this year.”

“Yeah, last year they sucked, that’s why no one went.”

She laughed, “I think they got the message.”

The two of them walked close together as the craziness of the fair sucked them in. Eddie paid for 50 tickets, he thought that would get them on most of the rides.

“What do you wanna ride first?”

“Up to you.”

“How about that?” you point to a ride in the shape of a circle, watching as the people brave enough to ride go upside down, “Do you do rides like that? I don’t want you to do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“No, I love rides like that. I’ll go on anything here.”

“C’mon then!” she grabbed his hand and lead him to the line for the ride.

--

For the rest of the evening, they held hands as they walked to different attractions and waiting in lines. The only times their hands weren’t intertwined was to share a funnel cake. She had the time of her life with him and she prayed that he did too.

“What should be our last ride?” he asked her, squeezing her hand.

“I think it should be the Ferris wheel.”

“It’s like you read my mind.”

She started growing impatient because of how long the wait was but refused to show it on her face. All she wanted to do was lean up against Eddie’s chest and wrap her arms around his waist. She was thankful he didn’t pull away when she first grabbed his hand.

“Do you have anything planned for the weekend?” Eddie broke the silence between them.

She shook her head, “Nope, just homework probably. You?”

“Same here. If you wanted to, we could study for that chem test we have next week.”

“That sounds amazing actually because I have no idea what I’m doing.” she chuckled.

“I’ll be your knight in shining armor when it comes to chemistry.”

“I love that. My parents are actually leaving tomorrow to go into the city until Sunday night, just come right over.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“How many?” the fair employee asked.

“Two.” Eddie said.

“Step right in. Enjoy your ride.”

“Thanks.” she smiled.

She sits down first, followed by Eddie. She watches as the employee goes to start up the ride, the employee presses a button and they keep climbing till they’re at the top.

“Wow, you can see the whole town from here. I think I can see my house from here.” she laughed.

Eddie gained the courage to put his arm around her. She leaned in to his touch and held his hand that was around her arm. She looked up at him, he was already looking down at her. Without thought, she leaned up to quickly kiss him. She pulls back, without saying a word, he goes back in for another kiss, this one more passionate. His lips were so soft she never wanted to come up for air. The hand that was on his lap was now holding her cheek.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

“I’ve wanted to do that since Mr. Miller paired us up as chem partners.”

“Damnit. That means I could have asked you out earlier?”

She licked his bottom lip to bring him back in for a kiss.

Before they knew it, their ride was coming to an end.

“I wanna do more of this,” he said firmly.

“Me too,” she said.

On the ride home, they talked about their favorite rides and moments of the night. Both of them chose the Ferris wheel.

Eddie pulled up to her house and turned off the engine, “What time should I come over tomorrow?”

“How about 3? Then after we can watch a movie and just hang out?”

Eddie nodded in agreement, “I’m looking forward to seeing you again. I also really liked kissing you.”

That’s all it took for her to hike up her dress and maneuver herself over the console to straddle his hips. He quickly took off his seatbelt so she was more comfortable on top of him. She leaned down to kiss her crush. His hands gripped her waist. She moaned into his mouth, desperately wanting more of him. His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, sucking on the sweet spot, for sure leaving a mark. She glanced at her watch, noticing it was about to hit midnight. She definitely didn’t want her father coming out of the house and seeing what was happening.

She groaned, “I have to go. It’s almost past my curfew.”

“No.” he moaned in a protest.

“If I’m grounded that means my parents will cancel their trip to the city, and you and I both don’t want that, trust me.”

He lets her go as she gets out the passenger side.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? 3pm sharp. I’ll be waiting.”

“Believe me, I’ll be here at 2:59.”

She blows him one last kiss before running up to the front door, unlocking it with her key. She locked the door behind her and watched Eddie pull out of the driveway and onward to his home. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction

[florenceandthemachine]

@hearteyesforbuck asked:

I have been dying for a meet-cute au where Eddie takes Chris to the gym once a week and they box a little together before Eddie spars; usually Chris sits by the ring and reads but one day Eddie finds him laying on a bench, lifting an empty bar while this really cute blond guy spots him and gives him encouragement ....

guess who’s asks are still broken?

Tumblr keeps adding the “Read More” into the ask box, which breaks the entire post when I try to post it. Why is it happening? No idea, but if anyone knows how to fix it, please let me know, this is getting really old.

anyway, fun fact that I just learned about myself—if you want me to dedicate 100% of my brainpower to writing 4.5k of something in one sitting, you just throw in Christopher Diaz.

Eddie liked to think of himself as some kind of a “do it yourself” kind of dad.

Most of the time, that was a good thing.

Kitchen faucet broke? No worries, Eddie has some plumbers tape and three different YouTube videos telling him how to fix it.

Car wouldn’t start? Not a problem, Eddie bought the full repair manual offline and knows his way around a wrench.

Christopher needed forty gluten free, egg free, dairy free cupcakes for class tomorrow? Eddie was perfectly capable of... admitting when he was outmatched by a stand mixer and calling thirteen local bakeries to see if they delivered, because his car still wasn’t starting.

Point is, if there was a way he could work on something, Eddie would at least try it—and needless to say, that got a little complicated where Christopher was involved.

Eddie still wanted to do a lot of it on his own. Chris was his kid, and no one else's, and he didn’t even like being away from him while Chris was at school—he wasn’t sure if that was guilt stemming from leaving Chris as a kid, or guilt about introducing Shannon back into his life only to have her wind up dead, or guilt about... well, pick-a-thing, but he was pretty damn sensitive about what he perceived he could do to help his kid.

Which is why, when Chris’ physical therapist gave Eddie some suggestions about how Chris could work on strength training at home, Eddie dove completely into the deep end, head first, no floaties.

Working on Chris’ fine motor skills had been cake. Writing, drawing, arts and crafts, even playing video games, all helped improve Chris’ hand eye coordination (and if Eddie ran out of room on the fridge for Chris’ masterpieces and started framing them instead, well, that was his own business, no matter how nosy the busybodies at Michael’s got).

Working on his gross motor skills, though, that was another story. They could go on walks, sure, and they did every day. Eddie could hook up the trail-a-bike to his own once or twice a week so Chris could ride along with him, without worrying about his balance, but those were both leg heavy activities—and while it was great that Chris was building his core strength and leg strength, Eddie wasn’t about to just strap a wrist weight to Chris’ arms and call it a ‘well rounded workout’.

Short of more physical therapy, Eddie was at a loss as to what to do—so when Google Maps pushed him off the 101 to avoid a wreck on his way home from work and he got caught by a stop light right next to "Ricky’s Boxing Gym”, Eddie felt like his prayers had been answered.

Over the next few months, they had set up a pretty good routine. Eddie would bring Chris to the gym, they would hop into one of the many rings, and he and his son would get a half hour of quality time, three times a week. Eddie had his own set of boxing mitts, and Chris thought that spending a half hour trying to punch his dad’s hand was the most fun a kid could have after school. Chris would tire himself out and sit on the bench, drawing or reading for a while more, while Eddie would actually spar with one of the staff members, get his own workout in, and then they’d go home.

Nine times out of ten, they’d stop for ice cream or pizza, and completely undo any of the workout they had actually done, but Eddie thought that was a small price to pay for the whoop of joy Chris let out when he actually managed to hit Eddie’s glove dead center.

Eddie’s sparring partner of choice (well, after Chris) was Tommy Kinard. He was nice enough, and kept Eddie on his toes, giving him plenty of time to look over to Chris to make sure he was safe, and happy, and occupied, and (“Dad, I’m fine! Go punch someone!”) okay, maybe he was helicoptering a little bit. He hadn’t really thought it was a problem until Kinard went on paternity leave, leaving him in the capable, and brutal, hands of Boscoe.

Boscoe was a beast. He didn’t know her first name—didn’t know if she had a first name—but what she lacked in pleasantries she more than made up with strength. If Eddie was being honest, though, he kind of loved it; even after the first day they sparred together, when he wound up limping into the 118, proudly admitting to Hen that he had been beat up by a girl.

The thing was, Boscoe was intense, and while that was a good thing, it gave him less of a chance to helicopter over Chris.

Which, okay, maybe that was a good thing too. Whatever.

He knew the gym pretty well by that point, and knew the people who worked there, knew he could trust Chris with any of them—which is why when he looked up after dodging a jab from Boscoe, and saw Chris absent from his bench, he only panicked a little bit.

When he managed to take a wider look around the gym and saw a familiar pair of shoes laying down on a workout bench, the rest of him obscured by a bigger, bulkier body, that panic went from 0-60 real quick.

“Hey!”

He only barely managed to dodge a glancing blow from Boscoe as he ducked beneath the ropes, grabbing a towel to blot at his face as he hopped down. His voice was little more than a quick bark through the gym as he stepped around another group of machines, his frantic pace slowing a little as he got into earshot.

“... yeah, come on buddy, you can do it! Come on, give me one more rep! You got this little man!”

Fuck, had this stranger actually given Chris a set of weights?

His temper was white hot by the time he finally got around the front of the machine, opening his mouth to shout, to get a manager, to do something, but the words died in his throat as he took in the scene before him.

Because Chris was definitely on the bench, and he definitely had his hands on the bar—the bar that was completely devoid of weights, Eddie noticed, the same bar that had two much larger, stronger hands attached to them. Hands that were probably doing all the actual work of lifting the bar, because Chris was laying back, unable to speak, because he was giggling so hard.

The bar landed back on the rack with a dull thunk as Chris pulled his hands back, sticking them straight up in the air triumphantly as he sat up. The man behind the bar gave a big show of leaning against the frame of the bench dramatically, fanning himself, giving Eddie a full view of an employee shirt, name badge, and the gym logo stitched across the polo he was wearing.

Whelp, that was almost very embarrassing for him.

“Holy cow, that was such a good job! Man, you have got to be the strongest kid I’ve ever met in my life!”

“Dad, did you see me? Buck says I’m super strong!”

Eddie had to admit, he was a little thrown by whatever was happening here, but Chris was obviously having a good time, and he felt the white hot anger dissipate into something a little less angry and a little more embarrassed.

“That was some pretty impressive work, buddy! Have you been holding out on me?” Eddie dipped down and tossed a few playful jabs at Chris, selfish only because he wanted to prolong the joy his son was obviously feeling, but it was all worth it as he was handsomely rewarded when Chris started giggling again.

The man—Buck, Eddie gathered—laughed, drawing Eddie’s attention upward, and for a moment, his brain short circuited, because there was no way on earth a gym rat could be this... pretty.

Because damn. Buck was pretty.

Pretty enough that Eddie was easily distracted, waxing poetic (internally, thankfully) about beefy arms and a plush lip that he didn’t notice what was happening until Buck stuck a hand out, smiling, and Eddie could only guess what was going on. He reached out and took the hand, his own smile hitching as Buck’s face slipped into confusion.

“Uhh—”

“...I was asking if you wanted me to take your towel for you and get you a fresh one.”

Oh. Right. Towel.

Eddie’s face burned as he pulled the towel off his shoulder, handing it over, giving a too-tight laugh as he nodded his head. “Yes! If you could get me a new towel so I could strangle myself in embarrassment, that would be great.”

Well, at the very least, that got Buck to laugh again—death would be worth it if that was the last sound he heard. “Sorry I kind of stole your kid. He was wandering in between the machines, and it’s my first week off of the evening shift, so I just wanted to make sure he didn’t get hurt—but then he started asking about all the weights and pulleys and stuff, you have a really smart kid!”

Total Gym Hottie (Buck, his mind corrected. If he was going to drool over someone the least he could do was use their name) was complimenting his kid now, and Eddie was so star struck he was actually proud to say he didn’t stumble when Buck nudged his shoulder, head jerking back to the ring he had abandoned.

"...anyway, I think strangulation is the least of your worries, if I know that look, Boscoe has an entirely different death planned for you if you don’t get back in the ring. Go on, I’ll help little man here wheel you out on a gurney when she’s done with you.”

Buck sounded way too positive about that, and it was all Eddie could do to groan and walk back to the ring, tail between his legs.

Sure enough, even after he had the next day off, he was still sore when he walked into the 118 for his next shift.

--

Buck became easily, seamlessly, a part of their routine, in a way that probably deserved a little more insight on Eddie’s part, but insight was for suckers. At least two days out of the week, their schedules aligned—Eddie and Chris still worked on their exercises, but now it included Buck giving a dramatic play by play on the sidelines, talking up Chris like an announcer, or just otherwise causing shenanigans.

It was worth it, easily, because while Chris was certainly never a negative kid, Eddie had never seen him in brighter spirits. And Buck... well, anyone that could find a way to help out his son in a way that Chris clearly enjoyed earned an instant gold star in Eddie’s book. The fact that he was easy on the eyes wasn’t a bad thing, either.

“Diaz, I swear to God—”

Eddie only barely ducked under Boscoe’s extended hand, forcibly rooting himself back in the moment, looking guiltily back to her instead of watching Buck and Chris.

“—can you pay attention for like three minutes so I can hit you without feeling bad about it?”

Eddie tried, he really did, but it was hard. A few weeks had gone by since their initial meeting, and Eddie had gone from “wow he’s pretty” to “full high school crush” in no time flat. It wasn’t his fault, though—because what sealed the deal wasn’t the moment Buck had switched to tank tops over polos, or how happy Eddie was to spend time staring at Buck’s magnificent ass (and it was really, really magnificent, let the record show), it was how he interacted with Chris that sent him over the edge.

Buck was good with Chris, but somehow that was the understatement of the year. He was kind, and he was bubbly, and he was just in sync in a way that Eddie wasn’t even sure he had reached, and Chris was his son. Buck was patient in a way that seemed effortless, easily slowing himself down or changing what he was doing when he noticed Chris struggling, wether it was in going over a math problem while Eddie got the crap beat out of him or just showing him how some of the different machines worked.

Hell, right now, Eddie had his hands securely around Chris’ hips as he lifted the other male to a chin-up bar, helping Chris count out the pull-up’s he was doing—and while all Eddie could hear was Chris’ laughter, all he could see were the thick cords of muscle attached to Buck’s arms, lifting Chris like he weighed nothing.

Eddie wondered, not for the first time, if Buck could lift him like that.

Like she was a horrible mind reading pervert, Boscoe smacked him with an open hand—not hard enough to hurt, but not soft enough that he was going to ignore it.

“Diaz, this will be our last session together. Kinard is back next week—” Another punch, a quick jab that Eddie blocked with his forearms. “—so the least you could do is focus on me and not the apple of your eye over there.”

“Buck isn’t the apple of my—fuck—my eye, grow up.” Eddie huffed as he threw out a punch of his own, his hand knocked away violently, only barely dodging the sharp hook that Boscoe sent to him.

“God, I was talking about your kid, Diaz. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Oh.

Ignoring how red his face was, Eddie grumbled and threw another quick jab, though he missed completely as Boscoe stepped back, a grin on her face, and Eddie knew better than to trust that look. The last time he trusted that look, he had been talked into fighting bare-handed, and he still wasn’t sure his knuckles would ever really work again.

“You know, Kinard is supposed to take you back as a client, but I bet if you asked nice enough...”

Oh no.

“Hey, Buck!”

Oh no. Eddie looked up in horror as Buck easily lifted Christopher onto his shoulders—god, so much muscle—and jogged over, with the nerve to not even be out of breath when he smiled up to the pair in the ring. Eddie bit his tongue and leaned over to high five his kid, fully prepared to deal with whatever terrible thing was about to come his way.

“Kinard was supposed to take Diaz here back after he’s off leave next week, but I know he wanted to ease back into things after being away from the gym for a few months. You think you could spar with him in the interim?”

Oh, no, didn’t seem to cover it anymore. Eddie was having a hard enough time focusing on the task at hand when Buck was in the same building, he would be signing his own death certificate if he had to stare Buck in the face, and then try to hit said face. He hadn’t even seen Buck break a sweat before—he didn’t know if his little bisexual heart could take it.

He was somehow both relieved and regretful when Buck shook his head, looking plenty apologetic as he pulled Chris up and off of his shoulders, making sure that he was steady on his feet before he leaned up against the ropes. “Sorry, Eddie. I don’t really box, and besides, I think Chris and I are making real progress while you get your butt kicked. Show him the guns, Chris!” Buck said, and Chris immediately started some classic strong-man poses, Buck posing dramatically behind him, and Eddie felt his heart melt for two entirely different reasons.

Buck turned around mid pose as the door chime went off, giving Eddie ample time to count out the individual strands of muscle fiber in the moment before Buck relaxed, turning with a smile back to the gang in the ring. “Lena, that's my next client. Chris, Eddie, I’ll see you both next week, yeah?” He said with a grin before he fist bumped Chris and waved to Eddie, slipping back into Professional Buck mode. Eddie waved back, brows almost in his hairline as he looked back to Boscoe, who was scowling at him.

“So—”

“No, Diaz.”

“Wait, why not? Buck gets to call you Lena!”

“Beat me in the ring as often as Buck does and I’ll consider it.”

Eddie had his mouth open to retort when Chris cut him off, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he tilted his head. “Can I call you Lena?”

She didn’t even hesitate a moment, nodding her head seriously. “You can absolutely call me Lena, squirt.”

Chris promptly stuck his tongue out at his dad, and Eddie reacted in sort, falling to the floor of the ring as he grabbed at his chest. “The nerve! Betrayed by my own child, my own flesh and blood!”

Chris looked thoroughly unimpressed, sitting back on the bench as he started to pack up his schoolwork. “Lena, can you tell my dad to stop being such a drama queen?”

It wasn’t until they were both in the car, that Eddie, thoroughly beaten down by his son, his trainer, and his own brain for providing a play by play of Buck that day while he was in the locker room shower stall, really thought about what Buck said.

He didn’t box. Which was strange enough in a boxing gym, but whatever, there were plenty of machines that Buck could be working on instead.

But them Boscoe (god, he couldn’t even call her Lena in his head, it felt like she would figure it out and beat him to death) basically admitted that Buck regularly whooped her behind the ropes

If Buck wasn’t boxing in a boxing gym, what the hell was he doing?

--

As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. Barely a week had passed before Eddie had received a call from Chim, all but begging Eddie to switch shifts so he could take the girl he had been seeing out on a proper date. The switch was a no brainer—Maddie seemed like a great girl, and as much shit as he gave Chim for... well, being Chim, he obviously wanted to see his teammate happy, especially when the only thing he would have to change was a gym day from a Monday to a Sunday.

If he had known that this would be the day that sealed his fate, he probably would have reconsidered the switch all together.

The gym was packed—which probably wasn’t surprising for a weekend day, but damn, Eddie had been glad he booked a ring with Kinard ahead of time. It was nice to see a familiar face in the gym anyway, one that wasn’t trying to beat the crap out of him in the ring, and once Kinard joined up with them, it was easy to shoot the shit. Eddie congratulated him on his step into fatherhood, ruffling Chris’ hair as he did—not that Chris noticed, busy scanning through the machines for a familiar blond head.

Not that Eddie could judge, when he was doing the same thing.

“Hey, I’m gonna toss my stuff in a locker. See you out here in a sec?”

“Yeah, sounds good! Buck and Boscoe are almost done in their ring, we have it next.”

Eddie was halfway to the locker room before what Kinard had said clicked in his brain, and he immediately did a 180, making a beeline to the rings set up on the far side of the gym, easily spotting the pair when he knew what to look for.

It was no wonder that neither he nor Chris had recognized Buck when they walked in—he was literally drenched in sweat, his usually fluffy blonde hair dark and slicked to his forehead, scowling around his mouth guard as he danced around Boscoe.

Boscoe, who Eddie had never seen so worked up. Damn, she really hadn’t even had to try during his matches. Wasn’t that a blow to the ego.

No, Buck definitely wasn’t a boxer, because this was a dance. Every move he made, he made with his entire body, his energy flowing through each form, moving easily and gracefully in a way that shouldn’t have been possible with such an incredible amount of force and flat out violence. He almost felt dazed as he followed Buck’s movements, but in the best possible way, his eyes snapping back and forth as he tried to trace where one hit ended and the next began.

“Wow.”

Eddie was glad that Chris said it, because he still couldn’t find the muscles needed to pick his jaw up off the floor. He didn’t know if Chris had followed him over to the ring or if his Buck-radar was just that good, but for the time being, Eddie was more than thankful for the minute distraction as he ruffled his kids hair again.

Boscue was moving more desperately as the match continued, launching into a series of quick jabs, but even Eddie could see where that was her downfall. Buck knocked her arm back with her last punch and sent a kick straight for her shoulder, but then he twisted his entire body off of the mat and his other leg was in the air too, and Eddie instinctively sucked in a breath as Buck locked her neck between his thighs. They both came crashing down to the mat, struggling impressively until Boscoe slapped Buck’s thigh twice, and then—

—and then Buck was all smiles again, beaming as he released her and took a knee on the ring, helping her back into a sitting position, spitting out his mouth guard with an excited moment of praise for her technique.

Eddie could not compute. This was his downfall. Eddie is dead, long live Eddie.

“Holy cow, Buck! That was amazing! You’re like... you’re like a ninja crime fighting super hero!”

Well, that was one way to put it.

Buck’s head whipped around at Chris’ excited outburst, lighting up when he spotted Eddie and Chris near the bench, eagerly scooting forward into a sitting position closer to the ropes.

“Thanks, little man! That was some mixed martial arts, it’s super fun. I’ve been teaching Lena for a few years, she’s getting pretty good!”

Buck’s grin slid into something a little more proud and pleased as he looked to Eddie, and Eddie felt every muscle in his body tighten as Buck’s gaze burned through him.

“What did you think of that leg lock, Eddie? Total knock out, right?”

Oh fuck, was Buck flirting with him now? That had to have been flirty, right? Come on, Brain, do something.

“... legs.”

“...my legs?”

“Buck, your... your legs.”

Buck’s smile looked a little more pinched as Eddie groaned, shaking his head. “Okay, I, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you this or I will completely die. Can I take you out to dinner sometime? I know a great place off the strip, you’ll love it, my treat.”

The look on Buck’s face was skeptical, at best, but at least he wasn’t shutting him down, giving Eddie the benefit of the doubt (and giving him a moment to get his brain back online). “Because of my legs?”

“No. Well, okay, you have amazing legs. And arms, though, and like... a stupidly handsome face, and I would be blind not to notice those things—” shit, Eddie probably sounded like such a shallow asshole right now. “—but I’m asking because you’re really smart. And you’re kind, so kind to Chris too, and you’re patient, and... Buck, you’re really really sweet. And I would love to take you out for a dinner date the moment you can look past my apparent inability to form a single coherent thought.”

After a moment that felt much longer than the three seconds it was, Buck sighed and leaned past Eddie, looking critically to Chris. He slid down to his stomach, squinting as he dropped down to eye level with the boy. “What do you think, Chris? Should I give your dad a shot?”

Well, at the very least, Buck was asking the one person that Eddie knew he always had in his corner; and sure enough, Chris delivered. “I think so. Dad really likes you.”

That’s his boy.

“Last week he spent my whole entire physical therapy appointment telling Dr. Wilson how much help you gave me and how nice you were and how much he appreciated it. It got kinda annoying.”

...well damn, Eddie wasn’t expecting to be called out by his own kid like that, but if the suddenly soft look Buck was giving him was any indication, it might have been the necessary push to get him to understand how serious Eddie was.

Eddie tried to keep his excitement tamped down when Buck nodded, sitting back up. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. Only because you managed to ask me out before I could ask you.”

Wait, Buck wanted to ask him out anyway?

“If you can land three hits on me in three minutes—should be easy after spending a weeks with Boscoe—then you can pick the time, the place, and I’ll even talk Lena in to letting you call her Lena. But if you don’t...” Buck reached through the ropes to help Eddie up, tossing him a wrap for his hands as he did. “... then I get to pick the time, the place, and you start training with me in MMA instead of going back to boring old boxing.”

Eddie blinked at him in abject horror as Buck dipped his voice low, seeing with terrible clarity exactly where Boscoe had learned her terrifying grin.

“That way you can see my leg choke up close and personal. Deal?”

The stakes were too high, and Eddie couldn’t say no.

He was screwed.

He was elated.

But fuck, he was screwed.

(Three minutes later, Buck asked if Eddie was free on Friday at seven, promised to pick somewhere nice, and gave him a searing kiss before he disappeared into the staff locker room. Eddie, on the other hand, needed a spatula to peel himself off of the floor of the ring.

He had never been so happy that he could barely move in his life.)

#911 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #buddiefic #911fic #flospeaks #hearteyesforbuck #meet cute #gymfic #gym au #buck isn't a firefighter #but Eddie still is #still pretty canon if you look hard enough #also I love Chris with all my heart #Eddie wants to be crushed between bucks thighs and honestly?.... #same #eddie takes buck down a year and a half later in his first successful leg choke and buck is so proud he proposes the next day #mutually assured devotion

[gazelonger]

“Did you get any sleep last night?” - Buddie :)

thank you! xx

In comparison to twenty-four-hour shifts, twelve-hour-shifts were usually a piece of cake. Buck looked forward to them, even, because that meant he could go back to work the next day instead of being cooped up in his apartment while he recuperated.

The only reason he hadn’t been enjoying this one was because he was exhausted.

Going to sleep hadn’t been easy ever since the tsunami. Buck’s dreams were riddled with floating corpses and a never-ending search for Christopher. Sometimes he recognized the corpses’ faces as those of Maddie or his team and their families. Other times he was never able to break the surface to even try and begin searching for Christopher.

The first few weeks, when the nightmares were really bad, Buck woke up screaming himself raw. His vocal cords had been torn to shreds, and it would take him longer than he’d care to admit to realize that he was awake and safe, and that everyone else was, too. And, being alone in his apartment and not wanting to wake anyone up to drag them into his mess, Buck had to calm himself down on his own. It had been hard to fall asleep knowing what waited for him in his slumber, so he resorted to taking a sleeping medication which helped him fall asleep easily.

Only problem is, he had run out the other night. And he had been so busy lately that he hadn’t had the chance to get more. Irrationally, maybe—definitely—Buck had just decided he was better off staying awake.

Personal issues aside, it had been a busy day. First call was to rescue a woman and her infant from a car which had overturned. Second call was to put out a blazer in a motel which was violating several health code guidelines. Then there had been three calls to put out house fires. Three! And not a single break between them. With a lot of hard work, everyone got out safely on all calls—minor injuries aside—and the day was almost over. Buck could barely keep his eyes open on the ride back to the station.

A boot nudged his own. Buck jerked his head up, focusing on Eddie who was sitting in front of him.

“You tired, man?” Eddie asked. Buck lifted the corner of his mouth and nodded sheepishly.

“Yeah,” he admitted. And he was. He was going to pick up more of that medicine on his way home from work.

“You look like hell,” Eddie said, and Buck laughed lightly at that. He was positive he did, and he would have normally shot back something along the lines of ‘You’re one to talk,’ but he just didn’t have the energy. He let his eyes slip shut again and tilted his head back.

He didn’t feel Eddie eyeing him warily.

When they made it back to the station, Buck was aware of how slowly he moved when he took off his gear. The hot water in the shower was relaxing as all hell, and it was a feat of its own that Buck didn’t collapse right there on the tiled floor.

Buck didn’t want to sleep, anyways. Not now. Not when the threat of nightmares plagued his mind.

He turned the faucet towards cold, and speedily rinsed the grime from his skin.

Bobby was cooking dinner in the loft when Buck headed up. It smelled ridiculously good. He offered to help, but Bobby insisted he was almost done. Buck set the table, then sat on the sofa.

He must have dozed off, because he didn’t notice that Eddie was sitting next to him until the older man rubbed his arm lightly. “Hey,” Eddie was whispering, and Buck rubbed the back of his fists against his groggy eyes. When Buck finally realized that Eddie was there, he felt pinned under the man’s concerned frown.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Eddie asked like he already knew the answer. Buck’s cheeks warmed under the scrutinizing gaze. It was bad enough he had a crush on the man, but did he have to be a damn know-it-all, too?

“Not since Thursday night,” Buck admitted. There wasn’t any use lying when he was already caught.

“Buck, it’s Saturday.”

Buck cleared his throat, looking away.

“What’s going on?” Eddie pushed. He rested one hand on Buck’s shoulder comfortingly, and Buck felt his stomach flip. “Why haven’t you slept?”

Buck bit the inside of his lip, then glanced at Eddie. He didn’t look angry, he just looked worried. Not that either was something Buck wanted to make Eddie feel, but he almost wishes Eddie was angry. He knows how to deal with anger. Worry…not so much. He didn’t know how to react to that kind of attention.

“I ran out of this medicine I’ve been taking to help me sleep,” Buck said, shifting on the couch. His voice was low; so low that Eddie had to lean in slightly to hear him. “It…it stops nightmares.”

Eddie considered him for a moment, and just when Buck thought that he was going to call him a coward, or selfish, or stupid, the man surprised him by standing up.

“Come on,” he said. Buck’s mouth fell open slightly, but he pushed off the couch to follow him.

Eddie ended up taking him back to the bunks. Buck hesitated by the door, and Eddie clearly sensed this because he looked over his shoulder and held out his hand. “Come on,” he said again in a softer voice. Ears hot, Buck took Eddie’s hand, and let the man lead him to his bunk.

Eddie turned down the bed, then clambered in. He pats the empty space for Buck, who—dumbstruck—obediently lies down beside him.

They both lie on their sides, facing one another, and Buck willed himself to appear calm as Eddie pulled the blanket over their shoulders. He was incredibly close to Eddie, who smelled like soap and vaguely like smoke which, Buck knew from experience, wouldn’t go away from one shower alone.

“Christopher has nightmares sometimes, too,” Eddie said in a quiet tone.

Buck’s heart ached for the boy. “The tsunami?” He asks. But he already knows.

“Yeah. They’re less frequent now, though.” He looked away momentarily, like he was thinking about whether to say something else, and when he returned his gaze it was soft but also knowing. “But they only got better when he talked about them with someone.”

Buck felt his eyes sting at that, and he had to look away from Eddie’s heavy expression.

“The medicine has been working just fine,” Buck argued weakly.

“Yeah, until you ran out—”

“I was going to get more tonight—” Buck started, looking back to Eddie now, but Eddie cut him off like he had done.

“Yeah, but after your shift. You could have gotten hurt, Buck.”

Buck felt a tear slide down over the bridge of his nose and onto the pillow, but he didn’t care. He was so tired. And Eddie was right.

“I know,” he whispered. His eyes were glassy as he looked helplessly at Eddie. “But I was too scared to sleep. I didn’t want…I hate them.”

Eddie lifted his hand to hold the side of Buck’s face in a soothing gesture, his thumb stroking under his eye.

“I know, I know,” Eddie hushed. Buck closed his eyes, too far gone to care that he leaned closer into Eddie’s space, which was warm and soft. If anything, Eddie didn’t seem to mind at all. He was pulling him closer.

“But I’m here now. Okay? And you’re gonna sleep. And if you have any nightmares, I’ll be right here for you when you wake up,” Eddie said. He pressed his forehead against Buck’s and carded his fingers through his hair, too.  Buck exhaled shakily, nodding his head. Heat was radiating from Eddie, and Buck’s skin burned nicely where Eddie was touching him, and he found himself wanting to give into his exhaustion now.

“Sleep, cariño,” Eddie whispered, his own eyes watching the worry lines disappear from Buck’s face as his breathing evened out.

Buck decided that it would be okay if he went to sleep. And for the first time in what felt like a very long time, Buck didn’t think he had to worry about any nightmares haunting his slumber. Eddie was holding him, and he felt safe.

#911 fox #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #prompt request #here you go anon! #<3 #idk what happened to the format lmao #it looks different on my phone and my laptop :((

[amorgansgal]

The Only Compass I Need - Chapter Two

Summary: Ruth Shelton has been running with the Anderson Boys for many years, but when she and her daughter, Daisy, are abandoned in a snowy cabin in the West Grizzlies, she must come to terms with being left behind by people she thought she could trust and rely on. Determined to keep herself and her daughter alive, she will do anything it takes to ensure a better future for Daisy, but runs into trouble and has to rely on another gang to keep them safe. You can read Chapter One here or you can read the whole thing on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Her worst fears were realised in the morning, when she and Daisy had finally dressed and left the abandoned shack to face the icy weather. Drifts of snow had swirled round the house, almost coming up to Ruth’s knees and nearly reaching Daisy’s thighs. Ruth unwrapped the scarf she had been wearing, putting it around Daisy’s head and over her mouth. The snow storm had hit hard during the night and a loud, icy gale blew through the gullies and over the mountains.

‘Put your gloves on,’ she yelled over the wind, and thankfully Daisy did not need to be told twice. When she was done, Ruth grabbed hold of her hand and began to pull her towards the barn, so they could get Freyja and leave this god forsaken wasteland.

The sharp, freezing wind threw eddies of snow into Ruth’s eyes, making them water. Daisy put her arm over her eyes, letting her mother guide them both through the drifts of snow. Ruth felt a creeping worry sink into her stomach. It was almost impossible to even see the paths leading away from the cabin and, even if the weather improved in the next five minutes, she would have to be careful when riding Freyja. Otherwise, she might ride them off a cliff. The Mount Hagen range loomed in the distance, though it was almost obscured completely by the swirling snow.

Eventually, she pulled Daisy behind her, rather than walking side by side, so she could pack down the snow and be something of a shield against the blinding snow. Daisy buried her face in her mother’s coat and hugged her arms around her waist, but even then, it was slow going and Ruth almost tripped on their way. She was relieved when she finally reached the building and could push open the door, allowing them inside the shelter.

Freyja was a fine, dapple bay Kentucky Saddler, and was waiting patiently for them in the disused barn. They had done their best when they had arrived, finding what clean straw was left to keep Freyja’s stable warm, but, like the cabin, the barn was falling apart and creaked in the gale. Freyja raised her head when they walked in and whickered softly. Daisy ran to the horse and climbed onto the stall door so she could stroke Freyja’s nose.

Ruth had a look through the saddle bags to see if they had any extra provisions she had overlooked. She managed to find an oat cake, though it was very crumbly and a little dusty. It would have to make do as a breakfast for Freyja, and she would just have to pray that they would be able to escape from the Grizzlies, where grazing was almost impossible.

As she saddled Freyja and tightened the girth around the horse’s belly, she noticed a hat on one of the stable doors. A battered, dark brown leather hat. She picked it up.

‘Is that Pa’s hat?’ Daisy asked, swinging her legs against the door.

‘Yes, I think so,’ Ruth pulled it onto her own head and then looked at her daughter, ‘What do you think, partner?’

Daisy giggled. ‘You look like a man.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s easier to ride a horse when wearing pants. Come on, climb down, we need to get going.’

Daisy dropped from the door, into the stall, and gasped, ‘Wait, what about the letter to Pa?’

Ruth almost stamped her foot in frustration. Her daughter’s loyalty to her neglectful father was admirable, but poorly placed. However, she wasn’t about to launch into an argument about it. It was easier just to write a short note, than to spend goodness knows how long convincing her daughter it wasn’t worth writing anything to the man who had abandoned them.

She checked her pockets for any scrap of paper on which she could scrawl a message, and found a corner of the greasy, dirty newspaper that they had used the night before. Well, it was all he deserved, she wasn’t exactly going to pen a five-page love letter to the man!

Gone to Valentine – R + D she scrawled on it with a stumpy pencil she found in her other pocket. She held the paper between her lips, picking Daisy up and placing her on the horse’s back, in front of their bed rolls and saddle bags, but behind the saddle. She then led Freyja out of the stall. There was a table in the barn and underneath it, a rubbish pile of open and empty cans, bottles and tins. She picked up a bottle, placed it on the table, rolled up the note and stuck it in the top of the bottle.

‘Can’t I sign it?’ Daisy whined.

‘No, we’ve wasted enough time, we need to get going,’ she said firmly and mounted the horse. ‘Now, it’s going to be cold, and it’s a long ride to Valentine. I want you to keep hold of me. Don’t talk to anyone on the road. If you need something tap me on the shoulder twice, I won’t be able to hear you over the wind. Got it?’

‘Got it, Ma,’ Daisy replied, and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, burying her face once more in her back.

‘What does thumb between first two fingers mean?’

‘It means no talking, no looking, no nothing,’ came the mumbled response of Daisy.

‘Good girl, let’s go,’ Ruth said, kicking Freyja into movement and heading out into the bleak, white void.

It was fairly hard going at first, especially when it came to finding the road. It was so buried under snow, but she knew it was somewhere east of them, and if they continued a little further, they would find Lake Isabella.

She found the lake first; it was almost impossible to see through the blizzard. So eager was she to get out of the Grizzlies, she almost ran Freyja into the water and had to jerk her back from the frozen slush. Daisy made a small whimper at the sudden jolting stop, but Ruth urged the horse to the right and around the lake. She knew usually it would be quicker to take the path that ran up by the mountains, but one wrong step could mean they would all go tumbling off the edge and she wasn’t about to risk their lives by taking a short cut.

Freyja huffed, shook her head and sidled when they reached the frozen river that fed into Lake Isabella, but Ruth urged her over and onto the other side. Now it was just a matter of keeping the forest on her left and the lake on her right. Somewhere underneath the dense snow was the path, but there was no point in trying to figure out where it lay. Once they reached the forest it would be easier to tell and as long as she headed in a south-easterly direction, they should come across Valentine sooner or later.

As they made their way through the forest, the shadows of the trees and gloom of the grey clouds, made it harder to see. The harsh winds that blew against the trees, made the wood crack and creak overhead. She tried to listen out for animals, or the rush of Beartooth Beak - the river that should be running by the forest - but she could only hear the gusts of wind and the trees bending away from the storm. The lonely howl of a wolf echoed through the forest and her heart hammered against her chest, the twisting sense of fear tempered with thick, hot adrenaline.

She tapped her daughter’s shoulder and Daisy peered up at her mother, her eyes narrowing against the biting wind and whirling snow.

‘I need you to watch for wolves, they’ll be hungry and desperate,’ Ruth yelled over the snow storm.

‘I don’t want to watch for wolves; I don’t want to see them!’ Daisy shouted back.

‘They’ll still bite, even if you’re not looking. Come on, keep your eyes open. I need you to watch the forest either side.’

She tried to stir Freyja into a quicker trot, but it was slow progress through the heavy snow and Ruth found she was having to flail her legs over and over into the horse’s side to keep her going. They could have been travelling for minutes or hours, it was becoming harder and harder to tell. The light never changed. It was both brightened by the snow and made gloomy by the shadow of the trees and the looming mountains. After what felt like an eternity, the line of trees thinned, and the wind died a little, and she could see ahead of them lay a small, circular lake. She was so relieved to see Cattail Pond she could have danced for joy.

‘We’re close,’ she called comfortingly, ‘Not long to go now.’

#arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x ofc #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfic #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr #reddead2 #red dead fandom

[imyourbuddie]

Christmas Comes A Knockin'

January 5th, 2019 

Dear Eddie,

I know you’ve only just left, but I already miss you. And Christopher misses you. Tonight we made your favourite for dinner and Chris accidentally set out three plates. It was rough, but he felt better after Papa Buck’s special hot chocolate. 

You know, I never thought I’d have much use of this notebook you gave me last Christmas, yet here we are. 

Anyway, missing you. Stay safe. 

Buck

January 30th, 2019

Eddie you jackass, 

I don’t know how to send you letters. They told me you’re on some sort of highly classified mission and there’s no communication. Seriously? Some secret military black ops bullshit and you didn’t tell me? If you die on me, Edmundo Diaz, I will kill you. You hear me? I will fucking kill you.

Buck

March 23rd, 2019

Hey Eddie,

Chris got his first ribbon today at the science fair. He’s so proud and we have pictures that we’re saving for when you get back. I know he’s not supposed to get cookies and hot chocolate before bed, but I figure we make an exception for a special night. Hope all’s well. 

Missing you.

Buck

April 1st, 2019

Hen and Chim can walk off a cliff, together. They’re too damn old to be playing April Fools tricks on me! I’m going to be eating glitter for days. Days!

Anway, missing you. Loving you.

Buck

April, 16th, 2019

Feliz cumpleaños, mi amo! See, I’m learning! Chris helped me make you a cake. It’s chocolate and we ate a slice on your behalf. Wherever you are, I hope you’re celebrating.

Missing you. Always missing you.

Buck

May 1st, 2019

Chris was called into the principal’s office today. The other little fuck face claims Chris tripped him on purpose with his cane. His bitch of a mother wanted a written apology and one day suspension. I can’t even right now. Why are people such assholes? Chris says he didn’t do it and I believe him. God, I hate people sometimes.

I don’t know how much longer I can do this without you.

Buck

May 13th, 2019

Chris and I went to the pier for his birthday. It’s kinda special and it felt easier being there when it’s just us. We had churros, cake, lemonade, and maybe that was a bit too much sugar, but he’s passed out now. Yay sugar crash. 

He says you owe him a birthday present but I got your back. Now you owe me for being so brilliantly considerate. I’ll be collecting when you get home. 

Loving you,

Buck 

June 28th, 2019

I heard gunshots coming from the cemetery while we were answering a call. I don’t know if it was a military funeral, but...they’d call me if something happened, right? You’re not so off the grid that I’ll be left wondering for the rest of my life? I’m you husband. They can’t not tell me, right? 

Eddie, please, I miss you so much.

Buck

July 3rd, 2019

Chris gave me a miniature fire truck for my birthday. He’s the sweetest child a man can ask for. Really. The gang got me a cake and Chim shoved my face in it. That asshole. It’s a good thing I love him. 

It’s not the same without you here, though. I hope you’re thinking of me. 

Buck

July 16th, 2019

We went to the aquarium today. They played Baby Shark on repeat and now all I can think about is baby shark do do do do do do do and it’s driving me nuts. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. I may or may not have thrown an octopus plushie at him over it. 

Anyway, we saw all sorts of crazy stuff, and Chris loved the dolphin show. We’ll have to go again when you get back. The mango slushie at the cafeteria is magnificent. 

Missing you always.

Buck

September 15th, 2019

I miss summer vacation. I know, getting child care is always a pain in the ass, but I loved hanging out with Chris. When I’m with him, it’s like being with a small piece of you, and that made things a little easier. Now that he’s back in school, it feels like you leaving all over again. 

It gets pretty lonely at night sometimes. Stay safe and come back to me. To us. 

Loving you.

Buck

November 11th, 2019

We’re thinking of you. All of us. 

Love,

Buck

November 28th, 2019

I made us Thanksgiving dinner at the station. Chris had a blast and the guys loved having him there. We’re both so stuffed right now we’ve not left the couch even though bedtime was half an hour ago. Chris wanted to say hi, he says I can write for him while he talks, so here goes.

Hi Daddy, 

Papa gave me the biggest slice of pumpkin pie tonight, and it was so huge I almost didn’t finish it. But I did. Denny and I got to ride in the fire truck and it’s so cool you get to ride it every day at work. Papa says it’s time for bed now, I love you Daddy, and I miss you. 

Christopher and Buck

December 5th, 2019

Why are Hallmark’s movies out already? I’m not ready. We don’t have enough tissues at the house. I need to buy more tomorrow because I used up the last box watching The Knight Before Christmas. 

Wherever you are, have a pumpkin spice latte for me.

Buck

December 5th, 2019

Eddie I couldn’t sleep, so I stared at the ceiling talking to myself, pretending you’re here next to me. Remember when you first kissed me? I thought I was drowning and you kissed me. I know it wasn’t a real kiss, you were trying to keep me alive, but our lips touched, and it brought me back, you know? You brought me back when I thought I was dying. When I was ready to give up.

You’re not here to kiss me now, but I’m not giving up. I’m going to wait until you get home to me, to Chris, and I’m going to kiss the shit out of you. 

Always loving you. 

Buck

December 16th, 2019

Chris had his Christmas concert at school today. The whole unit came to watch. Mama Grant had a camera so we can record it for you. She’s really good with that thing too, even ran to the front of the stage so she could get some closeups. Chris was fantastic. Voice of an angel, I swear. We all went for ice cream after, and no, Edmundo, it’s never too cold for ice cream. 

We put up the tree last weekend, and Chris came home with these cookie ornaments they made at school. There’s one for you, too, with your name on it, so come get it, big boy. 

Cap says we’re going to have our Christmas party on the 23rd so people can go home and celebrate with their families for actual Christmas. Carla offered to watch Chris, but I’m considering taking him with me. It’s a family friendly party, so maybe Denny will be there too. 

Anyway, this is getting long. Loving you,

Buck

December 23th, 2019

Gonna take Chris to the party with me. He’s pumped. Who knew being a parent could feel like this? 

I’m always so grateful that you let me into your little family. You gave me Chris, and he’s the best present a guy could ask for. For every Christmas for the rest of my life. 

Loving you.

Buck

===

Buck closes his notebook and tucks the pen into the elastic loop attached to the cover. His finger twitches, and he wants to open the book and write our every little thing going through his head right now. Every emotion. But he can’t. It’s too damn painful. And Eddie’s not here. 

“Papa?” Chris calls from the bathroom. “Can you help me?” 

Buck scrubs a hand down his face and clears his throat, willing the prickle of tears to go away. “Yeah, bud, be right there.” 

When he pops his head into the bathroom, Chris is struggling with his bowtie. Buck wanted to get him a pre-tied one, but Chris insisted on the real deal. There’s a little card that came with the tie with diagrams on how to make the bow. Buck studies it, tries and fails a couple times, but eventually he gets a semi decent looking bow that sits snug under the collar of Chris’ shirt. 

“There you go,” he says, patting down the lapels of Chris’ suit jacket. 

“Thanks, Papa.” 

Buck’s chest swells, like it does every time Chris calls him Papa. It started as Papa Buck, but somewhere between Buck moving in and his and Eddie’s wedding, he became just Papa. It was a little strange at first, but it didn’t take long before Buck forgets that Chris isn’t his biological son. He loves Chris the same way he loves Maddie and his parents, but even more so because he never knew he could be so fiercely protective of a single human being. 

Some days, Buck muses he loves Chris more than he loves Eddie, and that’s saying something.

Buck stares into the mirror, his eyes meeting Chris’, and they both smile. “Ready?” Buck asks as he straightens his tie. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” Chris leads the way, and Buck follows him out of the bathroom, through the living room, and out the front door. December in LA is mild at best, but Buck shivers as he helps Chris into the car. He looks behind him, then around, but there’s no one there. 

“Hm.” 

“What’s wrong?” Chris asks. 

Buck looks over his shoulder once more, then shakes his head. “Nothing, little man, let’s go.”

The drive to the station is uneventful, but Buck can’t shake that weird feeling swirling in the pit of his stomach. They pull into the parking lot just as Hen, Karen, and Denny pile out of their car, and Buck’s glad he decided to bring Chris afterall. 

Bobby’s whole family is here too, along with Michael, and as the spiked eggnog got passed around more than once, that uneasy feeling dissipates into something warm and fuzzy. Buck’s a little buzzed, but only enough to take the edge off. 

Chris, Denny, and Harry are off playing somewhere. Buck finds a spot with line of sight to the children and takes a seat, cradling his overstuffed stomach. He doesn’t know why he does this, but he just can’t stop himself from overeating when it’s a holiday. It’s a good thing he’s surrounded by LA’s finest paramedics incase he keels over from too much turkey. 

The upstairs lounge is buzzing with people. Firefighters and their families, and Buck tries not to let Eddie’s absence dampen his Christmas spirit. The rest of his family is right here, and he loves and cherishes them, and having Chris here makes up for the fact that Eddie isn’t. 

And that’s enough. It has to be. 

Buck contemplates a third eggnog, but decides against it. They still need to get home after, and Buck will be damned if he puts Chris’ life in danger just because he’s feeling a little maudlin and a lot lonely. He heaves out of the chair and heads for the trays of cookies and pastries laid out on a long table. If he can’t drink his sorrows away, he’ll just eat his feelings tonight instead. 

Somewhere behind him, Chris gasps. Buck’s heart drops through the floor and he spins to find Chris making a mad dash for the stairs. He acts before he’s had time to process, and he’s running up behind Chris, who’s half way down the first flight of stairs, before he sees what Chris is running towards. 

Or who. 

Down in the engine bay is a lone figure dressed in army fatigues with the brightest hazel eyes Buck’s ever known. His heart jumps into his throat, and the hubbub of the party fades as his eyes meet Eddie’s for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. 

They stand there, frozen, staring at each other, and a million things pass in that wide chasm between them. A whole year’s worth of fear and sadness and loneliness. Of love and longing and hope. Buck gets a little lightheaded, and that’s when he realizes he’s been holding his breath. He huffs, and with that single breath, every doubt he’s had this year flows out of him.

Eddie’s lips twitch into a rueful smile, that smile splitting impossibly wide when he sees Chris coming around the corner and down the second flight of stairs. 

“Daddy!” Chris’ jubilant shout breaks the freezing spell Eddie and Buck are under, and they move in sync. 

“Christopher, mijo. I’ve missed you so so much.” Eddie’s muffled voice drifts up as he clutches Chris to his chest. 

When Buck finally, finally makes his way down the steps, he stops just short. 

He’s dreamt of this moment, played it in his head over and over and over, imagined every possible way it could play out, but everything he imagined pales in comparison. Buck’s chest aches in that bittersweet, delicious way he never knew he could feel, and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from crying. 

Don’t fucking cry. Don’t ruin the moment. Just don’t, Buck. 

Eddie looks up over Chris’ head, and his red-rimmed eyes glisten with unshed tears. And that fucking does it. Buck’s eyes burn, and his nose stuffs up even more as he heaves for breath. His vision blurs, and everything turns into a watery mosaic. Eddie reaches for him, Chris still tucked against his chest, and Buck steps into the embrace like his life depends on it. 

When Buck’s arms wrap around Eddie’s actual, solid form, every dam he put up breaks, and the first of many sobs heaves out of him. Chris turns around, wrapping his arms around Buck’s neck, and then Eddie’s lips are on his skin. Warm, dry, and a little chapped. 

They’re on the floor, and Chris is in Buck’s lap, and Eddie’s hands are cupping Buck’s cheeks and Buck can’t fucking breathe. Can’t fucking see because his eyes are leaking like broken faucets. But he doesn’t need to see to know Eddie’s here, in his arms, and his presence is answer enough to all of Buck’s unanswered letters.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie rasps, his lips hovering on the corner of Buck’s mouth. 

Buck wants to say something, anything, but all that comes out is another sob. Eddie chuckles, then his lips press against Buck’s in a soft, chaste kiss. “Evan, Ev, I’m here. It’s okay.”

“Papa missed you,” Chris pipes up between them. 

Eddie’s eyes mist, and his arms slip around Buck’s shoulders. “I missed Papa too. Missed you both so, so much.” 

“Are you coming home, Daddy?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and his bright eyes lock on Buck’s with a conviction. “I’m coming home. For good.”

#buddie #buck x eddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie christmas advent #coming home #discord buddie advent #imyourbuddie writes #my writing #merry christmas

[livingmybestfictionallife]

The Gun

Summary:  In 1929, the Nevin-Klaff Gang, a collection of bootlegging cousins from the farmlands of Texas find themselves on the run and in need of help.The gang finds their way to St. Paul, Minnesota where the make the acquaintance of notorious, underground, bootlegger smuggling gang, The EST. Immediately, the leaders of these two gangs, Siobhan (Shiv-on) “Shiv” Nevin, and Colson “The Gun” Baker, can’t stand one another. When their subordinates go behind their backs to agree to work together, Shiv realizes how dangerous it can be to be a knife in a gun fight.

Previous Chapters --scroll to Knife in a Gun Fight

A/N: I lost my tag list for MGK stuff, so please message me if you want to be on it. Below is just some people I figured would want to read this. I’m hoping to start writing and posting some stuff on the weekends. I DO have some requests I’m still getting through. :)

Tag List: @lilliannrojas, @chanandlersstuff, @famousobservationfan​, @machine-gun-casie​

The morning came with a pillow to the face and angry grumblings from hungover men. Reluctantly, Siobhan peeled herself to a seated position on the cot she slept on the night before and groaned in anger at George for waking her so abruptly. With her feet placed on the floor and her head drooped down in exhaustion, Shiv pushed herself from the cot and moved around the room to find her where she placed her clean clothes.

“You hardly even stayed at the speakeasy more than half an hour. You don’t get to be grumbling,” George groaned as he pulled a homemade knitted sweater over his head.

“You would be grumbling too if you had to deal with such an insufferable man,” Shiv huffed as she found a soft, comfortable, white blouse, along with a pair of dark grey, hand-me-down riding knickers and matching overcoat.

“Come on, Shiv,” Eddy sighed as he dropped his weight against his sister and grasped onto her shoulders in order to pester her. “He was looking at you like you’re a real Sheba!” With a huff, Shiv shifted her weight out from beneath her brother and scoffed at his words.

“I wanted to be alone and it was obvious,” she insisted as she combed through her hair with her fingers and allowed the leftover curls from the night before to fall around her shoulders.

“How are we supposed to expect your sister to become friends with anyone?” George huffed at Arthur and Eddy as he shrugged his shoulders into his sport coat and glared in Shiv’s direction. “She won’t allow anyone within ten feet of her if they’re not blood.”

“I’m not going to give some cake-eater the time of day,” Shiv hissed at George with her eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, “especially not when I’m the last woman he attempts to approach!” Frustrated, Shiv slammed the door to the bathroom and locked herself inside. With an angry huff of her breath, she pressed her back against the door and tried her hardest to bury the fury threatening to burst from her chest. Slowly, between deep breaths and tilting back her head to keep her tears of anger from slipping, Shiv began to change.

“Ease off, her,” Eddy snapped at George the moment his sister had disappeared behind the bathroom door.

“She’s going to rub everyone the wrong way and then no one will want to help us,” George retorted as he bent over to pull on his boots without giving Eddy an ounce of his attention.

“She didn’t want this,” Arthur quickly intervened to remind his older cousin of his place. “Her plan was to be upright and honest in our intentions with EST, not to try and befriend them and convince them of a favor! She’s going along with your plan to make you feel important.”

“You’re full of shit, Art,” George hissed and stomped the floor once each of his boots were secured around his feet. “I’m the oldest. I’m the leader. Siobhan is just some girl who got mixed up in this.”

“Shiv is our cousin,” Walter quickly reminded his brother even though the words fell from his mouth like vapor in the wind.

“What women do you see running the scene or calling the shots? Shiv having even the smallest amount of control is what got us here, hiding from coppers in every other state and sharing a small bedroom in shitty motels.

“Shiv being in control of our every move is what helped Mom and Pa, Aunt Liz and George Senior keep the farm. Shiv being in control of everything we’ve done has helped countless family farmers across the country keep their land and business. Just because she’s not another bim like the ones you chase doesn’t mean you get to treat her like garbage,” Art stated in a stern voice.

“I trust her judgement more than I trust you,” Edmund stated in defense of his sister as he stood toe to toe with George, “so I’m going to follow her lead. If she goes along with your plan, fine, but the second she thinks something is going south, I’m listening to every word she says. She’s kept us safe, alive, and together for this long, and I know I’m not as smart as her, but I’m not dumb enough to question whether or not she can get us out of the country safely.” George took a step forward and peered down his nose at Edmund with his hands balled tightly into fists.

“Are you threatening me, kid?” he asked as he lowered his voice to sound more intimidating to the twenty-three-year-old before him.

“George,” Walter’s firm voice cut through the thick tension of the room as he watched his older brother peer down at Edmund with a fiercely dangerous gaze dancing on his face. “We’re doing this your way! We’re on the way to meet EST. Stop picking fights.” At the sound of his younger brother’s pleading voice, George took a step back and cracked his knuckles before dismissing his cousins and turning his attention out the dingy window of their terrible motel room.

Just as the tension began to die down in the room, Shiv emerged feeling more confident in her trousers and blouse than she had in the evening gown she had worn the night before. Her eyes caught the frustration that Edmund’s face held as well as the strain crossing Art’s chest, and she did her best to shield her gaze from Walter’s rosy cheeks. Shiv sighed as she dropped onto her cot to lace her short heeled Victorian boots around her stocking clad feet. She wasn’t going to be the first to apologize between she and George, and maybe it was that stubbornness that had him angry with her to begin with, but Shiv was stronger than him in more ways than one. Sooner or later, he’d realize he needed her more than she needed him, and then he’d be crawling to her and his apologies would spill from his mouth for all of the grievances he caused her.

“While you came home early, Eddy and Walt were able to get one of EST’s members to reveal his identity to them,” Art stated as he held out a scarf for his sister to take.

“We hit it off easily,” Walter said with a kind smile as he looked over to Siobhan in hopes that her anger towards George no longer resonated on her face. “Rook, or JP was the one we met. The only other person from EST there besides him was Slim, his real name is Brandon. The Gun and Baze were there, but left before we could meet them.”

“Rook and Slim told us we can meet up with them at a diner across town for breakfast as long as we don’t bring any weapons,” Eddy said with a stern voice.

“What if they’re just trying to ambush you? Meet some drunk people and set up a time to screw them over the next day?” Siobhan asked as she knitted her eyebrows together curiously.

“Well,” Art sighed disapprovingly at his sister before offering her a blade that balanced on his fingertips, “there’s a reason we call you Shiv.”

A wicked smirk fell over the woman’s face as she felt the cool metal between her fingers. Ever since she was a little girl, Shiv was fascinated by throwing knives. She excelled in archery and was a clean shot with a rifle, but her mother kept her from going on family hunting trips with her brothers and father. It’s impolite for a lady to do such things a man should do for her, her mother would say; unfortunately, that same sentence was never a good enough when she used it as an attempt to get out of doing farm work. Ever curious, while her father and brothers were away on their hunting trips, Siobhan would steal her mother’s kitchen knives, retreat a safe distance from the house further back on their property, and throw the blades into tree trunks. After a while, Shiv became just as good at handling a blade as she was at archery and shooting.

Siobhan took the knife from her brother’s fingertips and slipped it into a small holster wrapped around her ankle beneath the flow of her trousers. Immediately, she noticed the rather unpleasant look George was giving her. His straight nose was pointed up in the air and pinched as he watched his cousin try to hide the only protection the group would have other than their fists.

“It would be less conspicuous if you wore a skirt,” he commented with a snide glance over his shoulder towards Shiv. She narrowed her eyes at him and bit her tongue as she watched him continue to wag his. “We’re seriously putting our only chance of survival if something goes wrong in the hands of your little sister?” he commented to Arthur.

“No, you’re putting your chance of survival incase anything goes wrong in my original plan—approach them straightforward without this deceitful, ‘let’s be friends’ bullshit,” Shiv snapped as she grabbed her coat, threw it over her shoulders, and bundled her hands into mittens to keep herself from punching her cousin.

“Let’s just go,” Walter sighed as he and Art eagerly left the room and made their way into the cold morning air of Minnesota. George followed his brother and cousin while Edmund and Siobhan locked the door and paced along behind the group.

The walk was rather refreshing for Shiv. She stayed with Eddy most of the time and the pair simply examined the city—the buildings they passed, the people who nodded and kindly said hello, the children who played in the snow outside of their homes. Both found themselves falling victim to the undeniable jealousy of the strangers they passed, and in an unspoken manner, the pair empathized with the other by remembering the phrase they’d often shared with one another on their journey north: Maybe in Canada. As Shiv lost herself in the one question she had regarding her plan, what happens when we get to Canada? her family was quickly approaching the diner that had come into sight. As Eddy realized they were closing in on the place he, Art, and Shiv viewed to be a target—a place that held the potential of a dangerous interaction—he hastened his pace to get ahead of the group.

As the group of five entered the restaurant, Eddy and Walter positioned themselves at the front of the group and spoke in kind, gentlemanly tones. “We’re meeting some friends here, Johnny and Brandon. They wouldn’t happen to be here already, would they?” With a small smile on her face, the young woman at the hostess stand escorted the group to a corner of the restaurant that was sparce of patrons other than a small group of four huddled into one side of a rather long booth. George placed himself at the far, right side of the table opposite of a man with a full, long beard and a broad, stout build, and Shiv rolled her eyes at the fact that although they were doing this his way, he was still the one to size up EST and place himself accordingly. Art slid in beside George, followed by Shiv, and then Eddy and Walter, who chose to sit opposite of the man they met at the speakeasy last night.

“So Slim and I met Walt and Eddy last night, but who are the rest of you?” Rook asked as his eyes trailed the rest of the table and stopped when they reached the young woman who refused to look any of them in the face.

“George,” the eldest of the group said with authority. “I’m Walt’s older brother and the rest are our cousins. This is Art, and you’ve already met Eddy.”

“But who is she?” Rook asked George rather pointedly.

“Yes, who is she?” a rather smooth and low voice called out softly. Shiv could tell it came from whomever was sitting across from her, and in a moment of defiance, she pulled her eyes up and snapped.

“Who’s asking?” She could feel a hot ball of lead plummet into her stomach as soon as her eyes met those of the man across from her. Those blue-green orbs attached to a head of slicked back blonde hair teased her almost as much as the smirk on his face.

“The Gun.” With those two words, Shiv held her breath and tried to think of a world where she hadn’t screwed over their chances of getting out of the country by insulting some man coming onto her at a bar, but she was coming up short. “Founder and leader of the EST,” he said before introducing his counter parts as Rook, Slim, and Baze. “Now, care to give me your name, doll?”

“Shiv,” she said through tight gritted teeth.

“Why Shiv?” Rook asked as he tried to diffuse the unknown tension between Shive and The Gun.

“Would you like to find out?” she threatened only to have Arthur and Edmund each place a firm hand on either shoulder.

“Her name is Siobhan,” Walter explained, “Shiv is just a shortened version.” Without thinking twice, The Gun turned towards the men on either side of him and whispered something before he turned to face Shiv again with a smirk on his face.

“So,” he said as he turned to face the entire group before him. “What are we working with here?”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked as he watched the men before him carefully eye over each of his family members.

“Rook and Slim said you wanted to do business? Is that wrong?” Shiv gave an I-told-you-so glance towards George, who grumbled and growled under his breath. “What are we working with? Who’s the leader of this operation? How did you get here? What do you want?”

“The leader of the operation is m—” George tried to assign himself the role of leader, only for his voice to be covered by Arthur and Eddy saying, “Shiv.”

“Seriously? Her?” Baze questioned as he looked between George, Shiv, and The Gun. “You’re not really going to entertain this, are you?” he asked The Gun as he watched his leader’s face. He wasn’t mulling over whether or not to seriously consider the people before him; he was intently watching the woman that sat in front of him—he’d already made up his mind and that was slowly becoming clear to Baze, Slim, and Rook.

“Tell us about your gang and we’ll find a place for you to fit in with us.” As The Gun spoke, it was clear he was only speaking to Shiv, which angered her based on their single interaction the night before, but also put her mind at ease, because now she wasn’t going to have to fight George on anything.

“Open any national paper and you’ll learn all you need to,” she said in an apathetic tone as she dismissed his curiosity.

“Papers lie. We know that much by now, so tell us, what really is the Nevin-Klaff gang?” Suddenly, Shiv could feel something touching her leg beneath the table. Out of sight of everyone before her, something had grazed her knee, and after subtle, reassuring raise of The Gun’s eyebrows, she pushed her hand along her thigh until her fingers met what felt like a small scrap of paper. Quickly, she pulled her hands back with the paper held between her fingers, and then she tucked it under her leg.

“George started out running moonshine for a few, family run farms to help them get the money needed to pay the bank do they can keep their land and continue to make a living. Art joined him after a short while, I forced them into letting me help, and then Eddy and Walt had joined up as well. We don’t hurt people; we transport spirits, take what’s been taken, and help the little people stay alive.”

“What about the train you supposedly robbed in Nebraska?” he probed with his eyes narrowed and his voice lowered.

“What about the shootout you supposedly had that killed a man?” she questioned back with an equally falsified newspaper account regarding EST as the one he was referring to about Nevin-Klaff. With a flash of her eyes in his direction, he realized he couldn’t wait any longer for her to open the piece of paper he’d given her.

“I want to speak with you privately,” he stated as he looked to his crew and stood. It was a standard step in the process of getting into business—The Gun talking to the leader of the gang he would be working with—but Baze, Slim, and Rook still didn’t know what exactly The Gun had planned. They knew they needed another gang of roughly their numbers to work a job with them, but they didn’t know the job, the location, or any details relative to his plan.

“She doesn’t go anywhere without us,” George stated firmly as his jealousy towards Shiv’s role began to overcome him.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have been talking with some strumpet when your cousin was walking back to your motel alone.” His voice was even as he delivered his observation from the night before, and a realization clicked in Shiv’s head.

“I’ll be fine,” she said in a reassuring tone to her brothers as she rose from her seat and paced away from the gathering to follow a complete stranger to an unknown location just to prove that her realization was right.

Next Chapter: TBA

#colson baker #colson baker fanfiction #colson baker fanfic #colson baker x reader #colson x reader #colson baker au #colson baker gangster au #mgk #mgk fanfiction #mgk fanfic #mgk fic #mgk au #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfiction #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly au #machine gun kelly gangster au #knife in a gun fight

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Marked (Part 25 - Epilogue)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2740

Warnings: Bit o’ smut, but nothing too explicit and nothing you haven’t seen before in this story. 

A/N: This is tied closely to Part 16, aka the djinn chapter, and I recommend re-reading that one first if it’s been a while. It also references Part 20 a few times.

As many of you know, by now, this fic is very personal and very honest. I’m not going to get into it too much, but this story is my way of telling anyone who needs to hear it that things will get better, and the bad days will pass, and the scars don’t define you. I hope you wake up tomorrow and decide to try again. 

Thanks for reading. 

This is not a happy ending. 

We’re not always happy people, Dean and me. We have good days, but we have bad days too: days when it’s all I can do to get out of bed, days when I feel like I’m being crushed by the weight of everything we’ve been through. We are battered and bruised and worn around the edges. We’re kind of a mess. I’m okay with that.

Love is messy. Love is showing someone your weak spots, your knitted-up ripped-apart insides, the dark broken pieces, and saying, here I am, I’m yours to hurt.

And yes, sometimes we hurt each other. Sometimes we rip each other apart all over again. Sometimes I feel like I’m nothing but scar tissue, held together by duct tape and sheer stubbornness.

At the end of every day, though, we dust each other off and bandage each other up, and in the morning, we try again.  

- - - - -

The humid spring air drags at my skin, tugging at my fingers when I stick my hand out the open window and let it ride the pressure of the wind.

It’s an overcast day, threatening rain, and Dean looks as stormy as the sky as he drives in silence. I just shrugged when he asked me about work, and we’ve both been quiet since. When he catches me watching, though, he gives me a rueful little attempt at a smile. It looks more like a grimace, but he’s trying. I know he’s trying.

I’ve been working at a new place nearby, a roadhouse one of the boys’ hunting contacts opened recently. It’s perpetually full of plaid and testosterone and people asking if I’m “Dean’s girl,” trying to get a message to the Winchesters. I guess word spreads fast with hunters. On the bright side, though, I can be honest if I need to call out because of a potential apocalypse, or something.

Dean usually comes inside, has a beer while I’m finishing my shift, but today he was waiting outside with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped.

“Can we go somewhere?” he said. It wasn’t an apology, but I know better than to expect an apology right away. He’ll get there.

We don’t fight often, not really. Usually when I get scared and pull away, he knows how to follow, how to reassure me, how to make me feel safe. Usually I’m tough enough to withstand his sharp edges and push through the walls he likes to hide behind.

Today has been a bad day. It’s bad for both of us, in our own ways, but this morning started with his nervous little sideways look as he folded up his pocketknife, and it ended with the vicious things he says when he’s angry at himself but wants to make me hurt for it. Usually I’d roll my eyes and tell him to go punch something, but today marks exactly two years since the demon showed up on my doorstep. Today I already felt raw and vulnerable and stripped-bare; when he lashed out, he cut right into the softest parts of me, and I slashed right back, snarling at him through my tears, and we were still screaming at each other when I stormed out to go to work. The anger’s gone now, but it’s left a cold, heavy ache in its place.

He takes us to Lawrence, of course. We park in front of the old rusty gate and hop the fence. He reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a little squeeze without actually looking at me, and we set off down the old path together.

We sit on one of the big flat rocks, watching the water: green-grey, steady, endless. It’s familiar, now, the shape of the eddies and the gurgle as it rolls smoothly around the rocks.

Just a couple weeks ago, we had a picnic here for Sam’s birthday. The surprise had been Dean’s idea. He’d told Eileen and Cas beforehand, and we’d packed a checkered blanket, a cake, the whole nine yards. We didn’t tell Sam where we were going, not until we’d pulled up at the fence and he’d stared at us blankly.

“So, you remember when Dad used to take me fishing?” Dean had said, running a hand through his hair nervously. Sam had gotten teared up when he realized, and Dean looked so startled, like he usually does when his efforts to open up are met with something other than disgust.

The memory makes me soften, slightly. I move in closer and Dean shifts to meet me, and I tuck myself snugly into the curve of his arm, resting my head on his shoulder. He lets out a long shaky exhale and then clears his throat.

“I love you,” he says gruffly.

“I know,” I whisper.

He kisses the top of my head and I rest my hand on his knee, thumb stroking over the rough denim. The rock is too hard to make a comfortable seat, and my neck is at an awkward angle, and the sky is slowly growing darker, and I don’t mind.

We sit for a while without talking. It’s enough just to be here together; I know what he’s trying to say.

Around dusk, we get up. My legs are cramped and stiff, and Dean helps me get to my feet. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight, and I bury my face in the softness of his worn flannel.

“I love you too,” I say, muffled against his chest. He strokes my hair and takes one more deep breath, and then he grabs my hand, and we start along the path back to the car. It starts to rain as we jump the fence, warm heavy drops that thud into the dirt, and for a moment I stand still and turn my face up to the sky, letting the water run down my cheeks.

I still feel cold and achy, inside, but mostly I just feel leaden with exhaustion. I’m ready for the day to be over. I’m ready to be home.

I curl up in the passenger seat and turn on the tape deck. Dean sings along just a little bit off-key, and when the rain drumming on the roof starts to drown out the music, I turn up the volume. Dean pulls back onto the highway and we head west.

“You gotta drop me at my car,” I point out, as he cruises past the exit to the roadhouse.

“You can just take Baby tomorrow,” he says, deliberately casual. It’s a big gesture, and we both know it; it’s like the Dean equivalent of a dozen roses, or jewelry, or whatever the stereotypical romantic gift is. I can’t help the way my mouth twitches up in a smile.

My clothes are still slightly damp from the rain when we get back to the bunker, and I strip down to my underwear as soon as we get back to our room, burrowing in under the big comforter. Dean follows, slower, pausing to turn on the small bedside lamp and turn off the overhead lights before he takes off his jeans and his flannel and crawls into bed. He looks at me hesitantly, like he’s not sure I’ll want to touch him, but I slide on top of him and kiss him, and I feel his sigh of relief against my mouth.

We kiss, deep and heated, until my lips feel bruised, and then I sit up and look down at him, running my hands down his chest to the hem of his shirt so I can tug it up. He lifts it up over his head obediently and tosses it away.

I grab his wrists as he settles back down. I press them into the pillow on either side of his head, leaning in to pin him, watching the way his lips part and his eyes go huge and dark.

“Do you want…” I ask hoarsely, thinking of the cuffs I got him for his birthday, but he just shakes his head slightly, looking up at me, open and trusting.

“Just like this?” he asks quietly. I kiss the frown line between his eyes and hold his wrists tighter.

We take our time. There’s no rush.

I kiss his mouth, his cheeks, his nose, nibble his earlobe, and then I drag my mouth down the side of his neck, sinking my teeth into the soft skin, biting until he’s bruised and gasping. I grind down until he’s rock-hard, until I’m soaking the thin fabric of my panties where I’m pressing against the length of him. He stares when I sit up and take off my bra. When he reaches up, reaches out for me, I grab his wrists again and shove them down, and the way he whimpers sets my skin on fire.

I roll away clumsily, just long enough for both of us to get rid of the last of our clothes, and when he reaches out again, hands flying to my waist like he can’t help himself, I let him pull me up to straddle his face. He holds me down and fucks me shallowly with his tongue until I reach down and pull his hair, tugging sharply. He moans low in his chest and I rock down against his mouth, tilting my hips, until the filthy slick suction of his lips around my clit has my legs trembling and my head spinning. His nails rake down the small of my back and that’s it, I’m gone, arching my back and shaking, coming so hard I black out for a second.

My muscles are limp, totally useless, and I’m unsteady as I swing my leg over and tumble onto my back. I pull him on top of me and he fucks into me hard and desperate, muscles surging under my palms as I run my hands down his shoulders. I dig my fingernails into the swell of his ass, urging him closer, and tell him how perfect he feels, how good he is, how much I love him, and when he slams into me one last time, he lets out a long broken groan and then melts down against me, a hot perfect weight all over me as our heartbeats slow and our sweat cools.

I almost drift off, just like that, with his breath tickling my neck, feeling the flutter of him starting to go soft inside me. I grumble when he starts to pull away and he makes a soothing noise, turning to shut off the lamp. I roll onto my side and squirm back against him in the pitch-black, and he spoons up behind me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“S’okay. Me too,” I sigh, already half-asleep again.

“Is this… are we okay?”

He sounds so small and scared in the dark.

“We will be,” I say.

We sleep.

I love waking up with Dean, the way he holds me in his sleep, pressed firmly to my back with his arm curled protectively around me, his breath tickling the nape of my neck. I take it in for a few minutes, still and silent, until he starts to stir, his thumb stroking over my collarbone and his nose nuzzling my ear.

The alarm hasn’t gone off yet; I have a few minutes before I have to get up.

I roll over lazily, molding myself to his chest, and kiss him properly. He’s frowning against my lips. When I look at him, he’s looking back through half-closed eyes, sleepy and sweet and soft, the Dean that only I get to see. I love him, love him in a way that makes my heart swell and puts stars in my eyes and brings every other stupid cliche to life. I love him so much I can barely breathe sometimes. The bad days don’t change that.

“We’re okay,” I say firmly, before he can ask again, and the tight worried line of his mouth eases slightly.

“I’m trying,” he whispers. “I don’t know why I can’t just - I get caught up, and… fuck. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I love you,” I answer, and I run my fingertips over his cheek, rubbing my thumb over the curve of his lower lip.

The alarm goes off, beeping insistently, and we both grumble in unison as Dean swats at the clock.

“Do you have to?” he pouts. I kiss the tip of his nose.

“Gotta get to the library and finish this essay before class.”

“We have a library.”

“And if I needed to write an essay about ghouls, I’d be all set, but I need actual books, not grimoires.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ll go get coffee started.”

I watch him get out of bed and fumble with his pants. I admire the muscles in his shoulders as he pulls on a shirt, half-tempted to drag him back into bed and map the freckles with my tongue.

He looks back at me as he leaves, and his smile gives me butterflies, even after all this time.

Dean’s got my favorite mug waiting by the time I shower quickly and shuffle into the kitchen, and there’s a fresh pot of coffee, still steaming hot. Cas is sitting at the table and staring into his own mug like it holds the secrets of the universe. Dean is muttering darkly as he slams cabinet doors, looking for another box of his favorite cereal.

Laughter from down the hall announces Sam and Eileen’s return. They come in sweaty and beaming, fresh off their morning run.

“Egg white omelettes, anybody?” Sam asks cheerfully, rummaging in the fridge, and I just roll my eyes.

Dean sits down, nursing his coffee and looking sourly at the empty cereal box on the table. I sit next to him.

“Frigging morning people,” he mumbles.

“Seriously,” I agree, and kiss his cheek.

“Sure you don’t want an omelette?” Sam asks, pointing at me with a bundle of spinach.

“Gotta go. Abnormal psych essay to finish.”

“What’s it about?” Sam asks, as Eileen ducks under his arm to get to the coffee.

“Assholes,” she says, and holds up the empty pot accusingly. Cas sidles away with an apologetic grimace.

I suppress a laugh and answer, “Sublimation. I think I’ll probably do okay.”

I smirk at Dean, who huffs and rolls his eyes. Sam and I exchange a knowing look.

Dean grabs my hand. He squeezes gently, interlacing our fingers, and I pick up my coffee left-handed, reluctant to let go.

The classes were Sam’s idea to begin with; he always asks how it’s going, and he fusses about my grades like a proud parent, even though it’s just a part-time thing, for now, to see if anything really grabs my interest. I’m on my third psychology class, now. I’m starting to think about enrolling full-time, but… we’ll see.

I drain my mug and give Dean’s hand one last squeeze before I let go and stand up.

“You gonna be home for dinner?” he asks, watching me as I fish around in a cabinet and pull out a granola bar for the road.

“Yup,” I answer absent-mindedly, checking my pockets for my wallet as I head to the door.

Dean calls my name, and I turn impatiently. He catches up and cups my face in his hands as he kisses me.

“You forgot something,” he whispers, and gives me one last quick peck before he releases me.

“Love you,” I say. “You big fuckin’ sap.”

He grins. “You know it. Love you more.”

I can’t help but ogle him slightly when he turns his back: broad shoulders, bowed legs, mine.

I wave to the rest of my strange little family before I leave. There’s a chorus of goodbyes, and I smile to myself as I walk away.

Today is a good day. Not all of them are, but today is a good day.

I think we’re going to be okay.

-----

This is not a happy ending.

This is not an ending at all; it’s just another day, just another step. And I have no idea where we’re headed, Dean and me, but it’s not about the destination.

We woke up this morning and chose to try again. We chose to keep moving forward, one tiny step after another. We chose to move forward together.

It’s not about getting somewhere. It’s the step that matters.

.

.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog, leave a message here, or buy me a coffee over here. 

.

Tag team: @winchesterprincessbride @ultimatecin73 @mrswhozeewhatsis @mogaruke @babypieandwhiskey @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @fandom-princess-forevermore @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @maddiepants @fangirlxwritesx67 @leatherandfrackles @waywardbaby @covered-byroses @thoughtslikeaminefield @dean-Winchesters-bacon @atc74 @onethirstyunicorn @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @wayward-and-worn @the-chocolate-moose @geekgirl1213 @notyourtypicalrose @myfanficlibrarium @calaofnoldor @indecisive20something @carryonmyswansong  @akshi8278 @woodworthti666 @sandlee44 @flamencodiva @weepingwillowphoenix @shamelesslydean  @rockhoochie @fookinghelljensensthighs @ladywinchester1967 @magssteenkamp @vickyfarley @olivia-whorelow @vicmc624 @daddys-little-princess67 @stoneyggirl 

#marked #dean winchester fic #spn fic #spn fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader smut #dean x you #Dean Winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #supernatural fanfiction

[madefantasy]

AN INQUEST — JOANNA STARK

— REQUIRED QUESTIONS

WHAT IS YOUR FULL TITLE / OCCUPATION ?

“ — oh, I need to do one of these ? well, alright.” she plops down on the seat unceremoniously. “ joanna margaery stark, princess of the north, lady of winterfell, I’m sure you know the rest.”

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS / LOVED ONES CALL YOU ?

“ jo, but most everyone calls me that. even you call me that! i’ve also been called jojo or anna or annie. i quite like those, but jo’s my favorite. ”

WHERE WERE YOU BORN ?

“ right here — no, not right here exactly. but in winterfell, like all the other starks. ”

DO YOU HAVE SIBLINGS ?

“ yes ! there’s eddy and ellie and freyja and — well, you know. far too many wolves ‘round here, but it makes for terribly fun family dinners. ”

DO YOU HAVE CHILDREN ? DO YOU WANT THEM ?

“ why ? are you offering to be the father ? i’m afraid i’m betrothed, but i’m looking to get out of that mess. ” she says with a wicked smile. “ oh ! don’t blush, i was just joking, i promise. i i would like to have children, one day. i think. ”

DO YOU HAVE A POSITIVE RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR FAMILY ?

“ i do. i wish i had the words to describe how much i love them & how much they mean to me, but i was never any good at writing poetry. they’ve always been there for me and i them. i can’t imagine being seperated from my family.”

DO YOU HAVE ANY FAMILY TRADITIONS / MEMORIES THAT YOU VALUE ?

“ oh, so many ! but one of my favorites is the day we all received our direwolf pups. ”

HOW DO YOU TYPICALLY SPEND A DAY ?

“ mostly trying to get out of my duties — i mean, i mostly spend my days adhering to my duties. i take them very seriously, as you know.” she nods. “... that wasn’t very believable, was it ? well, i mean it doesn’t help that you lot have seen me sneak out of the castle more times than anyone can count. ”

ARE YOU RELIGIOUS ?

“ how could i not be ? my gods are the north. the rocks, the streams, the birds, the beasts, and when you’re standing in the middle of the wolf woods & hear the sigh of the wind or the rustle of the leaves, you know they’re listening. ”

WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST STRENGTH ?

“ i’m quite determined when i set my mind to something. ”

YOUR GREATEST WEAKNESS ?

“ probably my mouth. that’s gotten me in quite a bit of trouble. my father says — i. . . forgive me, he used to say it was that i didn’t like being told ‘no’, that my impulsive nature would be my downfall. terribly morbid, but he was a stark. it’s kind of our thing. ”

DESCRIBE A HIDDEN TALENT / LITTLE KNOWN SKILL YOU BELIEVE YOU POSESS.

“ i can shoot an apple off of someone’s head from twenty paces. five and twenty paces if there’s no wind. would you like a demonstration ? let me get my bow ! ” she leaps out of her seat in excitement. “no ? — please ! ugh, alright.” she flops back down, arms crossed.

DO YOU FALL IN LOVE EASILY ?

“ i think i fall i love with everyone, just a little bit. i haven’t meet my great love, like they have in all the songs, if that’s what you’re asking. ”

DO YOU HAVE SOMEONE YOU WOULD DIE FOR ? WHO?

“ my family, of course. without question. ”

DESCRIBE YOUR LIFE FIVE YEARS FROM NOW.

“ i’ll be right here in winterfell. — what about my betrothal? what about it? ” an easy laugh escapes her lips. she’d broken three betrothals. soon, that number would be four. “ i’ll be here in winterfell, still causing all kinds of trouble i hope. i’m afraid you won’t be rid of me yet.”

DO YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF TO BE A SECRETIVE PERSON ?

“ not particularly, but everyone has secrets i think. and i’m entitled to my own. ”

IS THERE A SECRET RELATED TO YOU THAT YOU HIDE FROM MOST PEOPLE ?

 her mind flickers to the letter tucked in her trunk, the bag lying beneath it. “ no.”

DO YOU PUT YOURSELF BEFORE OTHERS , OR OTHERS BEFORE YOURSELF ?

“ contrary to what everyone else seems to thinks, i do try to put others before myself. i just don’t want to limit myself from all that this world has to offer.”

DO YOU LIKE YOURSELF ?

“ i like myself as much as well as anyone likes themselves, i suppose. ”

DO YOU BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE A GOOD PERSON ?

“ i don’t know. i hope i am. ” do you think i am? she almost asks. “ i try to be.”

ARE YOU A VENGEFUL PERSON ?

“ i don’t... think so ? i’ve been told i can be awfully mean when i fly into a passion. and i do things i find myself regretting later on. ” 

EVENT / PLOT DROP RELATED QUESTIONS -

WHY  DID  YOU  ACCEPT  THE  INVITATION  TO  THE  CORONATION ?

“ i heard there would be cake at the feast.” she deadpans. 

WHAT ARE YOUR IMPRESSIONS OF THE NORTHERN  RULERS ? THEIR  HOME ?

“ well i quite like it here. it’s beautiful, in it’s own strange & cold way. and i suppose my rulers are passable. ” she breaks out into a small smile. “ joking. can i have no fun ?” 

WERE YOU PARTAKING IN THE FESTIVITIES AS AN INVITED GUEST , OR SOMEONE IN SERVICE TO AN INVITED GUEST ?

“ well i think it would have been quite strange if i hadn’t been invited to my own brother’s coronation. ”

DID YOU ATTEND BOTH THE CORONATION & THE FEAST ?

“ i did. it was lovely. you know, up until the attempt on my sister’s life. that put a bit of a damper on the mood.”

IF SO , CAN YOU ACCOUNT FOR YOUR WHEREABOUTS PRIOR &  DURING  THE  ATTEMPTED  POISONING  OF  QUEEN  FREYJA  &  KING  EDRIK ? CAN ANYONE VERIFY THIS ACCOUNT ?

“ i was standing right besides them with my brother, eldyn, on the dias. he could verify that. as well as frey & eddy, sorry, queen freyja & king edrik.”

DID YOU SEE , HEAR , OR OVERHEAR ANYTHING SUSPICIOUS THAT MIGHT BE USEFUL IN THE INVESTIGATION ?

“ no, but the goblet that was in the boy, tomas’ hand. the wine looked... almost purple ? the wine in edrik’s goblet looked red. could it have been the strangler, do you think ?”

WHAT MOTIVE MIGHT SOMEONE HAVE FOR SETTING  THE  MAESTERS  TOWER  ABLAZE ?

“ losing maester rybeck was awful. he was always very patient with me during lessons, even when i was being a little terror.” jo quickly swipes her sleeve across her eyes, folding her hands back in her lap. “ i don’t know any motive,  the maesters are meant to serve the realm aren’t they ? not any one king. do you think that there was some sort of information in the maester’s tower that someone didn’t want getting out ? ”

DO YOU BELIEVE THESE ATTACKS WERE / WILL BE AN ISOLATED INCIDENT ? EXPLAIN.

“ i want to say that it was an isolated incident , but that would be wishful thinking on my part. and if whoever did this was brazen enough to attack my family at a coronation, in front of great houses from all three kingdoms, then . . . i’m quite afraid of what they’re planning next.  ” 

WHO  DO  YOU  BELIEVE  TO  BE  RESPONSIBLE  FOR  THE  LATE  KING  STARK’S  MURDER ?

“ can i skip this, please ? i don’t particularly want to think about it. ”

IF YOU WERE ASKED TO LAY BLAME UPON ONE OF THE HOUSES, WHO WOULD YOU HOLD RESPONSIBLE FOR SUCH A HEINOUS ACTs ?

“ i mean... the sigil of house targaryen was at maester’s tower. it’s not as though one needs to leap across a gaping chasm to come to the conclusion that that alone is suspicious, at the very least. ”

IS  THERE  ANY  OTHER  INFORMATION  OF  NOTE  TO  SHARE  WITH  THE  INQUISITOR ?

“ no, not particularly. but how’s your husband ? is he faring well ? oh - wonderful ! i’m happy to hear it. am i free to go? ” she was practically bouncing in her chair. “ yessssss ! i wish you luck ! i’m going riding.”

#broken.task #♛ musings — (joanna) #♛ drabbles — (joanna) #im counting this as a drabble idc

[aboysbestfriendishismum]

Chapter 56 - Secrets, mix tapes and jealousy

In the previous chapter: the special date set up by Angie turned out to be a disaster for her and it's coming to a even worse end, since Eddie doesn't seem interested into having sex with her. In the end though, they both manage to open up and talk about their feelings and insecurities and they make love for the first time. Despite all that, Angie's still firm on her decision not to tell anything to their friends. We find it out when the couple joins Jeff, Stone, Grace, McCready and Cornell at their usual go-to pub. Jeff sees them getting there together by car but entering the place in different moments to avoid suspects. From his thoughts about the matter, we find out that Jeff actually caught the two exchanging affectionate effusions a few days earlier, when Angie had brought a cake for him and Eddie before a show. At that time, Jeff preferred to silently and secretely leave before they could see him, so that they wouldn't be embarrassed. Thanks to his friends's advice, Jeff can finally put together a bunch of titles for the fake demo tape by Cliff Poncier, the main character of Cameron Crowe's movie, and then challenges Chris to actually write those songs.

**

“Did she knock him out?”

“Yeah, he went down like a sack of potatoes. And it was a pretty big sack” Angie lets go of my hand for a moment, just the time to mimic the body size of the guy, then takes it again, as we walk to her car.

“With a punch?”

“Actually, two”

“Given what he said to you, I'd have given him more” drunk or not, if you touch a woman you're crap, and if I run into you you're dead.

“You'd have beaten a dead horse, well, a dead sack of potatoes”

“Nuh, you're right: too little satisfaction. Anyway, hats off to Meg, cool girl”

“Yep... and to think that at the beginning I thought she was a vapid Barbie”

“What? You? Having prejudices about someone? It can't be!” I have fun picking on her. When I expressed very similar opinions about Violet she made me feel like shit.

“Hehe yeah, I confess, I made a mistake too, I'm human after all. Anyway, that's how we became friends and everything started”

“That's the perfect example of how something good can come out of a bad story too”

“See, so that guy deserves some credit too after all” as soon as we get to her Mini, Angie takes my other hand too and leans back against the back of the car, pulling me closer.

“Fucking credit. It happend ages ago and I wasn't even there and my hands are hitching to hit him good” it looks like taking me out to dinner to a Thai restaurant in the university district makes her feel safe enough from being possibly seen by our friends.

“Don't be upset” she tries and calm me with a kiss and I'd say it works great. But she doesn't need to know.

“Uhm... I'm still a little upset” I tell her after making a stupid scene, licking my lips and clicking my tongue as if I was trying to taste the kiss, just like a weird sommelier does after a sip of wine.

“Hahaha come on, let's go” she gives me another peck and opens the door, as I walk around the car to get to the passenger seat.

“Angie, I'm the last person who can give lectures about Seattle's street map, but weren't we supposed to turn left?” I ask her after our turn at the second crossroad.

“Oh... 'cause... you wanna go back home, right?” she's reaching for something in the glove box with her hand but freezes, as if I had caught her doing something wrong and I can notice her suddenly saddened eyesin the dark too.

“No, I mean, not necessarily”

“'Cause I thought it's still early and...” she puts both her hands back on the wheel and shrugs her shoulders at the same time.

“It's early indeed” it's always too early for me when it's time to say good night.

“I thought... well... we could hang out a little, go for a drive”

“Ok”

“But I can take you home if you want”

“No, I don't wanna go home”

“I didn't even ask you if you're busy tomorrow morning”

“I don't have shit to do tomorrow morning, Angie”

“Maybe you're tired”

“I'm not tired”

“I'll take a U turn as soon as I can”

“Angie?” I take her right hand from the wheel and kiss it.

“Yeah?”

“Take me for a ride”

“Ok”

“Where are you taking me?” I ask her as I let go of her hand and this time she opens the glove compartment and takes out a caseless cassette, putting it into the car player right away.

“To some place... you'll see” she smiles as Jim Morrison starts to sing.

Yeah, I'm a back door man

I'm a back door man

The men don't know

But the little girls understand

“Do we have a long way to go?” I ask a while later, as Brian Ferry's just admitted Love is the drug he prefers and we take Greenwood Avenue.

“No, we're almost there”

“Almost... can you be more specific?” I like to tease her and see her faces.

“Less than ten minutes and we're there. Are you getting bored?”

“Never, with you”

“So why are you so impatient?”

“I'm not impatient, I only wanna know if this place you want to take me to is within the borders of the United States or not. 'Cause if you, by any chance, are taking me to Canada, so our friends don't catch us, I warn you I didn't bring my passport”

“Ha ha” Angie gives me a nasty look, then her hand happens to land on my knee, which she gently squeeze.

“We're not crossing boundaries then”

“No, we're not”

“Where are we going then?”

“You'll see, soon”

She turns left at the next crossroad, then left again and the trees become thicker.

“I already know anyway: you're taking me to a park”

“Maybe” she lets go of the wheel and put her hands up wide open as to say who knows.

“No! You're taking me to the beach” I correct myself when, after a short while, the road goes downhill, plants thin out and I can see the horizon better.

“One thing does not exclude the other”

“I love watching you drive manual, you know?” I tell her, completely dropping the subject, lost in her driving movements.

“Haha my father taught me when I was twelve. And you?”

“Actually, I can't drive manual”

“No?? Really? You can't drive with a clutch?” she lookes at me shocked for a moment as she drives gently through the curves of the basically desert road.

“Hehe for real, I swear, I never tried”

“I'll teach you!”

“Thank you. I bet you're a good teacher”

“Good but strict”

“That's just perfect”

A yellow sign indicates a dead end street and that's when I figure out we've got to our destination. Angie turns into a rather narrow road on the left, then stops at some kind of natural open space, a clearing among the trees, with the front end of the car facing the wide free view of the ocean.

“Wow”

“From the upper parking lot the view is better but here it's quieter” she remarks as she turns off the car.

“I see” I look around and we're actually well hidden from the houses along the coastline.

“Do you like it?” she questions as she unwraps her scarf and throws it on the back seat. And from the speakers the Stones fade out and Nico's both smooth and scratchy voice comes in.

Here she comes, you better watch your step

She's going to break your heart in two

I have very little to watch out for by now. I'm in too deep and my heart is hers. It's not broken but she can do whatever she wants with it, even though she doesn't have false colored eyes and she's not an evil femme fatale like the one in the song.

“Yes, I like it here...” she can be a little tease though, with that smile of hers that... wait a minute “Angie?”

���Yes” she replies as she unbuttons her coat.

“I have this small sudden nagging question”

“Hehe that is?”

“Did you take me here to fuck?”

“EDDIE!”

“Fuck in a Mini Cooper?”

“HAHAHA”

“Why are you laughing? I only asked a question” actually I'm having such fun too but in subtler way.

“You just really don't know how to beat around the bush, right?”

“No, you should know by now... so?”

“So, I took you here so we could stay here, together, alone, and chill”

“That is, fucking”

“Not just that!”

“But also that”

“Well... if you want to, yes” she admits and I can see her blushing in the dark. This thing about initiatives is getting out of our hands. I'm not complaining though.

“I want to. But to do that, we could have gone to my apartment. I mean, it'd have been even better”

“Uhm not sure about that” she shakes her head not convinced.

“Both for the temperature and for the comfort”

“You're forgetting a small detail”

“What?”

“A not so small detail, who lives with you and his name is Jeff”

“Jeff knows when it's time to mind his own business, he's a smart guy”

“Too smart, that's the problem”

“Umph...”

“And you don't have such a view at your place” she retorts pointing through the windscreen.

“Whatever the place, the view is always spectacular when you're there”

“So basically you're telling me you wanna go back home” she looks down and plays dumb because she'd rather die than take a compliment.

“No, I wanna stay here and enjoy the view from up close” I hug her and my hands slip under her coat, pulling her closer for a kiss. The first one of a long series.

“So, did you like this... initiative?” she asks pulling back from my lips and still playing with my hair.

“Hehe yes, I liked it a lot. I'd just like to know how everything's gonna happen... from a, you know... technically”

“Just use some imagination”

“Next time you wanna have car sex, tell me first and I'll take my truck”

“Hahaha it's not that larger than this inside, you know?”

“But it has a bed, you know, in the back”

“Hahaha very comfortable and most of all very private”

“It depends on where you go...”

“Oh my god, you had sex in the truck bed??” Angie pulls away from me and looks at me as if she saw a ghost.

“A couple of times, yes”

“Fo the pleasure of the pervs and the voyeurs”

“I first made sure nobody was around”

“You're such a showoff!”

“There was nobody around, you asshole”

“Hehe there's nobody around here either”

“Right”

We looked at each other for a second, stop laughing and basically throw at each other at the same time. Angie shrugs off her coat and somehow flings it to the back, then climbs over me and straddles my legs. All this keeping her lips stuck to mine.

“Recline the back rest a little” she whispers into my ear.

“Like this?” I barely touch a side lever and find myself in a completely lying position in a second.

“Haha a little less than that, here, like this. Maybe try and go back a little too” Angie helps pulling me up a bit, then reaches for another toggle, under my seat I guess, and pushes it back, so that she wins some more vital space.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, don't worry”

“Are you sure? You've got one knee against the door and another on the seatbelt attachment”

“I've never been more comfortable” if I don't like beating around the bush when I speak, Angie is the one who doesn't waste any time with actions., 'cause she's already trying to unzip my pants. She makes it and it only takes her a few seconds to make me go completely nuts. Then she pulls away all of a sudden and sits back on the driver seat.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Wait, I just have to remove... some obstacles” I see her unlacing her shoes, fidgeting with her jeans , and I guess with her panties too, before straddling me again. I pull everything down too in the meantime to make the whole dynamic easier. I don't pay attention to the fact I haven't seen her launch anything else towards the back seat and only when I touch her I realize she's still wearing one leg of her pants.

“You do things halfway” I smile against her lips.

“What if we have to get dressed quickly?”

“You thought about everything, didn't you?”

“You know I'm a neat person”

“Uhm I can see that. The tape too...”

“Which tape?”

“The sex mix tape we've been listening to since we left the restaurant”

“What?!” Angie springs up, I don't know if it's for my remark or for the way I'm touching her.

“Don't even try to pretend it's not a car sex compilation”

“It's not!”

“Tim Buckley has just said he wants to be your victim of love” and I relate to him a lot.

“It's a mix... kind of romantic maybe... that's just how it turned out”

“It's such a romantic mix that he asked you to whip him and spank him straight away”

“Have you ever heard about metaphors? And you even write songs”

“Metaphors. Sure. So when Eric Clapton talks about making love against the wall, is it some metaphor too? And I won't say what comes later in the song, that's even worse, 'cause I'm sure you already know” I unbutton her sweater and her shirt together, while she shrugs and tries to play dumb.

“It's just a great song”

“They're all great” I hold her and manage to pull her back over me.

“I don't wanna listen to shitty music when I drive” she states before taking my breath away with a kiss.

“Or whenever you sneak off with your boyfriend” I immediately give her a taste of the same medicine

“I'm neat” she stares at me before her witty reply. By the way... this tape... did she do it for the occasion? I mean, especially for tonight or for me anyway? Or is it a ready to use mix tape she keeps in her car in case she needs it? And if that's the case, who did she use it with? Did she make that tape with someone else in her mind? But most of all, why do I have to think about this bullshit right now?

“You forgot one thing though...” I'd better focus.

“What?”

“I'm not ready to be a dad”

“Uh! No... I got them, don't worry” all her confidence disappears in one second, Angie sits up and turns around, not only to try and open the glovebox but also to hide a little hint of embarrassment.

“You're my favorite neat freak”

“Actually... ehm... you wouldn't run that risk anyway... since... you know, I'm on the pill but, I mean...” she starts stuttering and opens the box without looking at me.

“Ok”

“I'd rather keep it that way, for now, I mean, I think it's better if we use them all the same... if it's not a problem for you...”

“Angie”

“At least for now, since... well... we just... and considering what happened before...”

“ANGIE?”

“Yes?”

“I sad it's alright, stop being paranoid, ok?”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure, we'll think about it later, right now it's great this way”

“Ok”

“Now come here”

“Here where? I'm already here”

“I mean, closer”

“We're in a Mini, I can't go that far”

“I'm cold and lonely down here on the passenger seat. And I want you. So come back here” I pull her close, tugging at the hems of her shirt and she gives in, either 'cause she's afraid I'll tear it up or because I convinced her with my words.

“The needy puppy look is almost more powerful than dimples” she rolls her eyes and smiles as she comes back to me.

“Really?”

“I said almost”

**

I still don't understand how can Angie have all this power over me, how can she disarm me and surprise me every time. Even a crazy stupid thing, like driving up to an unknown hidden place for some night acrobatic contortion in a small car, something I haven't done for almost ten years, becomes special with her, and not just for the act itself. Right now I'm totally enraptured by the girl whose body is over mine but not just because she's literally over me. The truth is she's over, under, inside, outside, on my shoulders, between my legs, in my head, in my blood, on my skin and all around. I make love to her in the most uncomfortable way and place but my only thought is that I want her closer, and closer, as if it was even possible. My only thought is not a thought because I can't think now, it's only an instinct, a sensation, a need, like hunger and thirst. I kiss her and through my closed eyelids I can see colors and bright dots, waves of light like electric shocks given from sudden lighting bolts. And the jolts of electricity become closer and closer together and more intense and I think I'm going crazy, 'cause I've never felt something like this. Until Angie disengages her mouth and uses it to speak.

“What the- OH FUCK”

So, I don't know if it's because of Angie, but we got each other so twisted up that we didn't notice the police car appeared who knows how long ago, from out of nowhere and parked a few yards from here with the lights on.

“Oh oh”

“OH OH? The fucking police is here and all you can say is Oh oh?” Angie comes back to reality much more quickly than me. I'm still kind of dizzy.

“What should I say? Would shit be more appropriate?”

“Yes, definitely”

“Are you getting dressed?”

“Oh of course not! I'll just stay here, waiting for the cops butt naked” Angie frantically gets dressed, whereas I do everything at a slower pace. I can say it's also easier for me.

“Don't panic too much, they may think you wanna hide something”

“Hiding something is exactly what I'm trying to do” she hurriedly pulls up her pants and starts buttoning down her sweater, ignoring the shirt underneath, and that might be on purpose or not.

The moment we hear someone knocking on the window we're both startled. Angie looks at her left, then right in front of her, then towards me and shakes her head with an imperceptible movement before wearing the most innocent expression I've ever seen on her face since I first met her.

“Good evening, officer” she addresses one of the guys who killed our fun tonight after rolling down the window on her side. From the shadow I see through my window, I can say his colleague is on my side.

“Good evening... although good night would be more appropriate, what do you think?” we got the cop who tries to be funny. Fuck.

“Well, yeah, hehe!” Angie decides to go along and I agree with her plan “How... ehm... how can I help you?”

“Uhm let me think, why don't you start by turning on the light and give me your document, miss?”

“Sure!” Angie stretches out towards the back seat and the policeman knocks lightly on the windscreen of the car with his billy club pointing at the space where the rearview mirror is, to catch her attention and let her understand she has to switch on the interior lights first. She gasps then obliges, before starting to look for her papers again.

“Keep calm” I whisper as she takes her beg and gives everything to the officer. I'd rather be the driver, I'm afraid Angie will get nervous and do something wrong. I think it's the first time the police stops her.

“Thank you, I'd like to see the ones of your... friend too... please” the guy gives me an extremely bad look and at the same time someone knocks at my window. As I turn around I see a female silhouette gesturing for me to wind it down.

“Good evening, here it is” I take out my wallet very slowly, find my driving licence and give it to the policewoman.

“Angelina W. Pacifico... Idaho, huh?”

“Yeah, I moved here a few months ago” Angie deliberately adds something as an answer to a question no one asked, trying to look willing to cooperate.

“1972. Wow, it almost seems true hahaha!” the officer waves the document in the air and laughs through gritted teeth looking at his partner.

“It seems? Of course it's true!” Angie gets upset and I go pale in a second because if she starts responding to his provocations, we'll be dead.

“If you say so... I'll check it out”

“Feel free to check, so you can see for yourself!” fucking dead.

“Why don't you also give me your registration doc, so I can check that too, miss”

“Alright! I'll give it to you immediately, then you can also frisk me, him and search my whole car, my conscience is clear!”

“Do you know you've just given me a great idea, Miss Pacifico?” the jerk laughs again and I hope Angie will soon take that angry look off her face as I see her getting out the car documents.

“26 years old. Aren't you a little too old for that girl?” the police woman asks me after she's checked my licence and I decide to keep my mouth shut. Unfortunately someone else has a different opinion.

“I AM OF AGE! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Shut up!” the officer's yell catches me off guard since it comes from my side. Apparently he has come to get my document from his colleague. After that he goes back to their car for the checking.

“Angie, don't talk, please” I hiss and hope she'll follow my advice.

“Wether you're of age or not, he's still a little older than you” the woman leans down on the car door and talks gently to Angie through the window.

“That's not a crime” she says in a lower voice and I don't even know if the officer heard her. Maybe she finally understood what the correct behaviour is.

“You're going to the University of Washington, right?” the policewoman asks. She clearly wants to chit chat to kill time and ease the tension.

“Yes, how do you know?”

“The bump sticker”

“Oh right! Yeah, I moved here for that, to go to college”

“With your family?” ok, the Good cop/Bad cop operation has officially started.

“No, by myself”

“So, you're living on your own, you've got an apartment...”

“Well, yeah”

“And you?” this time she talks to me and to do that she points her flashlight right at my face.

“I don't go to college”

“I mean, don't you have a place?”

“Sure”

“So what the hell are you doing here? In a car? Well, something that looks like a car” she goes on switching off the flashlight and using it to vaguely point at Angie's car and I abruptly turn towards her, 'cause I know this could be enough to get her mad and we'd be fucked. But she keeps on with her quiet act.

“We were going for a ride”

“A ride?”

“Yeah” I repeat.

“But you were parked”

“We stopped for a minute” my girlfriend promptly replies.

“Stopped to do what?”

“Chat” a mechanism has tacitly established by which we take turns giving answers, so this time it's me speaking.

“Talk” Angie adds.

“Listen to music” the answer was suggested by the tape, which goes on and now it's time for... The rain song?? Holy fuck, Angie, couldn't you be more obvious? And she got the nerve to say it's not a car fuck mix tape. The cassette alone would be an evidence of public indecency in court.

“Enjoy the view”

“Yeah, actually as soon as we got here we noticed how focused you were on the view” the woman rolls her eyes and barely holds a laugh. We'd laugh too if we weren't under interrogation.

“She didn't make it clear what kind of view she was talking about... you, you gotta try and be more open minded, please!” the comedian colleague is back and gives Angie her documents back through the open window.

“Right!” the woman exchanges an amused look with her partner, who's back with the questions.

“Right, so, if I search this bumper car, will I find drugs or not?”

“Of course not, officer” she replies with no hesitation and I hope it's true 'cause if he actually finds something, we'll be in double deep shit.

“Guns?”

“What? Please, I hate them”

“And what if I give you a breathalyzer? What will I find?”

“Nothing, 'cause I didn't drink. He did, he had something to drink, but he's not driving, I'm driving, so...”

“Yeah, I see, I got it from the start that you're the one who leads, that was quite obvious hahaha” the cop can't hold himself and bursts out laughing in the end, followed suit by his partner, who scolds him though, also revealing his name to us.

“Barlow!”

“Ok ok, do you know why we stopped you?”

“You didn't, we weren't moving” Angie whispers in a very low voice as she gives me the car registration to put away into the glove box. But it's not low enough.

“Don't try to be funny, Miss! Do you know it or not?” don't tell him that if he does, then you can do it too. I know you're dying to tell him but don't do it, please!

“No” we both reply at the same time. Thank god. At least she knew about this: with the police, always say you don't know.

“'Cause you think that fucking in a car in a public place is a normal thing, right?”

“It's not public if nobody's there, is it?” my girlfriend tries but she'll be very disappointed.

“On what rulebook did you read this?” he answers sarcastically.

“I hope you're not studying law, darling”

“No. I study cinema”

“Uh! So you were rehearsing a scene! That's what it was!” these two are having the time of their life with us.

“Barlow, shut up! Ehm ehm we're patrolling the area because there have been some robberies lately. There's a gang who targets couples who come here at night to park, like you guys”

“So if I were you, I'd change my habits a little” the guy adds as he starts breathing again after his fucking laughter fits.

“You have an apartment each, just go there”

“O'Hara, can't you understand? There must be some cheating going on here! He leaves his girlfriend at home with an excuse and meets his younger mistress, am I right or am I wrong?”

“NO!” Angie reacts outraged and I feel this night will last much much longer.

“You can tell us, I mean, this surely is not a crime” Barlow leans down and folds his arms against the window opening in the car door, almost diving inside.

“There's no girlfriend at home”

“So she's the cheater”

“No one's cheating on anyone, I'm her boyfriend, we're together”

“Ok so, help me understand: you're together, I mean, in a regular relationship, she's legal, you both have a place... annoying roommates?” agent O'Hara counts the elements that don't add up to her on her fingertips.

“No, I mean, not too much” Angie looks at me as she replies, as if she was looking for a suggestion or, most likely, 'cause she finds it all unreal, just like me.

“So why arent' you at home?”

“You gotta ask her” I don't know why I answer like that, I can't even say if I did it for real, I don't even notice. It just comes out like that, spontaneously.

“Eddie?!”

“Tell us, Angie, why aren't you at home?” the comedian gets curious and calls her by her first name.

“Because... because it's a new thing”

“And we got that, also considering the... the enthusiasm” he goes on, earning the umpteenth fake nasty look from his partner.

“She doesn't want to tell our friends” and I guess this is me again, freewheeling talking.

“Why? Is there some ex?” O'Hara questions and now we went from interrogation to gossiping.

“No. I mean, yes,” Angie corrects herself when she sees me making a face “but that's not the reason”

“What is it then? Don't tell me you're ashamed of him? I'm not particularly attracted to long-haired men but he seems a good looking guy to me, after all”

“I'm not ashamed at all, he's... he's very good looking, he's perfect, in everything” are we going from gossip to confessions? Wait a minute, what did she just say?

“It's just... well, we know the same people, it's a whole group of friends. And some of them play in a band, with him”

“Musicians, huh? We'd better do a search after all” Barlow tells another shitty joke but his colleague ignores him and focuses on the current topic.

“And are they closer to you or him? Are they more your friends or his?”

“Well, I got to know them a few months before but... I'd say they're friends of both of us in the same way”

“Ok, so you're both afraid to lose them and to make him lose them, if things went wrong, right?”

Angie nods in silence to O'Hara's words and I'm completely stunned. Lose them? Suddenly a new light is shed on the situation, a new point of view I hadn't considered before. Angie told me she doesn't trust herself but she trusts me and I didn't fully believe this version. She's always been worried about our friends, 'cause they're kind of nosy and always intruding in other people's private life, but I never figured out they were the actual object of her insecurities. The guys.

“I'm afraid they'll judge me or him. I'm afraid I can create problems in the group and that we'll end up parting ways” Angie's still confessing and I wonder if she needed to be pressured by the police to finally tell the truth. But is it Angie, who never talked, or is it me, who never understood?

“But it's just a normal thing, dear! Take each other, leave each other, take each other again, break up again, get together with another guy of the gang. It happens all the time among groups of friends but that doesn't necessarily ruin the friendship” O'Hara lights up a cigarette and from good cop she officially turned into big sister or aunt, the one you can tell everything to.

“Well, I don't know, I've never had a group of friends, I mean, not so big. I've never had so many friends” now everything's clear, shit. She's never had them and she doesn't want to lose them.

“Angie, even if something went wrong between us, don't worry, our friends would kick my ass, not yours. And if one of us has got to take the brush off, well, it's gonna be me” I try and reassure her but looking at her face I guess I'm failing.

“And do you think that would hurt me less?”

“It's like watching Oprah live” Barlow says, totally hooked on our show.

“Angie, friends will be friends. The truth is friends do care, yeah, but not that much. Don't get me wrong, friends love you, give you advice wether you asked for it or not, they can get in the way and root for you or him, but in the end they just want you both to be ok, together or not. At some point they stop and say it's up to you, guys, in the best sense possible. And if they disappear in the end, well, it means they weren't true friends”

“Maybe, maybe you're right”

“Sure I'm right!”

“Right or not, you can't come here and have sex anymore, do you understand?” the cop, who was basically collapsing on the car door, stands up straight and gives a couple of punches against the roof of the car, maybe to wake himself up.

“Sure”

“It won't happen again”

“Fine. It's getting late, let's go O'Hara”

“Go home, guys. And drive safe, Angie, ok?”

“Ok, thanks officer”

“Good night”

“Good night”

We roll up the windows at the same time, Angie starts the car and waits.

“Why aren't they moving?”

“They're waiting for us to go first, to make sure we are actually leaving” I explain and smile for the fact that she didn't understand that. And this quick scene is like a little representation of her innocence. Sometimes I forget that she's so young and has little experience of everything, and no, I'm not only talking about how to handle the police when they pull you over.

“Oh right, I didn't think about that” Angie snorts and we leave.

“That was so weird” we're back in town when Angie finally breaks the silence.

“Yeah”

“Such an embarrassing moment”

“Very embarrassing” it opened my eyes a little though, so it actually turned out to be useful. Since we left we haven't mentioned what had happened, we haven't mentioned anything because we just kept our mouth shut and only exchanged quick looks and smiles and sang a few songs. Now that everything's started sinking in, it's time to return to the core of the matter and do the talk, this time only between us.

“It never happened to me”

“To me neither” I had dealt with the police before but not for this kind of infringment.

“I've been there many times and I never saw the cops there, these robberies must be something recent”

It takes me a while to register what she said, maybe 'cause I'm still thinking about the infraction we were committing on these front seats like an hour ago. But when I figure it out it's like I've been awaken with someone throwing a bucket full of ice at my face.

“Never? Do you mean... you'd been there already?”

“Sure. If not, how could I know the place?” she calmly answers, so either she's crazy or she doesn't know where I'm getting at or she doesn't care.

“With who?” Angie's mouth opens up forming a small O and so I guess now she does know where I'm getting at.

“What do you mean, with who? With... with Meg”

“With Meg”

“Yeah, she's been living here for so long, she knows the area. She took me there”

“She took you to the beach at night to do what?”

“To go for a ride! To just stay there, drinking, smoking, gossiping, normal stuff”

“And that's it?”

“Hahaha why? What else do you think we were doing there?”

“I mean, you went there with Meg and that's it? But you said you've been there many times”

“And with you?”

“Ok, so, with Meg and I... and no one else?”

“Well...”

“Angie?”

“Not just you two...”

“Have you been there with Jerry?”

“...”

“Angie, I'm talking to you”

“I know, it's only me here” we're at the traffic lights and Angie looks around inside the car, even giving a glance at the back seat, before turning back to look at me.

“So?”

“I didn't go there with Jerry”

“So would you swear to me that you didn't take me to the same place where you used to park with your ex boyfriend?

“No, I didn't!”

“Ok”

“With Jerry.. ehm... we used to go to the upper parking place on the hill”

“WHAT?!”

“What? Why are you mad?”

“Why? What do you mean why? You took me to the same place where you fucked your ex and I'm not supposed to get mad?!”

“I never fucked Jerry there”

“The fact it was a different paking lot 50 yards away doesn't change anything, Angie”

“I mean I never did it with Jerry in the car!” she exclaims as she gestures an apology to the guy in the car behind us, who's just honked at us because we didn't go immediately when the lights turned green. What the hell does this fucker want? Is he in a fuckin' hurry or something? Fuck you man.

“Didn't you?”

“No, I never... I never had full sexual intercourse with Jerry in a car”

“This use of very, very specific and technical terminology looks kind of suspicious to me”

“We kissed and stuff”

“I don't wanna know” she says it and I'm already imagining it, I mean, I can imagine even if she doesn't say anything. My imagination doesn't need further help.

“But you practically asked me”

“I'm not stupid, I get that you didn't fuck him there, but still you did something. That's the same to me”

“Who cares who I took there first, now I got you, I'm with you”

“I care because... because it's weird, it gives me a... bad feeling... I don't like it”

“I told you as soon as we got there that I had already been there, but you didn't say anything then. Why are you suddenly upset now?”

She's right actually, she told me, I don't remember the exact words, but she let me know. The truth is I was so enraptured by the situation, by her, her scent, her gestures as she was taking off her coat, her big eyes, her naughty heart-shaped smile... I was like drunk and didn't understand shit.

“Maybe I hadn't noticed then, and now I did”

“I come from another state, I don't know many places. If I want to go to some quiet place with you, of course I have to follow... ehm... the beaten road”

“Well let's just stay home then and avoid going anywere else, problem solved”

“If you say so... Jerry's been in my bed too, shall we stop going there too?” Angie gives me a perplexed look and I know, I know I'm crazy, that I'm the sick one, that retroactive jealousy makes no sense. But I'm so fucking mad right now!

“Could you... could you just not remind me, please?”

“But... are you jealous of Jerry?”

“No” nooooo, I'm not! Why do you think that?

“Ok. Also because it'd be really stupid if you were” there you go.

“Exactly”

“Because I'm not interested in him, there's no chance at all I could be into him ever again and go back to him anytime soon” are you sure about that? I mean, on your part I know there's no chance. But Jerry, he still has hope. He told me! And this is a piece of information I'm gonna keep to myself.

“I know”

“Fine”

“Did you use the tape with him too or is it exclusively for me?”

“I did the mix tape yesterday, for you, for the occasion” she retorts tiredly as she rolls her eyes.

“Ok”

“Are you happy about that?”

“Very happy. I like it”

“Thank god”

“And how was Jerry's tape?”

“Jesus... Jerry never had a tape”

“I don't believe you”

“Believe what you want, I could as well not answer, because in the end that's none of your business. Yet I answered and told you the truth” she's right, what she had with Jerry is none of my business. And I'm acting like a jerk.

“Sorry”

“It's ok”

“I'm stupid sometimes”

“I noticed that”

“Then it goes away and I'm back to normal”

“I hope so”

“Can I borrow the tape? I wanna make a copy”

“I hope it goes away soon, very soon”

**

“Here we are” Angie stops one block away from my condo, as she's been doing lately every time she takes me home.

“Look, Jeff's not the bored meddler housewife who waits at the window to check who I'm going out with. He doesn't give a fuck, I'm not Stone” I joke to ease the tension, which is still on despite my apologies and the shit I say.

“Friday”

“Friday what? What happens?”

“You're playing at the Ok Hotel on Friday”

“Yes”

“And we're also celebrating Jeff's birthday, that's gonna be two days later”

“Right”

“And on Monday you'll start recording Eleven”

“Hahaha the name's Ten”

“But it's eleven songs! It doesn' t make sense, I told you!” she finally turns around to face me and her hands move to the lower part of the wheel.

“What's the point? It's also our first record, should we call it One? Or First? Hehehe”

“You can laugh as much as you want, when you won't know how to call your tenth album, then we'll see who'll have the last laugh”

“The tenth? Do you believe we'll last that long?”

“Sure! But you'll split up right because of that record, 'cause you won't agree on how to call it, and you'll be torn between... I don't know... a surfing brand and a Seattle Supersonics bench player”

“Hahaha that's if the Seattle Supersonics will still exist by then”

“Why wouldn't they?” she asks suddenly serious, in her typical adorable way of focusing on totally secondary aspects.

“Do you ever think about the future? I mean, future future, like in twenty or thirty years” I do. Now, for example, I'm picturing myself twenty years from now, taking to you in a car, maybe as we get back home from a Sonics' game.

“Uhmmm no, I mean, not in detail. But I'm eager to know if Kubrik was right about 2001 or if in 2019 we'll have android replicants slaves like in Blade Runner. Yeah, that's something I often think about”

“Hehe I mean your future, what's gonna happen to you personally, where you'll be at. I mean, where you picture yourself and what do you see yourself like... stuff like that” I ask her again and I'd want to confess that sometimes I do think about my future. And she would make fun of me, 'cause someone used at living the moment who thinks about the future doesn't make sense. But I'd pretend I didn't hear her and I'd say that I don't know if I'll get there but sometimes I like to think of myself in twenty or thirty years, maybe with shorter grey hair or no hair at all, living off my music, married, with two or three kids. And that's how I'd scare her to death and she'd definitely run away from me.

“Well, no, honestly I don't. I only hope I'll get my degree before then”

“What? A control freak like you doesn't plan her future? You surprise me”

“You can't controll the distant future, like the past. The only thing you can have control on is the present. Or the near future” she shrugs as her eyes wander through the windshield.

“You're living the moment too, then? Should I expect you to climb some building in your free time?”

“Hehe no but my planning time is short term. For example, this time I planned until Friday, as I was telling you, before we got lost in one of our typical nonsense conversations” I love our typical nonsense conversations.

“What happens on Friday?”

“I though we could do it on Friday”

“Do what? Climb some building? I'd start with something iconic, like that Hat'n'Boots shit at the gas stations, what's its name...”

“I thought we could say it on Friday”

“Say what?”

“About us... to our friends”

“Uh” I can't believe that. Am I dreaming? Yes, come on, the cops story was too weird, of course it's all a dream, I should have known.

“Since everybody's gonna be there for different reasons, I think that could be the right time. So, you know, we'll say it just once” she keeps talking and strangely I didn't wake up yet.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes”

“You don't have to do it just because two fucking cops told you to”

“It's not for that”

“Neither because I got mad for no reason a minute ago”

“Not even for that”

“Why then?”

“Hahah you've been pestering me to tell everybody from the start and now you're making a fuss?” Angie lets go of the wheel and turns around towards me completely.

“I'm not making a fuss, I just want you to be sure and it seems strange to me that you got convinced in a couple of hours”

“I didn't get conviced now, I've always thought we'd say it sooner or later obviously. Now I realized the moment has come”

“Has it?

“Yes”

“Ok”

“Great”

“We're doing it on Friday”

“Alright”

“And how do we do it? I mean, practically, how will we do? Should I get on stage, point at you and say into the mic Just so you know, that girl down there is my girfriend?”

“If you dare doing something like that, you won't even be alive for Pearl Jam's first album, much less for the tenth” she threatens me so good that I'm scared for real.

“Should I get some posters printed?”

“We won't have to do anything special, we'll just act normal”

“And how will we communicate with our friends? Telepathically?”

“We'll act normal, do as we always do when we're alone and they're not around”

“Do you mean tear our pants off and jump on each other?” I know, I know I'm ajerk. She's finally opening up and I just talk bullhsit. But I can't help it, that's how I am, especially when I'm happy.

“Eddie!”

“You're fixating on public places, huh? I didn't know this... exhibitionist side of you, ouch!” I insist as I try and dodge her slaps.

“You're such an ass!”

“Hehe come on, I was kidding”

“I'm talking serious stuff and you make fun of me”

“I joke because I'm happy for your decision”

“Anyway... I meant normal stuff, walking hand in hand, hugging, kissing, but without showing off too much, discreetly but so that everyone understands. And they'll come to ask us Do you have to tell us something? or  Are you a couple? and at that point we'll only have to say yes, short answer, no further explanation needed”

“You're a genius”

“Do you think it'll do?”

“Sure it will do, I think it's a very good idea”

“Ok, it's a deal then”

“And since we're telling everybody next Friday, could you please drive me home?”

“Hahaha no”

“And maybe come in with me”

“Is it Friday already?”

“Uhm no”

“Forget it then”

“How long is it until Friday?”

“Not that long. Good night” Angie gets close to give me what in her intentions was supposed to be a quick kiss but I can't resist and hold her for much longer.

“You're freezing, put your coat back on” I tell her as I unwillingly pull away from that cold hug. Cold in terms of temperature only.

“You're right, I left so fast that I forgot to put it on” she follows my advice and grabs it from the back seat.

“So... good night” I kiss her once again, open the door and get out of her car.

“Good night, I'll call you tomorrow, ok?” I nod at her and smile internally. I love when she calls. Then suddenly, right when she's about to start the car again, I remember a not so small detail.

“Angie, wait!” I knock against the car door on her side a couple of times, she brakes and rolls the window down.

“What's wrong? Did you forget anything?” she asks as she looks around inside the car.

“What does W stand for?”

“What?”

“The cop, when he was reading through your driving licence, he said Angelina W. Pacifico. What does W stand for?

”Oh. That W” she stiffens and the engine goes off, I don't think she turned it off on purpose.

“Yep, that one” I lean down and look at her through the open window, waiting for an answer.

“It's a first letter”

“I got that. The first letter of...”

“Of a name”

“Ok, and what's this name?”

“My second name”

��That is...?”

“That is... a name starting with W” she gives me a pained look and I feel she's not done with her blabbering.

“Hahaha what's that, another of your secrets?”

“Exactly! Good night, Eddie” she's about to wind up the window but I put my hand in the way and stop her.

“Hahaha good night my ass, tell me your name!”

“Do I have to?”

“You're my girlfriend, I gotta know your full name!”

“I don't know your full name”

“I was born Edward Louis Severson III, I was Edward Jerome Mueller for a while and now I'm Edward Jerome Vedder, 'cause I took my mother's last name”

“Jerome and Louis are lovely names” she remarks, focusing on the names and completely ignoring the anagraphic mess that is my identity.

“I bet your second name's lovely too”

“No, it's not”

“W as in... Wendy?”

“Nope”

“Wanda?”

“No”

“Wilhelmina? Winifred?”

“No and no”

“Winona”

“I wish. It's not even a name”

“It's not a name, what does it mean?”

“It's a name that is not a name, it's... it's a thing”

“A thing? Wait... hippie parents, right?”

“Ehm... yeah, something like that”

“Willow!”

“No”

“Water”

“No, good night Eddie” she restarts the car and at least my desperate expression has the power to bring back a smile on her face.

“Shit, you can't leave me like this!”

“Yet I'm doing it, nighty night!” Angie goes away just like that and leaves me here, alone, to rack my brain on the umpteenth mystery, a new thing I don't know about her and I'm looking forward to know.

“No no no, Grace, I'm sorry but I have to tell you: you got it all wrong. What about this guy here? Where did he come from? Do you wanna go? Just go! How much space do you need to pass a Granada diesel?” without taking anything away from my dear father's car, it's not exactly the fastest model produced by Ford.

“Why?”

“Do you want me to pull over? Is it enough or do I have to get out and help you push your car? Oh there you go! Good boy! What do you mean, why? Do you see any logic in it?” the asshole passes me and I can go back to torture Grace.

“Well, apart from the night guard who was about to catch us, it was nice and it seemed like you were having fun”

“I was! The night pic nic at the abandoned factory was cool. And also running from the guard. Well, if you can call it running. You were as slow as a snail. If the guy was at least a little in shape, he'd have got us”

“He'd have got me, since you fled without even waiting for me” she sulks.

“I was waiting for you in the car”

“Sure”

“With the engine on, I had a detailed plan in my head”

“I can imagine”

“Anyway, the date was an 8, I didn't mean that”

“What else then?”

“The cassette. It's all wrong” I'm not saying she has to be on Angie's level, she's sort of a black belt in the art of making mix tapes. But this is a complete mistake. If I had known, I'd not have asked her to bring something to listen to in the car.

“Hahaha they're songs I like, how can they be wrong?”

“It's not the songs, it's how you put them together. You broke every rule for the creation of a mix tape” the songs, taken individually, go from ok to amazing. Some even surprised me. I had no idea Grace knew bands like Cock Sparrer or Japan, which have got nothing to do with each other. And of course one comes after the other in Grace's mix.

“Do rules exist for that?”

“Sure they do!”

“Tell me one of those so-called rules”

“Well, first of all, you've got no theme”

“A theme?”

“Yeah, a theme, a common thread, something they have in common”

“The theme is: Songs I like”

“Nuh-uh that's not how it works. You gotta tell a story and not just throw in random tracks. You mixed songs of different genres, decades, mood, even different languages!”

“I love that song by Ofra Haza!”

“Slow ones, then fast ones, then all the slow ones. No! And you can't just pick a lo-fi tune and then follow with a super produced song”

“I'm not a musician, I don't care about technicalities, I just go with my feelings”

“What kind of insane feelings bring you to the point of putting Bootsy Collins right after Bauhaus?”

“They both set... an atmosphere” Gracie shrugs but I go on with my rant.

“And you selected live tracks too... live tracks... in a compilation... uhm... that's a no-no”

“Ok, so how do you grade the cassette?”

“Unclassifiable. Try again”

“And how do you grade these instead?” she crosses her legs to show me her new pair of boots. As if I hadn't noticed them already.

“A 10, of course. Pete, your ex, advised you good” they're brown, with thin tight laces and some sort of side floral embroidery.

“Pete is not my ex and you know it. And don't pretend to be jealous, nobody falls for that”

“I'm not jealous, I was simply acknowledging his refined taste” and they look great with those corduroy shorts.

“And by the way, I didn't buy them there, I found them in a thrift shop downtown” I bask in the belief she bought them especially for me, because she knows the effect they have on me.

“They're not bad. Although you didn't buy them from Pete” on the other hand though I don't want her to think I'm some kind of perv who can't get an erection without seeing a nice pair of boots. And generally I don't want her to believe I'm that kind of person you have to necessarily surprise every fucking time with something weird and over the top. That's the impression I got but maybe it's just me. I mean, the date thing is funny but mostly because it's our thing and not because of the peculiarity of the date choices.

“You're an asshole, Stone. Did somebody ever tell you?”

“Yeah. But it sounds better when you say it” I reply, quickly taking her hand and kissing it and I really wanna see her comeback to my masterstroke.

“Sounds better than my mix tape too?” she's good too, I have to admit it.

“Definitely. Also because it doesn't take that much...” but she doesn't know yet how much I like having the last word.

“Right. As much as it took me to realize you're an asshole” she retorts with a wink. The last word, she loves stealing it from me so much.

**

“Are you sure you don't want anything?” Grace asks me from the bathroom, while I focus on one of the fishtanks.

“Sure, I'm full” she must have prepared like twenty sandwiches for the pic nic, plus the wine. Yeah, I'm full.

“Can't you make a tiny little room in your stomach for dessert?”

“I think I don't have any room left in any internal organs, even if I wanted to. Maybe into my ears, I could try but...”

“Not even for this dessert?” Grace comes out and the way she shows up is not new to me but not less extraordinary.

“Well... maybe... just a little bite...” I think my internal organs are exploding the moment Grace walks up to me, wearing nothing but her boots.

I instinctively back up but I don't know why, this fucking instinct must be broken because I have no intention to escape her attentions. Maybe I'm just overwhelmed by her beauty. Maybe I'm still a little tipsy.

“Perfect.” Grace walks my way but instead of hugging me, she passes me by and walks up to the kitchen. I see her move away one of the chairs, maybe the new one, then place her hands on the table to jump on it “So, what are you waiting for? The meal is ready”

“From which porn b-movie did you get this quote?”

“Hurry up or I'll put my clothes back on”

“Ok”

**

“What are you doing tonight? Are you sleeping here?” I'm still trying to remember who I am and where I am and what kind of truck has just hit me, when Grace shows up again in the kitchen wearing pyjamas, brushing her teeth.

“It depends”

“On what?”

“If I can sleep in your bed I'll stay, otherwise I'll go back home” I don't know what gave me the strength to come up with the topic that could bring to a big heavy discussion. Maybe I reached such a balance in our relationship that I can openly talk about everything. Or maybe it's just that my lower back hurts, my leg hurt, all my bones hurt and I'm sleepy, so I'd rather sleep on the closest most comfortable surface.

“Ok, see you tomorrow then” Grace points at me with the toothbrush, then sticks it back into her mouth and goes back into the bathroom.  

“Come on, Pebbles, why do you always act like that?” I get up from the couch, pulling up my boxers and pants, trying not to lose balance, then set up to go to the bathroom to speak face to face like normal people do. But the face to face thing becomes literal when she rushes out of the door like a fury and we almost crack heads.

“What the hell did you just call me?” she asks barely holding a laugh.

“You said your last name means stone, right? I can't call you... She-Stone, that would be weird”

“Stonia?”

“No”

“Stonette?”

“Why can't we sleep together?” I drag her back on the crux of the matter because knowin her, and me, we could go on like this for hours.

“I told you why, it's complicated” Grace walks away from me and stops in front of the couch, as if she wanted to sit there, but then changes her mind and goes on to take a sit at the kitchen table, on the chair right beside the entrance.

“I know but time has passed. And you gotta start somewhere to... get used to another person's presence, right? Let's go step by step, together” I take back the chair Grace had thrown on the side half an hour ago and I sit down, right in front of her.

“I'm not the only one who has to get used to something new, Stone” her words tell me there's clearly something else and I'm not stupid, I've known for a while that it's not just a matter of being used at being single. There's something that's making her insecure. At first I thought it was something in her room, like the tons of stuffed animals or some real animal, some weird pet she didn't want to tell me about. Then I figured out it's more than that. I thought he could have OCD or something like that, something that makes here panic as soon as someone enters in the picture and threatens her balance. I mean, just think about what happened with the chair thing. Maybe she arranges her things on her nighstand following a determined use order or she makes her bed using set squares and a ruler and the thought that someone could mess it up makes her go nuts. I guess she only manages to sleep in her empty bed. Then I thought it could've got something to do with her past, maybe with the long illness she never wants to talk about. Maybe she's taking meds that fuck her up a little or that she simply doesn't want me to see. I even went as far as to thinking she could take some drugs. But no, not Gracie. And what would be the connection with her bedroom?

“Ok, if you tell me what I have to get used to, maybe I can start right now and you can follow suit, what do you think?”

“I wish it was that easy”

“I know it's not easy or I wouldn't have waited so long before putting the squeeze on you”

“Are you putting the squeeze on me?”

“Yes, just talk”

“Do I have to?”

“I won't leave until you tell me what's wrong. For real”

“Oh.” maybe Grace has just realized that I'm being serious and that I won't put up with her elusive explanations anymore “Ok”

“Don't be scared, it's... it's just me.” I stretch my arms out on the table to take both her hands in mine and finally she looks up to me “And you know how smart I am, I can comprehend anything, don't worry”

“Hehehe I know, I can trust you”

“That's it”

“I gotta trust you, I mean, I knew this moment would have come, I have to tell you sooner or later. I can't hide it from you forever. Despite your particular preferences.

“What do you mean?”

“Ugh I can't believe I'm about to have the talk, again” she covers her face with her hands and then runs them through her hair.

“Again?”

“That must be why I became allergic to steady relationships: just to avoid having the same talk each time. But then you came and blew up my plans” Grace takes my hands once again, squeezes them gently and smiles, before letting them go and focusing back on the table cloth's print.

“Which talk?”

“It's not easy for me to feel comfortable with a man... in intimacy”

“Really? 'Cause my joints and I didn't notice” I try and joke to ease the tension but I'm not sure I should. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and let her speak.

“I'm not only talking about that intimacy but rather in general”

“'Cause you need your space and-”

“No, it's not about that. It's... it's a physical thing, Stone”

“Physical?”

“I know, knowing me, one would thing the problem is in my head. And won't deny that, it's a fact that I'm not completely in my right mind”

“Well... you said that, huh?” I shrug and reply to her half smile with a full one.

“But the main problem, well, it's about my body”

“Your body can't possibly have any problem, Pebbles”

“Because you haven't seen all of it, Bam Bam” considering the gravity of the moment, I decide to ignore the nickname. Also because I called for it.

“I haven't, really? What else is there to see, more than I already saw?”

“I'd say that your strange fixation gave me a sort of advantage this time. Or disadvantage. Because thanks to that, I could postpone the talk forever pretending the problem doesn't exist, so it really depends on how you look at it”

“My strange... Gracie, I'm not getting what you're trying to say, could you be clearer?”

“There's something odd in my body, something you haven't seen yet”

“Has it got something to do with your past health problems?”

“Yes”

“Oh Grace, a couple of scars won't make me uncomfortable!” I stand up, ready to take her in my arms and squeeze her to death as a punishment but she keeps sitting, glued to her chair.

“Hehehe scars... I wish it was that!”

“Is it worse?”

“The problem is not something I have but rather something... I don't have”

“I must be dumb, I didn't notice anything”

“Do you know what an osteosarcoma is?”

“Given the name, I'd say a bone disease” the technical medical term breaks into a so far lighthearted conversation and hijacks it towards a darker destination.

“A tumor, for the record”

“Is that what happened to you, years ago?”

“Yes”

“But you won against that fucking tumor, I mean, you're alright now”

“But that fucking tumor left its mark anyway, Stone”

“Grace, seriously, there's nothing that could push me away from you. I know I may look like an uptight fucker but I'm not easily impressed” I'd better avoid telling her that I don't really like needles though.

“Do you know how they cure osteosarcoma?”

“Chemotherapy?”

“Chemotherapy and surgery”

“Ok”

“It started from the big toe, an extremely rare circumstance the doctors said”

“You always have to stand out, right?” I try and keep things light and Grace smiles keeps going along with me but I'm not sure this is the best attitude although I'm not showing it.

“Then it spread to all the toes, then the rest. It was all so fast, one week before I felt good, I lived my life as usual, then my foot hurt while I was jogging and one week later I was risking to lose my leg or worse, to die if it reached vital organs”

“But the super docs did their magic thing and cured you and got you back in shape” I sound like the annoying child who doesn't wanna hear the drama parts of the good night story and wants to get straight to the happy ending so he can fall asleep in peace.

“Yeah, they saved me. At a small cost”

“Grace, I don't give a fuck if your foot is not nice to see, the important thing is that you're here, now, with me, and you can tell this story”

“It's not nice to see because you can't see it, Stone. Didn't you understand? It's not there anymore, I don't have it, I had to have it amputated” I can hear words coming out of Grace's lips but they sound emptied of every trace of sense and meaning. I feel the need to sit down and say something, anything, but whereas I manage to do the first thing, my second goal seems strangely impossible. Maybe for the first time in my life I don't know what to say.  I mean, there are so many things I'd want to say that roll in my head and they all seem stupid, shallow, flat and completely useless.

“Stone?”

And I don't even know how to move now. What do I do? If I back up, I'd look detached. If I get closer, she'll think I'm flaunting a quietness I realistically can't have right now. Same thing if I look at her feet. But if I purposedly avoid looking at them, she'll convince herself she scared me.

“Say something, Stone. Or if you don't wanna say anything, at least close your mouth, you've got it wide open for fifteen minutes” Graces reaches for me over the table and closes my jaw with a light pressure of her hand. Her hand so delicate, sweet, gentle, like her. I can't believe something so terrible could happen right to Grace. Ok, nobody deserves such pain and the world is full of horrors. But I wanna be free to get mad at such an injustice.

“Is it the left one or right one?” I finally speak. And I say something stupid, of course.

“What difference does it make?” Grace looks at me as if I was dumb.

“I just asked”

“The right one”

“And do you have a prosthesis?”

“How would I stand up and walk otherwise?”

“But you wouldn't say it, I mean, when you walk, you walk normally. You're just-”

“As slow as a snail” she finishes my sentence and it's like when in crime movies they give you the ultimate hint and it lights a spark for the detective, who starts going backwards through all the key points of the investigation. In my specific case, all the times I made fun of Grace for being slow.

“God, I'm a jerk” and here's the sudden realization.

“Jerk or not, you couldn't have known this”

“Yes but I feel like shit all the same”

“Stop thinking about it and you'll be better. So, what do you wanna do now?”

“What do I wanna do?”

“From my personal experience, I can say men fall into two categories at this point. I wanna know which one you belong to”

“It depends on the categories” I answer, more and more uncomfortable on this chair. Maybe it's because it's the new one. Yeah, that's it. Grace is right, she's always been right, not all chairs are the same.

“Those who don't wanna see and those who want to look”

“Oh”

“And inside the before mentioned categories, we can find two subgroups: those who don't wanna see that but ask me to show them, because they want to pretend they don't care, and those who are actually curious and would like to watch, but they say no because they don't want me to think they're gross”

“I, well, I guess I belong to a brand new category”

“That is?”

“The ones who don't know what to do”

“Hehe well, that's surely a more honest category” Grace stands up and I immediately do the same.

“Did you tell somebody else? I mean, to our friends?”

“No”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“That's not exactly something you say during small talk, what do you think? Hi, I'm Grace, I'm an aquarious and my favorite color is red. Oh and by the way, I only got one foot”

“I... I need... yeah, I mean, I gotta get out” how can I tell her I need to leave without looking like a jerk? I have no idea, and that's why it comes out like shit.

“Are you leaving?” she asks as I take my jacket and start putting it on.

“I need some fresh air”

“Oh, ok”

“And I have to clear my mind.” as I try to put my arm into the second sleeve for the third time unsuccessfully, Grace has pity and helps me “Thank you”

“Are you ok, Stone?” I honestly don't know the answer to this question and I don't even know why.

“Sure, everything's alright.” I take her face into my hands and kiss her “It's just... I didn't see that coming, I have to... process it, figure all this out, that's it” I tell her and myself.

“After all these years, I still haven't found a better way to say it”

“Well, you won't need to find another way now anyway”

“No?”

“No, 'cause you're with me now, you won't have to say it to any other guy” I offer a more sincere smile to Grace, also because she deserve nothing less, and kiss her again.

“Thank god. See, you're not totally useless then”

“Good night, Pebbles”

“Night, Stone” I get out of Grace's apartment, then leave the building, then get into my car and that's when I realize I have been holding my breath the whole fucking time.

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