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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 8 months

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A Green-Eyed Monster

Dance Like We're Making Love Chapter 3

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: You're enamored - completely and totally enamored by one person. He seems to be enamored by you too. In the eight weeks since you met Bradley Bradshaw you know you've never felt like anyone the way you feel about him. It worries you that you're ready to commit to him, that you're ready to take the next step. But you're not sure you're ever going to get the answers from him that you're searching for. But you're ready to try. What you are not expecting is the red-head in a green dress standing right by his side when you walk into dance practice. She's all over him like she belongs with him, and even you can tell that she looks far better with him than you do. Disclaimers: Female! Reader, Dancing, Sexual Themes, Kissing, UST, Phone Sex Warnings: This story does not start explicit but does get there. Minors do not interact. This story is 18+. Word Count: 3012 A/N: I think I ought to brace for some pitchforks with this installment. Roo and Tiny's happy little relationship? It's not quite so happy, not anymore. But! I hope you all love this installment! Thanks, as always to @desert-fern for beta-reading this chapter! Love ya, Fernie! AO3:Cross Posted Here! My Masterlist Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

Dancing hasn’t been the only thing happening in your life over the past couple of months - not in the slightest. Between planning the Bachelor and Bachelorette parties, cake tastings, and dress fittings, you've been navigating the burgeoning relationship between you and Bradley Bradshaw. You've never felt so alive. It feels like you’re finally living your life. You've had so much fun in the eight weeks since your dalliance, your assignation, your arrangement, well your whatever it is with Bradley Bradshaw began. He sets your every vein alight and makes you laugh, so much. If you didn't know any better, and you’re not sure you actually do, you'd think you were falling in love. It feels like you’re free falling, like there isn’t a single thing holding you down.

Before Bradley Bradshaw you’ve never felt so cherished or gorgeous or loved, not once. You’ve also never had a partner so intent on ensuring your own pleasure. Sometimes you can’t believe that you feel like this, with him, when you’ve never even been on a date together. But that was by design, you know, even if a part of you rankles just a little to think that you have to hide until after Greg and Sophie get married. You shouldn’t feel like a dirty little secret. You shouldn’t. But as hot as you find having signals to meet Bradley at his place or yours, and how many times you fuck in restaurant bathrooms and filthy clubs, you can’t hide how you feel. So, on what is the penultimate dance class before the wedding, you’re determined to finally get Bradley to put a name to what the two of you are doing.

But you’re also running horribly, terribly late. You’re one of the last people walking into the studio, slipping in just as Rodrigo begins his customary speech at the beginning of class. Bradley’s easy to spot, he always is. But what you don’t expect is the long-legged red-head in a green dress clinging to his muscular bicep. The dress accentuates all of her assets and you can tell by even Will’s googly eyes that every man in the room has his eyes right on her. It’s a blow to your already fragile heart and your tattered self-esteem to see the two of them standing there together.

You can’t cry, not in front of every other person in the bride’s and groom’s parties. And you cannot let yourself cry in front of Bradley fucking Bradshaw. In fact, you will not let yourself. You let your anger at being duped and taken advantage yet again by a man fill you. When it comes time to actually dance, you feel exactly like you did that first dance class with Bradley Bradshaw, except it hurts far more than you’d expect to see his brown eyes widen in delight at the sight of your face.

“Hiya, Tiny.” Your eyes roll so hard that you’re sure your disgust is palpable from in the cockpit of one of his jets from ten-thousand feet in the air.

“Rooster.” Ice-queen. Ice-queen. Ice-queen. That’s your motto at the moment.

“Is everything okay, Tiny?” How dare he keep being so concerned?

“I dunno, Rooster.” Your voice is a sardonic drawl as he twirls you around on the dance floor. “You tell me.”

You would step on his disastrously colossal feet, but you’ve worked too hard to make sure this dance goes well - far too hard. You rebuff his every attempt at making conversation, but are otherwise exactly the same as you always are. Thankfully nobody notices how you’re maybe just a touch further away from the heat of his skin than you should be.

It’s even more of an exquisite sort of torture when you and Bradley have your final rehearsal for Greg and Sophie’s wedding present. The red-head has long since disappeared from the studio. Bradley's hands still linger over every inch of your skin as he draws you close. But while just a week before, you were responding to his touch eagerly, now you feel disgust. Maria and Rodrigo seem to want to correct every move, including how close you are to Bradley. Of course, what you don’t expect is the clapping that springs up as the final note spills out of the speakers after your final run-through of the day. It’s the red-head, of course it is, and her applause has Bradley letting go of you like your skin has burned him.

You sip carefully on your water, noting vacantly how Bradley glances your way as she plants her red fingernails hand on his chest. So they’re that close, huh? You should’ve known it was too good to be true. But you paste a halfway decent facsimile of a smile on your face and sincerely thank Rodrigo and Maria for their assistance with Greg and Sophie’s wedding gift.

You’re just gathering your bag when a breathy noise and the scent of too-sweet, cloying perfume alert you to her presence. You turn and are not even the slightest bit surprised to see the red head’s big green eyes staring right into yours.

“I, um” She sniffs out, “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Abigail.”

“Nice to meet you,” You grind out, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from this woman as you possibly can get.

“I’m Bradley’s wedding date.”

You blink at her, before smiling inanely. “Oh, how come he’s never mentioned you before?”

“I travel a lot for work. I’m a flight attendant.” She’s starting to sound defensive and isn’t that just perfect?

“Oh, that’s nice. It must be hard to leave him here all by himself, though.” You pretend not to notice how Bradley blanches at your pointed statement.

“It is nice to have a husband to come home to.” She giggles, the sound tinkling like the gentlest of bells. But you have to lock your knees to keep your legs from collapsing out from under you. You’re not sure how you escape the married couple, and you’re sure you black out, because the next thing you know you’re pulling into your driveway.

Married! He’s married? Why? Why would he string you along when he’s got such a beautiful wife to come home to? It occurs to you suddenly that you’re the other woman in this situation - that he’s made you the slut. You’ve had sex - filthy hot, dirty sex - on his bed, in his bathroom, in the kitchen and on the sofa. He’s desecrated you in nearly every room of his house. The house he shares with his wife. But you’ve not seen a single picture of her on the walls or ever seen the tan line of a wedding ring on his left hand. You’ve had his dog tags dangling over your face as he pounds into you for fuck’s sake and there’s definitely never been a wedding ring on them.

You want nothing more than to cry while eating ice cream straight out of the carton in your pajamas. Of course, just as you're wriggling out of the terribly uncomfortable bra which pushes your tits up just right and makes them look delicious, the one you'd worn for Bradley, your phone trills from its spot on your nightstand.

"Sophie?" Your voice is quiet and a little choked up as you murmur into the phone.

"Hiya, Honey Bee!" She sounds so happy. It hurts to think that you were that happy only a couple of hours ago.

"So, Greg and I, we wanted to thank you and Bradley for everything you've both done to help us with the wedding. So we wanted to take you each out to dinner, separately." Her joy makes you smile, despite your emotional turmoil. "And we were sort of hoping we could have our dinner with you tonight?"

"God, Soph. You don't have to do this! But," You giggle gently, "if you insist, then I wouldn't say no."

"We'll pick you up at 7! Love you babes!"

That's about how the rest of the week goes. You get yanked from wedding event to wedding event and it's nearly enough to keep your pain at bay. At least until you're safe and sound under your covers. That's the only place where you can cry until you fall into a fitful sleep. By the night of the Bachelor's and Bachelorette parties, you're caking concealer under your eyes to hide the dark circles and all you want is a strong, stiff drink.

But you're smiling nonetheless in your sparkling green dress and matching high heels when the limo comes to pick you up. The glass of champagne that gets shoved into your hand is just the ticket. You have no complaints when you're told you have to catch up and down the pale gold liquid until one glass becomes two and turns into three.

The alcohol buzzing through your system has you finally relaxing. You can finally feel the lump in your throat and the snarl in your thoughts dissipating. It feels like the universe is screaming at you to give up on Bradley Bradshaw. Here, at one of San Diego's best night clubs you're sure to find somebody who'll actually want you, not for some far fetched revenge plot or for a bet or to cheat on their flight attendant wife.

The minute you step in, you can feel the music rattling the floorboards. Coupled with the shots that get sent your way, and it's not long before you're dancing with anybody who wants to dance with you. It feels like sin. Your hair is mussed and you’ve long lost the sash that was once draped over your shoulder in the crush. There have been hands on your hips and curled around your waist all night. So you don’t even blink when another pair of hands draws you close. Sophie and all of the other bridesmaids aren’t even in your line of sight anymore. But you feel reckless, wild, tonight. Who’s tying you down? Who’s there to stop you from doing whatever you want with whoever you want?

It’s far too easy to find a man to dance with. Your new tango skills make it nearly too easy. Then the hands roaming your skin are replaced suddenly. For several moments, it feels even better than before. And then your new dance partner pulls you into moves you could do in your sleep after months of practice. You know your dance partner too. You can smell the spice of his cologne surrounding you. It feels like a bubble popping. All of a sudden everything is too loud, and your skin is crawling and you can barely hear yourself think. You rip yourself out of Bradley’s grasp, turning tail and pushing your way off the dance floor like he burned you. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Greg and Sophie all loved up in the corner as you rush past.

Your head is spinning and your heart is racing. Your thoughts seem to be lightning fast and molasses slow all at the same time. What the hell is he doing here? Why does he keep trying to find you? You’ve been avoiding all of his phone calls and leaving him on read for a reason. You grab your purse and cut a path through the most crowded section of the club making a beeline for the front doors.

When you burst through them, you finally feel like you can breathe again. But just because your lungs are taking in needed oxygen and spilling out carbon dioxide, it doesn't mean that your mind has made any more sense of why Bradley Bradshaw is trying so hard to get close to you.

"Hey." Your entire body locks up at the sound of his voice, worried that you'll see him with Abby hanging off of his arms like she belongs there. "Why do you keep running away from me, Tiny?"

Of all the things you expect him to say, that's not one of them.

"I keep running, Bradshaw, because the last dance class showed me exactly what you think of me." Your chest heaves as you catalog the exhaustion on his ridiculously beautiful face. "A cheap fuck. Somebody to keep your bed warm while Abby's jet setting around the world."

"That's not what happened between us." There's finally understanding dawning on his face and you want to smack the smug little grin right off of it.

"Then what happened?" Some sadistic, viciously curious part of you wants to know - needs to know.

"Abby…" You can see his throat work in the dim light as the doors open and send sound spilling out across the parking lot. "It's right, what Abby said. She is my wife. Or well, she was."

"I fell in love with her when I was in flight school. She was perfect, or so I thought, for a sad, gangly, barely adult man with no other family in the world. It was head over heels for me. I thought it was a head over heels kind of love for her too. It was the happiest moment of my life when she agreed to marry me."

"It was easy for the longest time. I gained my wings, I figured out how to be a man, a husband. I tried desperately to recall all of the things my mom told me my dad did, and did them for Abby. Just when everything was going great, better than, I was deployed. We spent the next three years snatching moments with each other here in San Diego, or in Virginia or via phone calls and video chats. I came back home thinking that we'd weathered another storm together."

"I was wrong. I felt like I was the same man I was when I got married. But Abby? She was different. She'd changed everything about herself and become a flight attendant. The next three years were, to put it gently, a train wreck in motion. Even though I was stateside with short deployments on board a ship, she was flying all over the world. I got back after a deployment to find her in bed with a pilot from her airline. And that? That was the end."

Bradley's breathing raggedly, like he's looking to you for approval or understanding or something. But you're still processing what he's saying.

"That's when she told me I was too rough in bed, sitting in front of a lawyer and demanding half of everything that was mine. It's been three years since the divorce was finalized, Tiny. I didn't cheat on her, or lead you on. I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you after the wedding."

Your throat is bone dry, your head swimming.

"C-could you ever give me a second chance?" You must've zoned out because all of a sudden, Bradley’s much closer than he was before. The heat drifting off of his broad frame, clothed in olive green is hypnotic. If you were any less stubborn, you'd beg him to take you home. You'd beg him to let you help him forget that a woman like Abby had him first and threw him away.

"I dunno, Roo." The words feel like a peace offering spiraling through the hot night air. "That was… a lot of information."

The hope on his face falls, just a little at your honest words.

"But why is she back here? In San Diego again?" Your nose is a little stuffy and you can feel tears building at the back of your throat. You’re not sure you can take it if he says they’re getting back together again.

"She shows up every once in a while, asking for money." Your lips part, shock parting them without your permission. "Normally it’s only a couple hundred dollars. But this time, it is different. She wants thousands, claiming that I owe her that as spousal support after the divorce."

His shoulders are bowed under the weight of Abby's expectations.

"But I told her no, this time."

"Why?"

"Because I found somebody that's better for me than she ever could be."

It feels like the world goes silent around you. Your heart flip flops in your chest as you stare up into Bradley’s big brown eyes. It’s not a conscious decision which has you flinging your arms around his neck and smashing your lips to his. He staggers, catching himself against the wall as you straddle one broad thigh and kiss down his throat. You can feel every muscle in his thigh flex as one big hand tugs you in closer. This close, you can see the amber flecks in his eyes and practically taste the whiskey on his breath. It should sting your nose and make your eyes water. But instead the scent intoxicates you, drugging you as his chest heaves and each twitch of his muscles has his thigh brush against your sensitive clit. Your chest heaves, brushing your suddenly peaked nipples against his broad chest. When the door clangs open, neither of you move, too caught up in the rush of each other. At least, that is, until calls of your name and his rip you apart.

It’s the bride and groom’s parties, and your face grows hot as you tug your dress down so your panties aren’t completely exposed to the world. A breeze wafts its way over the assembled group, raising gooseflesh on your exposed arms and legs. But you’re not shivering for long as a sports coat is draped over your shoulders. You clutch the lapels close, reveling in the spicy cologne and ignore the way Sophie is trying to figure out why you’re kissing Bradley Bradshaw at her Bachelorette party.

As the two parties separate for the night, not to meet until wedding day, you pull your phone out and send one text message.

Roo, that was a lot, and I probably shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I need a little more time. But I promise, I'll tell you what I decide about us after the wedding.

Taglist:

💃 @dingochef 💃 @mak-32 💃 @atarmychick007

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💃 @mayhemmanaged 💃 @desert-fern 💃 @cassiemitchell

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💃 @love2write2626 💃 @little-wiseone 💃 @eli2447

💃 @f1maverick 💃 @daphne-turner 💃 @djs8891

💃 @dempy 💃 @mamaskillerqueen 💃 @roosters-girl

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💃@mygyn 💃 @cosmic-psychickitty 💃 @julesclues

💃 @greenbaby12 💃 @bubblegumbeautyqueen 💃 @briseisgone

💃 @soulmates8 💃 @meganlpie 💃 @captain-fandomwriter58

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💃 @lunamoonbby 💃 @angeliccks 💃 @daisydaisygoose

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💃 @angelbabyange 💃 @abaker74 💃

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #dance like we're making love #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader

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my-mt-heart · 9 months

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Since reviews of le spinoff S1 are dropping tonight/tomorrow, I wanted to go over my plans and expectations for the next 6 weeks one last time. I figured it’d be easier to put it all in one place rather than answer a bunch of individual asks.

First of all, I’m not watching. And I know I’ve said that so many times, it must be annoying at this point, but in case anyone thought I was bluffing or might change my mind, nope. I know what Daryl Dixon represents to me and I want to hold onto that as best as I can. How do I know he’s going to be retconned? Because the promotion is telling me so. Everything’s different? Don’t need to watch the flagship show to follow Daryl’s story? Daryl can build his own family just like Rick? He can be loyal to anyone he meets? Wanting to get back to his real family is “the wrong reason” for his mission? There was no plan for Daryl and Carol to go to New Mexico together? Get off the stage, Greg. All of that is clearly trying to appeal to new viewers or Norman stans who will follow him anywhere, not the built-in audience.

I started the campaign for Melissa because as JDM and Greg Nicotero are once again proving, not nearly enough people were on her side. I want to continue showing my support, and I don’t believe watching the first season of a show she was unfairly pushed out of helps me do that. There are a few people I trust to give me their thoughts on it. One of them is @lighteneverything whose reviews I will be sure to share every week. I’ll talk about anything Carol/Caryl related if it comes up, and I’ll share my own thoughts on some big picture stuff when the season is over.

As far as Carol/Caryl go, I expect very little. I think, based on the promotion or lack thereof, AMC is putting all of their stock in Carol’s appearance alone, meaning they want the relief of seeing her again to distract us from the fact that her role in the first season—despite possible vague references here and there—is pretty inconsequential. I think what little screentime she has will be a cold comfort considering the show was supposed to be hers too. But I’ll wait to find out what that actually looks like before I say more 🙄

I expect SM to be an absolute nightmare. The media and the fans who love to hate Carol/Caryl will have a field day with everything we find triggering and reviews will lean into the positives. I think the ratings for the pilot will be significantly better than DC’s, but we’ll see what happens after that.

I’m saying all of this so that hopefully anyone who’s nervous won’t be caught off guard. I know Caryl’s story is important and deeply personal to so many of us, so fuck all of the entitled assholes who used this show for their own purposes instead of catering to an audience that’s been loyal to them for over a decade. Please reach out to me if you ever need to vent. If you think the show is going to be enjoyable for you, then you can ignore me. I hope you get what you want out of it.

My hope is that we’ll be able to put this mess behind us soon, so we can just look forward to the stories that Carol, Daryl, Caryl, and all of their fans really deserve.

#caryl #caryl spinoff #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #darylneedscarol

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weepingfromacedartree · 8 months

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Ten Milestones: First Pet

Hi friends! The first chapter of my new fic is now ready for anybody interested.

Hope you enjoy! I'll be posting chapters every Friday (and sometimes Tuesday).

Chapter 1: First Pet

Today: April 29th, 2023

Relationship Status: Dating

꙳

“Gregory just texted me to ask if we’re dating. I didn’t think he had my number.”

“That little arsehole probably sent it to himself when he stole my phone.”

It’s Saturday, 7:02 PM. Penelope and Colin are sitting on the floor of his flat, a few containers of Chinese food littered between them. It’s not a particularly unusual setting to find either one of them in on a Saturday evening. However, some things are different now.

Two weeks ago, they would not have been playing footsie. Not this shamelessly, at least.

“I assumed that Eloise’s ‘vow of secrecy’ would involve her immediately telling Benedict… And that Benedict would tell Anthony… And that Anthony would tell Kate… But I don’t know how the rumour managed to spread to Cambridge in…” She glances down to her phone again. “Six hours flat.”

“‘Rumour?’” Colin echoes, a smirk on his face. “Surely, you’re not trying to keep this sordid love affair hidden from me as well.”

“‘Sordid?’ God, Colin. You make us sound so dirty.” She kicks his foot away, then picks up her container of shrimp fried rice. “And I’m not trying to keep it from anyone. We both knew what was going to happen when I told El.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised Greg didn’t text you sooner.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Penelope watches as Colin uses his chopsticks to play around with his chicken dish, never actually putting a piece in his mouth. She can tell there’s something brewing in his mind.

“So… What are you gonna tell him?” he eventually asks.

“Well… I was going to leave him in suspense a little while longer. Maybe take the ‘no comment’ approach at first. Then, I don’t know… the truth?”

“Which is?”

Before answering, Penelope takes a moment to study the look on her supposed boyfriend’s face. She wonders if he’s playing dumb as a joke, or if there has been a miscommunication of monumental proportions between them. Judging from the expression on his face alone…

Neither option seems to be the correct one.

“Yes?”

She hadn’t intended for her answer to sound like a question, but her voice squeaked upward at the end, nonetheless. Colin doesn’t appear at all phased by her uncertainty, though. He looks quite calm and collected, placing his takeaway container on the coffee table and leaning further into the big blue couch behind him.

“‘Dating’ is a bit too casual a word for us, I think.”

“Okay…” Penelope draws those two syllables out as long as her breath allows her. She’s stalling for time, trying to sort out what it is that Colin is getting at. Still, she comes up empty.

“It’s only been a week. What do you suggest we call —”

“We should get married.”

“What!?”

He’s joking. He’s teasing. He’s —

“I said we should get married.”

Before she can yelp out another barely intelligible sound, Penelope bites her tongue. Literally. She watches his face, remaining quiet, waiting for him to expand on this insane, out-of-nowhere proposal. In the end, all she gets is a smug little smirk.

“What do you mean, ‘We should get married?’”

“I thought it was a rather self-explanatory proposition.”

“Col—”

“Why does anyone get married? I love you. I wish to continue loving you forever and ever. Ergo, marriage.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“It —”

“It was a proposal.”

“Colin,” she scolds, using the sternest tone she can manage to muster up — which, at the moment, happens to be about an octave higher than her typical speaking voice.

If nothing else, at least he has the decency to drop that stupid smirk from his face in response to her apparent anxious state.

“Pen,” he murmurs, leaning forward to place his left hand on her right knee. “Just think about it. We didn’t meet a week ago, we just finally admitted what we should have told each other years ago. I’ve known you my entire life, and I spent most of that time either too oblivious to realise how in love with you I was, or too scared to do anything about it. Dating just seems… unnecessary. We know what comes next — why delay it any longer?”

Sitting stunned, eyes wide-open and fixed on the thumb currently tracing circles across her bare knee, Penelope attempts to make sense of what Colin just said. But the longer she sits there silent, the more divided her mind becomes.

On one hand, at her core, Penelope is sensible. Reasonable. Logical. That part of her is sounding alarm bells, insisting his proposition is irrational and goes against everything she knows about marriages and engagements and proposals altogether. After all, plenty of people go from friends to lovers and don’t jump directly to marriage.

On the other hand, also at her core, Penelope is a romantic. A willing fool. An idealist against her better judgement. That part of her is susceptible to Colin’s sweet, silly, and perhaps not so irrational words. She has been in love with him her entire life. Would it really be so crazy to —

Shaking her head ever so slightly, Penelope tentatively, regretfully brushes his hand off her knee. At the loss of her touch, Colin’s bottom lip juts out in a pout.

“Dating isn’t casual, necessarily… It’s important. It’s like a — like a test run for marriage and —”

“Well —”

“And it’s different from friendship. It puts you through different tests and trials than you go through with someone when you’re just friends.”

Colin appears to think over her words for a moment, squinting at her in that way that makes his blue eyes look grey.

“Friendship is not so different from dating,” he argues, eyes wide and blue again. “At least, not the way we did it.”

“Col —”

“You’re right about one thing, though.”

“Oh. Is that so?” she asks, unable to contain her sarcasm, even now.

“Dating is like a trial period. It’s when you figure out if your relationship is strong enough to last through all of the bullshit life can throw your way.”

“That’s not exactly what I said.”

“Do you disagree with my summarisation?” His lips form a smirk that tells her that he already knows her answer. Still, she shakes her head.

“Okay,” he chuckles, leaning in an inch closer to her. “And after the mountains of bullshit we went through during the course of our friendship, do you have any doubt about our ability to stick with each other through everything? Is there anything holding you back, Pen?”

No. Nothing.

That’s the truth. There isn’t a single thing about Colin that she feels unsure of. Not anymore.

But still…

Even if there has been love between them for decades, they couldn’t admit that to each other until a week ago. That assuredness — that knowing — is still so new. She’s spent more time deciding whether or not to cut bangs, and the answer always ends up being not.

Still…

“Let’s consult the experts.”

Those four words break Penelope out of a daze she hadn’t realised she had fallen into.

At some point in the last few seconds, Colin had pulled out his phone. Now, he’s typing away at the keyboard with alarming urgency.

“What are you doing?”

With his phone screen mostly out of her view, Colin taps it one final time before looking up to meet her curious eye. Then, he clears his throat.

“Ten Milestones Every Couple Should Celebrate Before Walking Down the Aisle,” he reads aloud. “Number One: Sharing Your First —”

“What are you doing?” Penelope asks again. This time, a laugh escapes her lips as she does so. Something about the seriousness on Colin’s face reminds her of the absurdity of this situation. That it is a joke, whether or not he had intended it as such.

“I know you think this is all very funny, but I’m serious,” Colin contends. “Everything a couple needs to go through in order to be prepared for marriage, we have surely gone through at some point over the last twenty years. We’ve wasted enough time as it is — why was even more of it by delaying the inevitable? It just seems silly.”

Penelope has a bad habit of getting lost in Colin. In his words, in his voice, in his eyes… All of which seem to be pulling her in with a force that could rival anything she’s felt in the last twenty years. So when he stops talking, presumably offering her the space to get in her latest rebuttal, she remains silent.

With the smirk back on his face, he continues, “And while I know part of you is very tempted to agree with me and run down to the courthouse right now, I know the inherent skeptic in you needs some convincing.”

He briefly pauses again, this time to hold up his phone and display the article he had just been urgently searching for.

“So we will go through this list, which details every milestone a couple must accomplish before they get married. At the end, if we find that we checked off every single to-do item while we were just friends, we will make the reasonable decision and get married.”

If there’s one thing Colin Bridgerton is unnervingly good at, it’s making a convincing argument. The realist and the romantic on Penelope’s shoulders suddenly go quiet.

“And where exactly did you find this scholarly article — the one you are basing such a life-altering decision on?”

He looks down.

“TheMarriageExpert.com”

“Colin!”

“They’re an expert, Pen!”

Penelope giggles, for as often as Colin provokes her, his charm always gets her in the end. Once her laughter lets up, she thinks over his slightly altered proposal.

He’s convinced me to play more tedious games before…

“Fine. I agree to your terms. What’s first on that list of yours?”

Any seriousness left on Colin’s face quickly melts away. He grins at her in that way that always makes her stomach flutter.

“Number One: Sharing Your First Pet,” he reads aloud. “During the course of your marriage, you and your partner will share many things together. Finances, homes, memories, and a million other things you cannot even begin to fathom now. A pet will help you prepare for those shared responsibilities. It will teach you both about the importance of…”

As Colin continues reading, Penelope feels a frown pulling down on her lips. When he finishes, she attempts to cover her disappointment with a shallow laugh.

“Game over, I guess.”

His eyebrow arches. “Pardon?”

“We’ve never shared a pet, so…”

Colin’s mouth falls wide open. He pulls his free hand to his chest, as if the aghast look on his face wasn’t enough.

“Pen… Did Mr. Whiskers mean nothing to you?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Twenty Years Earlier: July 21st, 2003

Relationship Status: Sister’s Best Friend // Best Friend’s Brother

꙳

How did I end up here?

Today is Monday. Today also happens to be the first real day of summer holiday for children all across London. For most kids, that means the start of freedom — six weeks of fun, followed by real life crashing down on them when the fall term begins. But for Penelope Featherington, it marks the start of something different.

The loss of structure.

For the next six weeks, it is up to Penelope to determine how — and more importantly, where — she spends the majority of her time. She didn’t want to spend it at home. Not this morning, at least.

That was how she ended up in Grosvenor Square.

At just eight years old, there aren’t many places she can run off to unaccompanied. Even the park, just two blocks away from her home, is hard to get away with. Her mum only allowed it because she was under the impression that Eloise would be joining her — that between Penelope’s sense and Eloise’s toughness, the two girls would be safe in the nearby park. But when Penelope ran across the street to request her best friend’s company, Anthony informed her that Eloise was not available for a morning stroll in the square.

She could have gone back home, but she really didn’t want to. That was how she ended up in Grosvenor Square alone.

While walking around the park’s perimeter, she kept her eyes down, careful not to step on any cracks in the pavement. She kept her shoulders hunched, trying her best to blend in with the other park-goers. She kept her ears pointed outward, picking up every little sound that surrounded her.

She listened. To the birds chirping. To the wind rustling. To the rumbling engines of nearby traffic. Mostly, she listened to the people.

Two teenagers were fighting. She was mad. He was sorry. She said something about him cheating, then their shouts turned to whispers and Penelope couldn’t make out the rest. As she walked out of earshot, she couldn’t help but wonder what sort of exam he could have cheated on that would warrant such a reaction.

A man with a big yellow dog was flirting with a woman. Though Penelope couldn’t make out much of what he was saying, she could tell just from the look on her face that she wasn’t particularly liking what she was hearing. When Penelope got a little closer, the yellow dog started barking. By the time the man got his pet to settle down, the woman had disappeared.

A neighbour from down the street walked past, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and pushing a stroller with the other. As Mrs. Abernathy walked closer, Penelope briefly considered hiding behind the nearest tree, certain that the woman would recognise her and ask where her mum was. But before Penelope could turn and run in the opposite direction, the little blonde baby started crying and distracted the woman.

Just as she was about to turn the corner and listen into the teenage couple’s fight again, Penelope heard something new.

“Meow.”

At first, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her. But no. When she walked to the bush that the noise had originated from, two round green eyes stared back at her.

Oh, right.

Penelope looks down at the little grey ball of fur currently nestled in her arms.

After approaching him in the park, the second thing she noticed was the kitten’s whiskers. They were so long — so disproportionate to how small everything else about him looked. He was so scrawny that Penelope couldn’t tell if he was actually a kitten, or just an older cat who had spent too much time with too little food in his stomach.

She spent an hour searching Grosvenor Square and the surrounding area for his family. But with no collar and evidently no family in sight, Penelope decided to take her new friend home.

Penelope and the cat spent approximately 20 minutes walking the 10-minute route home; she slowed her steps, took unnecessary turns, and waited longer than needed at crosswalks. During all of that time, she held the cat tightly to her chest, shielding him from the rest of the world with the nest she made out of her yellow cardigan. Also during that time, she practised what she would say to her mum once she and her hopeful pet arrived back at home.

“Penelope. Anne. Featherington. Get that rodent out of my house!”

It had not gone well. But in truth, Penelope knew long before she landed back on her doorstep that this was all a lost cause. That there was nothing in the world she could have said to convince her mother to let her keep the cat.

Penelope had followed her mother’s instructions, fleeing from their home as quickly as her feet would allow. She didn’t have much of a plan once she hit the pavement outside, but like they so often do, her feet automatically started walking in the direction of the home across the street; they stopped short before she could reach it.

Mr. Bridgerton died last summer. Ever since that morning in August when they learned of the awful news, Penelope’s mum has incessantly warned her against showing up at their door unannounced. After all, there are eight fatherless children in that house now — the youngest of which never even got to meet her father. They have enough going on as it is.

They have enough going on as it is, Penelope repeats again and again and again.

That’s how she got here. Sitting on the curb outside the Bridgerton household, a cat sleeping soundly in her lap.

“It’s all gonna be okay,” she whispers to herself more than she does to him.

Silently, Penelope wonders what the right thing to do is. Where the right place to go is.

The first place she thinks of is an animal shelter. Surely, that is the most logical place to bring a lost kitten to. The people there would know how to take care of him — how to find him a home with people who will love him and keep him safe. The only problem: Penelope does not know of any actual animal shelters in Mayfair.

The second place she thinks of is the fire station down the street. Firefighters save cats, don’t they? Or was that —

“Pen?”

Colin, her mind registers before she even has the chance to turn and look at him. Before she does so, she shifts in her spot and attempts to hide the contraband currently sleeping in her arms. And when she finally does set her eyes on him, her stomach starts to flutter; it always does when he smiles at her.

“Hi,” she squeaks out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to —”

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding to the kitten she clearly failed at concealing away from him. Before she has the chance to answer, he sits down beside her on the curb.

“Oh, I, uh — I found him in Grosvenor Square. He was all alone and I didn’t know where else to go…”

Her voice trails off, once again contemplating what a responsible person would do next in this situation.

“Are you gonna keep him?”

“No,” she answers, disappointment leaking through to her voice. “Mum won’t let me. She hates cats.”

Penelope takes her eyes off the kitten to look up at Colin. While he may only be two years older, he stands nearly a head above her (he’s tall for his age — she’s short for hers). Even sitting right beside him, she has to tilt her head up just to look him in the eye. As usual, his mop of hair hangs so low that it nearly covers both his eyes, but still, Penelope can see little glimpses of blue shining through strands of brown.

She’s always quite liked that shade of blue.

“I’d take him,” Colin says, raising his hand to pet the cat behind his ears. “But mum and Daph are both allergic.”

Any butterflies left in Penelope’s stomach are quickly replaced by a new sensation. This one, not so pleasant.

Mr. Bridgerton was allergic to hornets…

“Not that kind of allergic,” he reassures her, seemingly reading her mind. “They won’t, like, die or anything. Their skin will just get all red and scratchy if he gets anywhere near them.”

“Oh, uh — sorry,” she stutters out, barely comprehending his last few sentences. “I should just go.”

Pulling the kitten away from Colin, Penelope stands. She starts to turn in another direction, but is once again reminded that she has no idea where she is supposed to go.

“Stop,” Colin orders, gently. He stands too. “Where are you gonna take him?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Where are you supposed to take stray cats?”

He shrugs.

“Dunno.”

“Okay. Well —”

“But I have an idea.”

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

The Bridgertons live on a gold mine. Metaphorically. Literally, they live on nearly an acre of land in the middle of Mayfair.

The Bridgertons’ home has been in their family for several generations. This is the primary reason why they’re able to hold on to so much land in London’s bloodthirsty real estate market. If they ever were to sell, a row of flats would be built up in the back garden within a fortnight.

(Inheritance is the same reason why Penelope is able to remain in her own home on Grosvenor Street, despite her father’s tendency to dwindle away all of their other assets. The Featheringtons’ garden is not nearly this sprawling, though.)

“Where are we going?”

She and Colin hadn’t gone through his house. Rather, they went around it. They’re currently walking along the wall towards the back of the estate. Colin is a few steps ahead of her, tracing the cracks in the stones with his index finger.

“Have some patience, Pen.”

“I — I do.” And she does. Usually.

Usually, Penelope is a remarkably patient girl. Well-mannered. Quiet. She usually wears those attributes on her shoulders like a uniform. But for some reason, they tend to slip away from her whenever Colin is near.

She looks over her shoulder, towards the massive house behind them. It’s purposeful, she suddenly realises, that they’re walking along the shadows of this wall.

“Is Eloise home yet?” she asks, for no other reason than to fill the silence between them.

Usually, Penelope doesn’t feel the need to fill silences like these. She usually feels quite comfortable in them.

“Uh, no. Ben took her into the city for her, uh… Her doctor’s appointment. They’ll probably get back around supper time.”

Out of Colin’s view, Penelope nods.

For the past year — ever since her father died — Eloise has been seeing a doctor in the city pretty regularly. Penelope’s mum told her to never ask any follow up questions about these visits, but in her own head, she’s always wondered what type of doctor is able to fix an ailment such as heartbreak.

“Are you leaving London for the summer holiday?” she asks, another attempt to fill the void. She already knows the answer. The Bridgertons always travel up to Aubrey Hall this time of year. Always.

“No. Just staying here, I guess.”

Dread appears suddenly and sits heavily in Penelope’s stomach.

Mr. Bridgerton died at Aubrey Hall last summer. Of course they’re not eager to return.

“Oh, uh,” she eventually mumbles, her mind desperately searching for any route this conversation could take that would land them back in safe territory. “Us too,” is all she manages to say.

“Cool. I’ll see you around then.”

She feels her cheeks instantly flush. “Yeah. Cool,” she says, hoping her voice does not expose the growing warmth on her skin.

Without another word, Colin breaks away from the stone wall and walks towards a particularly dense cluster of trees at the edge of the property. He leads them to a spot that, despite spending so much of her childhood playing in this very garden, she has never seen before. It’s a little wooden shed, wide and about as tall as Penelope.

“What is that?”

“A shed,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. “I think they used to store firewood in here — you know, back in the olden times.” Walking up next to it, he undoes the little metal latch with a flick of his index finger. “Empty now, though. I don’t think anyone remembers it’s here.”

“So…”

“So, your cat could live here.”

Penelope looks down. At some point in the last few minutes, she had somehow forgotten about the creature held tightly against her chest. She had forgotten her whole point in being here.

“Oh! Right. That’s, um…”

She steals another glance at the shed. It certainly looks like it hasn’t been used since the “olden times.”

“That’s nice of you to offer. But how would he — how would that work?”

“I know it seems bare now, but we get him a bed, milk, food — everything a cat needs to survive — and he’ll be happy here.”

Bed. Milk. Food.

“Those things cost money. I —”

Colin shrugs. “I’ll steal a tenner out of Anthony’s wallet,” he says casually.

When Penelope’s face is overtaken by shock, a cheeky smile erupts on his.

“Kidding! I’ll just tell him I’m sad. He’ll hand me some cash and tell me to go fix my feelings with ice cream.”

“Oh, okay. But…” Her mind stalls, searching for another flaw in his logic to voice aloud. The problem is, there are just so many to choose from.

“My mum always says we can’t get a pet because they’re too much responsibility. You have to take care of them. You have to feed them, make sure they —”

“Hey,” he interrupts, smile still hanging on his lips. “We’re both very responsible people. I help keep Greg alive, and that kid thinks licking an electrical socket is a fun hobby. If I can do that, keeping a cat alive will be nothing.”

“So we would, um…” She steals yet another glance at the shed in front of them; she can’t help but look at it and see a cage. “We would just keep him locked up in there all day?”

“No,” he reassures her. “We’ll keep the door open — or I could even cut a cat-sized hole in the side. You know, so he can come and go as he pleases.”

“But if he’s able to leave that easily… Won’t he get lost again?”

Colin shakes his head.

“If I know anything about cats it’s that if you feed them, they’ll always find their way back to you. And since you found him hanging out in Grosvenor Square, clearly he’s an outside cat, not an inside cat.”

Penelope looks down at the little grey cat in her arms. His attention is no longer on her, his round eyes darting wildly as he takes in the space around them.

“I thought only strays went outside.”

“No. A cat can have a home and not want to be cooped up in it all day long.” Colin takes a few steps towards her, raising his hand and scratching behind the kitten’s little ears. The cat seems to like it, as he starts purring immediately. “Clearly, this little guy wants to roam free.”

Yet again, Penelope feels her cheeks burn pink. She isn’t used to this — being so close to him. In fact, she can’t think of a single time when the two of them have ever been so close and so alone together. After all, Colin is her best friend’s brother — a friend of sorts, but tangentially so. Until today, he has only ever been in Penelope’s company through her friendship with Eloise.

She isn’t used to having this much of his attention on her.

“Here.” After what feels like hours, she pulls the kitten away from her chest and nearly shoves him into Colin’s. “He seems to really like you.”

Annoyingly quickly, the creature settles soundly into his arms. Clearly, Colin’s natural charm works just as well on animals as it does on human beings.

When Colin turns his back and his gaze falls on something other than her, Penelope’s mind flushes with panic. She rethinks words she had mostly brushed off just moments before.

Colin offering to spend his own money. To cut a hole in the shed. To take care of this little creature she found in a bush.

He has enough going on as it is.

When she looks to where he now stands, Penelope spots Colin setting the cat down in his prospective home. The cat takes two tiny steps across the wooden beams before Penelope walks over and hastily takes him into her arms again.

“I’m sorry, Colin. I didn’t mean to get you wrapped up in this.” She turns away, pulling the kitten even closer into her chest. “I’ll drop him off at the fire —”

“Pen, stop.”

Before she can step away, Colin’s hand falls on her shoulder. He squeezes it once before letting it drop back to his side. Although Penelope is not very experienced in receiving small physical gestures such as this, she can tell he had meant for it to be reassuring.

“He’ll be fine here. I promise.”

She turns slowly.

“Are you sure it’s not too much?”

“No,” he laughs. “Of course not. How could this little guy ever be ‘too much?’”

Pushing away all the alarm bells blaring in her head, informing her that this is a bad idea, Penelope pushes her shoulders back. She stands tall — metaphorically, of course.

“I’ll do half the work,” she tells him. “At least. I can check on his bowl every morning — make sure he has water and food and whatever else he needs. Maybe you can do the same at night. And if you ever can’t, just tell me and I’ll help. And if it ever does become too much, I can find him somewhere else to live.”

When she finally stops rambling and closes her mouth, Colin smiles again. Then, he extends his right hand towards her.

“You got yourself a deal, Featherington.”

Tentatively, Penelope raises her arm to seal said deal. But before she can make contact, Colin’s hand moves again. He turns his palm towards her, as if to signal “stop.”

“One ground rule before we make it official: let’s keep this whole thing between the two of us. Cause if Anthony finds out… he’ll send me and the cat to the nearest shelter.”

“Colin! I —”

“Kidding!” He laughs again, which has a shockingly effective influence on Penelope’s nerves.

“But really… It’s simpler if we don’t tell anyone else. Not even Eloise — she can’t keep a secret for her life.”

While thinking over his words, Penelope tilts her head upwards. She steals a not-so-quick glance at his eyes — at the little bits of blue shining through the brown.

For as long as she can remember, Penelope has always wanted more of Colin. Though she won’t be able to fully understand or define this feeling for several more years, it burns in her heart, even now. She wants to be closer to him. To make him laugh. To be his friend. To share a secret with him — even if she knows that it could very well end badly for everyone involved.

“Deal.”

With that, Penelope shakes Colin’s hand and seals their fate forever.

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 5th, 2003

Their secret turned out to be a rather easy one to keep.

Penelope was good at going unseen. Every morning at approximately 7:00, she snuck into the Bridgerton back garden, walking along the shadows of the east-facing wall. At approximately 7:10 every morning, she snuck out without being noticed by anyone except Colin, who always kept an eye out for her from his bedroom window. If his mum or siblings ever were to catch her back there, he highly doubts they would care or even bat an eye; before this past year, Penelope seemed to spend more time in their home than she did her own.

Colin was also good at escaping notice on his daily task. Every night around dusk, he would sneak into a bathroom, fill a plastic bottle with tap water, hide it in the pocket of whatever hoodie he happened to be wearing that day, and slip out the back door — always unseen by his family members. They keep the cat food in a little locked container in the shed — both of which Colin had bought using money he had stolen from Anthony’s wallet (not that he would admit to following through on the theft “joke” to Penelope).

As the summer droned on, and as dusk came quicker with each passing day, Colin put less and less effort into sneaking out every night. The more time passed, the more obvious it became to him, how easy it is to disappear from a home with so many people — especially when everyone seems to be looking for a person who is no longer around.

The only conspirator that ever put them at risk of being found out was Mr. Whiskers (a name Colin picked after Penelope insisted that they couldn’t just keep calling him “little guy”).

Three times in two weeks, Whiskers had loitered around the Bridgerton’s back steps following his dinner, meowing for someone’s attention. Colin had caught him the first time and shooed him off. Daphne caught him the second time and screamed bloody murder. Anthony caught him the third and nearly called animal control. The only reason he didn’t was because Gregory just so happened to push a vase off a table one room over; the mess had been too distracting.

Thankfully, Whiskers seemed wary of coming close to the Bridgerton household after that last encounter.

A routine formed. Penelope would sneak into the garden in the morning. Colin would sneak out of his home at night. Mr. Whiskers would come and go as he pleased between meals. Their paths rarely ever cross. That is, until tonight.

Tonight — like most nights — Colin can’t sleep. He ran up to his bedroom at 9:16, only after being ordered to do so by Anthony. He’s spent much of the last 145 minutes in bed staring at the ceiling. Now, bored out of his skull and needing any sort of distraction, he jumps up to grab the MP3 player and headphones sitting on the windowsill.

He turns up the volume all the way and, for the next few minutes, does his best to tune out the rest of the world. It’s probably for the best that he fails in doing so, otherwise he wouldn’t have noticed the shadow cutting across the moonlight in his back garden.

Less than five minutes later, Colin cuts along that same path; he’s far less cautious than he ever is at dusk. He knows there’s a chance that someone in the house could still be awake and spot him out here, but that risk feels less worrisome, the closer he gets to his intended destination.

Just as it comes into view, he hears sniffling. The sound is quiet, but persistent.

He sees her before she sees him. She’s sitting with her legs crossed in the shed’s open doorway, Mr. Whiskers curled up in her lap.

Colin had felt uneasy from the very moment he spotted her from his bedroom window, but a distinct wave of dread hits him cold the moment that his eyes meet Penelope’s. Hers go so wide that he swears he can see the moonlight reflecting off of them.

She doesn’t immediately speak; even her crying halts after realising that she is not alone.

“Pen?” he asks, when he can think of nothing else to say. He waits several seconds for her to give some sort of reaction. A word, a nod — anything. But still, she remains frozen in her spot in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Are you o—”

“Yes,” she shoots out. “Yes, I, uh — I — I’m fine.”

Finally, Penelope moves. She places her hands around the cat’s belly and uncrosses her feet like she’s about to run off into the night. And though her claims of being “fine” offered his mind zero reassurance, Colin nods at her words anyway.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, sitting down beside her before she has the chance to flee. He raises his hand and scratches behind Mr. Whiskers’ ears while the cat remains perched on Penelope’s legs.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he offers, unprompted. “I thought I would see what Whiskers was up to.”

“Oh,” Penelope says. Then, in an even fainter voice, “Same.”

As he continues scratching, the kitten purrs; his soft murmur is the only sound in the air for several long seconds. Just when the silence begins to feel a bit too heavy on his skin, Colin drops his hand and looks up at the scene above them.

“Do you know any constellations?”

After a few more beats of silence, Penelope raises her finger to the sky. “That’s the North Star. And that’s the Little Dipper, connected to it.” She repositions her finger slightly. “And that’s the Big Dipper, right next to it.” She repositions her finger once more before dropping it. “And that’s Aries.”

Though the stars don’t shine as brightly here as they do in the country, Colin’s eyes glaze over the soft specks of light in the sky, searching for something familiar. Specifically, he’s searching for the constellation that Benedict had pointed out to him last summer at Aubrey Hall, just a few nights before their father died.

“That’s Capricorn.” He points his finger towards the sky, to his own star sign. THe snorts. “Do you know what type of creature a Capricorn is?”

Penelope shakes her head.

“Half-goat, half-fish. Like a mermaid with horns and a pair of hooves.”

Then, a miracle happens.

Penelope giggles. The sound is soft, but it cuts right through the darkness.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Not as cool as a ram, but…”

“Are there any cats in the constellations?” Penelope asks once Colin’s voice trails off.

He considers her question for a moment, recalling other star stories Benedict has told him over the years. He looks up to the sky, hoping he can discern an outline of a kitten somewhere between the lights.

“Dunno,” he finally admits. “But there are lots of stars — most of them, we can’t even see. There’s gotta be at least one cat out there. Somewhere.”

Penelope hums in agreement, looking down at her lap. “Mr. Whiskers is a good cat,” she quietly muses.

“Yeah.” Colin reaches over to pet behind his little grey ears. “The best.”

“He keeps trying to follow me home after breakfast.” She giggles softly. “He must not remember meeting my mum, or else he would stay away forever. She thought I was carrying a rat into our house. She shrieked.”

“Oh god,” Colin chuckles, and it’s only a little forced. “He tried sneaking into my house a few times. He met Anthony last time, though, and I don’t think he’s ever gonna forget that.”

She giggles again, her smile lighting up in the moonlight.

“Was he mad?”

“His face went red! Ant is always at least a little bit angry, but this was ridiculous. No normal human could get that mad about a cute little kitten hanging around their back door.”

With her eyes still pointed intently on the cat in her lap, Penelope’s voice lowers to almost a whisper. “I don’t know how people can see something so sweet and get so mad.”

Colin’s eyes don’t leave Penelope when he responds, “Me neither.”

For what feels like an unending moment, the three of them sit there in silence, looking up at the moon and the stars and the darkness all around. The longer the moment holds, the harder it becomes for Colin to push away the worries that had been building inside himself since the moment he spotted Penelope running across his back garden at midnight.

Trying his hardest to keep his tone casual…

“Was there a reason you couldn’t sleep tonight?”

She doesn’t respond right away. She doesn’t attempt to flee, either.

“No. It was…” She pauses for a very long, very quiet moment. “It was nothing.”

“Pen, you —”

“Nothing that isn’t — like — normal, I mean.”

Colin does not know what she means. He can’t imagine a single normal thing that would cause someone to run away crying from their home in the middle of the night. Especially someone as small and defenceless as Penelope.

“My mum and dad were just fighting,” she confesses, only after realising that Colin’s look of concern will not fade until she tells him the truth. “A bit louder than usual, I guess. But it’s not like I haven’t heard them fight a million times before.”

“That’s —” not normal, he almost says, but holds his tongue at the last moment.

He’s suddenly, alarmingly struck by the fact that what he deems “normal” might not be the same for Penelope. That there are “normal” things in his own life that others would say are unimaginable for a kid his age.

That’s not right, would be more accurate. But he doesn’t say that either. Instead, he simply asks, “Do you want to come inside? El is probably asleep, but I could wake her —”

“No,” she answers, looking him in the eye for the first time in what feels like hours. “Thank you, but… It’s really late. I should go back home before someone notices I left.” She lets out one awkward, forced laugh before saying, “Mum will kill me if she realises I slipped out.”

With one quick motion, Penelope scoops up Whiskers, plops him into Colin’s lap, then pushes herself out of the shed and back on solid ground. Just as she looks like she’s about to turn and run, Colin gathers the cat in his arms and stands beside her.

“Are you sure? It’s no bother.”

For the briefest moment, it almost looks like doubt crosses Penelope’s face. But then, just as quickly, she shakes her head.

“I should go home.”

Regretfully, Colin tears his eyes away from hers, turning his head to glance at his own home in the distance. The only light still on comes from his bedroom window.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, turning back to her. “I guess I should too.”

Penelope nods. Just when it looks like she’s about to turn and disappear into the darkness, Colin blurts something out.

“Do you wanna meet here again in the morning? When you feed Mr. Whiskers?”

She seems taken aback by his question. She doesn’t immediately respond to it with words, but with a confused, almost worried expression on her face.

“I —”

“Our system’s efficient and all,” he cuts in, “but we haven’t exactly seen much of each other since we started taking care of him. I dunno, I guess I just thought that we would be hanging out more this summer.”

“Oh!” Her voice suddenly comes out so high that it borders a squeak. “I know what you mean. I…”

Her voice trails off. It remains silent for so long that Colin wonders if it's his turn to speak. But before he can blurt anything else out, she opens her mouth.

“I’d like that.”

“Cool,” he says, lips pulling into a smile. “See you tomorrow.”

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 14th, 2003

“I’m not sure I understand the rules of this game.”

“It’s our game. The rules can be whatever we want them to be.”

Penelope stands with the tips of her toes and the palms of her hands pressed neatly against Colin’s matching sets. There’s a piece of cat biscuit placed between her right palm and his left. There’s a tiny grey cat peering up at them from where their shoes connect; he looks just as confused on the parameters of this game as Penelope feels.

The rules, they eventually settle on, are these:

Before getting into position, one person briefly presents a piece of biscuit to Mr. Whiskers. Players must take turns to avoid leading the cat towards favouritism.

On the count of three, one person takes the biscuit into their hands, then both turn around and run in opposite directions.

Mr. Whiskers follows whoever he believes holds his treat.

She ends up with the biscuit three times. He ends up with it five times. It falls to the ground between them eleven times. Each time, without fail, Mr. Whiskers immediately takes off after Penelope.

“This isn’t fair!” Colin calls out from behind a tree on their twentieth attempt at this so-called ‘game.’ “It’s not my fault you bonded with him first.” He points a finger at the cat currently pawing at her ankles. “I feed you just as much as she does — traitor!”

“Shhh, Colin!” Penelope whisper-yells. “Someone might hear you.”

“Oh, who cares?”

I care, Penelope thinks. She doesn’t want Colin’s mum or any one of his many siblings to stumble upon them back here. She’s not ready to give up this secret. She’s not willing to end this game.

Not yet, anyway.

“Mr. Whiskers cares. I doubt he wants to be kicked out of his home just because you’re a sore loser.”

Penelope picks up Whiskers from the patch of dirt he had just been rolling around in. She walks over to the shed where Colin now sits, then gently plops the brown-tinged grey cat in his lap.

“Well, he should have thought about that before picking sides.”

Like she has become accustomed to doing over the past two weeks, Penelope sits down on the other end of the shed’s open doorway. Colin’s body is turned towards her, but she keeps hers positioned outwards, as if to keep watch.

After a moment of quiet, he clears his throat.

“You can come over for dinner tonight. You know, if you want.”

“Oh, no. That’s okay,” Penelope says quickly. Dismissively. “Mum will expect me home soon. I think we’re having stew.”

“Yeah, but what about tomor—”

Colin’s voice stops short before he can get that last word out. Then, he pivots his head so he is no longer facing her.

“Well, maybe not tomorrow,” he eventually mutters, quieter than before. “But another day.”

Tomorrow is the anniversary, Penelope remembers. Along with that sudden, heart-aching reminder comes a little voice in her head that sounds distinctly like her mother.

They have enough going on as it is.

“I — I don’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t.” He finally looks her in the eye again. “Trust me, you wouldn’t. When you have eight kids, one more mouth hardly makes a difference.” He nods his head towards the house in the distance, partially obstructed by the scattering of trees they’ve found themselves in.

“Eloise would be happy if you stopped in. Mum too.”

Trying her absolute hardest to ignore that little voice in her head…

“Yeah. Another day. Soon.”

“Good.”

After another moment of quiet, Penelope pushes herself forward and lands with two feet in the grass.

“I really should head back, though.”

“Okay, I’ll —”

“But, Colin?” she interrupts (a truly rare occurrence for Penelope Featherington).

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking and… Maybe I could feed Mr. Whiskers breakfast and dinner tomorrow. I know we have our system, but… I just — you shouldn’t have to deal with taking care of him on top of any… family stuff.”

Colin doesn't respond right away. He spends several seconds looking at her with his brows furrowed; Mr. Whiskers uses that time to settle even deeper into his arms. Finally, his lips part. Penelope expects the first word out of his mouth to be “No,” but it isn’t.

“Sure.” He nods, brows lifting up a bit. “Thanks, Pen. That’s kind of you to offer.”

Penelope is surprised by his words. Not just because she was expecting him to dismiss her offer, but because she had never been thanked for something like this before. Her entire life, kindness was something that had been expected of her, but never really appreciated. She had been rewarded for her kindness in the past, but never thanked for it.

She’s hesitant to accept such thanks — gratitude for something as small as offering up a few minutes of her time for someone who had experienced more grief than she could even begin to imagine. But she can’t bring herself to deny it either. So instead, she simply nods and says, “Goodnight, Colin.”

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 25th, 2003

It’s Monday morning, 6:55 AM. Like most mornings around this time, Penelope is walking along the Bridgerton’s east-facing wall, feet stepping in the shadows, one finger tracing the stones beside her. Unlike most mornings, when she steps away from the wall and towards the shed hidden by a cluster of trees, she notices that the door that is always open is suddenly shut tight.

At the beginning of the summer, Penelope had convinced Colin not to cut a cat-sized opening in the side of the shed (he wanted to use a saw from his garage). Instead, they decided to always keep the door open so Mr. Whiskers could come and go as he pleases. Always.

Her feet pace faster with each and every step, intrigue and anxiety building up and piling over the closer she gets to that closed door.

It could not have closed on its own. It wasn’t the wind or gravity or Whiskers himself. The latch is locked. Someone locked it.

Just as she raises her arm to swing the wooden door back open, Penelope hears footsteps. Quick and increasingly loud footsteps. She (literally) jumps around, heat pounding, eyes wide, and sees…

“Colin! Where’s Mr. Whiskers?!”

“In there.”

He points to the shed behind her, still shut tight. Once he gets close enough, he reaches over her shoulder and finally undoes the latch. Just as promised, the cat is there, curiously staring up at them with those round green eyes.

“He keeps trying to follow me back into the house after I feed him at night. Last night, he was scratching at the back door. Thank god I got to him before Anthony did.”

“So he was just locked in there all night?”

She spares another sideways glance at the shed’s interior. It’s not nearly as bare as it had been that first day she looked inside. Now, there are two containers, two bowls, two electric lanterns, a blanket, a few cat toys, and a few human toys she assumes once belonged to Colin.

To an animal as tiny as Mr. Whiskers, this place might seem huge — but to Penelope, it all feels very claustrophobic.

“Yeah,” Colin finally answers, sounding guilty. “But sometimes it’s just safer for him to stay put for a little while. Even outdoor cats need to be reigned in some nights.”

Penelope doesn’t know whether to agree or disagree with his words, so she tries her best to ignore them — for a little while, at least. After climbing into the shed and filling his empty bowl with food, she gives Whiskers an affection bop on the head.

“You’re not wrong,” she belatedly answers. When Mr. Whiskers finishes his meal, Penelope turns and hops back onto the grass. Tilting her head to look Colin in the eye, she says, “But maybe Mr. Whiskers isn’t an outside cat after all. Maybe that’s why he keeps trying to follow us back to our own homes.”

“I thought that was just because he loves us.”

Penelope can’t help but roll her eyes just a little. Leave it to Colin Bridgerton to transform guilt into charm in under 30 seconds.

“Well…” She turns back to Mr. Whiskers again. As usual, he’s peering up at them with a transfixed — maybe even loving — stare. “Maybe you have a point.”

“I usually do —”

“But still… Do you really think this is what’s best for him?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…”

She bites her tongue. Literally.

All of this started because of her own selfish desires. To keep the cat. To occupy Colin’s attention. To possess a reason to get out of her house every morning.

Her selfishness and its inevitable consequences were easy to overlook at the start of the summer. But now…

“The summer is almost over. When we go back to school, we won’t be able to look out for him all day. Then the winter will come and this little shed isn’t going to be very warm.” She stops ranting briefly to glance down at the little grey cat in the doorway. “What if he gets sick? Or needs a vet? I just don’t know if this is really his best option.”

She points both hands towards the shed. Towards the small wooden structure that completely transformed her summer. Towards the only home Mr. Whiskers has ever known — dim and claustrophobic as it may be. She expects Colin’s eyes to follow her lead, but they don’t.

For a moment, it feels as though her presence completely slips from his view. His eyes are fixated on something in the distance. Something in the opposite direction. Something —

“Shite!”

Colin’s arms hastily wrap around Penelope’s waist. It takes everything in her not to shriek in surprise as he practically throws her into the shed. Thankfully, Mr. Whiskers jumps backwards instantly, or else she surely would have crushed him on impact.

“Colin! What —”

“Shh!”

He climbs in and quickly shuts the door behind him. If it were not for the electric lamps in the corner, illuminating the space with what little battery power they have left, Penelope wouldn’t discern him mouthing: “Anthony.”

They sit on opposite sides of the shed, the tips of their toes touching in the limited space. Penelope wonders if Colin can feel her shaking through the rubber edges of her yellow converse. The concerned look he throws her tells her that he must.

“You okay?” he mouths.

She thinks about nodding. She briefly wonders if a nod counts as a lie, or if lies can only be spoken aloud. In the end, she doesn’t do anything — except remain frozen in her spot.

Everything is quiet. For a fleeting moment, Penelope actually believes they may have gone unnoticed. Then, just as Mr. Whiskers decides to move out of the corner and crosses the wooden floor, she remembers that the latch — the flimsy piece of metal that is the only means of securing this thing — is on the other side. And when the cat uses his tiny paw to press against the door’s interior, she barely has time to gasp before it swings open.

The morning light nearly blinds her, but not enough to miss Anthony Bridgerton’s very mad, very red face staring back at her.

“Colin — what the hell?!”

Just as Colin had thrown her into the shed less than a minute ago, Anthony now pulls Penelope out of it by her shoulders. Just like Whiskers, she miraculously manages to land on her feet.

“I knew it! I knew you were irresponsible, but this —” He bends down and grabs Whiskers by the scruff of his neck. “This is insane. Even for you.”

Anthony turns to Penelope, looking as though he only just now discovered her presence here. In mere seconds, she watches his face turn from anger to shock to annoyance. Then, he turns to face his little brother again.

“I will be the responsible adult and make sure this — thing — finds an actual home and doesn’t continue living on the streets.” With a near-growl caught in his throat, he tells Colin, “We will discuss this later.”

Anthony turns to leave, but stops just as quickly.

“And Colin, do not mention this to mum. Or anyone else.”

He starts then stops again.

“And Penelope, please do not let my brother’s bad influence rub off on you. A nice girl like you has enough trouble as it is being friends with Eloise.”

It isn’t until Anthony has stomped out of sight with Mr. Whiskers in tow that Penelope starts to regain control of her body and mind. Slowly, she turns towards Colin. She uses every one of those seconds to begin preparing an apology. For getting him in trouble with his brother. For putting him in this mess to begin with. For being a bad friend. But when their eyes meet… Colin does not look as though he is expecting an apology of any sort.

He laughs.

“Did you see the look on his face?!”

“Uh — I don’t —”

“He looked like a tomato! I swear one day he’s gonna burst and —”

“Colin,” she tries to cut in, to little avail.

“— pasta sauce is gonna go flying ev—”

“Colin!” she says again, a bit louder this time. Thankfully, it seems to get his attention. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have —”

“Oh god, Pen. Don’t be sorry.”

“But your — your brother —”

“I should be apologising on Ant’s behalf. Even if you and him were both right about Whiskers needing somewhere else to live.”

Penelope’s mouth parts, but all she can do is nod in response to those last few words. As much as she will miss her tiny, furry friend, this is for the best. For Whiskers, at least.

“But Anthony was so mad at you. And I —”

“He’ll get over it. That’s the great thing about having seven siblings — wait five minutes and someone will do something ten times stupider. Daphne and Eloise are probably inside getting into a fist fight as we speak.”

The mention of her best friend’s name temporarily draws Penelope’s thoughts away from her internal pity party. While she did hang out with Eloise over the last few weeks, their time together felt far less frequent and more fleeting than it ever had during previous summer holidays. During any time before last August.

“You wanna come over for dinner tonight?” Colin asks, breaking Penelope from her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he smirks, “do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know… Anthony seemed —”

“Don’t worry about him — he’ll get over it. And you heard him, he’s not even going to rat us out to my mum.” He takes a step forward, then places his hand on Penelope’s shoulder. He squeezes it once. “It’ll be fun. Everyone will be excited to see you.”

Not for the first time — and certainly not the last — Penelope feels at a loss for words. All she can manage is a tiny nod. A nearly imperceptible movement.

Colin smiles.

“Good. Just so you know, the door is always open. Always.”

Finally, little Penelope Featherington finds her voice again.

“I know.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s a smile pulling apart Penelope’s lips, but she does her best to cover it with another fork full of fried rice. Colin — of course — sees right through her attempt at concealment.

“So…”

“Anthony was right. We were awfully irresponsible that summer. That cat was better off after Danbury took him in and re-named him Lord Whiskers.”

“Hey — give us a little credit! How many 8 or 10-year-olds do you know who could keep a cat alive for an entire summer all by themselves?”

“The only impressive thing we did that summer was keeping our little secret hidden from the rest of your family.”

“What are you talking about?!” Colin practically cries out, unable to keep his ever-charming laugh from escaping his throat as he speaks. “Do not downplay our role in raising Whiskers. You rescued him from the mean streets of London. I —”

“I found him hiding out in a bush in Grosvenor Square!”

“Exactly! And I —”

“Colin!”

“I built him a home,” he barely manages to get out through another round of laughter.

“That’s a bit over-dra—”

“We fed and took care of him for over a month. We were just kids — that’s pretty impressive. That means something.”

In her heart, Penelope knows that — obviously — it means something. But does it mean what Colin wants it to mean? That they should get married?

Even with the rules he set forth, it seems like an insane connection to even consider.

“I don’t know…”

“For five weeks, he was ours. That means a lot.”

For a moment, Penelope does consider it.

She thinks about who Colin was to her before she found that cat. A friend — of sorts. Her best friend’s brother. A neighbour. A crush. Someone she looked at and longed for.

Next, she thinks about who Colin was to her on that morning, when Anthony found them hiding out in a tiny wooden shed. A friend. A fellow kid. A conspirator. Someone who saw her cowering in the dark and asked if she was okay.

So what, if their hypothetical marriage hinges on a technicality? People have married on flimsier grounds before.

“Fine,” she relents. “It counts.”

A moment ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Colin’s grin grows even wider.

“Of course it does.”

Penelope scoffs, yet another lazy attempt to cover the grin on her own face. Colin makes no attempt to call her out on it, though. He’s too busy scrolling on his phone.

“Let’s see what we have next to cross off…”

#bridgerton #fanfiction #polin #fanfic #weepingfromacedartree #ten milestones #penelope x colin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

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summerstrash · 15 days

Text

having complex feelings about the x-factor 2024 announcement.

pros:

Pyro and Frenzy are there. Be Gay Do Crimes Twink + The Giant Woman I Always Want To See = Good Shit.

The guy who's writing this book is well-known for his one-shot rewriting the Hanna-Barbera character Snagglepuss as a mid-century homosexual playwright. Considering that Pyro is here, this is promising.

Alex is no longer wearing the classic costume, which reduces the chances of him being forced into the Goblin Gown significantly, forcing his arc to rely less on his sexual objectification.

The solicit seems to imply that social media will act as either a framing device or a plot point, which I like the sound of.

Alex and Frenzy serving on a team together rockets her to the #1 spot on the list of Potential Alex Summers Sex Mistakes, since she's a slightly bitter Scott ex with BDSM inclinations.

My longtime Twitter mutual Gail Simone called it a gem of the line, and I'm inclined to trust her judgment on many things.

The writer specifically namedrops Alex and Frenzy as characters he's excited to write, which implies they'll see at least some focus.

The artist is Bob Quinn, a guy I quite like and who sent me free art once for my birthday when Knights of X was delayed.

As someone who hasn't read much X-Factor from the 90s due to my ongoing feud with a particular writer from that era (iykyk), I'm kind of looking forward to seeing what X-Factor as a government team is like, as opposed to X-Factor as an investigating body.

cons:

Alex in a leadership role is never a good sign. Bad things happen to Alex when he leads.

Not a huge fan of the fact that the current known roster includes three white guys and two WOC, with one of the WOC also being a visible mutant who has fur instead of human skin, and the other being a medium-to-dark-skinned black woman famous for being buff and angry, and the three white guys are all blondes, ranging from "dumpster twink" to "hunk"

Alex working for the U.S. government feels like a microagression against me personally, as I've been very vocal about thinking that Alex needs to finally come to terms with the fact that clinging to mainstream institutions and dominant social groups will only ever hurt him, and I was hoping the Hellions or Limbo could be that for him in the Krakoan Era

The marketing seems to imply a different tone and genre from the domestic/workplace horror-comedies Alex has been part of for the last five years, and I don't know how I feel about that yet.

Greg Land is doing the covers, and I hate that for me.

"Who will die?" Of the characters we have announced so far, Alex is the most expendable. He's one of three blond white guys, and while Warren seems to be taking center stage as the Face Of The Team, and St.John's movie counterpart is returning to theaters this summer in Deadpool & Wolverine, so I doubt they'd kill him off in comics at the moment, Alex feels kind of superfluous as a co-leader, and he also is just...less loved, I think.

"Who will fall in love?" Again, worried for Alex because one of his, like, three recurring stories is "gets picked up by the scruff of his neck by a girl way out of his league so she can use him to self-actualize while playing at transgressive forms of heterosexuality." We don't really have similar core recurring storylines for other announced characters.

"Who will be the first to sell out?" Honestly I feel like St.John might be the answer to this question. He's a novelist. Novelists have egos. He's worked for the U.S. government before, under Mystique. And I guess this kind of makes me sad.

The fact that the whole cast hasn't been announced yet fills me with fear that Lorna will be in this, mostly because a fair chunk of FTA seems to be focused on catering to nostalgia on some level, and Alex/Lorna is very 90s. And frankly Dr. Dane should be doing better for herself than the man that left her at the altar for a gay man's girlfriend.

So yeah, I have complex emotions about all of this and will be watching with a fair amount of suspicion as we draw closer to the release date.

#x factor 2024 #from the ashes #havok #feral #frenzy #warren worthington iii #maria callasantos #alex summers #pyro #st.john allerdyce #joanna cargill

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ellephlox · 3 months

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hey there! so this is going to be one heck of a mess of a message because i’ve been meaning to tell you how much i’m enjoying embers and ashes but i just keep forgetting! and then things inevitably happen that remind me that i *want* to tell you how much i’m living for the story you’re writing, and yet i still fail to say anything. regardless, here we are - me, your devoted fan, ready to spew some adoration upon you

first off, i recently met someone named grey at work and i would be *lying* if i said my initial thought wasn’t of your story. i was like “greg? grey!” secondly, i was reading some tumblr theories about daredevil born again and about dex’s upcoming role in it. the particular theory i was reading mentioned the period of time dex would need to heal from his injury, and i literally thought to myself,“oh, nah he’d be fine because grey will come in and heal him.” scrolled a little farther only to *then* realize embers and ashes isn’t *technically* canon, so i guess what i’m saying is that your story is having a lasting effect on my long-standing interest in this show and these characters

ok so finally, i was wondering if you have a face claim for grey/reader. i know it’s technically a Matt x reader story, but i was curious if, when writing it, you actually envision someone or even if it’s just yourself! i just find it so interesting how authors see their own stories!

Hi!! First of all, thank you SO MUCH, it means so much that you're enjoying the story (and I love that there's a Grey at your work!!)

Yeah so I'm glad you brought up the Dex thing. I like to stay as canon as possible, and with his role in Born Again now, that... complicates things. I'm thinking I'm going to delay that part of the plot for as long as possible so I can scope out what his role is in the upcoming season — as much as I can, I want to stick to that. I'm thinking I'll just push some other plotlines forward in the meantime and keep him relatively on the back burner until we have a better idea of where his character is going to go.

Also, I don't have a face claim! I like to think that anyone, anywhere in the world who is reading Grey can envision themselves in that place. That's why I try to avoid bodily descriptions and even niche personality traits, because I hope that at least most readers can imagine themselves as her.

THAT BEING SAID, I do admittedly sort of write myself into the story — and then I try to blur that into a hobby-less, facial-feature-less version of myself that, in effect, becomes the generic Y/N. I try to think of how I would respond in each situation and end up going with that (though Reader is definitely probably funnier and also bolder in situations than me, lol most of the time I'd just be frozen in fear, unable to say anything if Daredevil approached me).

For example: the elevator scene in the last chapter. I tried to imagine how it would go down if I were in there. What would I say? How would I react to knowing Matt has super-hearing, especially when I also need to pee very badly at that moment?

In regards to specific personality traits (which wasn't even part of your question lol but now I'm rambling) I do try to keep Reader as relatable as possible, considering what I know about the average fan fiction reader:

They like reading

They're probably a bit nerdy (I mean, who else spends their time reading or writing reader insert fan fic)?

They're probably a bit more reserved (not true for everyone, but again, I find that people who spend their time reading this type of thing have very rich inner worlds, are homebodies, etc)

It's not much to work with but it helps! So sorry this turned into such a long answer haha!!

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #marvel #reader #reader insert #embers and ashes

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buckyr00s · 2 years

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close || j. "c". m.

✑ pairing: Javy "Coyote" Machado x Civilian!Reader

✑ summary: a training accident leads you to reunite with Javy "Coyote" Machado.

✑ warnings/tags: angst; mentions of the training accident in the movie; cuss words; allusions to death (no death actually happens, its just talked about); a pinch of fluff

✑ author’s note: requested by @ginghampearlsnsweettea :) LISTEN, i know that in the movie, they only kept Bob and Phoenix in the hospital but knit-pickers can suck it. also side note, GIF MAKERS pls, we need more coyote/greg tarzan davis content.

main masterlist || send requests

The air reeks of disinfectant. The ceiling lights flicker. The shine off of the white linoleum floors is almost blinding.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The rhythmic sounds of the monitors beside him compete with the squeaking of your sneakers as you fidget your leg. Indistinct chatter echos from the hallways.

"You gunna be alright there, hun?" the sweet, Southern nurse--Donna--gently checks in.

You straighten your posture, not realizing you had your elbow on your knee, using your fist as a resting place for your chin. "Do I look as nervous as I feel?" you inquire, but you already know that answer.

Donna gives you a look. Kind, soft eyes. A downturned, closed-mouthed, smile. "He's going to be fine, dear," she assures you, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving you a comforting squeeze. "The only reason he's in here for the night is so we can monitor his vitals. Safety precautions and all," Donna gives a dismissive flick of her hand as she heads toward the doorway.

"Thank you," you quickly, but sincerely, say, feeling the need to catch her before she makes her exit. "For everything."

Donna leans on the doorframe, that look appearing once more. Is it pity? Sympathy? A little bit of both? You don't really know, but you don't really care either. "Just doin' my job, hun," she replies. "Just like he was," she points her chin towards the bed. Towards him.

When Donna leaves, you gain the courage to really look at him. Your love. Your Javy.

He's asleep. He has been the whole time you've been by his bedside. He looks at peace, like he's soundly sleeping in his bedroom on a typical night. Like nothing happened. There are no signs of cuts or bruises. He looks...normal. Your usual, handsome, partner.

Inching your chair closer, you reach your hand out and intertwine your fingers with his. He feels warm. His touch warms you.

You were nervous to say the least. It was your first day of college, after all. You were sat in a lecture hall that could easily fit 300 students in its fixed seating. As students--your classmates, you presume--trickled in, you took the time to review the syllabus that your professor had posted only the night before. You began to jiggle your leg, something you did when you needed to release excess energy. "Anyone seating here?" Your fidgeting stopped instantly, your attention drawn to the tall, broad, man stood before you. He nodded his head toward the seat beside you when you didn't respond. You were too busy staring at him. "Oh, uh...yeah, of course," you finally replied, frantically removing your backpack, which occupied the seat. The man settled in, slouching in his chair and stretching his legs out. "Comfortable?" you joked and instantly regretted it. You probably shouldn't have said it out loud...some people might take it the wrong way. But he didn't. Instead, it earned a chuckle out of him. And it was then that you were introduced to his smile. God, what a nice smile it was. "Oh yeah," he sighed contently. "Ready for intro to kinesiology," he announced with nonchalance. "And you?" You don't know what it was about him, but you felt like you could be honest. "Hell no," you responded, bluntly. This elicited a second chuckle out of him, making you proud. "You'll be okay," he reassured you with a wink. On second thought, you weren't sure if it was reassuring because the butterflies in your stomach told you otherwise.

"Your leg is shaking" Javy croaks, drawing you from your thoughts. His eyes are still closed but his face is decorated with a fond smile.

"What were you thinking before I interrupted you?" he wonders, eyes still closed. When you don't respond immediately, he gives the hand he is holding a firm squeeze.

"About how we met"

"Ahhh," he laughs, taking the time to reminisce himself. "When your boy swept you off your feet at intro to kin, huh".

"Ha ha, very funny," your voice riddled with displeasure.

It is so like Javy to keep things light-hearted. It's something you love about him because his calm, confident, comedic demeanour compliments yours. But in times like this...serious times, that light-heartedness clashes with your grounded worry.

"Enough about me, let's talk about you"

"I'm okay, baby" he smiles, opening his eyes and looking deep into yours. "Really."

"What happened?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Javy's eyebrow lifts inquisitively. He knows the answer, but he asks anyway. You pause for a moment to think, before letting out a sigh and shaking your head. No.

It's no secret to both of you that you are not the biggest fan of Javy's line of work. You are not a fan of him putting himself in danger and fighting someone else's battles. And although you weren't a fan, you will also support him. Javy "Coyote" Machado. The love of your life.

"Training accident," he informs you, sparing the details. "It was a close one."

Your heart sinks. A training accident? A simulation? A practice? And he was still in harms way? It only heightens your fears of Javy getting hurt during training and while deployed. Or worse... You can't bare the thought.

Javy sits up, reaching forward to gently rub the tears from your cheeks. When did you start crying?

"I know, baby. I know" he coos, trying his best to comfort you. He knows how much you worry about him. He knows how much you love him. He knows how you both dream of your futures together. And he knows that being in the military may prevent those dreams from becoming reality.

Javy straightens his posture before shuffling in his bed. Patting the now empty space beside him, he gives you a warm smile. "Come on, baby. I want to be close to you."

You blink away any remaining tears, standing from your seat and climbing into the twin-sized hospital bed with your wide-shouldered, over-six-foot-tall partner.

His strong arms engulf you, rocking your body from side to side.

"Comfortable?" the unexpected inside joke makes you burst into laughter. Javy is always so good at making you feel safe.

"I'm so glad you're here," he admits, placing a tender kiss on your temple. "I love you and feel loved by you".

main masterlist || send requests

#javy coyote machado x reader #javy machado x reader #coyote machado x reader #coyote x reader #tg:m fic

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gregoftom · 10 months

Note

ever just watch and replay the kiss to feel some emotion in your chest

the commitment to it the length of it the softness the firmness the eyes closed the eye open and unwavering in their contact the holding of his head the touch to his cheek and shoulder the pause on leaving to turn and nod, like the need to linger there, the want, the more that could be but doesn't come, the lack of words, the unfettered emotion

the length of time of that fucking press of lips to greg's forehead. the most raw outpouring of tenderness. of gratefulness. of getting to have and to hold and to keep. of being overcome by happiness and the expression of that is to kiss greg with such affection and care

to linger on that for as long as he genuinely wants to

to feel feel feel

to be almost in tears by it!

to be surprised by his own self for doing it. to have acted without inhibition, and that's what came

it's the softest thing in the world

and when he releases the kiss, to behold this angelic face in his palms...

ohhh my heart is aching for him.

and he had to remove himself from the corporate room of wives and bosses to let himself experience something so in need of pouring out of him. to be able to express that in front of greg, with greg. his release, his escape, his levity, his friendship, his comforting anchor of security. the one he's found and orbits to constantly since. the one he wouldn't want to do this without. a partner. a grounding presence. someone to be free around. someone he doesn't need to hide any part of himself around. he can be a prick, he can be macho, he can be loving, he can be feminine, he can be playful, he can be flirty, he can be sad, he can be tired, he can be grumpy, he can be nurturing, he can be seen in his socially weak moments without embarrassment or fear, and in fact taking greg's metaphorical hand to help him so openly. he'll be closed-off and angry at times but he can be weak and vulnerable. he shows his belly with undoubting trust.

greg's his one person I don't think he should ever have to go without in his life

(and really they should spoon and fall asleep together about it)

christ anon you want me dead!!! bc alllll of this - and the way tom does a little gulp and blinks afterwards, like he almost cant believe he did that, the way greg searches tom’s eyes for the joke, for a razz, and it doesn’t come, only genuineness and affection so he nods, understanding, his hands clasped almost in prayer like he’s a disciple of this hurricane of a man. the way tom’s fingers pet the back of greg’s head, such a tender action and something he knows greg likes, to soothe and answer his question; is it real?

yes greg, yes it is. realer than anything in this shitass world where people put on a meatsuit and pretend every day of their lives. it’s real with you. i’m real with you.

and about the belly thing, SO true but an actual visual example of this is the wrist in america decides - he exposes his wrist which is a vital weak spot to greg when greg takes the coke from it, representing so much in terms of their relationship. tom can’t help but expose himself, he loves greg so much. and despite it getting him burned greg loves him too, kissing his hand when pretending to snort the drugs [toms ring hand btw, which shows subservience indicating that greg Likes to be in that kind of position with tom and thus chooses to be and explains his pure joy at the sticker scene] bc these mfs are so desperate to press lips to one another that they find any way they can. skin other than mouth because they’re both too afraid to do that but they find any way they can because they want each other so badly.

they should you’re SO right and tom jetpacks greg, we seen that boy wrap his own arm around himself, he wants to be cuddled! needs to be! so he’d be so at peace and happy and feel so safe to have tom’s thick and warm arm around him.

IKR damn like. that really happened!!! and greg did the same in 4.08!!! damn these bitches are gay!!!! good for them!!! good for them…

#tomgreg #now I cant stop thinking about itttt ughhhgbdbf #whenever i see the gif of forehead kiss i brrrrrrrrrr

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idonotbitemythumbatyou · 5 months

Note

hey! i really love your fic but i’m just wondering if you could hint at all about how everyone will end up. right now it feels like everyone will get a nice satisfying ending or show some growth or near happiness except for tom and greg. which is kind of a reverse of the show’s ending i guess. just curious thanks!

(The fic in question : The Kids)

Oh this is an interesting question, and I suppose it depends on what you mean by a happy ending. I actually think there’s been a lot of character growth for Greg (and Tom - but he’s not a POV character in this fic until the epilogue). Greg has done more self reflection than I think is even realistic for him - all because I self-indulgently wanted to write my thoughts about him (and Ewan) somewhere.

The thing to remember is that not all character growth is positive. Connor, for example, experiences negative character growth in The Kids - but he’s perfectly happy doing so.*

For a short answer of whether Tom and Greg will be “happy” in the end of The Kids, that’s a resounding “no.” Wait! Don’t walk away!! It’s not out of malice or because I want to punish them. I’m simply following what I think would happen next, and what choices I think the characters would make next.

I would also disagree with the premise that Tom and Greg end up in a happy place in the show. I think I might be in the minority in the fandom - and certainly among tomgreg shippers - but I didn’t see the stickering as all that romantic and positive. I found it thrillingly fucked up, but not sweet.

Throughout the show, Tom is his most vulnerable and human in front of, and for the sake of, Greg. And Greg shows himself over and over again to be literally-just-some-20-something-guy, and not equipped to receive all that emotional energy. The finale brings all that to a head and, I think, cements them into an entirely new dynamic. Tom is now powerful enough to have whatever he wants - but his emotions are a greater liability than they were before. He wants to keep Greg, but for his own safety, has to compartmentalize him into an object, thus muffling his affection for Greg into the affection one would have for an object. To me, that is a fascinating place to pick up a relationship, and part of the reason I had the physical element of the relationship only start at the finale of the show. But I do recognize that most people interpreted that moment differently.

The reason the siblings have shown such growth so quickly in my fic is because the cage door opened for them in the finale.** But Tom and Greg both still work at the poison factory, and if there’s one thing the show taught us, it’s that the only way to be happy is to not work at the goddamn poison factory.

I don’t want to spoil the final chapter and whether Greg actually leaves and goes to college, or stays with Waystar - and thus Tom - but to realistically consider options:

I don’t see Tom ever leaving his CEO position without being forced out. He worked too hard to win, and it’s more important to him than his own happiness. So Tom will continue to be satisfied but largely unhappy. Sorry Tom, buddy. You’re my favorite character. But you made this prison for yourself.

If Greg goes, he and Tom are no longer together, but Greg has a real chance at happiness, if not the satisfaction of being mega rich and powerful (though he’ll still be ridiculously wealthy). This is by far the best outcome for Greg, and worst for Tom. But if Greg chooses this, he will be unhappy in the short term, and end the story unhappily.

If Greg stays, he and Tom will stay together, but they will never be open about the relationship. It will probably be an open secret in future decades, but eventually Tom will be too rich and powerful for anyone to say anything about it. They will not be happy, but they will be satisfied.

To me, character truth is the most important thing when writing a fic, and it was love for the characters that inspired me to write The Kids in the first place. So it just depends on whether you find my interpretations of the characters truthful, and if not truthful, then at least interesting.

-----

*In the next chapter, I even have a moment where Greg thinks “Maybe it was a sign that he was growing as a person that he had developed enough self awareness to realize:” and then he says just the worst, most regressive, self-own imaginable. It’s bad, but it’s still growth. It's still coming to a new conclusion based on new experiences.

**though the cage door is only open temporarily for Shiv. After maternity leave, she's doing a perfect swan dive right back into the poison vats. And she, too, will continue to be miserable. yay. :(

#I can make them worse #my fic #tomgreg #succession #hbo succession #succession hbo #succession fanfic

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loveandthings11 · 7 months

Text

How Deep My Love Goes, Chapter 12

Read on AO3 Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Fic Summary: A Kenrava-focused fix-it alongside canon 💗

Chapter Summary: SEASON 2 ERA! Roman makes his decision. Kendall and Stewy kick off the business media frenzy around the hostile takeover. Kendall works on saving Vaulter against all odds. Rava and Kendall take a trip to her parents’ house. Featuring Kendall in glasses!

New Year's Day

In here, it’s surreal.

Kendall looks over at his suit jacket flung over the armchair, Brioni pants wrinkled on the floor. He sees Rava’s messy hair draped over her peaceful face, lipstick smeared the way he wanted it. A pile of blue silk is by the door because it wasn’t staying on past the click of the lock. A news broadcast comes over the radio and he turns it off. He doesn’t need to hear it- there’s no news bigger than what he did yesterday.

Outside, Logan’s calling him a druggie. Shiv’s rolling her eyes as “insane,” “unhinged,” spill out of her lips and Tom nods at everything he hears. Outside, Roman’s pacing nervously, Tabitha’s pouring Bailey’s in her coffee and watching him decide his future. Greg’s looking around, plotting, deciding nothing and waiting for the next possibility to walk in. Marcia’s shaking her head, Connor’s condemning his little brother for the loss of family harmony that wasn’t really there. Outside, they’re waiting.

But in here, Kendall is a king. It’s New Year’s Day and no one can touch him. His birthright is coming. He’s never loved the sunrise so much.

The door knocker thunks on the heavy wooden door and Kendall gets up to answer it because kings don’t hide. Roman’s right there when he pulls it partially open like Austerlitz deja vu.

“So, I kind of have to talk to you,” Roman starts.

Kendall glances back at Rava, still asleep, and steps outside the door, closing it quietly behind him and turning to look skeptically at his brother. He’s feeling generous enough to give him a chance to explain what happened.

“Uh, yeah, I guess you do have to talk to me. Where were you last night?” Kendall asks. Roman’s reluctant and rubs the back of his head.

“I was talking to Dad, okay?”

Kendall smiles into the scoff, like he knew it.

“Right. Okay. Yeah, you know what, bro, not everyone’s cut out for this. So don’t worry about it. I’m sure Dad will find a nice little cage for you at the studio again.”

Roman rolls his eyes and tries not to take the bait.

“Maybe I can tell you some shit you didn’t already know, can you consider that?” Kendall stays quiet against his instinct and Roman sighs. “Look. I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility that you will crash and burn, because, I mean-“ he gestures at Kendall. “-you’re you.”

“That’s not going to happen. Do you have a point?” Kendall replies evenly. It won’t take much to tip things into being overwhelming and he wants to focus on the good parts of this day.

“Fucking- obviously,” Roman says, irritated. He continues slowly. “How would you feel about me, maybe, giving you some information- when I deem it’s good for me- and maybe just generally not totally fucking you?”

“Wow. That’s a really great deal for nobody,” Kendall says. “I told you before, Dad’s going to do nothing for you like he did nothing for me. Dude, I had an actual job at Waystar and he did what he did. I mean, what- what do you think he’s going to do to you?”

“I don’t fucking know, Ken, but I don’t want to kill him like you do.”

He feels the barb’s intended pain and really wishes Roman wouldn’t think that.

“What- how do you not understand how much I didn’t want to do this?” he asks incredulously. He shakes his head and tries to connect in a more gentle, intense way, looking right into Roman’s eyes. “I didn’t. But it’s happening. And I am taking over. Dad’s time is ending. You can still hop on the lifeboat. Heading to dry land, bro.”

“Well, maybe stop this attempt at poetry and listen to me. This can help you. Look, I planned the vote with you, I actually- puke- agree with certain parts of your vision-“

“Because my vision is fucking good-“ Kendall interjects.

“-And buying stations to indoctrinate some local tinfoil hat fucks is not the- the- thing. But I am not risking my life for a ‘lifeboat’ made of, like, popsicle sticks and your childhood dreams. So, take it or leave it. I might save you by telling you valuable shit.”

“Or you might try to sink me.”

“If you annoy me. Which is highly likely, I’m just being honest.”

Kendall rubs his forehead.

“Negotiating against yourself. Good luck out there. Well, I’m obviously not going to tell you anything. You’re asking to be a double agent. I don’t even- who does that? Honestly, I can get information from other sources.” Kendall remembers his talk with Greg last night, his bumbling blackmail that Kendall found both amusing and concerning. But he knows Greg’s loyalty will go to the highest bidder. If he buys it, it’s his. With Roman it’s more complicated.

Roman tries a new, genuine appeal.

“This…” Roman gestures between them, “this has been nice. Like, is there a way where it doesn’t have to be… you know?”

Kendall feels torn. It has been nice. He’d missed Roman when he’d been in LA, and they hardly see each other even when they’re both in New York.

“You know I wanted you on board,” Kendall says with disappointment. He remembers that it’s not only his choice. “I think you’re being wishy washy, but I’m pretty sure Stewy and Sandy will have stronger language than that to describe it.”

Roman raises his eyebrows and looks down and away. It makes Kendall feel achy and want to change his mind.

“Okay. Open offer.” Roman gives him an unreadable look before turning and walking toward the dining room for breakfast.

The slight bump of the wood when Kendall closes the door upon re-entering the bedroom makes Rava stir.

“Mmm. What are you doing? Come back.” She’s never liked that he gets up before her and he’s spent most weekend mornings of his adult life as a pillow for an extra hour or two. It’s always been his time to secretly send Saturday and Sunday work emails, but he doesn’t think he can even pretend to want to lie down now. He’s vibrating with energy, conflict, worries, excitement. He goes to sit on the bed and brushes her hair off her face. She softly holds his hand with both of hers and he smiles at how sweet she is when she’s still half-asleep.

“You want to get breakfast?” he asks quietly. “Come with me. Not here, we’ll go somewhere.”

“Mmhmm.” She opens her eyes and squints at him. “Okay. Are the kids up?”

“I don’t know, I just got up myself.”

“Okay.” She sits up with the sheet loose around her and he suddenly needs to be close and scoops her toward him for a comforting hug. It’s going to be okay. She’s still sleepy and melts into him easily for a minute as he breathes in her scent. She rolls out of bed and he admires her bare skin as she walks around looking for the robe she’d brought. “Where is that robe..?” she asks.

“I’m not telling you,” he replies, eyes not leaving her body.

“Okay. Great, thank you,” she smiles sarcastically and nods along before spotting the robe and wrapping it around herself.

After throwing on a pair of dark jeans and a beige sweater and looking effortlessly chic, Rava goes into the kids’ room and Kendall gets ready to sneak past the sure-to-be-awkward breakfast to find something in town before flying home.

……

The kids sleep in a back bedroom of the jet while Rava dozes with her head on Kendall’s shoulder. Jet lag, post-wedding exhaustion, and hangovers are winning this day for everyone else. Kendall puts his arm around her and silently practices his talking points for the news appearances he and Stewy will be flooded with once they’re back in the city. Stewy smirks at his phone as he texts and sips coffee with his soft leather loafers up on a footstool and blankets draped over him on his reclined seat. Roman had declared that he was going with Tabitha on Logan’s jet because Dad said so, so it’s just the three of them. Stewy looks up and nods at Kendall’s notecards.

“You ready?” Stewy whispers to Kendall. “PGN first.” Kendall nods seriously. “So what’s up with your brother?” Stewy inquires, keeping his voice down. “He pass out in a bathroom with his dick in his hand?”

“Uh, he went to talk to Dad. He came to me this morning and offered to inform on him, but obviously he’s just doing Dad’s bidding now,” Kendall reports a little emotionlessly.

Stewy’s eyes widen and he tilts his head with a slight look of disbelief.

“He got stuck, huh? Cool, Sandy’s gonna love that. It’ll look great for me that I vouched for him. Fucker.”

“Yeah. I know. I told him we’re not gonna talk to him.”

Stewy considers and crosses his legs, taking a bite of the croissant on the table next to him.

“You know what? Tell him we’ll take his information.”

Kendall perks up a bit.

“…yeah?”

Kendall picks up his phone, glad that someone else also thinks it’s a good plan to stay in touch.

“Yeah. But Ken,” Stewy says in his relaxed warning tone. “Don’t tell him anything."

“I won’t.”

After a nap and more quiet prep on the long flight back to New York, Kendall and Stewy meet back up at the entrance to PGN. The weather is getting quite chilly now but they don’t even notice as they go inside. They walk together onto the news floor when the elevator doors open, both in dark suits and feeling exactly as psyched as they’d always imagined they would be.

“Fucking… PGN. Hope they let me out alive,” Kendall chuckles. It’s not even close to his first time on TV, but it’s his first time doing it purely for his own business interests, and it’s certainly his first time on the rival network. He feels a bit untethered. Unleashed.

“Don’t worry. It’s the perfect first stop. We’ll be taken care of,” Stewy says knowingly as they make it into the labyrinth of a studio.

They approach the cameras via a long, dark hallway. The doorway shines blindingly bright light down the center. He fidgets with his notecards as they forge ahead in the weird spotlight.

The light is overwhelming all around them once they get inside. The makeup artists swarm and suddenly powder puffs and combs and chatter surround them both as they sit down in director’s chairs. A stylish and nervous-looking thirty-something PGN producer scurries over and tucks her light brown hair behind her ear as she smiles at Stewy. His eyes are instantly glued to hers. He gives her a serene smile back and Kendall can see her blush a bit.

“Stewy, I’m so glad you’re here,” she says sweetly. “I mean, we all are.” She extends her hand to Kendall. “You’re Kendall! Hi, I’m Lena,” she introduces herself, only briefly taking her eyes off Stewy’s face.

“Hey, yeah. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“Ken, Lena’s here to make you seem like you know almost as much as me,” Stewy says smoothly. Lena giggles and Stewy twinkles at her. “She’s brilliant. Taught me everything I know about looking incredible on TV.”

Lena looks pleased and flustered for a second as she reaches back to check the claw clip in her hair.

“Oh, well, you’re a natural.” She gives him a pretty smile and gazes at him again for a second too long before forcing her attention back to the task at hand. “Um, so, I have some talking points for you both from your PR team.” She pulls some printed sheets from her tote bag and hands them to Kendall and Stewy. “Normally we wouldn’t do this, but, you know.” She drops her eyes after such a clear flirty moment. “I’ll let you go over them, and I’ll be right over here if you have any questions. About filming,” she clarifies. “I can’t answer questions about your PR. Obviously,” she laughs a little breathlessly. She turns to walk away and almost trips over a cable before going to stand with the other members of her team on the other side of the room and gazing over not-so-subtly.

Stewy watches her go as his eyes wander from the floor to her hair. Kendall looks over at him.

“Okay. Had to hit PGN first,” he smirks.

“You and your precious optics know this is where we have to start.” Stewy smiles a little. “But, yeah, it helps to have a supportive environment.”

“Uh-huh.” Kendall smiles and feels a pang of missing Rava.

“Anka was too freaked out by everything, you know? Who throws sex parties with severe anxiety issues? Lena’s… you know.”

“Yeah. Very chill,” Kendall deadpans. “She might have a heart attack if she overhears this conversation.”

“She’s like that every time she talks to me. It’s funny. She takes five minutes to type a sentence in a text,” Stewy shrugs. Kendall decides not to point out that Stewy could only know that if he watches the three dots for five minutes.

“Basket cases are your thing,” Kendall chuckles.

“That’s true, Ken, I do like spending time with disastrous people,” Stewy smiles pointedly. “It emphasizes to others how together I am.”

Kendall nods, playing along. It is a little nerve-wracking to think about the high expectations that everyone watching will have of him. Right now, maybe twenty people know what’s going on. In five minutes, it’ll be millions.

“Right. Hang on a second.” Kendall gets up and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He dials Rava and is glad to hear her voice.

“Hey! How’s the interview prep?” she asks.

“Hey. Good,” he confirms. “We’re about to go on. You watching?”

“Of course,” she replies. She’s a little apprehensive about the whole thing. Logan isn’t nice when he’s threatened.

“Good. Good. Hey, tonight can we just do takeout and hideout?”

“Yes. That sounds so good.” She pauses and he's quiet. “You okay? Worried about this?” She’s always advised him to think about the incoming peacefulness after the big event to calm jitters.

“Uh, kind of,” he admits. “I dunno. It’s great but it’s also, like… this makes it real.”

“There you go,” Rava smiles. “It is real.”

“Yeah. Fuck.”

A man wearing a headset pops his head into the side room.

“Two minutes!” he says.

“Thank you,” Kendall answers. “Okay, time to go. Time to make it fuckin’ happen.”

“Good luck!”

Kendall puts his phone in his pocket, walks back into the space and sits down next to Stewy at the desk set. The lights go down around the set and they look at each other in a moment of pure exhilaration. Memories flash through their minds of being seventeen and sneaking liquor in the Roys’ sprawling gardens while discussing their plans to take over the world.

A voice comes from the dark and everyone else goes quiet. Kendall closes his eyes for a second.

“Okay, we’re live in three, two….”

The on-air light lights up.

It’s a new world.

“I’m here with Kendall Roy, former Waystar Royco executive and son of current CEO Logan Roy, and Stewy Hosseini, partner at Maesbury Capital,” the reporter begins. “Kendall, we’ll start with you. You must feel strongly about this to go up against your father this way. What made you do it?”

Kendall focuses every bit of his energy on his response, breathes in, and lets the words he’s been repeating in his mind free.

“My father is a brilliant businessman. A true legend. And what he’s built here is unlike any other corporation in the world. His legacy can never be tarnished. In fact, one of the reasons Stewy and I decided to do this is to preserve it. The old ways of doing things are not viable in today’s world, and I can’t allow the firm to stay still when there’s a race all around it. I have always been of the mind that we need to move forward in order to shepherd Waystar Royco into the new era. I believe our focus on moving more deeply into the tech sector is critical to the success of the company moving forward and I am confident that I am the right person to lead us into the future as CEO.”

“Thank you. It must be an exciting moment for you. But how are things between you and your father?” she asks, clearly even more interested in this answer.

Kendall smiles, but it flickers. He knows this is the part everyone is listening to most closely.

“Uh, you know.” He keeps smiling uneasily into it. “They’re- we’re good. This is just the way things are, business-wise.”

“Great. And Stewy-“

Kendall practically blacks out in his mind while Stewy gets into the financial details. They’re really doing it.

About an hour and a half later, Kendall walks into the apartment and breathes it in for a moment. He’s back and it’s all under way. He walks down the hall toward the family room and Rava, who beckons him over to the couch.

He opens his arms and smiles for a minute on the other side of the room.

“How fucking amazing is this?” he says.

“It actually is,” she says honestly. She can’t believe he’s finally taken a bold step against Logan.

They’re both feeling exhausted after a weekend full of exertion, and he flops down on the couch next to her and nuzzles into her neck for a minute. She smells like fresh conditioner and light perfume.

“What a day you’ve had,” she smiles as he lets himself fall into her lap and she runs her fingers through his hair.

“Yeah. Can’t believe it.” He means it. Things have begun to feel vividly real. His phone buzzes and he pulls it from his pocket and takes a look.

“Text from Roman,” he says. “They’re all at the Hamptons house.” He pauses and feels a bit left out even though he knows it would make no sense for him to be there right now. Before he can say anything else, his phone vibrates again and he almost laughs out loud at the next message.

“Shiv?! Rav, Dad’s having individual meetings and he just called in Shiv. For what? Political advice? Is Roman making this shit up? She said she’s with Gil. She changed her mind already? Well, she’s already fucked herself if she’s going back and forth, politics to business. Dad won’t go for that, right?”

He sits up and stares at his phone.

“Well, you don’t know what he’s thinking. Trying to read his mind isn’t going to work here,” Rava says. “Don’t drive yourself crazy. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

He sighs quietly to himself and realizes that Dad actually is picking a new him this time. It’s just what he’d previously feared with Roman, only now it’s worse. It's Shiv, who is so inexperienced that she might believe Dad would pick someone with no experience. It doesn’t matter, he reminds himself, because he’s going to claim his rightful place. There is no new him.

But he pictures Shiv in Dad’s Summer Palace office all the same.

He stews over the image for a few minutes. He feels jealous and protective of his little sister at once and struggles to remember to focus his energy on his own plans. A few minutes after Rava goes to have a snack, his phone rings. His skin prickles and his heart races when he sees Dad on his screen. He looks around a bit wildly at first, wondering where Rava is and realizing there’s not enough time. Instinct takes over and he answers it.

“Dad?” he manages.

“Kendall.” Logan’s voice is calm and almost eerily pleasant. “How is it out there in the cold?”

“It’s-“ he tries to speak. “You-you know, Dad, I didn’t want to do what I did- I-“

“I’ve been getting a lot of advice,” Logan starts smoothly, slowly. “Laird… Shiv… anyone with the stones to try to stand up to me tells me I should sell.”

The confusion is clouding Kendall’s previously sharpened mind.

“Uh-huh?”

“I was wondering- what do you think?”

Kendall thinks he can hear electricity crackle.

“Uh- what- what do you mean-“

“Well, you’ve been inside for a while. What do you think I should do?” The mind games are overwhelming.

“W- what is this, a joke? I don’t- Dad, we shouldn’t even be talking-“

“Enough. It was a good move. Now it’s time to come back in.” Kendall can barely believe what he’s hearing.

“What- so you can keep things exactly the same and never do what you promised?” He shakes his head. “No.”

“Oh, cut your self-righteous shit,” Logan thunders. Kendall is intimidated into silence. “We’re gonna fight this. And I want you by my side. The deal is, if you can stop Sandy and Stewy, then I will make you the next chief executive of the firm, like we planned. You’re the one, son.”

Shock reverberates through Kendall’s body. He struggles to collect his thoughts, to breathe properly. When was his last breath? Has it been too long? He suddenly inhales and tries to summon his own words to Roman earlier this morning.

“It- it wasn’t true when you said it before. For eighteen months. For fucking- thirty-two years, you said it, and you took it back.”

“You made a mistake, Ken. With Vaulter. This is my company. I have the right.” Kendall thinks he should argue, then decides against it. But he can’t help himself.

“Vaulter was a solid buy. But sure. You have the right. So why should I believe this?” Part of him is yearning against his will for a definite answer he knows Logan would never give.

“Because now, we’ve got eyes on us. The news fucks, the shareholders. Thanks to you,” Logan grumbles. “Thing is, you know both sides, you have the years." Well, no fucking kidding, Kendall thinks. “This is rare. But you have leverage. Let’s get back to work,” Logan says. Kendall can practically feel the steamrolling and tries to keep himself upright.

He realizes his dad may not trust Roman. Roman knows what was going on with Kendall’s side too, but Logan wants to hear it from Kendall. His head is swirling with thoughts. Is he on speaker? Is everyone listening and waiting to laugh if he says yes? He knows it’s stronger to end the call right now. But… the office. The chair. The respect, the head of the boardroom. The authority, the job, the usefulness. The fulfillment. He nervously grabs the edge of the couch cushion he’s sitting on.

He’s dying to say yes. But even in the face of all the temptation, he knows it could only end in humiliation if he went back. His dad would think of all kinds of ways to make him pay, all kinds of tests, a round of boar on the floor where he’s the only one begging for scraps. Rava’s disappointment, Stewy’s disdain... he can’t do it.

“Dad- I- I really wish I could trust you. I mean, you know I… I just- I can’t.”

Logan’s anger is almost as scary on the phone as it is in person.

“But you can trust Sandy, enemy of this family your whole life? And Stewy, who wouldn’t even go against me in your little board vote? But not me. Not the one who’s given you everything you’ve ever had. Is that right?”

Kendall’s heart is pounding. It’s terrifying, but he’s steeling himself.

“Yes, Dad. I wanted to believe you. But after everything the last couple of months, I can’t.” He takes a deep breath. “This is on my terms now.”

Logan’s voice turns violent. “I’ll grind you into dust. You’ll be nothing. You’ll finally realize it.”

Kendall tries to keep the words out, but they crash around him in waves for a terrible moment. He remembers every late night spent working, the entire year in Shanghai spent doing everything he could to make long-distance work with Rava, the times defending his kids from Logan’s derision, all to be treated like this. He feels the habitual need to remind himself of the good moments too, but hearing what his dad just said makes him stop himself. The fury, the threats, the derogatory comments about his recovery, his family, his strategies. His whole being. He leaves his body for a moment to say it.

“You’re a fuckin’ beast.”

Kendall hangs up and drops his phone onto the couch cushion. His hands are shaking and he knows his voice probably was, too. He nervously walks into the kitchen to find Rava and she tilts her head in a question when she sees him.

“Dad called,” he breathes. “He’s going to fight. But so are we.”

……

That night, they lie in bed in the dark. Blackout curtains have made it velvety dark in their room. They don’t always use the blackouts, but Kendall pressed the button to close them tonight. Rava looks expectantly at the spot she can feel him lying, wondering why he's so far. She reaches her arm out and feels for his head, lightly patting its crown.

“Hey,” she says softly. “What’s going on in here?”

She can hear him open his mouth and exhale.

“Do you think- this is dumb, but, do you think he even likes me? Like, as a person?” He pauses and hesitantly adds, “I don’t think he does.”

“Oh… Ken, of course he does.” She doesn’t know if Logan is capable of liking anyone, but he’s always been pretty obsessed with his son.

“No, I mean, well, thank you for- for saying that but like, really? If someone asked him what my good qualities were, what would he even say?”

“You have so many. You’re kind, you’re creative, you get inspired all the time-“

“But-” he shakes his head in a bit of embarrassment at this incredibly vulnerable moment. He’s glad it’s dark. “But he doesn’t like any of those things.”

“He never leaves you alone,” she says. “Just today, even when, from his perspective, you’ve been trying to destroy him for the last couple of months.”

“That’s not-“

“I know. But from his perspective,” she continues. “He tries to keep you leashed to him all the time. He always has.”

“But that’s like… sick,” Kendall replies uncertainly. “Yeah? That’s weird. People have told me that’s weird.”

They’ve talked about this before, but it’s been a few years. She remembers this kind of talk with less fondness than many of their other conversations.

“Yes. It’s weird. I mean, he isn’t normal or healthy. Obviously,” she lets out a mirthless chuckle. “But as much as he is capable of liking someone, I think he likes you.” Kendall is quiet, which is what he does when he sort of disagrees but doesn’t know how to argue. “He must like that you tend see the future in business.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.” Kendall wrings his hands at the thought of Vaulter being in his father’s power.

“It is! When have you ever been wrong about what direction to go in?” He’s quiet again, this time because there’s no counterargument. “You can’t argue that he likes that you have a sense of things!”

He can’t cheer for himself.

“I have a feeling he likes that quality more in other people than he likes it in me.” He lies there thinking of the people who don’t like him. The Canadians, the Vaulter staff, the art people… Roman? Shiv? He doesn’t say anything else but Rava can feel it.

The depth of his insecurity shouldn’t surprise her anymore, but it breaks her heart a little when it becomes so clear. She moves closer to him and lays her hand on his chest. She wants to tell him the validation from his father doesn’t matter, but she thinks when she’s said something for nearly two decades and it hasn’t sunk in, it might be time to give him what he wants instead of what he needs. Tonight, she can tell him a good truth instead of a hard one.

“You know he sees you as competition. Who else does he ever go toe-to-toe with? Hmm? And there is nothing your dad likes more than a completely insane business competition.”

She feels the vibration of a smile from him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.”

“Yeah!” She says more cheerfully, grateful that her point landed. “You give him what he really wants. I actually think you might be the one person who doesn’t bore him.”

He considers that.

“I just… feel… this is going to ensure that he’ll never really trust me again. Like, I used to be his go-to. For everything.” Remembering the good moments he'd held off before makes him want to call Logan and tell him he wants to come back.

“I know," Rava says. "Don't forget what he did though-“ she uses a softer tone- “the takeover wasn’t the thing that changed his mind. He made the decision when he took back the announcement. And he did fire you. All i'm saying is you're not losing a close relationship right now. At the very least, you know he respects this."

He says nothing while he thinks over all of her ideas. He hears how negative he’s being and brings up something positive so she won’t think he’s a wet blanket.

“I guess… it’s true, he’s never accused me of boring him.”

“See? There you go. Come here.” She reaches for him and he rolls into her arms. She's glad it’s over and that she’s partially scrubbed the negative thoughts from his head for the night. His forehead rests on her shoulder as he wonders whether he should try to say what the even deeper problem is.

“It’s kind of fucking… hollow even if we win, though. If he never gives it to me, you know… if he never thought I could do it.”

His words float in the darkness for a moment.

“It would still be achieving what you’ve always wanted.”

“Well. You know, there were kind of two parts to what I wanted.”

“Yeah,” she says a little sadly.

“I- I know you think it shouldn’t matter,” he says hesitantly.

“I just wish it didn’t matter,” Rava says. They go quiet as she drapes her arm over him.

He’s had parts of this conversation with her and others over the years, with varying degrees of empathy reflected back. But this part has always been where no one could come with him, where no one hears him, no one understands.

…….

A few days later, Roman saunters up behind Kendall and Rava as they walk through the amusement park keeping an eye on Sophie and her friends at her birthday party.

“I’m here as a spy, in case you were wondering,” Roman announces. “Just here to check out whether Dad has anything to worry about. Obviously he doesn’t with this fucker in charge!” he adds loudly.

Rava shoots him a look.

“Dude,” Kendall sighs. The kids are here.

“Can we talk about what Sandy’s thinking the next steps are?” Roman asks impatiently.

“I’m here to enjoy my daughter’s birthday party. We’ll talk later.” Kendall glances at Rava for her approval. She’s glad to hear it even though she knows his head is full of strategy.

Sophie runs over and flings her arms around Kendall’s waist. He squeezes her and meets her eyes as she looks up at him.

“Can we make the wagon go faster?” she asks him. Kendall looks at the ride attendant as he adjusts his scarf. It’s getting colder outside.

“Is that possible?” he inquires. Rava leans in to talk to the attendant.

“No, no.” She looks at Sophie. “Honey, let’s stay safe, okay? We’re going to keep all the rides at their normal speeds.”

Sophie pouts for a moment and runs back to her friends. Rava follows to keep an eye on things and Roman smirks at Kendall.

“So, it must be fun to have no authority at home, no authority at work, you’re killin’ it!”

“You don’t understand responsibility,” Kendall replies dully.

“Nope, never been for me. I do understand having a personality though, which you have clearly lost!” He points at his brother for emphasis and is disappointed by his lack of reaction. “Hey, do you think Sophie thinks it’s weird that her grandpa isn’t at her birthday party?”

“Why, because he’s been so involved in his grandchildren’s lives before this?” Kendall almost smiles.

Roman snickers a little regretfully and they share a moment of dry humor.

“You know Shiv and Tom are here, keeping their distance.” Roman jerks his head behind him and to the left. Kendall looks alarmed.

“Uh, what? No. Is that- I mean, is she cool right now? What’s the deal with her and Dad?”

“I don’t fucking know, Tom’s here to be a freak and look at what he doesn’t have to deal with anymore because Firecrotch got him promoted to run the most important branch of the company,” Roman scoffs. Kendall glances back and calms down. They can’t do anything here.

“Well- I mean, it’s not really surprising that Tom’s at ATN now. Like… that figures.”

Roman’s eyes dance.

“Because he understands our ‘agricultural viewers?’” he says mockingly.

“Because he might actually believe some of that shit.”

“I believe that shit,” Roman says sardonically.

“You shouldn’t tell people that,” Kendall shoots back.

They are both glad for Connor’s interruption.

“Hey, hey! It's the traitor son," he says sarcastically. Roman snickers and Kendall grimaces. "Kenny, I got Sophie a few books I think she’d like to read. Counteract some of that propaganda they’re teaching her at Chapin.”

“Uh-huh. Okay, thanks Con,” Kendall says, letting it go. Roman jumps in.

“Do you think, maybe, you’re seen as susceptible to conspiracies because people see a weirdo living in the desert-“

“Oh, Romey, I love when you express your love for me,” Connor ruffles Roman’s hair and Roman makes a face as Connor walks away. Kendall stares over at Shiv and Tom, now joined by Greg.

“So… Greg talked to me at the wedding,” he starts slowly to gauge Roman’s reaction. He takes a deep breath. “I think he’s got something on Waystar.”

“What? For real? Like what?”

“I dunno- something with cruises. Maybe wolf pack stuff?”

A pained look crosses Roman’s face and he smooths his button-down under his coat.

“He doesn’t know shit.”

“I- I think he does, actually. He might have paperwork. I’m just saying, keep an eye on him, okay?” Kendall suggests.

“Blech. I don’t want to look at him. But fine.” Roman and Kendall both pause to watch Greg from afar.

“Uh, hey, can we be real for a second? Like, just sibs for a sec?” Kendall starts.

“That’s gonna be a no, but you’re going to say whatever overthought nonsense you have anyway.”

“Would you work at Waystar if not for Dad?” Kendall asks.

“Actually, I’d be the most highly-paid gigolo in the country and would laugh at your paltry c-suite millions. Or, like, your mailroom paychecks, which is much more accurately where you’d be without Dad.”

Kendall sighs.

“So, no,” Kendall prompts.

“No. What? I don’t know. Maybe. Who gives a shit? Who’s asking?”

“Me, dude. Relax. It’s not a trick.”

“So, what, you would work here without Dad?” Roman asks defensively.

“Honestly, yeah,” Kendall answers. “I think I’m good at it.”

“I think that’s up for debate.“

“Well, it’s not.” Kendall wishes he could ask Roman if Logan has ever mentioned his abilities, but he knows it would result in mockery instead of actual information. He drops the subject, but he knows Roman gets what it’s like to want Dad’s love and respect- Roman is even willing to spend his time doing a job he doesn’t care about in order to try to gain it- and that knowledge lightens the weight on his shoulders a bit.

…….

Kendall’s phone beeps and interrupts his call with Stewy. He checks and it’s Roman’s name.

“The fucking- informant is calling again,” he almost chuckles.

“Be careful, Ken,” Stewy warns before ending the call.

Kendall switches to the new call and hears that Roman’s voice is hushed and tense.

“Ken, Dad is deciding what to do about Vaulter right now.” He nervously paces around the hallway by the waiting area outside Logan’s office.

“What- what do you mean, like he might kill it?”

“He’s torturing me with questions about you and Sandy and Stewy.”

“Okay. Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but no one made you go back to him… what- what about Vaulter?”

“He doesn’t fucking like it but he could save it?” He brushes his hand along the back of the leather couch and then waves his arm around with his next sentence. “I don’t fucking know, you’re the one who threw all our pretty, pretty money at something for Dad’s approval-“

“Vaulter was a solid business decision. And you don’t care about Dad’s approval? Secretly calling me. Taking his shit. Okay.” He decides saving Vaulter is more important than making his point and refocuses. “Well, look, I think Dad is wrong, and Vaulter deserves a chance. I mean, yeah, Lawrence probably inflated their numbers, so, hire some accounting consultants, send them over, show your face. Be the hero.” He hates the idea of Roman looking like the savior for his company, but he hates the idea of losing it more.

“Or I could lay off two hundred people and triumphantly march back to my ivory tower. Maybe I could hire them to build me a new ivory tower. What’s minimum wage now, like 600K?”

“Or you should listen to me because I know the full situation and actually want to build something there.”

“Riiiight, you’re so selfless and altruistic. So inspiring,” Roman says. “Seriously, 600K, can you imagine trying to live on that?” Kendall ignores him.

“Dude. This is for you, too. When you’re COO, you’ll be glad you have their content and their interface, their readers. Trust me on this.” Roman asked what to do, but he doesn’t always like getting what he wants. “So- does he want you to go in? See Lawrence?”

“Of course he does. Tomorrow at 11:00.”

“Are you-? Don’t make me look like an asshole, man. You can save this.” Kendall squirms at the thought of Roman in his territory, making disgusting jokes and talking shit about him.

“Don’t worry about me meeting with him, I’m much more charming and likable than you,” Roman says drily. Kendall rolls his eyes and wonders why Lawrence doesn’t like him. “Okay, back to being the only son Daddy loves!”

Roman hangs up and Kendall drums his fingers on the arm of the chair and gets up to find Rava.

“Hey,” he calls into the great room. “I think Dad might be doing something insane. He wants to shut down Vaulter, our only chance into the twenty-first century… eighteen years late, but, you know, it’s Dad.”

“Can you save it?” she asks as he enters the room and sits down.

“Uh, well. I don’t know. He’s got Roman on it tomorrow. He wouldn’t tell me if he’s going to destroy it. I worked on that acquisition for months!” He throws his hand up exasperatedly.

“Well, don’t just let him take it down then. Go with him and stop him!”

“Dad would never allow that, so-“

“You know, you don’t have to worry about what your dad would allow anymore.” He thinks for a second. “It’s going to be your company, isn’t it? Are you going to let the current CEO shutter a valuable asset that you’ll need when you take over? Would you let that happen with any other acquisition?”

He gives her a little smile.

“I missed this,” he says. “You’re always right.”

He goes to sit next to her and leans in to kiss her. Her hand brushes the back of his head and he puts his forehead on hers for a second, reconnecting after the energy given to everything else.

“How’s your day going?” he asks. “Has work improved much?”

She slumps into the couch and leans against him.

“Not really,” she answers drearily. “It’s all so shrouded in darkness. I can’t believe there are companies that operate like this.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how you work in this world.”

He tries not to take the comment personally.

“Well… Waystar doesn’t do shit like steal wages and kidnapping or whatever.”

She raises her eyebrows and his voice gets a defensive tone.

“Not now. Not while I’ve worked there, Rav, you know that.”

“Yeah. I’m-“ she sighs. “Sorry- I don’t know. I feel bad failing at this. If this guy never comes home, it’s because I couldn’t find him. If there’s no justice for all these workers… I guess I just wish I were a better lawyer.”

Kendall never hears her express doubt in herself. It takes him a second to process and respond.

“Hey, that’s not fair to you. You’re going to figure this out. I’ll try whatever I can to help. And-“ he hesitates. “Would it be so bad to ask Robert?”

“Oh, so you don’t have to call your dad when you have a business problem, but I have to call my step-dad?” she gently mocks.

“Okay. I mean, sure, obviously I get it, but he probably knows someone.”

“From his Wall Street acquisition world? They wouldn’t know about this.”

“I dunno, maybe he knows someone who does.”

She shrugs.

“I’ll think about it.”

……

Lawrence looks worriedly at Kendall.

“It’s all for real, man,” Lawrence asserts. “You made a good decision buying us, I mean, from your perspective. I’ll do what it takes to keep it going.” He pauses. “What do you honestly think is going to happen here?”

“I’m of the opinion Dad can be persuaded he’s making a mistake,” Kendall says intensely. Roman looks at him warily. He’s not sure what the right answer is and Kendall can tell. “But you gotta work with me. Okay? Trust me.”

Lawrence nods like he knows it’s not up to him and Kendall walks up toward the front of balcony area of the Vaulter floor, overlooking all the people below, and begins his speech. Roman stands behind Kendall and zones out his words while he observes the expressions on all the workers’ faces. They’re not loving it but they also have no choice.

“Vaulter is the future of this company,” Kendall’s saying. Roman glances at Lawrence and he catches him. Roman gives an awkward nod and lets out a silent sigh. Kendall’s eyes flit to Roman for some support in the cold room. Roman makes a subtle face at him and Kendall gets back on track.

“If I fuck this up, I’m done forever,” he announces to the crowd. Roman fights the urge to cheer and get a laugh. He wonders how Kendall can possibly be so sincere saying such a dramatic sentence. Vaulter’s not the only game in town, Roman thinks. Another one would come along. Kendall’s winding it down now.

“Tough times. All pull together. Trust. Trust me. Any questions?” Roman can practically hear the crickets. Kendall steps down from the chair, a little shaken at the negative reception. Low chatter resumes in the room and Roman gives Kendall a sardonic smirk.

“Wow, they fucking love you here, you were definitely the right choice to make that speech. Then again, I’m still cool and they all hate you more than ever, so-“

“I’m saving their fucking jobs,” Kendall mutters. Roman giggles and walks away. Even if it’s the right thing, he doesn’t want to make it easy. “You understand that’s what this is, right?” Kendall calls after his brother. “I’m serious.” He catches up to Roman. “You want to strategize tonight? We have a lot of work to do. Obviously you’ll have to send me some shit so I can do it from home since I can’t be here normally. But-“

“I’m actually having a dinner party tonight that you’re not invited to, so-“

“What?”

Roman looks annoyingly satisfied at Kendall’s confusion.

“Yeah, Tabs and I are having Shiv and Tom to dinner.” Kendall feels a flash of envy and disappointment not to be included with Rava in a couples’ dinner party for his siblings.

“Uh, okay.” He tries to justify. “Well, you- you can’t be seen with me anyway, so.”

“You know Dad’s going to know you came here today and that we were seen together.” The justification dissolves and Kendall shrugs it off and tries to put a teflon wall around himself, allowing his eyes to get a little darker.

“Tell him I went rogue.”

……

Kendall squishes into his favorite armchair in the family room, glancing at the fireplace while he idly listens to Stewy complain over the phone.

“When were you going to consult with me on making a speech to all of Vaulter, Ken?” he asks, clearly annoyed. “How does that look? How am I supposed to explain this?”

“It’s going to look like I’m taking over this company and care what happens to it. It makes sense.”

“You standing with Roman the ‘loyal son’ and speaking from a joint perspective. That makes sense?”

“Yes. It does. I can’t trust Roman to take care of things. Dad leans toward killing it. If Roman feels the heat, he’ll fold. He’d fire them all tomorrow if he thought it would get him a pat on the head.”

Stewy sighs.

“This isn’t your favorite kind of, like, nice, pleasant acquisition where you have lunch and discuss your joint business dreams.” Stewy tries to sound authoritative but he smiles a little at the vast difference in how he and Kendall do business. “Not to sound like your dad,” he shudders, “but this is war. It cannot look like you might still be talking to him or your brother. No more of this.”

“You know we need Vaulter, Stew.”

“Figure it out without being buddy-buddy with the fucking enemy. I don’t want to be destroyed on CNBC tomorrow and I’m sick of being questioned by Sandy. You still need him, don’t forget that.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Kendall goes back to looking over the piles of Vaulter documents in front of him and slips on his glasses. He only wears them when it’s absolutely necessary, but Rava loves when she catches a glimpse. She steps into the doorway, head tilted and subtle smile on her face as she watches him focus. He looks up and takes the glasses off.

“Hi,” he says.

“Oh, you’re so cute in those, put them back on,” she says as she walks closer.

“No.”

“Well, you never know when you're cute.” He looks down and tries not to smile. “See, right now.” She steps between his chair and the desk, leaning back against it as she surveys him, and puts the glasses back on him. “Sexy econ professor," she laughs. "Tell me about the stock market.”

He laughs and shakes his head. She tucks her hair behind her ears and leans over him.

“How’s the New York Stock Exchange?” she whispers.

He looks down her open blouse.

“Uh, pretty hot. I'm the professor? Okay. I'll teach you. Waystar is actually doing better than I-”

“Ooh, I heard those Waystar guys are rich,” she purrs in his ear. He takes off the glasses again and puts them down.

“You heard right,” he says, completely straight-faced this time as he pulls her into his lap for a sexy kiss. “All the diamonds you want if you come to office hours.”

“And if I want time?” She smiles into his lips and swats in the direction of his laptop. He reaches over and closes it.

“Probably more than you want,” he chuckles.

“Good. Well, Mom and Robert are expecting us at 7:00, so… we should go in a few minutes. So much better than a stupid dinner party with your siblings all night,” she says in a light tone as she stands up, knowing the party is bothering him enough that he insisted they go to her parents’ house this very weekend. He nods, wondering again why Roman and Shiv don’t hang out with him more. He remembers Roman essentially saying he liked being close to him a few days ago and feels guilty for letting him dangle in that conversation while he was mad. He wonders if that’s the real reason he wasn’t invited.

“Yeah. Let me just-“

“Don’t make me explain to him why we’re late, come onnnn.” She pulls him up playfully and he extricates himself before putting his hands on her upper arms and looking into her eyes.

“I will be done in ten minutes,” he promises.

“Ha! Sure you will. Just remember this trip was your idea, so if we’re late, you are dealing with any and all fallout.”

“Okay. I could be almost done by now. I’ll be out in-“

“Ten minutes,” they say in unison. Rava smiles and walks out.

……..

When the heavy wooden door of the elegant stone Greenwich home swings open, Kendall is immediately enveloped in Rava’s mom’s arms, squished in with Rava and the kids behind them and feeling the stress being squeezed away. Years of memories flood back in in the best way, of his first happy Christmas with Rava’s family at age 23, the time a year later when Rava had run into the house ahead of him squealing to her mom about her new engagement ring, the first time they brought both kids to visit and swelled with pride. This house has been a sweet escape for Kendall his whole adult life. Every time Logan had hurt his pride or his self-esteem, he had found himself again with the other side of his family. He closes his eyes for a few moments, taking in the kindness and calm of the house he had missed for the last three years.

When Cheryl finally lets go, she puts her hand on Kendall’s face.

“Look at you. You’re still thirty. Men have it so easy,” she laughs with Rava and he shakes his head. She grabs him again and pats his back. “Ohhh, I missed you.” She looks at her daughter and grandchildren. “He’s such a good hugger. I almost forgot how cute he is.” Rava and Kendall smile.

“It’s true,” Rava agrees.

“Okay,” he laughs at the way he'd forgotten they compliment him like he isn't there. “Thank you, I missed you, too. I’m so glad to be back. Seriously, you have no idea.” Cheryl pats his hand and turns her attention to Sophie and Iverson.

“My babies! You’re getting so big,” she coos.

“Grandma!” Sophie excitedly jumps up and down and Iverson smiles.

“Come eat!” Cheryl beckons to the dining room and takes the kids’ hands as she leads them to the kitchen. Kendall and Rava head in to find Rava’s stepdad setting his glass at his place. Robert seems even taller than he usually does in his own home, authority and confidence emanating from him in a similar yet less menacing way as Logan.

“Sweetheart,” he says to Rava, coming over to kiss her cheek. “Good you’re here for the weekend.” He turns to Kendall. “Ken, son!” he booms. “Get over here.” Kendall's glad to hear that he's still considered family but his heart beats a little faster as he walks over for what feels like a bit of a test. “I hear you’ve got it all together these days,” Robert says, glancing down his nose as he commends and warns at once.

“That’s right,” Kendall affirms, a little tension creeping up as he worries he hasn’t been accepted back in. “Here to stay,” he adds, trying to sound confident. Robert lingers in eye contact for exactly two seconds before moving on.

“That’s what we like to hear!” He claps him on the back and Kendall breathes a sigh of relief. “Now let’s hear every detail of this fucking bear hug. It’s daring. I like that. Cheryl, do we have something besides scotch and wine in this house?”

“Oh, it’s fine-“ Kendall starts.

“Well, of course we do,” Cheryl rolls her eyes as she glides back in, already ready with Perrier and French grapefruit soda. The kids trail her and sit down at their places. She musses Robert’s hair as she passes him and sets the bottles in the middle of the table. “Divina made the most incredible cedar plank salmon for tonight, it’ll blow your mind.”

“It smells great,” Rava says.

“And mac ’n’ cheese for my adorable grandchildren,” she continues. The kids dig in as soon as the cook places the food on the table.

“So! Let’s hear it. Taking on the titan, huh?” Robert asks.

“Uh, yeah, well- it- it obviously was not my ideal plan, but it’s pretty much necessary. My dad-“ he sighs. “It’s just- time for the new generation to take over.”

“True enough, some of us know when to retire! Someone’s got to keep the golf clubs in business. Now for the good stuff- Vaulter!” Kendall knew the M&A lawyer would want all the juicy details about the acquisition.

“My dad wants it gone- I hear,” Kendall starts. “I guess he wants to sell but, you know, if things go right, he won’t be in charge for much longer, so I’m planning to save it. It’s hard from the outside, but I won’t be outside for long.”

“You gave a speech I hear,” Robert smirks.

“That got out, huh?” Kendall asks a little nervously. “Well, I did, yeah. They need to know where we stand. Can’t have them unionizing, it’s for their own good. Dad would shut that down so fast. But we’re gonna have an amazing company culture, like, they’re going to be bragging to their friends about how incredible things are for them. They think they have it good now with a few ping-pong tables. Just wait til I have a chance to do things right. The guys on twelve in our building are pumped about all the changes I made happen. Even the breakfast food. They actually specifically told me so.”

Rava smiles to herself. She likes when the passion spills out of the buttoned-up persona he keeps up.

“Mmhmm. I do see you at the helm,” Robert looks him over and nods approvingly. Rava knows what it means for Kendall to hear that.

“Thank you." He looks genuinely touched and Rava wonders if he's heard that at all since the position was offered to him a year and a half ago.

“Rava!” Robert calls. “Let’s hear some good case news.” Kendall glances at her uneasily.

“You probably should have done me first,” she says jokingly while still accidentally managing to come off as preemptively defensive toward him. “Well,” she begins, “the case I’m still working on is- a unique challenge. Some international corporate stuff. But it’s going all right,” she fibs.

“Nothing you can’t figure out if you put real effort in,” he says. She wonders if she’s being too sensitive or if the implication that she isn’t trying was really there. “What’s wrong with it?” he asks. She gives him a look like he should know better than to ask for case details and he rolls his eyes. “I’ll sign whatever you need, just spill it,” he orders. Kendall watches her dissolve a little as she glances down at the table and gives in and he grimaces for a moment. It doesn’t occur to him that this is what she’s watched happen to him all their lives.

“Um, well, the resorts don’t keep very clear paperwork- I’m sure that’s not an accident- and they make it pretty difficult to get it. I need evidence of settlements for past wage theft whisteblowers to prove this is a pattern of behavior.” She blinks and avoids Robert’s eyes. “But they operate out of these remote island places and it’s been hard to get in touch with anyone in management to get the evidence I need…?” She hates that she probably sounds like she’s not working hard enough. “And I’ve subpoenaed but, obviously, that doesn’t work if everyone’s MIA.” She takes a long sip of her chardonnay, dreading the response.

“Well, if you can’t figure it out yourself, you should grab that Gerri Kellman for a consult,” Robert asserts. Rava’s shoulders tense up. “If Waystar’s still running, it’s because she’s kept ‘em all out of prison,” he laughs. “No offense, Ken.”

“Uh…” Kendall starts. “Well, I, you know, to a point, I agree,” he says, hoping to keep things smooth and take the unwanted attention off of Rava and the case. “There have been some problems with some bad actors within the company. I’m going to affect a lot of change in the culture when I’m CEO. The culture that my dad has allowed is actually toxic. And I’m coming to change that.” He looks at Rava. “But, Rava wouldn’t talk to Gerri while we’re in the middle of this- that would be a disaster.” He looks back at Robert and she feels queasy. “But I’m sure between the two of us, we could get a list of some fuckin’ superstars she could talk to, yeah?”

“You said a bad word!” Sophie cries, looking up from her dinner.

“Oh, sh- uh, yeah. Sorry, Soph.” Sophie goes back to eating and not paying attention.

Normally Rava would laugh at Sophie’s occasional tendency to chastise her dad about little things, but this time, she’s caught on something else. She’d almost forgotten that she’d called Gerri at all in all the chaos of the last few days and hadn’t gotten around to mentioning the conversation to Kendall. Now she thinks she’d better not.

“Mmhmm,” Robert responds. “I’ll get a list going of people you can consult with.”

“I mean, it’s going fine, but- sure.” Rava nods with a tight smile to her stepdad. “Thank you,” she adds. She doesn’t mind when Kendall offers to help because she knows how happy it makes him to feel useful and needed. But when Robert helps, she worries that it comes from doubt rather than encouragement. But either way, in this particular situation, she knows she needs it.

Later that evening, Kendall comes back into their guest bedroom from brushing his teeth and enjoys the low golden light coming from one of the Tiffany lamps on the nightstand by Rava. She watches him and thinks he looks physically lighter on his feet after the compliments and encouragement he got tonight. She feels a bit flattened herself. She slides her hands over her face and makes a mental note to say extra nice things to the kids tomorrow. Being criticized really messes people up, she thinks, considering Kendall’s and her different but related experiences. He sits down on the side of the bed and drops his button-up off his shoulders. Rava reaches up from her position lying in bed and traces her fingers from one freckle to the next on his back. She wants to be close.

“I love these,” she says. They’re peacefully quiet for a moment as she continues. “You’re getting them checked every year though, right?”

He chuckles.

“Yes. You’re so my wife.” She smiles and keeps gently rubbing her fingers over his back as he closes his eyes.

“That feels so nice.” He drops his head back and leans back into her touch.

“Don’t put anything else on,” she whispers.

He nods before turning to lie down right next to her and pull her close into a tight hug. He feels solid, warm, safe. She tucks her head into the crook of his neck and relaxes, relishing how soft his skin is there.

“Mmm, you are a good hugger,” she whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he smiles. “I’m so glad we’re here.” He slides his hands up the back of her t-shirt.

“Feel better?” she asks.

“I’m about to,” he mumbles into her skin as he rolls her on top of him.

“We’ll have to be quiet,” she says mischievously.

He gives her a cocky smile.

“Yeah? Good luck with that.”

Chapter 13 💗

#I love you readers!!!!!#season 2 is a unique challenge because kendall is not with the Roys while he is in canon #we are still following their plot though!#also I didn't make this gif I posted it with credit once and it attributed it to me because I didn't know what I was doing #waymond-wang made it and it's excellent #kendall roy #rava roy #kendall x rava #kenrava #succession #kendall roy fic

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