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#hour long and the schedule the lady drafted for me is a mess and i have too many questions to get the information AND make my actual
writingonleaves · 4 months
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will you take a moment? promise me this (that you'll stand by me forever) - the blue au
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universe: the blue au (clementine sandoval x hughes brothers x nico hischier)
warnings: swearing, mentions of death, more sadness than i intended originally, mentions of covid during one particular part, so so much fluff!!
title + based on: "long live" by taylor swift, "i'll always remember you" by hannah montana, "ribs" by lorde, "vienna" by billy joel, "home" by edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros and "a letter to my younger self" by ambar lucid. title from "long live"
word count: 14k
author's note: graduation / draft moments that technically take place before the first installment. though you should read the first part for context if you haven't yet! romance who? we ride and die with found family. i def made myself cry a few times writing this. happy american thanksgiving to all those who celebrate. hold your family and loved ones close. hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think <3
2018 - dallas, texas 
i wish you love, i wish you luck
for you, the world just opens up
- “i’ll always remember you” by hannah montana
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dallas. The time is currently 12:26 p.m. and the current temperature outside is a very toasty 91 degrees Fahrenheit.”
Clementine tunes out after that. 91 degrees? She’s gonna die when she gets out of the airport. 
As soon as she exits the plane, she follows the signs to the baggage claim, waiting for her luggage that isn’t only for this next week, but is for the entire summer as well before she returns to UCLA in the fall. After the draft, she’s heading back to Massachusetts to work in a clinic for the summer. 
Fuck, she just had her last final three days ago. She feels like it never stops. Sometimes she wishes it would. 
But she shakes her head to herself, watching as her bag comes closer. None of that now. She’s about to celebrate one of her favorite people making their dream come true. She smiles to herself as she wheels her suitcase and adjusts the straps of her backpack, not quite running but pretty close to it as she walks through the arrivals terminal of Dallas Fort Worth International Airport. 
“Clementine!” She whips her head over to see Ellen’s unmistakable blonde hair and wide smile, waving enthusiastically. Next to her is Maeve, her own mother with a more subdued smile, her carry-on suitcase beside her. They had scheduled their flights so that they’d land around the same time. To Clementine’s absolute delight, she sees Jack and Luke right before Luke comes flying at her. 
“Oof,” she groans as Luke hugs her tightly, burying his head into her shoulder. “God. You need to stop growing.”
“Never,” he mutters into her neck before letting go with a bright smile. “Hi Clemmy!”
She grins back. “Hi Lukey. I’ve missed you.”
“My turn!” She laughs as Jack shoves his brother aside and sways her around. He messed up her hair before pulling away. “I’m so pumped you’re here.”
“Me too, Jackson.” Both moms finally get to where they are and she hugs Ellen before hugging her own mother. “When did you land?”
“About an hour ago.”
Clementine cringes. “Yeah, we were delayed back at LAX. Sorry.”
Ellen waves her apology away as they start heading out of the airport, Jack grabbing her suitcase and Luke grabbing Maeve’s. “No worries. We’re just excited you both are here.”
“El, we wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Maeve says. And her mom’s right, Clementine thinks. Quinn’s getting drafted into the NHL. She can’t remember a time when this wasn’t his dream. 
“How have you been? How’s college?” Jack asks. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever.”
“We literally all FaceTimed last week,” Luke says while avoiding Jack’s slap. 
“It’s not the same,” Jack whines. Clementine rolls her eyes at his tone, but he kinda has a point. FaceTimes and texts are never the same as their in-person debriefs, which have become fewer and more in-depth since all four of them are in different-ish places now (though Jack and Luke technically still live under the same roof and Quinn isn’t that far). 
Clementine feels a pang in her heart, knowing that the amount of debriefs will only get fewer and fewer as the years go on. 
“College is good,” she automatically squints against the sun the second they get outside. “Same old, same old. Didn’t fail any classes somehow, which is always a win.”
Ellen snorts. “Honey, you’re literally the smartest girl I know. I don’t think failing is in your vocabulary.”
“No, literally.” Luke adds. 
“Aw, not true. Thank you, but not true. And this weekend isn’t about me.” Clementine whips out her arm in front of Jack’s front so that he doesn’t get run over by a car. “I didn’t expect to see you two until dinner.”
Jack shrugs. “We were gonna tag along with Dad, but we already did to some of his stuff yesterday and it was so boring.”
Clementine snorts. “Well, he’s technically kind of working this weekend, no?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be that boring,” Jack says. 
“You two better get used to it then,” she swings an arm around both Jack and Luke’s shoulders. “Especially you, Jacky. This is gonna be you next year.”
Jack groans, but Clementine knows he secretly loves it. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. You’re gonna be here, right?”
“Where?”
“Next year. At the draft.”
“What? Of course I will.” How dare he think differently? “And whenever Luke’s is. You guys are silly for thinking otherwise.”
“But what if you’re too busy saving lives?”
“It doesn't matter where I am. I’ll be there,” Clementine promises, as they all climb into the car. 
“Clem’s right, boys.” Maeve says, turning around from the passenger seat as Ellen starts the engine. “You can’t get rid of us that easily.” Luke responds by putting his chin on Maeve’s shoulder as she reaches up to tap his cheek fondly. “Have you all gotten the chance to see Quinn much?”
“Here and there,” Ellen says. “Media and last minute meetings with teams have been keeping him busy though.”
Clementine has naturally always known more about the hockey world than the average person purely from her circumstances, but within the last month or so — mostly when she’s been procrastinating on studying for final exams — she’s been poking around online to see people’s pre-draft predictions. Obviously, she knows they’re just speculations, but she wanted to get an idea of what the general world has been thinking of Quinn. She thinks he’s the best at everything, but she’s aware she’s incredibly biased. 
She hasn’t really talked to Quinn, or the other two, about it, knowing that it’s all they’ve been thinking or hearing about and there’s no use adding onto the noise. But Clementine wants to be prepared. From her research, people have Quinn going to places from Arizona to Vancouver to Ottawa. She’s seen Detroit a good amount. One or two said New York or Chicago. 
But at the end of the day, truly, it doesn't matter. For her at least. He’s getting drafted into the National Hockey League and Clementine brought two waterproof mascaras to prepare. 
“God, El.” Maeve puts a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. “You must be so proud.”
“It’s definitely a big week,” Ellen says. Jack puts his head on Clementine’s shoulder because she somehow ended up in the middle seat. But she doesn’t shove him off like she usually would. 
Every time she sees these boys — this family — again, she feels more grateful to have them.
“Thanks for picking us up,” Clementine says. “You really didn’t have to.”
“Oh, it was nothing.” Ellen says. “Now tell us about college, honey. Only one more year to go! Well, of undergrad at least.”
…..
Later that night, they’re about to go inside a nice restaurant for dinner when Clementine squeals, launching herself at Quinn. She feels his laughter as she squeezes tight and she holds on longer than normal. 
“Hey Clem,” he says. 
She pulls back and smiles, before hugging him again. “Hi Q.”
“It’s so good to see you,” he says, as Clementine lets go to let him hug Maeve, who sways him. Clementine thinks she sees her mother’s eyes water. 
Clementine turns to beam at Jim. “Hi Jimmy!”
“Hey sunshine,” he says with a laugh, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek. “Glad you and your mom made it.”
“Of course.” They all file into the restaurant and take their seats. She sits inbetween Quinn and Ellen with Jack directly across from her. She narrows her eyes when he kicks her foot and purposefully avoids her eye contact. 
She turns to Quinn with a wide smile. “Look at you. You’re such a star.”
Quinn laughs nervously. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re here. In Dallas. To watch you get drafted. This is a big deal!”
“Are you gonna cry?” Luke teases. 
Clementine snorts. “Of course I am. Stupid question, Lukey. I’m gonna be crying all weekend.” She wraps an arm around Quinn and leans in for a side hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to come to see you play at Michigan this year. I’ll try my best next season.”
“What?” Quinn asks, genuinely confused. “It’s okay. I-I didn’t expect you to. You’re busy at school.”
She shrugs, thanking the waitress for pouring out her glass of water before turning back to Quinn. “I want to, though. Jack and Luke and even Trevor keep texting me that I need to come to one.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Quinn says. And Clementine knows he means it too, the sweet boy. “I’m serious. You already stream the games and that’s completely unnecessary.”
“Sorry I want to support my best friend slash brother.”
Quinn pouts, “Well now I feel like an asshole.”
Clementine just smirks as everyone looks over the menu.
Dinner is simply wonderful. The food is yummy but the company is even better, as she finds herself laughing loudly at all of Ellen’s classic stories and Maeve bouncing off of her old friend seamlessly. Clementine just giggles under her breath as she watches Jim sit there in amusement and sometimes exasperation, ordering a second beer before their main courses even come. The boys are the boys, lively as ever and filled with love. The feeling of anticipation and excitement in the air has Clementine just putting her chin on her hand, observing the love around her. 
Her father would’ve loved this. 
As if he knows that she’s about to go too deep in her thoughts, Luke pulls on her ponytail. She shoots him a look as she’s swallowing her bite of gnocchi. “What?”
He beams. “Nothing.”
She rolls her eyes, but smiles nonetheless. Luke will always be her baby, but it’s moments like this when she realizes that he’s growing up so fast. As Quinn laughs at something his dad said and she watches Luke’s eyes drift towards him, she bites her lip. Soon enough, it’ll be Luke in his oldest brother’s shoes seeing what team will draft him. 
She blinks as a hand waves in front of her. “Earth to Clee,” Jack says. 
“What’s up?”
Jack gives her a hopeful look. “Can I try some of your pasta?”
“Cut me a piece of your steak and then we’ll talk.”
…..
The next few days, Clementine and her mom explore Dallas. Ellen, Jack and Luke join them when they can, Jim comes on the rare time that he doesn’t have meetings and Quinn is just too busy to join at all. Clementine’s surprised Ellen, Jack and Luke are even tagging along with them. But she welcomes it. 
Until Jack is nudging her way too close to the edge of the sidewalk and she stumbles. Luke just laughs and both Ellen and Maeve don’t see it because they’re walking up ahead. Assholes. 
The day of the draft comes quickly, and her and her mom are staying in the same hotel the Hughes family is. They get ready right after lunch, as Maeve and Clementine take charge of being the communication liaison for the rest of the Hughes family who’s here on this special day to let Ellen and Jim handle what they need to. Ever since the day Ellen introduced Maeve to her family, Maeve’s become one of them. Clementine smiles as she watches Geegs, Ellen’s mom, and her mom hug, opening her own arms happily when it’s her turn. 
“Hi Sweetie.”
“Hi Geegs,” she lets the older woman place her hands on her cheeks. 
“You look more like your father the older you get. Beautiful.”
Clementine swallows as she reaches up to squeeze her pseudo-grandma’s wrists, before turning to greet the various other family members. Most of them she knows, some she doesn’t. Many she hasn’t seen since she went to college. 
She volunteers to wait downstairs for everyone to come while her mom makes a few trips to and from the hotel room where Ellen, Jim, Quinn, Jack and Luke are. Once she’s 99% sure everyone is at the hotel, she makes the trip up to the room herself. In the elevator mirror, she glances at her outfit. A blush pink wrap dress with white heeled sandals. She’s decided to keep her hair down, a hair elastic around her wrist that will no doubt be used the second she steps outside into the Dallas heat. Earrings that Ellen gave her for her 18th birthday are dangling from her ears.
And of course, the three friendship bracelets tied around her left wrist. They don’t match any part of her outfit, but it doesn’t matter. She rubs over them with her right thumb as the elevator door opens. 
When she knocks on the door, it’s swung open immediately by one of their many cousins. Emily, who can’t be more than five years old, immediately wraps her arms around Clementine’s legs.
Clementine laughs, maneuvering carefully so that she can shut the door behind her before bending down to fully hug the girl. “Hi Em.”
“Hi Clee!”
“How are you?” Clementine stands back up. “You look so pretty.”
“Thank you,” Emily reaches out to tug at Clementine’s hand and she obliges. “Everyone’s been looking for you.”
“Really?” Clementine asks skeptically as she follows the young girl down the short hallway.
“Well, maybe just me.” They come to a stop and there’s a big call of her name echoed throughout the room. Clementine smiles bashfully. The Hughes extended family has always been nice to her, but this isn’t her day. She eyes the camera out of the corner of her eye and blinks.
Sometimes she forgets that the three boys she calls her brothers have outside attention on them. Which is dumb, because duh. But she forgets they’re not just… Quinny, Jacky and Lukey. 
Though today, out of all days, nothing will let her forget. She thinks she’s okay with that. 
The sound of Luke calling out her name puts her a bit more at ease. “I was starting to think you got lost.” She rolls her eyes, ignoring him as she gets pulled into hugs. 
She eventually stops in front of her mother, who just raises an eyebrow and lowers her voice. “You have the cufflinks?”
She nods, blindly reaching into her purse and feeling around for her small gift for Quinn. “Yeah. I’ll give it to him when he starts getting dressed.”
Jim, who overhears the exchange between mother and daughter, eyes them suspiciously. “Cufflinks? Mae, you already got him-”
“Not from me,” Maeve sings with a mischievous smile. “Technically, this one is all Clem.” Jim rolls his eyes as Clementine smiles innocently, before she gets pulled into a conversation with Lara, one of the aunts. 
She notices immediately when Quinn is ducking into the attached bedroom to change and quickly scurries in his direction. She stops in the doorway, watching as Quinn starts unzipping the garment bag that’s holding the suit that Maeve gifted him for this very day. “You have a second?” Clementine says. 
Quinn turns around quickly with a small smile. “Of course.” Clementine walks in and reaches into the outside pocket, taking out the small black pouch. Immediately, Quinn is shaking his head. “Clem, no.”
“You don’t even know what it is!”
“I don’t have to. Clem, the fact that you’re here and I’m wearing a suit your mom made me. That’s enough. That’s more than enough.”
Clementine pouts, “It’s never enough. Open it.” With a skeptical look, he carefully takes the pouch for her hands and opens it. He gently lays the cufflinks out on the palm of his hand. They’re silver, a Q and an H written out in cursive on each. “It’s nothing too crazy, but-”
“It’s perfect,” Quinn breathes out. He closes his fest and looks up, pulling Clementine into a very tight hug. “Thank you so much.”
She can feel herself starting to tear up. Dammit. “I’m so…god, I don’t know.”
He pulls away and laughs. “You’re already crying?”
“I’m trying not to,” she whines, watching as he puts the cufflinks back into the pouch and places them on a nearby table. She clears her throat. “I’ll let you get ready.”
She smiles at him one last time before turning around to walk out of the room. “Clem?” He says. 
She whips her head back around. “Yeah?”
“I love you.” 
She swallows and puts a hand up. “Don’t,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. He laughs and she laughs with him. “I love you too, Quinny. So much.”
He nods and she leaves the room and enters the other bedroom. Immediately, she’s met with Jack. He takes one look at her watery eyes and cackles. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Jack’s eyes widen as he clasps his watch around his wrist. “Little ears!”
“You’re a big boy. You can handle it.” She sits down on the edge of the bed across from him, eyeing his formal attire. Only his blazer is missing. She softens. “You look great.”
Jack beams. “Thanks, Clee! You do too.”
“You think?” She says playfully, smoothing down her dress. 
“Yes,” he says genuinely, causing her to look at him. “You look beautiful.”
She just smiles, making grabby hands at him. Jack obliges, collapsing into her for a tight hug that has a tear falling down Clementine’s face. A few other ones slip out as Luke walks in and immediately wraps himself around the two. 
The ride to the arena is quick, Maeve in charge of driving her daughter, Aunt Lara, Uncle Rich and Emily. Once they’re parked, Maeve sees a text from Ellen saying that that the Hughes family who were riding on the bus also just got there and asks if she and Clementine can meet them for a second before they all go their separate ways — the Hughes family to their spots and the others to the designed family and friends area on the other side of the arena. Maeve furrows her eyebrows, muttering about what her old friend could possibly want, but obliges.
Clementine hears the crowd before she sees them, knowing that Quinn is somewhere in the thrall. Before Clementine and Maeve can be confused about where they go, they see Ellen waving them over. 
“What’s up? Did you forget something?” Maeve asks. 
Ellen shakes her head with a smile. Suspicious. “No. Come on. They just opened the doors.”
“What?” Maeve and Clementine ask in unison as they follow Ellen. 
“Surprise! You two are sitting with us.”
“El-”
“Nope,” Ellen glares at Maeve. “No arguments. Quinn wanted you both with him when his name gets called, and it’s his day, so what he says goes.”
Clementine snorts. Dirty move pulling that. But she knows Ellen knows exactly what she’s doing. 
“Are you sure?” Clementine asks softly. 
Ellen pulls her into a side hug as they walk into the building together. “Of course, honey. You’re family. You know that.”
The only three people who are actually in their seats when the three of them go up to their row are Jack, Luke and Geegs, who all just smile and direct them both to their designated seats — Clementine inbetween Jack and Geegs while Maeve is inbetween Ellen and Jim. Maeve sits on the other side of Geegs, the seat momentarily open and Ellen immediately leaves because she’s getting signaled to do media.
Thank god that she doesn’t have to do that, Clementine thinks. She thinks she’d rather die. 
Clementina takes her seat and narrows her eyes playfully at Jack and Luke. “You little secret keepers.”
Luke laughs as Jack smirks. “Good to see you again.”
“Yeah,” she breathes out, looking around and taking in her surroundings for the first time. “This is bananas.”
“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” Luke says. And yeah, it is cool. And wonderful. But also scary? And Clementine’s not the one being drafted. 
Clementine sees Quinn and the Tkachuk brothers coming up to where they are. She’s only met Brady and Matthew a handful of times, but everytime has been as lovely as the last. Brady is immediately occupied by Jack and Luke so Clementine turns to Matthew, standing up and giving him a quick hug. 
“Hey Clementine. Long time no see,” Matthew says into her ear. 
Clementine chuckles. “Hi Matty. It’s good to see you.”
“You look beautiful. Most stunning woman in the room.”
She rolls her eyes. Fucking charmer. “The flirting didn’t work when we were 17. It’s not gonna work when we’re 20.”
Matthew pouts playfully. “At least I tried.” He smiles genuinely. “You excited? It’s a big day.”
“Yeah. It’s quite something.” They both look at Quinn and Brady and she nudges Matthew. “Big day for you guys too. I bet your parents are excited.”
“Yeah, they are. I’m sure you’ll see them later. Last I heard you were in college?”
“I am. Just finished my junior year at UCLA. One more to go.”
Matthew whistles. “Damn. You still wanna be a doctor?”
“That’s the plan.”
He shakes his head with a smirk. “Smartest Hughes by far.” She just shoves his shoulder playfully.
“Clem!” Brady interrupts them by corralling her into a hug, causing Matthew to almost fall. 
Clementine giggles. “Hey Brady. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Brady beams. Clementine finds him absolutely endearing. 
“Whatever team calls your name is lucky to have you.” Brady just keeps smiling and it’s so damn infectious.
Ellen and Jim return and Brady and Matthew take that as a signal that they should head back to their seats. Clementine smiles as the boys all exchange hugs — Quinn and Brady’s lasting longer than all the others — and settles back into her seat. Geegs offers her a bottle of water and Clementine thanks her with a grin. 
“I’m nervous,” she mutters to Geegs, so the boys can’t hear and make fun of her. 
“Me too, sweetie.” She says, patting her leg in such a grandmotherly way that makes Clementine miss her own. She catches Clementine looking down the row at Jack, Luke and Quinn, in that order and takes her hand to squeeze it. “They’re always gonna need you, you know?”
She whips her head back, Geegs with a light smile on her face. “What do you mean?” Clementine asks. 
“It doesn’t matter what team all three of them will eventually get drafted to, they’re always gonna need their big sister.” 
Immediately, Clementine shakes her head, trying not to fucking cry at an event that has nothing to do with her. “They’ve been doing just fine on their own.”
“Sweetie.” Geegs just says, looking at her with that look. 
And Clementine realizes the last time she saw that look, three years ago, a day before she was on a flight to LA, her father dying nine months prior but it feeling like yesterday. She had broken down in her childhood bedroom in Toronto, where everyone was downstairs about to have a farewell dinner to send her off. Geegs had seen her first before getting Maeve and Ellen, and then the three women were just holding Clementine and letting her cry. She had gone on a ramble about leaving home and going to LA and how she misses her dad and how her brothers are going to be so far away and are gonna forget about her. It was a lot for her at that time and the three most important women in her life helped her through it. 
She just leans her head on Geegs’s shoulder, before placing a kiss on her cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you too, sweet girl.” 
Geegs is about to say more before Jack starts incessantly tapping on Clementine’s shoulder. She rolls her eyes but catches Geegs’s knowing look before turning. “What?” Jack pouts at the snap in her tone and Clementine sighs. “Oh don’t give me that.”
“Why not? It works everytime.”
“What’s up?”
He just nudges her shoulder. “Just, I don’t know, wanna make sure you’re good.”
Clementine smiles, leaning her head on his shoulder as he rests his arm around the back of her seat. “I’m perfect.”
“You sure?”
She bites her lip. “Yeah. I just, I don’t know, not trying to bring down the mood but, I wish Dad was here, you know? He would’ve loved all this.”
Jack swallows and she feels him lean his head atop of hers. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I was thinking that this morning, when we were all at the hotel and everything. I wish he was here too.”
She sneaks a look at Quinn, who’s chatting with his mom. “He would’ve been so proud.”
Jack hums. “Love you, Clee.”
It’s the second time she’s heard that from someone in the Hughes family in two minutes, but it still makes her emotional all the same. “Love you too, Jacky.” She breathes out and tries to gather herself. “God, can we get this show on the road? I’m getting antsy.”
Jack snorts. “Already? It’s gonna be a long night for you then.”
She narrows her eyes. “Careful. If you want me to sneak you a sip of alcohol later, you have to be nice to me.”
Jack huffs. “I can’t wait until the day I’m legal. The drinking age being 19 here is ruining my vibe.”
“Got a couple more years until that, buddy.” And then the arena lights start dimming and a tribute for the Humboldt Broncos tragedy starts. 
It begins. 
When Quinn’s name gets called seventh overall to the Vancouver Canucks, Clementine jumps out of her seat and immediately starts crying as she watches him hug his brothers, before hugging her tightly.
“I’m so proud of you, Q.” She mutters into his shoulder.
“Thanks, Clem.”
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” And she lets go to let him hug his grandmother. 
Clementine catches Ellen’s gaze right after Quinn hugs his mother and they share a watery smile, as she watches Maeve squeeze Quinn and kiss him on the cheek. As she watches him go down the stairs and give Brady a hug — she cheered extra loud when Ottawa called his name out earlier — she takes a deep shaky breath but laughs when Luke urges her to take Quinn’s seat. She sits down and squeezes Ellen’s hand, before Ellen kisses her on the cheek. 
Clementine is so overwhelmed and proud and excited for what’s to come, while also being very emotional about how much hard work it took for Quinn to get here. She’s had a front seat on seeing him grow up and it’s been the most incredible ride. 
Later, when they finally all meet up with Quinn again at one of the suites in the arena, she’s about half a vodka cranberry in and just watches all his admirers greet him, the Canucks jersey and hat adorning him nicely. When he finally comes up to her, she beams. 
Quinn laughs as he hugs her, “Already starting to drink?”
“It’s a big day,” she says, pulling away to look him up and down. “Holy shit, dude.”
“Careful. I’m mic’ed up.”
She rolls her eyes. “They can bleep that out. I’m so happy for you. How you feeling?”
“Good, good.” That’s all the words they exchange before other family members rightfully step in to offer their congratulations.
She knows it won’t fully sink in until later, probably when he makes his NHL debut. But what a special day that will live in Clementine’s memory forever.
(It’s not until they’re transferring the celebration to a nearby restaurant / bar does Clementine remember. She literally stops in her tracks, and Quinn, who’s walking beside her and was talking about all the media stuff he had to do, looks at her, confused. 
“Everything good?” He asks. 
Clementine digs into her purse to pull out an envelope. “Yeah. I just almost forgot.”
He takes the envelope, still confused. “What’s this?”
“It’s from Dad.” Quinn blinks at the familiar scribble of his name. “I’ve been keeping it safe this whole time.”
“Fuck, Clem. I-what’s in it?”
She shrugs. “Whatever he wanted to say to you during this moment. I got one when I graduated high school. I’m almost certain your parents probably got theirs today or will eventually from my mom.” She smiles sadly as Quinn sniffs, still staring at the envelope. “Read it later,” she urges softly. “It’ll still be there tomorrow.”
Quinn nods, putting it inside his suit jacket as they continue walking. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He pauses for a few seconds before hugging Clementine the tightest he’s hugged her today. “Thank you.”
“I’m just the messenger,” Clementine says, but she hugs him back. “I know he’s so proud of you, wherever he is.”
Quinn just nods into her shoulder and Clementine feels like they’re kids again)
2019 - los angeles, california
you’re the only friend i need
sharing beds like little kids
and laughing till our ribs get tired
but that will never be enough
- “ribs” by lorde
Clementine’s trying to stifle a yawn as the speeches start. At least they got over the majority of the speeches yesterday during all-university commencement. 
She knows her mom, Ellen and Jim are in the crowd somewhere, from the selfie she got from them as she was waiting to walk to her seat. Thankfully it’s not that hot out, especially for LA, otherwise she’d be more restless than she already is in her lace white dress. Having a ceremony outside is kinda nice, actually, especially with the wind brushing around her legs. 
She walks on the stage, shakes the dean’s hand, gets her diploma and doesn’t faceplant at all, so she takes that as a win. She cheers for her friends when they walk across, and she’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that four years have gone by so slowly yet so quickly. It’s been filled with great and tough moments, but she’s grateful despite it all. 
They throw their hats up and she embraces her friends, thinking about how they’re all gonna be spread out around the country in just a few months. Clementine’s staying in California, at least, heading to Stanford for medical school in the fall, but it’ll be so different. 
But that’s the beauty of it all, right?
After exchanging a few texts with her mom to establish a meeting place, she briskly walks over to the area, eager to see her family. But she stops in her tracks when she sees Quinn, Jack and Luke. 
They’re not supposed to be here. She blinks, wondering if she’s imagining it. But she hears Luke scream her name and it’s real. All in various colors of a button up and slacks and they’re fucking here. 
“Oh my god,” she says to herself before running over — as fast as she can in these heels — and absolutely crashing into Luke. Her cap falls off but she can’t even care. Jack’s next and hearing his laugh so close to her ear makes her fully start sobbing. By the time Quinn is swaying her side to side and handing her a huge bouquet of flowers “from all three of us,” she’s afraid her eyeliner is ruined. 
She quickly hugs her mom, Ellen and Jim, accepting two more smaller bouquets and turns back to the boys. “You guys are not-how are you here?”
“This was the plan all along,” Quinn laughs. “Come on, Clem. We weren’t gonna miss this.”
“B-but you’re supposed to be, I don’t know, somewhere! Jack, you’re supposed to be doing whatever the hell people do a week before their draft. And Luke, I swear you told me you had a tournament.”
Everyone’s laughing at her disbelief. “Just a few white lies here and there,” Jack says with a proud smile. “Quinn’s right. We wouldn’t miss this.”
“Congratulations, Clemmy!” Luke beams and Clementine wants to squeeze his fucking cheeks. “You didn’t trip walking across the stage.”
“And isn’t that a relief,” Jim jokes. 
Clementines points at the parents in mock accusation after adjusting her hold on all the flowers and her diploma. “You guys knew about this all along, didn’t you?”
“Of course we did,” Maeve rolls her eyes with a grin. “They’ve been planning this for months. Jack literally said he wouldn’t go to Worlds if it was at the same time as your graduation.”
She whacks him lightly across the back of his head with her diploma. “Stupid.”
“Hey!” Jack whines, rubbing the back of his head. 
“Okay, pictures! Before Clem completely cries her makeup off.” Ellen exclaims as they all laugh. Pictures take way too long but Clementine can’t even complain, even when Jack blows raspberries on her and she wants to strangle him. 
As they all walk around campus, Clementine giving an unofficial tour, she points out her old residences, where she used to study, where she’s cried, where she’s laughed. This campus means so much to her and houses so many memories that they’re not a part of. She also gets updates since the last time she saw them over her brief winter break. Luke officially committed to the NTDP, Quinn made his debut with the Canucks that she’s still upset she couldn’t make it for, both Quinn and Jack went to the World Championships, not to mention that Jack’s draft is literally in a week.  
They’re so interested in hearing about her last semester of college and congratulate her officially on Stanford even though Clementine thinks that’s nothing compared to what they’re accomplishing. She voices that, and Quinn immediately gives her a disapproving look that is kinda funny coming from someone younger than her and Luke rolls his eyes with the bold sass of a 15 year old.
Maybe that’s a good thing, Clementine thinks as Jack starts saying how he always talks to his friends about how his “smart, cool older sister” is gonna be a doctor and go to one of the top schools in the country. They all have their talents and they see each other’s accomplishments as the coolest thing in the world. 
She knows not everyone has that kind of support system. She is so blessed that she does, especially today. 
She’s surprised even more when she’s told her mom booked a reservation for one of her favorite farm to table places nearby for dinner, and she indulges herself with two glasses of wine, turning a blind eye when Quinn sneaks a sip. She glares when Luke tries though. Quinn’s at least closer to legal age. 
As she gets healthily tipsy, giggling at every single thing being said and Quinn subtly filling up her glass of water, a tear slips out again. Luckily, no one notices because she wipes it away very quickly.
Everything’s moving so fast. She wishes it would slow down. 
2019 - vancouver, british columbia 
slow down, you’re doing fine
you can’t be everything you wanna be before your time
although it’s so romantic on the borderline tonight
- “vienna” by billy joel
Clementine likes to think she’s more prepared this time around. But deep down, she asks herself if she really is. 
The vibe leading up to this draft compared to last year has been a bit different. While there was a good amount of focus on Quinn last year, it’s ramped so much higher this time around for Jack. She’s heard all about the hype. The draft of the Americans. The draft where Jack’s projected to go first.
And she really applauds Jack for handling it as well as he has. Clementine turns 22 in two weeks and she doesn’t think she could be as collected as Jack is at 18. But then again, all three brothers have been preparing for something like this their whole lives. 
Her and her mother are sitting with the family again with the draftees and this time it’s not a surprise. Maeve once again bought Jack’s suit and Clementine gifted him a watch this morning, and also gave him the letter from Miguel because she vowed to herself that she wouldn’t almost forget like she did for Quinn’s. Jack had just given her the longest hug. 
Jack’s been smiles all morning, confidence radiating off his skin. Clementine knows that most of that is genuine  — Jack has always worn his fearlessness the most outwardly compared to his brothers. So when he says he isn’t nervous, she believes him.
At least this time she has a clearer idea of where Jack will be. It’s either going to be New Jersey or New York. She, and everyone in the hockey world, would be shocked if he ended up in Chicago. 
New Jersey would be extra special. Her dad grew up there. So she hopes all the prediction articles she’s read are correct.
So now here they are. A different country and arena this time around. She’s sitting next to Luke and Geegs and there’s a lot more media that’s paying attention to them. Like right now, where it’s only her and Geegs at their seats because the entire Hughes family is doing media. Being on the bus with them this time around instead of driving to the arena herself, Clementine got more of a look into the behind the scenes stuff before the draft starts. She watched with pride as Jack walked down the carpet, signing autographs and probably charming every single person out there. 
As she walked into Rogers Arena, she got more nervous, smoothing down her olive green dress with her sweaty palms. She’s wearing the same white sandals she wore last year because of some sentimental thought she had in her head while figuring out her outfit. Friendship bracelets are on, hair is fully up this time in a high curled ponytail and her head’s all over the place.
But she also is distracted as Jack has wanted to introduce her to everyone. She’s met a lot of the kids in the program at least once, but it’s been awhile and it feels like she’s meeting them again. Everyone except for Alex, who has crashed some of Jack’s FaceTimes with her since he’s lived with the Hughes’ the last two years. Because of that, she’s inadvertently adopted him as another younger brother of sorts. Cole has the widest smile on his face and Clementine just wants to put him in her pocket. Trevor’s laugh is so contagious that Clementine understands why Jack always says him and Trevor are almost the same person. 
As she watches all of them together, she feels sad that she’s had to miss out on stuff like this, watching her younger brothers find their friends and their way and her only appearing in the stories the boys tell but not actually being in the stories. But what can she do? She chose to go to California for school. She’s choosing to stay in California for school. All with their full support and encouragement. 
That doesn’t mean she can’t be sad that she’s missing things back home. Wherever that is.
She snaps herself out of it though, those pangs of sadness she’s felt throughout the morning. It’s not fair on her emotions that she literally just packed her own stuff up from UCLA a week ago and now is here for one of Jack’s biggest moments. He’s so excited. She doesn’t want to cloud that. 
Jack’s ability to be so happy and excited is one of the best things about him.
Once everyone’s back to their seats, she’s bouncing her leg. Without looking, Quinn just puts a hand on her thigh to calm her down and she wonders for the 100th time in the last week when the fuck he got so observant and mature. 
(He always has been. Clementine’s just in a state of constant denial lately.) 
Jack gets picked first overall to the New Jersey Devils and Clementine, to no one’s surprise, starts crying. 
“Let’s go, baby!” He practically screams into her ear as he hugs her.
She laughs through her tears. “Congrats, Jacky. Love you.”
“Love you more, Clee.”
Jack walks down and makes his way onto the stage and Clementine is having the most intense case of deja vu in her life. Maeve hands her a tissue and she knows that some camera is capturing her wiping her eyes carefully. Hopefully the camera captures her whacking Quinn as he makes fun of her as well. She puts her hands over her heart watching Jack shake Gary Bettman’s hand. She can feel her dad’s love and happiness as if he’s here. 
And maybe he is, even if not physically. He’s here somewhere.  
(Hearing “Coming Home” by Diddy - Dirty Money and Skylar Grey playing as Jack walked down had Clementine wanting to slam her head through a wall. She knows Jack probably didn’t put too much thought into the song, but as she hears Skylar’s voice crooning on about letting the rain wash the pain away and coming home and forgiving mistakes, what else is she supposed to feel?)
She watches one by one as Jack’s friends get drafted with a big smile while enjoying the quiet commentary that Jim is offering. She’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Jack will probably be playing in the NHL this year and she still clearly remembers him hiding her shoes when they were younger. 
Clementine laughs as Jack launches himself at her when she sees him later, laughs even more when he and his buddies are being stupid and so boy-like that it makes her heart ache. At some point, someone has control of the aux and “The Spins” by Mac Miller starts playing and Clementine feels fond. Quinn appears beside her and she leans into him. 
“Is this how you feel all the time when you see us?” He asks. 
She breathes out. “Yup.” 
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“Me neither, Q.” 
He chuckles. “The curse of being an older sibling.”
“You have no fucking idea.” 
“The first thought I had when his name was called was that Miguel would’ve screamed.” 
She snorts. “Probably true. I gave Jack his letter this morning.”
“I know. I accidentally walked in just as he was finishing reading it.” He pauses suddenly. “Will you come watch when I come to play the Sharks?” 
She looks over at the vulnerable look in his eyes. “Of course.” She realizes then where Quinn’s fears are going. Michigan is only an hour and a half away from Jersey by plane, while Vancouver is four hours away by plane. She’s gonna be the closest to him out of the seven of them. “Of course I will, Quinn. Always.”
“Thanks,” Quinn replies, voice a bit rough. She just presses a kiss to his cheek.
…..
The next morning, Clementine’s woken up by a knock on the door. She groans, but the knocks keep happening so she kicks herself off the bed, throws on a UCLA sweatshirt over herself and opens the door. Jack’s standing at the doorway, hair all over the place and t-shirt and shorts wrinkly. 
“What the fuck, Jack?” She asks bluntly. 
“Sorry.” At least he looks apologetic. “Shit, sorry. I’m just a bit restless.”
“Get in. Quietly. We can talk on the balcony.” Jack gives her a thankful smile as he follows her into the room. They tiptoe past so that Maeve doesn’t wake up, Clementine grabbing her phone along the way. 
She groans as he closes the balcony door and she sinks down into one of the seats. “Jack, it’s 8 in the goddamn morning. Did you not see Ellen and I knocking back shots yesterday?”
Jack snorts. “Who didn’t? I’m pretty sure at least 10 people were filming.”
“What can I say? Your family and friends think I’m entertaining.” She yawns. “What’s up, superstar? What’s got your mind racing at this ungodly hour?”
He shrugs and Clementine wants to roll her eyes. But her semi-awake brain reminds her that this is how all three of them, but especially Jack, has always been. When there’s something bothering him, she always gives him time and lets him come to her. 
A few minutes of silence, before:
“I’m not in over my head, right?”
“About?”
“Everything.”
Clementine blinks. Frankly, she’s too tired and hungover to be a big sister right now. But she’ll try her best. “Jack Rowden Hughes. Don’t tell me you were just drafted number one in the National Hockey League, which is something that had been predicted for at least two years now, and are telling me you’re in over your head.”
He flinches. “Don’t full name me. It’s too early for that.”
She kicks him in the ribs. “You’re a good player, Jack. Which is honestly probably an understatement. I’ve seen you play since you were literally a child. It’s almost freaky how good you are.”
“But you have to say that.”
“I don’t have to say anything,” Clementine says. “I don’t have the time and energy to be bullshitting people anymore, especially you.”
Jack looks down at his hands. “I guess the expectations have always been there, especially recently. But it’s so much more now and that’s kinda scary, Clee.”
“Everything new is always gonna be scary,” Clementine says softly, the breeze waving with her words. “Always. I don’t care how ready for it you’ve been. I’ve been wanting to be a doctor since I was 16. You think I’m not scared to go to Stanford in the fall?”
He furrows his eyebrows. “B-but you’re so smart. You’re gonna be fine.”
“And you’re so talented. So you’re gonna be fine.” She says pointedly. “Realistically, no one can predict the future. Of course I hope that you and Quinn have a great rookie year and a long, successful career ahead of you. Same with Lukey when it’s his turn. But inevitably, there’s gonna be hard moments. That’s just life. You and I both know that. Hell, we’ve been through that together. Will people talk shit about your hard moments more than mine? Yeah, unfortunately, which I hate and wish I could change. But those people, you need to remember, don’t know you. The people who do know you and who love you whether you have skates on your feet or not? Those are the people you should be listening to. And we all love you and are so, so proud of you, Jacky.”
He scooches his chair over and leans his head on her shoulder. “How do you always know what to say?”
“I think I’ve known you all long enough just to know what to say so that you’ll listen to me.” She plays with his hair, staring out into the harbor the hotel borders. “You got all the time in the world to be who you want to be, Jack. And maybe sometimes that requires being in your head a bit. But you’ll come out okay in the end. You always have.”
She swears she feels a few of his tears drip onto her shirt. “I love you, Clee. I know I say it a lot but I mean it everytime.”
“I know you do.”
“I cried when you got your diploma last week.”
“I know. Luke told me.”
“Traitor,” he says with no heat. He throws his legs over her lap and tucks himself into her. “I-I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she parrots back.
He looks up at her from where he’s tucked his head under her chin and Clementine smiles sadly. He looks so young when he does that. He pouts. “You look sad.”
“I’m not sad.” 
He gives her a look. “Clementine Ana Sandoval.”
“Hey. You can’t do that,” she protests weakly. He waits. “I’m not sad, really. It’s just been an emotional week. In a happy way.”
“You can still be emotional in a happy way and be sad.”
She smiles. “I guess you’re right.” She kisses the top of his head. “I am so proud of you, Jack. Truly. I love you so much.”
“I love you the most, Clee. I’m serious.”
She looks at him with a smile, because she knows there’s just no way. He smiles back brightly in the morning light. 
His lips quiver and she frowns. “We’re gonna be so far apart now.” He whispers.
“We haven’t lived close to each other in awhile.”
“But it’s gonna be even farther.”
“Like I told Quinn, whenever you come play at San Jose, I’ll be there. I promise.”
“And what if I need you other times?”
“When have you called me and I haven’t picked up? Or haven’t called back within the hour?” Silence from him, because he knows she has a point. “Doesn’t matter how far apart we are. I’ll always be there for you.”
He nods, once to indicate that he heard, twice to inject those words into his veins. He kisses her cheek and she bites her lip. She’ll always love him. 
(They end up dozing off. Maeve wakes up and is very confused when she looks to see her daughter’s empty bed. Her gaze shifts to the balcony beyond the glass door and she smiles, watching Clementine and Jack’s chests fall and rise in sync. 
Maeve snaps a picture and sends it to Ellen, before getting out of bed to shower. She’ll give them some more time to rest.)
2021 - canton, michigan
laugh until we think we’ll die
barefoot on a summer night
never could be sweeter than with you
- “home” by edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros
The second her mom pulls into the Hughes’s driveway after 13 hours of being in the car, Clementine immediately runs to Ellen, who’s standing by the doorway waiting to greet them.
She breathes in Ellen’s familiar citrus perfume and melts into her arms. A year and a half into the pandemic has felt like 30 years, and Clementine just feels lucky that she can be here. She steps aside to let Maeve and Ellen embrace, getting the luggage from the car. 
“Where are Jimmy and the boys?” Maeve asks as they all gather in the kitchen and Ellen starts reheating some lasagna.
“Playing golf. They’ll be back soon.”
All three of them are collectively a bottle of white wine in deep when they hear a call pull into the driveway. Clementine can hear the moment the boys see the Massachusetts license plate because she hears Luke scream “Maeve and Clemmy are here!” and three car doors slamming before they barrel into the house. 
Clementine just waves her fingers and giggles. Quinn reaches her first, hugging her and lifting her off the stool as she laughs into his neck. Luke’s next — has he grown even more? — and she places three consecutive kisses on his cheek. Jack’s smile is as bright as ever and she threads one hand in his hair as he spins her around. 
Then finally, Jim, who’s been patiently waiting his turn. When she hugs him, she turns her cheek so that it’s against his chest. He places a fatherly kiss in her hair and she feels like a little girl again. 
In her wine drunk stage, she happily listens to the boys babble on about whatever, Maeve chiming in from time to time with stories about what it’s like trying to teach ten year olds over Zoom. At one point, Jack spits out a mouthful of beer and Quinn’s grimacing while Clementine grabs a paper towel without missing a beat in her retelling of how she should’ve gotten an A on a final paper she submitted last semester. 
(Jack had rolled his eyes, muttering “fucking overachiever” under his breath which Clementine glared at him for. Mr. Number One Pick shouldn’t be talking) 
It sucks that Luke won’t be able to get the same draft experience his brothers did, but in a way, it’s a wonderful compromise. He gets to be at home surrounded by his family and friends. Sure, media is still somehow finding their way in because it’s the draft and because he’s a Hughes but it won’t be nearly as much as it has been before. 
Clementine finds a bit of comfort in knowing that Luke won’t immediately jump into the NHL like Jack did. Not that she doesn’t want him to. She wants them to get everything they want in life. But Luke is her baby. He’s perpetually eight years old in her mind. 
And this isn’t the time to dwell on this, but Jack’s rookie year was so tough on him. She’ll never forget getting a call at 2 am his time, absolutely hyperventilating over the phone. After that, she demanded he call her once every week for at least two months after. Luckily, Quinn had a great rookie year and Jack’s second year was better, but goodness, she needs a bit more time to prepare before she starts getting middle of the night calls from three Hughes brothers involving a world she’s still learning about day by day. 
The next week is relaxing and lovely, Clementine having nothing to do for the first time in awhile having taken two weeks off from her summer job at Boston Children’s for this. She lets herself sleep in, takes naps in the backyard and on the boat, moves around slowly in the kitchen to help prepare dinner and cherishes the sounds of Quinn, Jack and Luke’s laughter echoing through the house. 
…..
The night before the draft, Clementine feels a bit restless. She tosses aside her blanket and tiptoes downstairs in a Michigan sweatshirt that she’s stolen at some point this week. Wiping her eyes, she quietly opens cabinets and pokes through the pantry, concluding that the Hughes household has all the ingredients she needs to make brown sugar cookies. Luckily, sound doesn’t travel much in this house, she’s learned. Clementine starts to get to work. 
By the time she’s waiting for the oven to finish preheating so she can put cookies into the oven, she hears footsteps coming down the stairs. She’s about to open her mouth to apologize but snaps it shut when she sees Quinn, all cozied up in a black t-shirt and gray sweats, hair absolutely all over the place. 
He blinks. “Why are you awake?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Quinn scans over the three trays of cookies waiting to go in. “Didn’t both our moms bake a gigantic cake today?”
“Yup.”
He hums. The oven beeps and before she can react, he slides the trays in. As he shuts the oven door, Clementine pours him a glass of water as she sets a timer on her phone.
“Why are you awake at this hour, Quinny?”
Quinn shrugs. “I was up to use the bathroom. Thought I heard something downstairs and wanted to check it out.”
She yawns. “Yeah, sorry.”
“I didn’t know you baked.”
“Newer habit. One of my roommates, Allie, you’ve met Allie over FaceTime, she’s a stress baker. Whenever exam season hit, there were baked goods all over our apartment. Picked up on a thing or two.”
Quinn hums. “What’s Allie up to this summer?”
“She just started her residency in Florida.”
“So she graduated?”
“Yup. Now I’m all alone.” Quinn rolls his eyes because he knows that’s not true. It isn’t. Clementine still has two other roommates as they continue looking for a third. 
“I still can’t believe you had time to do med school applications as well as a full course load,” Quinn says. “Like, I know you said that’s kinda normal. But how did you have the time?”
Clementine snickers. “I’m not sure how I did. Pure rage and fumes? ”
“I mean, you’re superwoman. You always have been. But damn. There are really no breaks for you, eh?”
“Coming here is a break.”
“Good,” she ruffles his hair. Quinn sighs. “Can’t believe it’s finally little Lukey’s turn.”
“Yeah. I’ve been having a crisis about it all summer. Makes me feel old.”
“You’re only 24?”
“Exactly,” she deadpans. “Old.”
Quinn rolls his eyes. They both look up as someone else comes down the stairs. Alex, who came in just a few hours ago, rubs his eyes with his fists. “What the fuck are you two doing up awake?”
“Clem’s making cookies.”
Alex blinks. “And you are?”
“Keeping her company.”
Alex just shrugs before sitting down across from her. He nods in thanks when Clementine fills up a glass of water for him. “Haven’t really gotten the chance to catch up with you. How’s Stanford?”
Clementine snickers. “Good. Well, as good as it can be in a pandemic. School’s school. First two years were mostly by the textbooks. Next two will be textbooks and clinicals so I’ll be in the hospital. Hopefully.”
“Clinicals?”
“Like, actually working with patients. Or like, observing in the hospital with a supervisor. The good stuff.”
“Sounds smart,” Alex hums. “How do you feel that all your babies will have been drafted 24 hours from now?” 
Fucking asshole. She doesn’t know why Ellen has a soft spot towards Alex when he’s clearly a nuisance. He just laughs at her pout and Quinn shakes his head with a close-lipped smile. “Don’t get her started. It’s 1 a.m.”
Her eyes roll so hard they might as well fall out of her head. “Don’t you have siblings?” He nods. “Are they younger or older?”
“Older. I’m the youngest.”
She huffs and Quinn grins. “That makes sense,” she says. “You don’t get it.”
Alex gets up and pulls Clementine into a quick side hug as he gets more water. “I only got to hear about how you were crying when Quinn and Jack got called. Now I’ll get to see for myself.”
“Careful,” she says wearily. Careful of what, she doesn’t know, but she needs to instill some sort of dominance as the oldest here. Quinn snickers into his sweatshirt. 
Her timer beeps a few minutes later and she shuts it off. Quinn ushers her aside while he grabs the trays and sets them on the counter to cool while Clementine digs around for a large tupperware container to store them. Alex just stares at them hungrily and she can’t even be annoyed. She sees that look in all the Hughes brothers’ eyes all the time in the kitchen. And Alex might as well be a Hughes. 
Once they each finish a cookie, Clementine shoos them both upstairs as she follows behind them to try and go back to sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day.
…..
The next morning comes quickly. She’s sharing a room and bed with her mother but she’s nowhere to be found. Instead, Clementine gets woken up by Jack jumping on her bed. Thankfully, he avoids anything that could really hurt her, but she still grunts, whacking him in the stomach and shooing him out of the room before beginning to get ready. She can already hear various family and friends coming through the front door downstairs.
She gets dressed in a cream romper she found on sale a month ago and pulls out, of course, the white sandals. She rummages through her backpack to find the letter — the final one she’s in charge of — and quickly debates on when she’ll give it to Luke. 
Now, she decides, putting it on the bedside table. Before the cameras turn on. She slips her phone into the pockets of her romper — she’s pumped they even have pockets — and walks down the stairs. Immediately at the front door, she’s met with Emily. She’s nine now and Clementine just goes on her knees and holds her tightly. Clementine then quickly runs into Ellen, who wants to introduce her to some people — some she’s met a handful of times, some she hasn’t met once.
It’s lovely, in a way, knowing that while their lives are so intertwined, there’s always someone new to meet or someone to reunite with. The support system for all of them is so much larger than she could’ve ever dreamed of, as she grins when Sophia, who she last saw at Quinn’s draft, hugs her tight like they just saw each other yesterday. She’s in her second year at Michigan on the lacrosse team and so smiley and lovely.
Once she spots Luke, she taps his shoulder and he excuses himself from talking to one of Jim’s old friends. Luke’s constant smile this whole week has been small but genuine. As his eyes drift down to the envelope in her hands, she sees him swallow. 
Clementine hands it over and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Later, yeah? When you have a minute.”
Luke just nods expectantly. Like almost everything in life, his brothers have gotten their letters before him. If Clementine sometimes thinks too much about it, it makes her almost sad that Luke’s always had someone do something before him, whether it’s her or Quinn and Jack. But it’s also a blessing, in a way, she thinks, because in her eyes, Luke is the best out of all of them in pretty much every single way possible because he’s seen how the older three have messed up and can take from that. She knows Quinn and Jack agree. 
“Thanks for being here.”
“Of course.” She pulls him into a hug and breathes in. “Is that the cologne I gave you yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
“Cute.” Clementine gives him one last squeeze before pulling away. The house is filling up more and more and she knows her time is limited. “If I don’t catch you before, just remember that I love you, okay? And I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Clemmy.”
“I’ll look at the schedule soon and try to come down to see a game when I can.”
His eyes light up. “Really?”
“Duh. I gotta put all this Michigan merch I have to some use.” 
Luke shrugs. “I don’t know-I just figured, you saw Quinn at Michigan and you’ve seen Quinn and Jack in the show. Why would you come to see something you’ve already seen, you know?”
“Because it’s you, Lukey.” She squeezes his arm. “You’re always going to be my baby brother.”
She feels him relax as he folds himself into her arms again. 
The day passes by in a blur as Clementine is enjoying catching up with everyone. And there’s a feeling of gratitude in that everyone can gather with each other again after so much isolation in different parts of the continent for so long. She sees Josh for the first time in literal years and happily spends time catching up with him. 
For most of the day, she forgets that it’s draft day. She’s just bouncing around, sipping casually on her cider and snacking. The cookies she made the night before are gone very quickly, which makes her laugh to herself. 
Once Luke disappears upstairs to get dressed, she finds herself leaning against a doorway, staring out into the living room that’s filled with people but not really looking at anything. 
“You okay?”
She turns to see her mom, pearl earrings matching her deep red blouse. Clementine grins. “Yeah. Just zoned out for a minute.”
Maeve lets out a heavy breath. “Last one.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s weird. I always knew he’d get here. All of them. But then it happens. And you think you’re prepared, but you’re not.” Clementine perks up. Her mom doesn’t often get into these types of moods, always the fun-loving, energetic woman. Her dad was more the outwardly perceptive one. Maeve just continues with a small smile. “From the most adorable little boys to incredible young men.”
Clementine laughs. “They’ll always be little to me.”
“Take how you feel and multiply that by three hundred and that’s where I’m at as I’ve seen all of you together this week,” Maeve says with a snort. She hooks her chin on Clementine’s shoulder. “Love you, Clementine.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Soon enough, everyone’s gathered in front of the TV, with a few cameras around and someone on standby who’s gonna do an interview right when Luke’s name gets called. On the couch and chairs at the front, from right to left, are Geegs, Ellen, Quinn, Luke, Jack and Jim. Her and Maeve are standing right behind Jim and Alex and Josh are next to Clementine. 
This time, it could be Anaheim or Columbus or Detroit. Maybe San Jose. 
Or it could be New Jersey. 
She knows Jack has been pretty outwardly casual about it — he knows nothing, he’s just hoping. But she knows Jack. He wants his younger brother with him. And it would be lovely for those two to play on the same team. What are the odds? 
(Apparently, pretty good.)
Luke gets drafted to New Jersey fourth overall. The whole house explodes with cheers. She’s never seen Jack so excited. Maeve puts her hands on Jim’s shoulders as Luke is hugging Quinn and Jim turns around, eyes wet. That’s what sets Clementine off crying. When it’s her turn to get a hug from Luke, she rises to her tiptoes and throws her arms around his neck. 
“Congrats, Lukey. Proud of you.”
“Thanks, Clemmy. I love you.”
She smacks a kiss on his cheek. “I love you too.” Luke then hugs Maeve, Alex and Josh before continuing down the line. 
From there, there’s media to be down and they quickly set up. Most of the family stays in the room as the three boys adjust themselves on the couch, ready to answer some questions. After Geegs gives her a big hug and Luke throws on Jack’s Devils jersey, Clementine bites her lip and suddenly spins on her heel, feeling overwhelmed. 
Alex notices, furrowing his eyebrows as he lightly grabs her arm. “You okay?”
Clementine nods with a smile. “Yeah. I’m just gonna get some air.”
Alex just nods. “Okay,” he squeezes her shoulder in a side hug. “Don’t be too long or we’ll all come looking for you.”
“I won’t,” she promises, before quietly slipping out the screen door in the backyard. 
She takes a deep breath, wiping her eyes and deciding to take a little walk around the block. She stares out at the sky, currently painted in hues of pink and purple as the sun is starting to set. Michigan is beautiful. She can understand why they all love it. She fiddles with the three friendship bracelets and her vision blurs as she starts lightly crying again. 
It’s been a long time coming. All of this always has. But like her mom said, it doesn’t mean she’s ready for it. 
After a nice walk, Clementine sits down on the swing in the front yard. She can hear the commotion happening inside the house and in the backyard, but she’s not quite ready to go back in yet. She watches the sun continue setting, thankful that it’s just windy and cool enough to not have the mosquitos attacking her. 
Quinn’s in Vancouver. Jack’s in New Jersey. Both of them are looking to stay long term. Luke will be going to Michigan for at least a year. If Clementine’s inkling is right, it’ll be two, just like Quinn did. And then Luke will be in New Jersey. She’s in California for two more years. And then who knows where for residency afterwards. Ellen and Jim are mainly based in Michigan and her mom’s out in Massachusetts.
Will they ever all live close enough to each other again? Will there ever be more than just the holidays, which started already looking different ages ago when the boys started having tournaments at that time of the year? Will there ever be a time where they’re all able to be together for more than two — maybe three if they’re lucky — times a year? 
She’s accepted by now that no, they probably will never live near each other again or see each other more than they currently do. But she can hope, right? 
Because she’s made a home for herself in a few places now. Massachusetts, where Mom is. California, where she’s been for six years, She hasn’t lived in Toronto for six years now, but that will always be home too. 
But home, Clementine realizes, as she hears Quinn’s contagious laughter filter from the house, is this. Home is Quinn’s subtle loyalty and kindness that knows no bounds. Home is Jack’s contagious vivacity and love that envelopes every room. Home is Luke’s steadfast resilience and empathy that pulls everyone in. Home is Ellen’s warm hugs and Jim’s proud eyes. Home is her own mother’s…everything. 
Home is the way her father lives in all their memories, even six years after he’s gone. All the people he loved the most. That’s home. 
The front door opens. She looks up as Luke walks out and immediately smiles. He looks good in Devils red. “Hey.”
He grins. “Hi. I was looking for you.”
“Just needed some air. Are you done with media and interviews?”
“Yeah,” he slides in next to her. She watches his handle fiddle with the envelope, “Luke” written unmistakingly in Miguel’s handwriting. “I wanted to read this with you.”
Clementine shakes her head. “Nope. I was given very specific instructions. Your-”
“Eyes only,” Luke finishes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. But could you stay here while I read it to myself?”
She softens with a smile. “Of course I can.” 
She watches as his shaky hands carefully tear open the envelope, biting her lip as he unfolds the paper. She then purposely looks away as Luke leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes scanning the words. She places a hand on his back, rubbing small circles to let him know that she’s here. Once she hears the sound of him folding the paper, she turns to look at him. His lips are quivering and she corrals him into a hug. 
“I wish he was here,” Luke chokes out through tears and Clementine tilts her chin up to the sky to try to hold back her own. “I miss him so much, Clemmy.”
“Me too, Lukey,” she whispers, letting him place his head on her lap. “Me too.”
“It’s so unfair how little time we had with him,” he says and well, Clementine’s fully crying again because yeah, she was 17 when her dad died. But Luke was 11. Not even a teenager. “All I could really think of when I got picked was that Miguel’s from Jersey.”
Clementine smiles. “Yeah.”
“Kinda feels like fate, maybe?”
“Fate sounds good,” she says softly, stroking his cheek with her thumb as she smiles at him. “I really like the sound of that, actually.”
There are footsteps coming closer and Clementine turns behind her to see Quinn with Jack behind him. She gives them a bittersweet smile and nods at them to come sit. Quinn slides in next to her and Jack sits on the other side of Luke. 
“You okay, Moose?” Quinn asks softly.
“Yeah,” Luke says in a scratchy voice. “I’ll come back in in a few minutes.”
“Take your time,” Jack says, exchanging a look with Clementine as she starts playing with Luke’s hair. “No rush.”
“Did all your letters make you feel like this?” Luke asks. 
“Yup.” Jack snorts.
“Yeah.” Quinn sighs. “It still does.”
“I had to reapply my mascara before my grad party,” Clementine says lightly. All four of them chuckle. She swallows, “I love you guys. So much.”
Quinn kisses her on the cheek as Jack reaches out behind Luke to squeeze her shoulder. “We love you more, Clem.” Quinn mutters. 
They stay out on the swing for a little while, just the four of them. Only when the sun sets do they make their way to the backyard to rejoin everyone. Before he gets pulled away again, Clementine holds Luke one last time. 
bonus - 2028 - new york city, new york
ya no quiero que llores
the universe is gonna give you muchas flores
quitate ese miedo
you’ll be a lot more, trust me, yo te entiendo
- “a letter to my younger self” ambar lucid
Clementine really didn’t need everyone to be here. It’s only a lunch after all. 
But “it’s not like we have anything going on anyways,” Quinn had said, the lunch NYU is throwing to mark the end of people’s residencies taking place at the end of June during the off season. So when NYU said she could bring up to eight guests, she didn’t really have a solid argument. 
And here they are now, sitting in a small but beautifully decorated ballroom. Clementine’s wearing a dark purple jumpsuit as she looks around the table. Nico’s to her right, talking happily with Jim on his other side. Then it’s Jack, then Luke, then Quinn, then Ellen and then finally her own mother on Clementine’s left. They’re all dressed up a bit, the guys in button ups and Ellen and Maeve with nice blouses on. It makes Clementine smile.
It’s really not a formal thing. But she’s grateful to have them all here anyways.
“Okay, real talk.” Jack says across the table, grabbing Clementine’s attention. “Your attending physician who stopped by earlier? I would hit.”
Maeve snorts. Ellen sighs and just says his name in disappointment. Jim takes a sip of his beer trying to hide a smile. Quinn and Luke roll their eyes and Nico scoffs. 
“Really?” Clementine says dryly. 
Jack, like the menace he is, just smirks. “Absolutely. I mean, I know you’re engaged or whatever, but if you weren’t…”
“The person she’s engaged to is right here,” Nico says as Jack cackles. 
Clementine rolls her eyes. “Well, Dr. Butterfield is happily married with kids. Sorry to burst your bubble. Though I’m sure Amelie would also not be thrilled.”
Jack waves her off at the mention of his girlfriend. “Amelie would probably agree with me.”
“I don’t know how Amelie deals with you,” Nico shoots back. 
“Settle down,” Clementine says in a monotone voice. Even after so many years, Nico and Jack love finding anything to bicker about off the ice. “Let me eat my pasta in peace.”
“Better listen to Clem, boys,” Jim chuckles. “It’s her day.”
“It’s her month,” Luke clarifies, elbowing Jack. “Are you trying to get uninvited to her wedding?”
“Clee would never!” Jack exclaims. Which is true, but Clementine’s glad Luke is backing her up. 
“Nico would,” Nico grumbles. Good thing they’re not seated next to each other right now or she’s sure Jack would be smacking him. Which is hilarious, considering Jack is one of Nico’s groomsmen. 
Five years. Five years since she walked into Langone for the first time. Five years since she moved into Hoboken with Jack and Luke. She may not live with them anymore, but sometimes, with the amount they’re over her and Nico’s house, it feels like she still does. 
Five years of great moments and really, really tough ones. Five years of highlighters in her mouth, pencils twisted in a bun atop of her head, dark under-eye circles after overnight shifts, delirious conversations with her fellow residents and so, so much coffee. And before that, eight years of school, sometimes forgetting what it was all for. But here she is.
Doctor Clementine Sandoval has a nice ring to it. 
She’s brought out of her own world when she feels Nico squeeze her thigh lightly. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
“You zoned out again.”
She hums lightly. Nico always knows when to bring her back to the present. “Thanks.” He just kisses her temple. 
Along with eighteen other new doctors, Clementine’s called up on the stage to receive her certificate. Dr. Butterfield says a few words about her in front of everyone that she thinks are far too kind and she can’t help but laugh when she hears her whole table cheering as her picture’s being taken. 
“You have a lot of loud supporters,” Dr. Butterfield jokes as he shakes her hand. 
She snickers. “You have no idea.”
“They seem lovely. Keep them close.”
“They are. I will.”
“Enjoy your time off. You deserve it. We’ll see you back at NYU in September.”
Clementine beams. “Thanks Doc. I’m looking forward to it.”
After lunch is over, they go outside and take pictures right by Battery Park, where the lunch was held. Unlike the three brothers, she doesn't complain about the amount of pictures Ellen, Jim and Maeve want to take, just grinning and laughing as Nico pokes her side. They split up to drive back to Nico and Clementine’s in Jersey — Ellen, Jim and Maeve in one car and her, Nico, Quinn, Jack and Luke in the other. Nico is somehow roped into driving and Clementine knows he probably regrets that. You put five 25-31 year olds who see each other simultaneously too little and too much in the same car when there’s an annoying amount of traffic and it’s an interesting ride. 
“Someone must be throwing a party,” Clementine comments as they turn onto the cul de sac, cars lining up the curb. She squints at her and Nico’s driveway at two familiar cars. “What are Dougie and Bratter doing here?” Nico just gives her a shrug. The brothers in the back don’t respond either. “What are you guys not telling me?”
“Chill, Clee,” Jack says. “We have no idea what’s going on either. We’ll find out in two seconds anyways. 
She almost believes him. Instead, she falls in step with Nico, who locks the car. “What’s going on?” She mutters.
Nico just smiles, hand on her lower back naturally. “It’s all good. Just trust me.”
And the thing is, she does. She trusts Nico with her life. 
The second she walks through the door, she jumps as a chorus of “congratulations” echoes through the home. She scans the room quickly. The house is decorated with streamers and balloons, there are food and snacks all over and their home looks so filled. 
Maeve, Ellen and Jim beat them here, all looking very proud. Next to them are Quinn, Jack and Luke with big smiles, next to their significant others — Amelie snapping pictures with her camera, Jordyn leaning back into Luke’s chest, and even Grace is here, Quinn’s arm wrapped around her waist that’s starting to show her small, beautiful baby bump. Grace is supposed to be on tour singing in front of a sold-out crowd in Florida right now.
And then there’s Dougie. And Jesper and Nicole and their toddler son. And Timo and Steph. And Erik and Kristen and their kids. And Seamus. And Jonas. And Ethan. And Nate and Dawson and their significant others. And seemingly almost every other Devils player, most present, some past. And then there’s Trevor, Alex and Cole and Clementine feels like she’s 21 again.
Then there’s her family, blood related and not. Her Uncle Thomas and Aunt Mariana — Thomas is Miguel’s younger brother. Her Aunt Aoife, who was in California literally two days ago. Those are the only blood-related family members who live in the US, and they’re all here. Then there’s Lara and John and Emily, who’s somehow 16 now. Other various members of the Hughes extended family who she’s always loved are dispersed around. 
And then a smattering of her friends from UCLA, Stanford and NYU, all cheering enthusiastically. The ones who made all those years filled with light even in the darkest crevices.
The house is filled with so many people she loves. As she turns back to look at Nico, she feels overwhelmed. “What’s all this?” She chokes out.
“To celebrate you,” Nico says with a twinkle in his eye. 
“His idea, by the way.” Emilia calls out with a grin. Clementine has to laugh. Because of course it is. 
“I love you,” she whispers to Nico, pecking him on the lips. 
“I love you.” He repeats back. “Now go celebrate with everyone.”
And celebrate with everyone she does. As she does that, she can’t help but steal glances at Nico from wherever she is in the room. Because she’s been blessed with having a wonderful support system — the people currently in this house prove that — but there’s never been anyone quite like Nico who just loves her so wholly and wants to celebrate her all the time. 
Later that night, after she bids goodbye and a gracious thank you to Jesper and Nicole, who stayed to help clean up, she lets out a deep breath. It’s just her and her brothers and all the significant others now, Ellen, Jim and Maeve having retired up to bed half an hour ago. She collapses on the couch next to Nico. She stays quiet as she listens to Luke and Grace arguing about something that really reminds Clementine that Grace may be married to Quinn, but Grace met Luke first at a bar in New York years ago and has refused to stop making fun of him since then.
It was just her and the boys for so long. She’s so happy that they’ve all found their own counterparts throughout the years. 
“Thank you for today,” she mutters to Nico. “Seriously. It was…thank you.”
“Of course,” Nico says, his thumb going over the ring on her left hand. “You’re so loved, baby. Any chance to remind you of that is worth it to me.” She just leans up to kiss him. 
“Ew,” Luke says, ruining the moment. Jordyn slaps him for that one. 
Clementine scoffs, “Fuck off. We’re literally getting married next month.”
“Okay and?” Even at 25, Luke is still her annoying little brother. “I know today’s your day and all, but sucking face with my captain is not something I really want to see.”
“Then look away.”
Quinn snorts under his breath. “You guys are impossible.”
“Learn to deal with it, Quinny,” Jack smirks. “You have a child coming soon. If they’re anything like Grace, they’re gonna be fighting you all the time.” 
Grace reaches over her husband and shoves Jack. “Watch it, Hughes. Unless you want your backstage pass taken away when you come to my show in two weeks.”
Jack gasps dramatically. “But I haven’t gotten to see you perform in ages!”
“Exactly. So zip it.”
Amelie makes eye contact with Clementine and Nico with an eye roll. “They exhaust me.” And Clementine has to laugh, because they’ve all made the choice to be exhausted by each other.
Soon after, everyone’s tired out from the day’s festivities and starts heading to their respective rooms for the evening. Clementine trails behind everyone, shutting the lights off and making sure the doors are locked. 
She’s about to shut the light off in the living room when she stops, catching sight of a photo frame hung on the wall opposite the couch. They don’t have many frames hung up around the house, but the photos they do have hung up are important.
She stares at her father’s face. The picture was taken when Clementine was fifteen. The three of them were about to go to Thomas and Mariana’s wedding, Maeve in a long blue dress, Miguel in a dashing suit with a matching blue tie and Clementine in a glittery pink dress. They’re all smiling at the camera in front of a sunset. It’s one of Clementine’s favorites. 
Suddenly, her throat closes up as her father’s voice echoes through her brain. “The universe is gonna give you muchas flores,” he always said. All the flowers, he would say. She thinks he said that on the hospital bed on his last day. She’s long forgiven herself for not remembering every word from that day anymore. 
Nico comes from behind and his hands wrap around her shoulders as she grabs his wrists. She then turns her head to the picture right next to it and smiles. It’s of her and Nico almost two years ago on New Year’s Eve, four hours before Nico would get down on one knee and ask her to spend the rest of their lives together. And then lastly, to the right of that picture, a frame with three pictures in one. Her, Quinn, Jack and Luke all during their respective drafts. The same photoset is hanging in their homes as well. 
She feels Nico kiss the back of her head and she smiles, before turning and heading to bed, Nico’s arm around her shoulder.
long live the walls we crashed through
i had the time of my life with you
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pallases · 3 years
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oreo milkshakes my beloved
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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years
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“It’s Alfred dayyyy” - Batfam x Fem!Reader
Synopsis : Every year, every single year, your family reunites to celebrate the marvel that Alfred Pennyworth is.
Because Alfred does deserve his own “holiday” really. This has been sitting in my draft for almost two years, someone send me an ask that reminded me of it and I just suddenly really wanted to write it. I hope you’ll like it : 
my master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives
__________________________________________________
Midnight, a new day :
“And we will be waiting for you at 8 am, your mom and I forced him to sleep in, but we all know he will be awake by that time anyway.”
“Ok, I’ll pick Jaybird on my way there.” 
“Jason is coming ?” 
“He said he would.”
“Oh. Good.” 
Dick did his hardest not to roll his eyes. “Oh. Good.” he says, as if the news didn’t make him wanna jump in joy. But of course, the Batman has a reputation to keep, if he showed too much emotions in one sitting, he’d probably explode. 
The truth was that if Jason was coming...Well if Jason was coming, it meant they were finally on the road to forgiveness. And Dick knew that Bruce had been waiting a long time for this. Bruce...and everyone else really. 
Especially you and Alfred. 
“In any case, be there by 8. We’ll do the usual. Now that I think of it, could you maybe pick up his cake at West Side’s bakery ? Your mother was going to do it, but if you pick up Jason...I think he lives in the area ?” 
Of course, Bruce knew exactly that Jason indeed lived not far from Alfred’s favorite bakery. Because he was keeping an eye on him. Not out of mistrust, or thinking he would kill again (he promised his mom, you, he would stop, but the promise was still recent, so was his return), but because...Well, it was his boy. 
Ever since Bruce adopted Dick, he never stopped worrying about his kids. He never stopped trying to keep an eye on them. It got even worst after Jason’s death...He was actually overbearing many times, which lead Dick away more than once. 
But he’d always be back. 
Just like Jason, eventually, would be fully back. 
For the moment, it was enough that he’d come by tomorrow. 
For tomorrow was the one and only...”Alfred day”. 
“Yeah sure, we can pick the cake up.” 
“Alright. Well. I’m going home, and you lot should too. We promised Alfred, after all. An entire day without any vigilante’s business. Unless there’s an emergency of course. Good night.” 
“’Night dad.” 
Bruce turns to his youngest kids, expecting them to follow him, but Damian says : 
“We’re right behind you, we’re just gonna hang out with Grayson a little more. Since he moved to Blüdhaven, we almost never see him...”
“Guiltripping me will not work little brother.” 
“Are you sure ?” 
Silence. And then Dick turns to his father : 
“I’ll get them home soon, we’re gonna go get some ice cream.” 
Bruce smiles, of this small genuine smile he only has when around his children. He nods, tell them not to stay out too late, and leaves, on his way back to you. 
12:30 pm, Batcave.
“You are late, Master Bruce.”
“Only by half an hour. I had to see Dick before coming back. Logistic talk.” 
As he speaks, Bruce takes his armor off, stretching a little after this short night full of not much happening. As if every villain in Gotham knew this day was happening, and they too would give a break to the butler (because if Bruce was resting, then Alfred could rest too). 
“Well it means you’ll have to start half an hour late tomorrow, this is the deal. Where are the children ?” 
“Alright. I will. And they’re getting ice cream with Dick. Now please, go to bed before she catches you up.” 
“Lady (Y/N) will understand that I was making sure you are home on time.” 
“She does understand yes, and she’s also telling you to go rest this instant ! You have slept even less than Bruce this past few days for god’s sake !” 
Both Bruce and Alfred jumps a bit as you enter the bat cave, smiling at them. Alfred raises his hands in a sign of peace, smiles at you, gives you a kiss goodnight on your forehead (a nightly tradition, by now...you never had a dad, and Alfred took it upon him to catch up lost time), and leaves. 
You turn to Bruce, and gives him your hand. 
He takes it gladly, a smile on his lips. The kind he only shows when around those he loves... 
A “glad you’re here” kiss, and a few words : 
“You know, my favorite thing about this day is that you’re home all day long, and I don’t have to miss you...” 
As usual, your words grip his heart, and his arms tighten around you. Even after years of being together, you could always make his pulse race with only a few words. Sometimes just a look...
He doesn’t resist or look back, when you give his hand a pull and leave the bat cave. 
Rare were the occasions Bruce would forget about his vigilante work. In fact, only one day a year, would he completely forget about it. Because he promised. And because it was a special day. 
A day to celebrate the man he came to view as his father. 
Alfred day. 
1 am, in “Giovanni’s 24/7 gelato” shop. 
The waiter of the place didn't even blink, as he served ice creams to a bunch of kids at 1 am, in the heart of Gotham. Used to it really. Nothing in this city was like any other place. Most people were night dwellers, even children.
Probably because, thanks to a certain group of vigilante, they all felt safer when the sun was down. 
“So, how did it start exactly, this Alfred day ?” 
Duke asks, after taking a full scoop of his favorite ice cream, curtesy of a certain Dick grayson. 
You had told Duke, about a week prior to it, that he had to clear his schedule for this particular day but didn’t really explain what it was exactly. Just that it was to celebrate Alfred. Not giving much more context. 
Dick smiles, and say : 
“How did it start ? Haha, oh man, it’s quite the story.” 
With an annoyed sigh, Damian says : 
“Just out with it already Grayson, we know, you were the only one that knew them by then blahblahblah.” 
“Do I sense a hint of jealousy, little bird ?” 
Damian doesn’t answer, but plants his spoon a little bit more aggressively in his gelato. Ah yes, maybe he was a tiny bit jealous that Dick had the luck to have their parents all for himself, once upon a time...Maybe. 
“Well anyway, legend has it that mom chose the date.”
Dick takes a dramatic pause, making the siblings who already heard the story (so everyone but Duke) roll their eyes. Their oldest brother had a flair for dramatic retelling of past events. 
“A long long time ago, on this day, when I was only 8 and just came into the family, they got into a bad fight. When I was little, before Jason came in, they got on the verge of breaking up a few times. Even did really broke up once, worst fucking time of my life, feeling like I was losing another family (A/N : referencing this story : The break-up)...”
A shot pause, this time, not for dramatics, but because the memory was genuinely painful and Dick had to take a short break. He continues : 
“So anyway, on this day, a long time ago, Mom discovered how vital Alfred was to this family. She said it’d been a day where she wanted to literally kill our father because he was so damn annoying, and overly brooding, and stupid – her words not mine- and that Alfred calmed her in just a few words. I don’t quite know what he told her, or what he told dad. All I know is that he told me that he wouldn’t let them break-up again over a stupid fight, and um, next thing I know, I’m avoiding the East wing for a few hours.” 
“Oh...Oh no Dick gross !” 
Dick chuckles, enjoying a bit too much messing with his little siblings. 
“Anyway, mom decided that Alfred deserved a day, in the year, where we would do everything HE wants because without him, our family would crumble. It just sort of became a tradition. So from midnight right now, to midnight of next day, no vigilante business. And we spend the day all together with him.” 
“That’s actually...a really sweet story ?” 
“It really is Dukie, it really is.”
“Dukie ?”
“Ah sorry, you’re part of the family now, which earns you a nickname from me. Jaybird. Timbo. Dami. Cass or Cassie if I feel like being a particularly doting older brother. So...had to find one for you. It was between Dukie and Dukester so-”
“Dukie is fine.”
Everyone snickers as Duke rolls his eyes, and then he asks : 
“So...What exactly are we gonna do ?” 
“Oh, well it’s simple. It starts at 8 am when we arrive, and we kick off with...”
4 am, Alfred’s bedroom. 
You open the door to Alfred’s room quietly, as you would sometimes to make sure your children sleep. 
This time, you were checking to see if the butler did really go to bed. One of the point of Alfred day, was that he had to feel perfectly fine, and he never had a full night rest ! 
So if you had to make sure he did during that time, then you would. 
Your children had came home a few hours ago, happy they had some time with their oldest brother. Dick had been away often lately, and they missed him...You knew they were gonna guilt trip him into buying them a snack. 
You and Bruce had had some alone time before they came home, that you definitely took advantage of...But for now, you escaped your husbands grip to come and check on Alfred, making sure he was sound asleep. 
And he was. Good. Perfect. He’d have a good night sleep. A full night of sleep. 
Quietly, you left the room again, unaware that a smile slowly rose on the Butler’s face... 
8:02 am, Alfred Day : 
Bruce is the one that opens the front door for them. They have their own keys, of course...but they both forgot them, as usual. 
They’d normally just climb through a window, or sneak into the backyard, knowing where all the security devices were (the back door was never closed because of this), but decided that for this day, they’d just ring the bell and come in the right way. 
Without much surprise, Bruce answers the door. It’d either be him or you, during Alfred’s day. Or anyone that wasn’t Alfred really. 
Dick and Jason move to remove their shoes (house rules, NO SHOES inside) and coats, while Bruce looks at them, waiting for them so they can all walk back to the kitchen. 
Jason is the fastest, and there’s this embarrassed silence between the three of them. Bruce smiles awkwardly at Jason, who looks away as soon as their eyes meet. With a “tt” very typical of his little brother, Jason says : 
“Don’t misunderstand this, I’m here for Alfred. And...For mom.”
“I know.” 
“Good.” 
“Yes.”
Silence. Awkward, as Dick takes way too long to untie his shoes, and pretend he’s not hearing anything.
Bruce knows what he’s doing. He knows his oldest son is trying to give him some more time “alone” with Jason. But he’s not really sure what to say...
“I’m um...I’m glad you came.” 
Good. That was good. Keep going on that path Bruce, that’s actually-
“Yeah, whatever. I’m going ahead, you know the way Dick.” 
Damn. Almost there. Almost there with an actual moment between them two. Dick sighs, and puts a hand on his father’s shoulder. 
“He’ll come around.” 
Bruce doesn’t answer, he exhales slowly and nods, not very convinced...But today was not a day to dwell on the bad. Jason and him would make this work, if only for today. 
Because today was Alfred’s day.
8h30 am, the Kitchen. 
The butler came down in the kitchen, well rested and pleased to be greeted by his entire family. Your smiles already made his day perfect, and if “Alfred Day” was done in this instant, he’d still be happy. 
“Sit down Pennyworth, we have made breakfast for you ! Well...Mom and father did...but we helped ! I was in charge of making tea ! And I think you will appreciate the way I brewed it. I followed an ancient Japanese recipe, and I reckon an aficionado like yourself will appreciate it.” 
Damian bloomed when he was with his family. To people who didn’t know him as well as his siblings and parents, he could seem like a petulant and arrogant child, but he was the opposite of that. 
He was insecure, and unsure. Scared of being left alone. And so to overcompensate all the fear instilled in him by years of abuse from his “grandfather”, the infamous Ras Al’Ghul, Damian could be quite a little jerk sometimes. 
But when he was with his family...He opened up. He smiled. And he spend hours trying to brew the perfect cup of tea for the grandfather he actually chose to have. 
“Bruce made your favorite Alf’, didn’t do half a bad job either -you smile at your husband, and give him a quick peck, which have the famous result of making your children make their best “ew” face-. You taught him well.” 
You say, smiling widely at the butler.
It’s true, Alfred did teach Bruce how to cook really well. People often had the misconception the billionaire was bad at housework, which was wrong of course. 
When his parents were alive, they’d insist he still had chores to do, so he wouldn’t be too spoiled. And when Alfred raised him, he taught him as much as he could so that the boy could hold his own. 
Bruce was a great cook (you could definitely attest to that, what with him cooking your favorite meals on date nights and all). And he always made Alfred’s perfect breakfast for his special day. 
“Jason and I just arrived so we didn’t really participate, but we picked up your favorite cake so it counts right ?” 
Dick says, a wide smile on his face. Oh master Dick, Alfred blessed the day this little boy walked in their lives. 
He wasn’t so little anymore, but he was always such a joy to have over. Even when he had his tantrum as a youngster (and now sometimes too, although he became better in controlling his burst of anger), Alfred couldn't help but love that child. 
The butler turned to Jason, who shyly smiled at him and...Alfred’s heart was full. 
“I am very happy to see you in this house, Master Jason.” 
He said, as he sits around the kitchen table. Jason’s cheek tints slightly of red, as they always do when he’s a bit embarrassed and overwhelmed. 
Jason was such a kind and sensitive child. He never quite got used to compliments, having been used to abuse and hate, and he would always blush under them. Alfred was glad to see that, even after the horror Jason went through, small things could still make his cheek turn rosy...
Jason sat down at the table, looking happier than he had in ages. 
“For you.” 
Cassandra said, settling in front of him a plate full of food, while Damian put the the cup of tea down. 
Sweet little Cassandra. It was always a pleasure to hear her talk. Poor little thing was never taught love, or even how to talk...Having you in her life greatly helped. Having a family, greatly helped. 
She still didn’t talk very often, but when she did, all of her words truly counted. She laid a small kiss on Alfred’s forehead, to bid him good morning, and went to sit in her usual spot, right between you and Damian. 
“You will be happy to know, Alfred, that all of our electronic devices have been off since midnight last night ! Yes, even mine. Promise !” 
Tim exclaims, smiling at him. 
Tim was the only one out of all of Bruce’s children to have entered this life willingly. The only one that came knocking at their door, just really wanting to help. 
Unfortunately, him too lost his parents over time (although they weren’t particularly great ones)...But the first impulse the boy had, was that he just loved Batman and wanted to give a hand ! 
Tim was selfless, maybe a little too much, and often worried you to death. He would get wrapped up in his projects even more than his father, and needed a constant reminder to take care of himself...task that you, Bruce, Alfred and his siblings would share gladly. He would give back anyway, working his ass off and putting his own life on the line for them any hour of the day... 
At the furthest side of the table from him, sat Duke. 
This was his first “Alfred Day”, and he was looking at things curiously, nonetheless happy to be here. 
Young Duke’s situation was a little special. His parents were still alive, and he still hoped they’d find a cure for their madness. Because of this, the boy would often distance himself on purpose from some family events, finding it hard to find his own place. 
This was one reason he didn’t wear the Robin mantel for long, and almost immediately went to be The Signal. It didn’t help either, that he was the only metahuman. 
And yet...Yet as the days went by, Duke felt more and more at home at the Manor, and would more and more hang out with everyone. More and more felt like he was truly part of the family, now. 
Of course, him moving to Wayne Manor was all very recent, and he needed time. Time that everyone was giving him willingly and gladly. Time to adjust and find his place. 
But here, sitting around the kitchen table bustling with activity and laughter, Duke felt like...he felt like this Alfred Day brought him one step closer to truly be a part of it all. After all, to him too, the butler had been nothing but great. 
Alfred had that talent, to congregate everyone around him... 
You felt happy, there, sitting amongst your children, your love, and the man you came to consider your father. 
Alfred had a good feeling, when he first met you. He knew. He knew you’d be the one to “tame” the bat, to not take his shit when he was being a jerk, and to give him unconditional love. 
“Unconditional”. 
It was important, to be in a relationship with a man like Bruce Wayne. 
But oh. Oh he was giving you back every bits of love you ever gave him, times a hundred. He let you in in his world, and had no intention of ever letting you go. 
Breakfast went by fast, as everyone talked away, and enjoyed each others company. 
It was very rare, nowadays, that everyone could be in the same place. At least one of them would be busy normally. But on this day...on this day they surely made sure they would be free. 
And so here they were, having breakfast altogether, happy. 
If only people from the outside could see this scene; If only. 
Then they’d know, just like Alfred knew, that this family was the strongest, tightest that ever existed, and that there was nothing but love between all of them. 
************
11 am, the theater.
Before the first “Alfred Day” happened, Wayne Manor did not have a “theater”. 
It had a “Ballroom number 3″. 
It was your idea, to turn it into a small theater, so that Alfred could perform for everyone. 
Over the years, you had realized that Alfred was actually a very talented actor. After all, he filled in Batman’s shoes many times, to pretend that Bruce couldn’t possibly be him. And he might’ve use his dramatic talent to convince you and the rest of your family to do what he wanted you to do...
Clever man. 
On Alfred Day, the first activity, after breakfast, would be to take part in a monologue of his. Usually shakespearian. But sometimes he’d come up with small surprises. He once recited the “heaven” part of the Divine Comedy by Dante, because he knew you loved that poem. 
It was absolutely brilliant, and you almost wished he had pursued an acting career instead of becoming the Wayne’s butler...but then, you would’ve never met him. 
By 11 am, breakfast would usually be done and it was time for a performance of a year. By that time, Barbara and Stephanie would’ve join. 
They didn’t live in the Manor, but they were close friend of the family. Friends that definitely knew how precious Alfred was to everyone. 
This year, Alfred decided to entertain you with a series of short monologues taken from a wide array of material, from Shakespeare to movies. It was fascinating. They all had their snacks as if they were at the movie theater, and were captivated by his performance. 
For Alfred, it was a way to relive his youth, working in London’s east end’s theaters. And to perform his hobby in front of a live audience. 
So sure, maybe said live audience might’ve been a bit biased towards him, but he knew their applause and praises were genuine. 
************
1 pm, East Wing living room. 
Lunch was always skipped, as you snacked too much during Alfred’s performance, and he was never hungry after he acted. 
You’d directly skipped to Alfred’s compliment session. 
He both loved and hated this time. Loved it because it was a treat to see he positively impacted his family. Hated it because it was never comfortable to just hear people compliment you The moment they gave him a cherished memory they shared with him...
Each year, one by one, they would tell him something he did for them that really was important to them. 
It was custom that the youngest would start. So Damian stood up, and said : 
“My memory this year, is one that happened not long after I came to live in Wayne Manor. I had just gotten into a fight with Tim, and been mean to mom as she tried to talk to me about it...I felt terrible. I felt like I would never be someone good. Pennyworth came in my room, ignoring me when I told him to get away from me. He settled some cookies for me, and told me a story of my father when he was young. Of how stubborn he used to be, and how sometimes, he’d say very hurtful things he didn’t mean...Alfred explained to me that it was normal to feel angry, when we’re hurt. That it was ok to not always be on our best behavior. That the people who love us will understand, and do understand. That they’ll still be there if they really care. Then he left, and I went to apologize to my mom. And she was there. I also apologized to Tim, and him too, was there...”
Damian sat back down, avoiding everyone’s eyes, as he felt too overwhelmed with feelings. You threw an arm around his shoulder, and he instantly hid his face in your own shoulder, acting like a little scared kitten who’d hide under his mom. 
It melted everyone’s heart, but nobody would say anything of course. This was between Damian and Alfred. 
It was Duke’s turn, and he was a little nervous, as it was his first time : 
“Mine is...Well...It’s going to sound so silly, after Damian’s heartfelt story, but one of my best memory with you Alfred, is when I first put The Signal mantel, and immediately hurt myself that night. I came back to the bat cave early, feeling shameful I couldn’t finish my patrol. You took care of my wound, and simply reassured me. It was just...soothing. I didn’t feel bad, as you stitched me up and calmed me down. I felt at peace, for the first time since my parents went mad...I can’t quite remember what you told me, as you just talked about random things, to calm me down. And it worked. As silly as it can sound, it worked. And that’s um...That’s when I started to feel good, here. Ok. That’s all.” 
Duke sat back down too, hoping Tim would start speaking soon. Thankfully, he did. 
“The memory I chose to share today, is one that is rather recent. I was struggling with some...self-worth issues. I felt like I could never fill dad’s shoes. Or Dick’s. Or Jason’s. Or anyone’s. I felt like I was trash. Like I was wasting away. I felt anxiety eating me up, and I was too scared to talk to anyone about it. Even to you, mom. I knew you’d find the right words, but I was just too scared you’d be worried about me. I know you worry a lot. So I didn’t say anything. Alfred walked in on me having a panic attack...and he helped me fight it. Then he scolded me because I didn’t tell anyone anything, and that it was a bad habit to always take all the burden on my shoulders. He then brewed me some tea, and talked about my favorite TV show with me to take my mind off of things...” 
Tim smiled at Alfred, and sat down. You reached for him, and squeezed his hand, making him understand you too, were there. And you worried about all of them all the time anyway so, ya know.
It was Cass’ turn now. Cass always had some interactive things, because she never spoke too long. She held up some drawings she had made (with the help of Damian). It represented her at a ballet recital (to which you all went by the way, and which was amazing. Cass was a talented little star). She gave the small comics to Alfred, took a deep breath, and said : 
“Thank you for helping me work on my dance, even when you were busy. You are a good teacher. For everything, from dance to how to make a perfect loaf of bread. I love your bread. I love your dance lesson. I love eating bread after our lessons. I love you more than bread. Even the sandwiches mom make with your bread and my favorite homemade jam.” 
She then did a few ballet dance move, and sat down again, holding her knees with her arms, and breathing deeply. It was still a difficult exercice for her, to speak. And to convey her feelings through words. It was always difficult, and quite an exploit that she said that much. 
Alfred smiled at her, before turning to Jason. 
“I’ll never forget the day you yelled at Bruce because he tied me up after I stole the batmobile’s tires. How livid you were, and how you threatened him to tell everything to mom. How he instantly looked scared at the idea of her being angry, and how you made him realize he went too far. How you were there, every step of my way adapting to life in a mansion, after living in the streets. But yes, above all, I’ll never forget the day someone stood for me for the first time, when you yelled at da-Bruce. When you yelled at Bruce for me.” 
He almost said “dad”. And that alone, was making Alfred’s heart happy. It was proof there still was some hope to salvage their relationship... 
“Ok, well I’ll be quicker than everyone else. And just say : you’re the best grandfather I could ever ask for.” 
With Dick, there was only two solutions. He would either go into a lengthy reenactment of a very specific event, or throw affirmations like that that would make Alfred feel tears coming to his eyes. 
Today, Dick decided on a short and sweet version, and it fitted perfectly. 
It was now your turn : 
“Every year, I’m reminded how vital you are to this family. And every year, it is tough to chose just one memory I love about you. I always have to think, because there’s so many. But I think this year, I will choose that time I said “yes” to Bruce after refusing his marriage proposal three times, and you screamed in happiness, through your broom across the room, and ran to hug me. It was so out of character for you, it makes me happy just to think about it. But I mean, I can understand the excitement...I was pretty content myself.” 
You smile, looking at your love, and he rolls his eyes at you, before smiling too. Of this pure smile he only shows you. And then he turns to Alfred, and tells him : 
“You made the loss of my parents bearable. Without you, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I’d probably turn...very dark.”
There was a small silence. 
Bruce’s speech was always short and to the point. 
And every time they were all done talking, Alfred would find himself with tears in his eyes. With those last few words from his son, this time didn’t escape the rule, and he found himself dabbing at the corner of his eyes. 
Damian’s next word released the emotional atmosphere as he looked at his father and said : 
“Tt, show off.” 
Everyone bursted in laughter, and this great day continued on... 
************
4 pm, interlude. 
This was Alfred’s few hours of utter peace. Everyone would leave him alone, and he could relax doing something he liked to do (usually reading or something of the sort) while not worrying about anyone. 
You’d give him space. It was very rare, for Alfred to be all alone with his thoughts, thoughts that he was forced to NOT have about his family. 
It was even rarer that he wouldn’t think about Bruce or you, or his “grandkids”. So in this day, when he knew none of them were doing anything dangerous, he took full advantage of it to relax his mind. 
In the meantime, you’d watch a film or two. 
Damian and Tim were in the process of choosing when Duke turned to Bruce, and a smirk on his face asked : 
“Soooo…I heard Alfred Day exists because you annoyed (Y/N) ? »
Bruce glares at Duke, ah he never quite likes to remember why Alfred Day exists…But before he can answer, you enter the room (you went to get some snacks for the movies) and exclaim :
“Don’t let Dick downplay how truly unsufferable he was that day ! Dick always manages to forgive his dad, and make things less worst than they are. It’s a talent really. Annoying doesn’t even cover how awful he was. He had one of those « dark days », decided he should break up with me for my own safety out of literally nowhere, yelled at baby Dick, was mean to Alfred saying he could fire him…I swear I could’ve slapped him.”
“You tried.”
“And if Alfred hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve succeeded. Anyway. Yes. You see, Bruce and I almost broke up that day because he was being really stupid, and Alfred...salvaged everything.”
“I was being stupid indeed...I almost lost...I...”
Sometimes, when he would remind himself of that day he almost went too far and truly drove you away, Bruce would feel almost like an anxiety attack coming over him. Because if he had lost you, and had continue on the path he was taking with Dick...Well he wouldn’t have had that second shot at having a family.
And it was enough of a frightening thought to be overwhelmed with anxiety.
“To be honest, I also was quite stupid. I can be stubborn too, sometimes. And there were time, at the beginning, where I wouldn’t try to be in your place...” 
You say, letting soothing fingers run through his hair, a motion you knew always relaxed him. Bruce instantly calmed down, as your kids made some disgusted faces at your closeness, and the incident was over. 
It was good, though, that Duke asked. First because it was actually pretty funny to think of the fearless Batman getting his ass kicked by his wife...but also because it was a good reminder to him of what he almost lost, and who he used to be. 
Alfred saved him. 
You saved him. 
His children saved him. 
And now, he could appreciate a relaxing movie time with all of you (minus Alfred, who was in his room, probably devouring the cake you got him (because yes, that cake was for him and him only), finally relaxed). 
The movie chosen, everyone took their usual spot on the massive couch, that Bruce had ordered specifically so that his big family could all fit on. 
At one point, both you and Bruce drifted off to sleep, in each others’ arms, and barely noticed your kids placing a blanket on you, rolling their eyes at how teeth rotting sweet you two were. 
6 pm, a walk through the park. 
Alfred loved Wayne Manor’s gardens. 
And he loved even more peacefully walk through them with his family. 
This was the time you were always reminded how massive the “backyard” was, when you’d go through acres of it. 
The kids would play soccer, baseball, football, or anything really. Alfred would often join. He was actually very athletic, and the kids would fight to have him on their team. 
You and Bruce would take part in it too, and your children would always make sure you’d be in the same team. Sure, sometimes you’d stop playing to smooch each others, like two damn teenagers...BUT, having you both on the same team would avoid triggering your crazy competitive minds. 
For some reason, whenever you had to play against each others, you’d both get very ruthless and petty, and it would often time get annoying (for real, you were forbidden to play UNO since a long time by then). 
You’d all spend some times outside, no matter the weather, enjoying a normal family outing. 
Alfred loved this time of the day. 
Because he loved the gardens, but most of all, he loved seeing his family being happy and together... 
9:30 pm, the dinner. 
Dinner was entirely prepared by you, and Alfred only had to come at the table and wait. 
By then, you had a perfect system that made it so the meal was prepped efficiently. It was Alfred’s favorite, of course. 
The table would be filled with all his favorite meals, prepared mainly by Bruce with you guys’ help. 
Your kids would pretend to be waiter in a fancy restaurant, and exaggerate everything, which was very funny. 
And you’d all share a meal, something that was quite rare, in this day and age. 
In fact, you were pretty sure that your entire family being reunited for a dinner happened max three times a year. For the holiday season, for Alfred Day, and for Batman day (you just thought it was funny to celebrate it). 
This was just a time to catch up, and to be together. 
Alfred would ask countless questions to everyone, and everyone would be polite and listen. It’d just be so nice, and relaxing... 
11:30 pm, almost the end. 
The day would end in the batcave, with everyone enjoying each others’ presence for a few more minute before you’d go back to a “normal” life. 
You’d talk about your favorite moment of the day, and how you always really liked “Alfred day”. 
And then it’d be over. Alfred would retake his butler position, and the Batman would prowl the streets of Gotham once more. 
You’d be their home support again, working the computer often, and you-
Ah. Yes. But not yet. 
There were still a few minutes. And it sounded like the perfect time for you to finally talk about a certain news...
You see, Alfred was the one you went to to vent. You loved your family with all your heart... But anyone knowing them just à little bit knew they could be à handful. And Alfred, he was always there. 
So it just seemed fitted for you, that you’d announce this news on that day. While everyone was around, and celebrating Alfred’s existence. 
Because what you were about to say, was one of Alfred’s dearest hope...
12:28 pm, 2 minutes before the end. 
You waited the very last minute, because you thought the effect would be even better. 
And as your husband and kids were ready to leave, you said : 
“Oh wait, I have one last thing to say on this very special day !” 
They all stopped, and turned around, looking at you. You smiled. Nervous, but happy. You knew that you and Bruce wanted this anyway, so it would be fine. And you knew your kids...your kids would be happy. For sure. 
But Alfred. Alfred would be over the moon. And so, without further ado, you said : 
“I’m pregnant !”
Bruce’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened dumbly. He froze on the spot, before smiling widely and starting to laugh stupidly. His first reaction was to go to Alfred, which you were expecting. 
Your children all reacted at the same time, rushing you like a wave of noise and excited screams and...pfiouh they could be overwhelming. 
Alfred was indeed over the moon. 
And he was the one calming your children, tearing them off of you so he could hug you, and give you some space, too. 
Because that’s what Alfred did. Take care of you. Of his family. 
And Alfred day, this year, ended with him looking at you and Bruce hugging tightly, overjoyed by the news of a future new little addition to the family. 
Up until next year, and this future baby’s first Alfred day...
_________________________________________________
Annnnd it’s 9:12 am, kept my promise to post something “today” haha. Probably not the best time to post. Buuuut...well, another sleepless night (or early morning, all about perspective really haha) of writing. I’m definitely back :). I hope you liked this story, I’m a little nervous after being gone for so long, I feel like I don’t know how to write anymore, and this is all very...mmmmbadhgezhe. I still do hope you liked it a little bit. 
Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3. 
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mamaspresley · 4 years
Text
like there’s no tomorrow | bucky barnes
a/n: saw something like this and decided to put my own spin on it. for all my bucky stans. also do u guys mind that i post marvel stuff? lmk
word count: 2.3k+
pairing(s): bucky x reader
warning(s): endgame spoilers but i’m assuming everyone has seen it or been spoiled already <3 also brief mention of breaking celibacy and traditional values. the fluffiest fluff at the end
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it started out like any other day. your alarm was annoyingly loud, blaring in your ear and giving you a headache from the moment you regained consciousness until you shut it off. you got out of bed, despite your best wishes, and took a shower. you had to be at the office in an hour, so you sped up the process and scrubbed your coconut shampoo in a little quicker than you’d like.
while applying your blush, your eyes wandered down to the small 3x3 photograph you had stuck to the inside of your mirror frame. you smiled at him — you knew bucky was smiling down at you, too. quickly, you lifted the picture, running your thumb over the old, worn, black and white photograph before placing a gentle kiss on it and slipping it back into it’s original place.
the rest of your day went as routine, taking the train to work and grabbing coffee for the boys at the office before inevitably running through the doors only a minute early. it wasn’t until quarter to noon that your schedule was altered, your day thrown off balance.
“y/n, you got a caller on line three!” your boss yelled from his office, and confused, you looked back down to the phone sitting on your desk. sure enough, there was a flashing light on the third line down. furrowing your eyebrows, you picked up the phone hesitantly, and pressed the button. 
“y/n y/l/n speaking.”
“y/n! so great to hear your voice. you wanna grab coffee?” you could hardly believe your ears. the phone shook in your weak hands as you stared down at the blinking light in shock. it couldn’t be. you hadn’t heard that voice in a year — not since he’d left for germany. not since he… died. 
“who is this?” it wasn’t him. steve had died in a fatal plane crash just twelve months before. you’d know steve’s voice from anywhere, but... 
“you know who it is, y/n. i’ll meet you at the automat in a few minutes.” the line went dead before you could get another word in, and you swore your jaw had dropped to the ground. your blood was running cold as goosebumps shivered up your spine. 
“what’s wrong, sweetheart? you seen a ghost or somethin’?” one of your coworkers asked. more like, talked to one. 
steve was waiting for you outside the doors of the infamous diner he’d told you to meet him at. he looked different — his blonde hair darker, long and slicked back. he was wearing some sort of outfit that you could tell he’d picked out of a lost and found, because the clothes were obviously a disguise and not something he would ever be seen out in. he wore a hat with some sunglasses, hands stuffed in his pockets as he leaned against the wall of the building. you called his name wearily, and all it took was for him to look up at you after his name, and you lunged yourself into his arms. 
“you’re real, you’re alive.” you breathed out a laugh before pulling away from your old friend, your hands still on his shoulders as you looked him up and down. “how is this— how are you— ?”
“that’s why i wanted to meet you,” he said. the look in his eyes told you that this was much deeper, much more complex than you could ever think, and you nodded before pulling him into the cafe. 
steve explained everything to you in the span of 10 minutes — the ice, the avengers, the stones. if it were anyone else, you wouldn’t have believed them. but steve was a true friend, one of your oldest and most loyal. he was one of the most honest, trustworthy people you knew — know? — so when he told you what he was doing back and why he had contacted you, you listened with an open mind. 
“i want to take you back with me.” steve grabbed your hand, which sat on the table, and looked you directly in the eyes. “take you home. to buck.”
your lips fell parted. “what?”
“he’s alive, y/n,” steve said, and you could’ve sworn you felt your heart stop beating right then and there. it was one thing for you to find out your best friend was alive, was more than alive really, but your boyfriend too? it couldn’t be true — as crazy as it sounded, you could almost fathom the awakening of steve after the ice, because no one had really seen him die. but bucky... steve had watched him fall from the train. he’d seen it with his own eyes and he was the one to deliver the news to you. and now he was telling you that he was alive? bucky hadn’t died just as much as steve hadn’t?
“i don’t... i don’t understand.” you peered up at steve with a sort of fear in your eyes. steve sighed, squeezing your head as he pressed his lips into a thin line before speaking.
“he’s alive, y/n. he’s doing good, and he’s waiting for me, for you, to come back. so come with me.”
you couldn’t possibly imagine a life in the 21st century, let alone a life with an alive bucky. you had just spent the last year trying to reprogram your brain out of dreaming of that fantasy, only for steve to come back and tell you it could be a reality. bucky was the love of your life, your soulmate by no doubts. steve had always said you were the couple that everybody hated but secretly envied because of the love that you shared. since you could remember, you were infatuated with the boy. you grew up beside each other, born only a few months apart with bucky being older by 74 days (he made sure to use that against you as much as he possibly could). you used to have a string thrown between both of your bedroom windows, cans attached at the ends so you could talk at night when you were supposed to be sleeping. it was the same window you would look out of everyday you woke up to see if bucky was awake, the window you’d have to cover as a teenager because bucky would stare in any chance he got. you started as best friends but grew up as more — there was never really a point where you decided to become a couple. bucky was your first kiss in the third grade, and he was the first person you’d had sex with as well. now that you think back on it, he was the only one. all of your firsts were bucky and continued to be him. you remember the day so clearly in your head when he had been drafted, getting the letter in the mail and seeing the look of horror on his face when he picked up the envelope once he got home. you remember hugging him, kissing him, telling him that it was going to be okay, that he’d be home before he knew it. you remember the day he didn’t come back, when you found out he’d been apart of the group of the 107th that didn’t make it. you were so sure in that moment that it was the worst pain you’d ever felt, but it was much worse when you got news of his true, confirmed death, delivered by his best friend and yours by association, steve. it was in combat, he was doing what he strongly believed in. you had been furious at steve that day, throwing things and calling him profound names, no words a lady should ever speak. it obviously wasn't personal — you grew to be closer with steve than anyone had imagined — and now you sat here with the boy who had told you of his passing, who was telling you he was alive. bucky was the only boy you’d kissed, touched, loved. he was the only thing you knew, which was why it was so hard when you had lost him. twice. to hear he was alive, waiting for you, it was a feeling so overwhelming that the answer became so clear. there was no way you could say no to seeing the love of your life, getting the life that you had spent the last year mourning over the lack thereof. it was obvious what you’d do. you would do anything for bucky. 
“okay,” you said with a few firm nods. steve smiled excitedly, and you pulled your hands away from him to nervously ring them out, letting out a breath from your red lips. “now do it quick, or however this works. i wanna see him. i need to.”
***
“where is he?” sam asked, looking on at the platform that was empty, where steve should’ve been standing. 
“i don’t know, he blew right by his time stamp,” bruce said nervously, flipping a couple switches and fiddling with the buttons unknowingly. 
“get him back.” sam was growing impatient, worried for his friend. he should be back by now. 
“i’m trying.”
“get him the hell back!” sam shouted, and the group fell silent save for the rapid switches and clicks of bruce messing around with the machine. bucky sighed, arms crossed as he shook his head, turning around. he couldn’t bear to watch. 
suddenly, bucky’s eyes fell onto a bench a couple yards away, through the trees and out near the water. a man sat there, looking out at the sunset, as a lady sat with her head on his shoulder, slouched some. it was obvious that the man was older while the lady was still quite young, and bucky felt his lips twitch into a frown while his mind ran rampant. “sam...” he mumbled, never letting his eyes tear from the two. had they been there before?
the sound of crunching leaves under heavy boots had you lifting your head off steve’s shoulder before the two of you turned to see sam, standing warily beside you with his eyes cloudy. as selfish as it was, you weren’t there for sam. but, like steve had told you, where sam is, so will be bucky, so you turned around in search of the man. you saw him standing a few yards away, arms crossed and long hair swaying in the breeze. you felt a few strings tug at your heart when you locked eyes and immediately, you stood up.
bucky’s lips parted, arms dropping to his sides. he looked utterly stunned at the sight of you, and you didn’t blame him. you’d felt the same way just earlier today.
you took off running, sprinting as fast as your legs, and the now-outdated heels that you wore, could take you. bucky laughed through tears as he watched you run towards him, and soon enough you were throwing yourself into his embrace. bucky wrapped both arms, flesh and metal, around you, his girl, breathing in your familiar scent that hadn’t changed a bit since 1945. coconut, from your shampoo, if he remembered correctly. bucky used to wash your hair with that shampoo, his fingers working the scented suds into your scalp with your back flushed against his chest when you used to take showers together. you remembered how unorthodox you two were, with your non-traditional values and how mad you used to make your families. you remembered when you made love for the first time, when you and bucky weren’t married yet — still weren’t — and how alive you’d felt. bucky could recall the feeling of butterflies in his stomach when he watched you strip in front of him that night, only shortly after you’d whispered, “i don’t want to wait for you, buck.” 
he didn’t want to wait for you, either. 
bucky tightened his arms around the small of your back, squeezing his eyes shut as he relished in the moment. all memories that he had with you came flooding back, but this time he didn’t look at them in sorrow — he remembered them, and embraced them with open arms, knowing he would soon make more memories with you, the girl he called his one true love. bucky didn’t want to lose this moment, and you didn’t either. 
bucky was so, so hesitant to pull away. it was the slowest, most gentle action, the way his hand slipped up to cup your face, peeling you back slightly so he could adore you but still keeping you flush to his chest. bucky smiled softly, feeling his tears break loose and cascade down his cheeks while he looked down at you in his arms. your eyes darted between bucky’s, reading him so well, like you’d always been able to. because you knew bucky, and you loved him. you had loved him for over 100 years.
bucky was the first to speak, breaking the silence with a breathy laugh, a sob escaping his lips before he whispered, “hi darling.”
you let out a breath that you’d been holding in for nearly a year now and pressed your lips to bucky’s. his lips were the same as you remembered, soft and plump against yours, tasting of mint and always remaining moist considering he had a habit of licking his lips when he became nervous. his mouth slanted perfectly over yours, just like before, as one of his hands moved through your hair and took home on the side of your neck, and the other came to the small of your back, pulling you as close to him as possible. you fisted his sweater in your hands tightly, humming against his lips before you broke apart for air, his forehead resting on yours while you caught your breath. 
“i missed kissing you,” he mumbled in the same, familiar, and oddly comforting brooklyn drawl he sported. bucky sighed once again, his tongue darting out before he took his lower lip into his teeth, and he said, “i missed you.”
“i missed you too, buck.” you lifted your chin, locking eyes with the man that barely looked recognizable on the outside, but you could tell just by taking one look in his eyes that he hadn’t changed too much. “more than you could imagine.”
bucky brought his other hand up, running his fingers over your forehead and tucking some hair behind your ear mindlessly. you smiled, reaching a hand up to intertwine your fingers with his. when you made contact with some sort of metal, you gasped, grabbing a hold of his wrist and peeling his hand away for you to look. his hand was a grey, steely colour and shone in the sunlight. you pushed his sleeve up, revealing more of the same material. “you have a metal arm?”
bucky chuckled, nodding as he watched you inspect the makeshift limb. “it’s cool, right? i lost it when i fell from the train and the germans gave me this.”
“the germans?” you lifted your eyes to meet his, eyebrows raising as you tried not to gape at this fact of his life that he spoke so calmly about. 
a look of confusion washed over bucky’s face before he realized, “oh, you don’t know.”
“of course i don’t know! what don’t i know?” you rambled on for a good while, something about how you were shocked he was alive, had survived, but to be frank bucky wasn’t paying any attention. he just watched you, his lips curled into a bashful smile. he missed your rambling.
almost as much as he missed you.
***
tags: @everydayimfangirling @ilovejjmaybank @yelyahryan @trashmouthpogues @beckester @majoroof @hoewkeye @alwaysasadaesthetic @thatshiscigar @fanficscuziranout @beatement-l @decap-quadrant @jayjaymaebank @maybankiara @obx-direction-sos
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Just A Little Rant
I'm sorry everyone for taking such a long time with the updates the next part of Magic and Cold-Hearted is in my drafts. Every time I have a little motivation dedicated towards writing, my stupid job manages to drain me of it. By the time I get home I just want to lay down and stream some shows or movies. I don't even have the energy or need to eat after work sometimes. And what sucks the most about this is that I actually really like my job, or at least I use to. Unlike most people who work in retail I love my customers and I'm always happy to help them with something. But I'm the only worker on the floor for 4 hours of my shift.
I work in Sam's Club and it's a huge freaking store so it's hard to cover that entire store by myself for 4 hours. But somehow I manage it but it seems like my bosses are always finding things to complain about. Like how my assigned area which I'm only in for like 2 hours of my shift doesn't look perfect at the end of the night. But keep in mind when I get off there are still customers in my area shopping and messing with things in my area. Not to mention right now I'm only scheduled for 5 hour shifts, and I would love to leave 4pm everyday. But no I stay late to help them as much as I can everyday, and I'm getting so tired of hearing how I'm not fast enough, or I walk around to much.
Oh yeah and for those four hours I'm by myself the jewelry counter is also my responsibility. It literally took me thirty minutes to checkout one lady today because she paid with like 7 gift cards and cash. Which I usually had no problem but it was time for our team meeting, and I knew they would be looking for me. But I'm happy I missed it considering it was meeting about me not doing enough. I know this little rant turned into a big one and sorry. But it's been a long week and I honestly can't wait to find a new job. One that leaves with some energy for my creative side. I will posting some story updates on Sunday for sure. Thank you everyone for everything.
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fitmydaydream · 4 years
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Lazy Mornings
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Prompt: Just some morning fluff about you fancying Shawn while he's asleep.
Word Count: 1.4K
A/N: Hey fellas! This has been sitting in my drafts since forever so I finally decided to post it. A little nervous about this one but I really hope you guys like it!
You always admired the mornings because you've always been an early hours kind of person. Seeing the sky fill with light filled you with new hope to start the day afresh. Lazy mornings were something which were never on your list but being with Shawn made you feel like you had to prioritize them over the early ones. And why wouldn't you? You would kill to have those few extra minutes of closeness with Shawn which you've always craved for being more frequent because he was on tour for almost seven months of the year. His tour has finally ended and he'd come back home. The way his face beamed of joy when he saw you at the airport and engulfed your body in an almost suffocating embrace the other night was something you couldn't get off your mind.
The alarm clock hits the time and the sound fills up the quiet room amongst the light snores from your man, which were the only audible thing in the room and you loved waking upto that. 
Groaning, you shut the alarm off. Mentally cursing yourself over forgetting it to turn off the last night because when Shawn's home, you prefer not to get woken up by anything else other than Shawn's immaculate morning kisses, one of the little things about him towards which you've developed your love for. Shawn wasn't among one of the cheesiest boyfriends you would categorize him into. He wouldn't bring breakfast for you to bed because he said it would be a total displeasure spending his time cooking rather than investing that time with you in bed, smothering you with kisses and holding you close. But he was one of those kinds who would rather have a takeaway and drive you to the beach in the early hours of the morning because watching sunsets with a picnic basket were too mainstream. That was who your Shawn was. Being the sweet spice in your life.
But today you'd decided against waking him up because he needed rest after finally coming back home after a long stretch of work. 
Pulling the covers off from you, you walk towards the window to pull the blinds off, hissing at the sudden cold hitting your bare legs. Sunlight flooded in once you tucked the blinds away and climbed back to your shuffled bed. A thin ray of sunlight hitting your boyfriend's face as you rested the weight of your body on one arm to take in the beautiful sight. You were so invested in him that it didn't even came into your realisation the moment your free hand was gently tracing his eyebrow. The sunlight spilling on his face, painting his face in a new shade of golden. The lashes forming a shadow beneath, adding to their lushness. The pad of your thumb now moving across the bridge of his nose all the way through the eyelids. Your index finger tracing the depth of his cheekbones bringing a frown upon your face as the sudden increase in their deepness. Meanwhile, a tiny cold wave of air brushed past your arm, making you retreat your hands from Shawn's face and covering your body with the sheets.
The sudden loss of contact might have been noticed by Shawn in his subconscious sleep because the moment you pulled your hand away from him to tug up the blanket of yourself, his hand found his way to yours and putting it back to it's place. A smile plastered on your face as you thought of him having his presence of mind while you were adoring his morning beauty.
"Oh did I just wake someone up?" you asked him in a cooing voice followed by light giggles.
"You might have disturbed my beauty sleep love" Shawn stated in his raspy morning voice.
"Well then I guess I'll have to keep my hands to myself. I sure as hell don't want my boy to sacrifice something which could be a compromise to his beauty right?" you joked in a light tone, dramatically pulling your hands away from him and trying to get out of the bed.
Shawn was quick to respond. To your surprise he wasn't as lost in his sleep as you thought he would be seeing his past sleep schedule. His arms were quick to wrap around your waist and withdraw you back to where you were before. His fingers danced around your tickle spots, as he started to place himself above you. 
"Shawn! S-Stop. I am n-not escaping any-ymore!" you muttered in between your laughs, holding onto his arms in an attempt to stop him. 
"How can I trust you my lady? Huh?" His hands now on both of your sides as he hovered above you.
Your arms found its way behind his bare back, holding onto him, pulling him down in an effort to close the distance as much as possible. Shawn dipped his head, placing his lips at the corner of your lips while a smile played at his. He started placing chaste kissed along your jaw, your hands tugging at his messy curls. 
"Just what I missed" you hummed against his skin. You'd missed his gentle touch, how he would play around with his lips all over your face, kissing each and every spot. 
His lips now connecting to yours, moving in a rhythm. Your hands travelled to the nape of his neck, blandly scratching the area which earned a moan from him. His teeth drew at your bottom lips, mildly pulling at them.
"God Y/N baby I missed you so much. I can't wait to do this all day for a while now." He finished as he pecked your lips.
"I didn't know I can be that irresistible sometimes which is a good thing" you beamed at him. 
"I wasn't finished yet. So I was saying I can't wait to do this all day just so you can play with my hair and put me back to sleep because you messed up my sleep this very morning. No offence meant." he mumbled nestling his head into the crook of your neck. 
"All offence taken." You stated acting like you were hurt, placing a hand over your chest.
"I think I can take care of that." He said as he raised his arm to take something from the side table. You couldn't figure out what it was until it was in his hands. 
Shawn was holding a Polaroid camera in his hands. He sat up and focused on you. You were completely startled at to what he was doing. As an instinct, you had your arms cover up your face.
"Shawn Peter Raul Mendes you better put that camera down. I look like a utter mess and I'm not to be messed with" you warned him jokingly, because you knew when he took your pictures at random moments. According to some plausible theory of his that he feeded in your mind, these pictures made him feel better at anxious times as he was reminded of everything that he shared with you. The closeness he craved to have, the love and the intimacy which he had with you to look forward to at the end of the day, got him through the tougher days. The nights he would come to you, being quieter than usual due to a stressful day at the studio, you would gently lay down with him without putting up any question. His head on your stomach and your hands in his hair, gently scraping his scalp making him doz off to sleep.
"Baby please. You know how much I love taking photos of you." Shawn begged you with his one eye popping from beside the camera and even though you could see his mouth, you were sure it'd turn into a pout. Five seconds and that face was all what took him to convince you.
You removed your hands from your face giggling at his innocence and at yourself over how stupidly you were head over heels in love with him. This was the type of connection and intimacy you've longed since long. 
After snapping a few shots, Shawn pulled you onto his lap, hands on your lower back while placing a sweet and lingering kiss onto your forehead.
"Look at you being all smiley today" he whispered against your skin.
"Yes because I was thinking of you the whole time" you replied, a visible grin spreading across your lips.
Feedback is forever appreciated. Let me know if you guys enjoyed this one! Thank you for reading <3 MASTERLIST 💕
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rhysismydaddy · 4 years
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My Little Brawler - Feysand Headcannon 2
I’ll just go ahead and preface this by saying it’s long as SHIT. I went a little crazy. But here’s the second headcannon for Feysand. Thank you for the love on the last one! Next one out tomorrow. 
Synopsis: Feyre Archeron is a 31 year old researcher who has devoted her entire life to her work. Her dating history is a mess, from an ex-husband to one night stands. A serious relationship? Hell no. 
Rhysand Turner is a Virginia-born quarterback living it up in a football-crazy city. He doesn’t date and sticks to dumb blondes who look good on his arm and think how far he can throw a football is better than sex. Marriage? Not in a million years. 
________________________________________________________________
Feyre swung the lab door closed, locked it behind her, and headed toward the hospital exit. 
“Calling it a night?” Howie, the night-shift security guard asked from behind his desk. 
She glanced at her watch and winced. “More like a morning now, but yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
He laughed and went back to his crossword puzzle. Nothing interesting happened in the hospital this late at night outside of the ER, so Howie was basically only there for her. Feyre frequently was the last staff member to leave the place, something her coworkers never understood. 
She came in early, left late, and worked holidays. To say she was married to her job would be an understatement. 
Grabbing her keys and walking out to her car, she had to admit they had a point. She’d given up her entire life for her work, but she had no regrets. 
She’d made countless breakthroughs in nuclear medicine and had changed the face of chemotherapy and radiation. It payed off every day when she heard from the oncologists that one of their patients was cancer free. 
As she drove to her townhouse--only four minutes from the hospital--she wondered if it was strange she preferred to be alone.
Then she remembered how she’d ended up when she committed herself to a relationship and shook her head. If you can’t trust the man you’re married to, who can you trust? No one. 
She didn’t miss being married. At all. She didn’t miss having to come home from a long day at work and muster up the energy to talk about whatever was bothering him. 
She did miss sex, though. She never went out, never invited anyone over. It’d been so long since she’d been with a man, she was pretty sure she had cobwebs down there.
Ignoring that thought, Feyre walked through her front door, threw her keys on the kitchen table, and went to bed. She had to be in the hospital in four hours if she wanted to get ahead of her schedule. 
_________________________________
Rhysand jogged off the field, grinning at the look on his coach’s face. 
“If you’re in love with me, I don’t want to know,” he joked. 
Coach Matthews was at least five inches shorter than Rhys, but he reached up and smacked the back of his head anyway. He wasn’t actually mad, though. There were about three people in the world who could get away with talking trash to Adrian Matthews, and Rhys happened to be one of them. 
“Shut up, smartass. I’m just excited. If you play like this tomorrow, we’ll wi-”
Rhys cut him off. “Don’t jinx me.”
A raised eyebrow. “After all this time, you’re superstitious?”
“It could be my last game,” he said, ignoring the look on the man’s face. “I don’t need any bad luck.”
He’d never admit it, but losing tomorrow’s game was easily the scariest thing in Rhys’s life. 
Talent wise, there was no one better than him. He wasn’t cocky, but he knew it. He had better stats, better knowledge of the game, better everything. 
But, according to sports, Rhys was old as dirt. 
No matter how good you are, football isn’t a lifetime sport. Even though thirty-eight would be young to almost anyone’s standards, network channels and reporters were all wondering how long he would push on. 
The guys he was competing against were all in their twenties, young and fresh and without back pain. And knee pain. And-
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, idiot. No matter what happens tomorrow, you’ve had the most impressive career as a NFL quarterback in history. So get your head out of your old ass and play the game you know how to play.” 
Rhys just laughed. “My old ass? What about you? When did you even sneak out of the retirement home?”
Before Matthews could attempt to kick his ass, a beefy hand smacked into Rhys’s back and Cassian--the other person allowed to talk shit to coach--said, “Oh, I see. You made a few good passes out there and now you’re over here drinking water and gossiping with coach like a couple old ladies. Cute.”
“Both of you, get your asses home and in bed,” the coach ordered, rolling his eyes. “I cannot believe I let myself draft two hard-headed, pain in the ass hillbillies,” he muttered, walking toward the other players. 
“He’s just mad because he’s in love with you,” Cassian said, throwing a thick arm around Rhysand’s shoulders, and dragging him to the locker room.  
Rhys pushed him off and laughed. “That’s exactly what I said.”
“So about tomorrow-”
“I swear to god if you mention the game one more time, I’ll tell everyone you wear women’s underwear when you play,” Rhys threatened, then ducked to avoid the helmet flying towards his head. 
“Shut the fuck up, man! That was one time! And I wouldn’t have done it, but you made me watch Bull Durham and it seemed like a decent idea at the time. And I wasn’t even gonna talk about the game.”
Rhysand raised an eyebrow. If Cassian wasn’t talking about football, he was droning on about women, booze, or hunting. Sometimes a mixture. Before he could continue, Rhys made a bet it was women on his best friend’s mind this time.
“Anyway, me and Az were thinking we could go somewhere new tomorrow night. Regardless of how the score turns out.” 
That caught his attention. The three of them had been friends since high school and had all played together till Azriel blew his knee out two years ago. They all lived in the same apartment complex still and got together almost every weekend. In all their time of friendship, they’d maybe gone to five bars. Once Cassian found a place and racked up enough of a tab, he stayed until they wouldn’t let him through the door anymore. 
“Where?”
“There’s bar about twenty minutes from here. Az apparently knows the owner or something.” It made sense. After his injury, Azriel had gone into broadcasting and had made a ton of connections in the PR world. 
“I don’t want to go anywhere crow-”
Cass cut him off. “He said it’s a small bar. No crowds.”
The one negative aspect of his life was the never-leaving pack of fans and paparazzi following him around. After the game tomorrow, it’d be hectic. He didn’t want to deal with that if they won, let alone if they lost. 
Rhys shrugged. “Fine by me. Either way, I’ll be needing a lot of booze.”
“You’re so fucking dramatic man,” Cassian laughed. “It’s just a game.”
Rolling his eyes, “It’s the Super Bowl, idiot. It’s not just a game.”
“Okay,” his best friend and defensive tight end said lightly. “It’s a big game.”
As he thought about how a loss tomorrow could be the end of his career, Rhys could only nod and agree. 
________________________________
Feyre walked through the front doors of the cancer wing and halted. John Weatherly, the Chief of Staff of the hospital--and not to mention a huge pain in her ass--stood at the threshold. 
“You look annoyed,” she stated, ready for whatever lecture he was about to give her. 
After all the time she’d worked for him, she’d never really gotten past her dislike of her boss. Or his misogynistic rants. Or the fact that he smelled like cigarettes. They worked in the cancer wing of the hospital, for crying out loud. And he had the nerve to smoke a cigarette every chance he got. 
“I am,” he said, equally as blunt. “Are you aware you’ve worked at least 120 hours a week for the past two months?”
“Considering I log my own hours, yes.”
“That is a huge waste-”
“Are you aware that I’ve published three research articles during the past two months? Generating publicity, not to mention patients, for the hospital?”
“Considering I’m not an idiot, yes,” John snapped sourly. “But this isn’t about me. The board is implementing a new rule this week. No more work weeks over 100 hours.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but he held up a hand in annoyance. “Don’t bother. I already tried to tell them you practically live here. It’s not flexible for anyone.”
Feyre allowed herself to steam for a few moments before muttering, “Fine.” She tried to walk around him to the lab, but he stepped in her path. 
“Since you’ve already worked over the limit, you’ll have to go home. Come back Tuesday.” 
“Tuesday?!” she practically shouted. “Why not tomorrow? The time cards reset every week.”
“You’ve worked 115 hours this week. They told me to tell you specifically that if you want to continue to receive a paycheck from them, you will come back Tuesday.”
“This is so-”
“Have a nice two days off, Dr. Archeron.”
She couldn’t not work for two days. “What am I supposed to do all day? Just let me go get my paperwork, and I’ll work from home.”
“Feyre, I have specific orders from the hospital’s board to have the security guard escort you out if you try to go in the lab.”
Her mouth dropped open, but before she could tell him how ridiculous this was, he said, “Go home. Sleep. Watch the game.”
“Game? What game?”
It was his John’s turn to look shocked. “The Super Bowl is tonight. Did you really not know?”
“No, of course not. I don’t care about football.”
Her boss was silent, stuttered a few words, then said, “How do you not like football? You live in Boston! Rhysand Turner is practically a celebrity around here.”
She didn’t know why any medical professional would encourage grown men to smash into each other for sport, but kept that to herself. “Who is Rhysand Turner, exactly?”
“For a genius, you’re such an idiot,” he said bitterly. “He’s the quarterback about to win us the Super Bowl tonight. You should watch the game in your time off. Speaking of, leave. Now.”
“But-”
“Nope. Now.” 
The urge to call him a jackass was so strong, she left before it slipped out. How ridiculous was this? She worked her ass off every day researching nuclear chemistry and the effects of chemotherapy in the body. It was important. Her work changed lives. 
And they were telling her to go home and twiddle her thumbs. Or watch football. 
She drove home angrily, wondering what on earth she would do with 48 hours of uninterrupted free time. 
After finishing two loads of laundry, scrubbing her entire bathroom and kitchen, and grocery shopping, Feyre was bored. She tried to sit down and watch TV, but there was nothing on that interested her. 
She flipped to the news, thinking she’d distract herself with politics. But no, everyone was talking about the game. Apparently, John was right. No one cared about anything except football today. 
An idea popped in her head, and she smiled and picked up the phone. 
“Finally!” her best friend shouted happily as she answered on the first ring. “I’ve been waiting for you to call; I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Hi, Mor,” she laughed. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. Work is-”
“-crazy, I know,” she finished her sentence. “What’s up?”
Trying not to sound bitter, Feyre said, “Well, I actually have today and tomorrow off, so I was wondering what you were doing tonight.”
A pause.
“You know I own a bar, right?” Mor asked, as if Feyre were dense. 
“Yes, of course.”
Another pause, then, “And you know it’s Super Bowl Sunday, right? It’s a busy night for us. Well, as busy as a tiny ass bar in the suburbs can be.”
Feyre laughed. “Oh, no worries, I’ll see you some other-”
“Wait! Why don’t you come?” 
“Oh... uh...” How could she get out of this? Fake illness?
A knowing town crept into Mor’s voice as she said, “Don’t even think about telling me you’re sick, bitch. You already said you don’t have anything to do tonight. Or tomorrow. Which means you can get drunk! Ooh, or laid!”
Feyre sighed. “Mor, I don’t want to watch a football game. And I definitely don’t want to get drunk.”
She could tell her friend was smiling as she said, “Just laid, then.”
Feyre rolled her eyes and stayed silent, trying not to think about how true that statement was. 
“Fine. Come at like 11. It’ll be pretty empty by then. But you’re definitely drinking.”
She debated arguing, but Mor would likely show up and drag her out herself if she tried. “Fine. One drink.”
____________________________________________
Rhys couldn’t stop smiling as he drove himself and Cassian through the city in his truck. 
“You know you’re a millionaire, right, Rhysie?” his best friend asked with a laugh. 
He just rolled his eyes, having heard this argument at least 20 times. “Don’t hate on the truck. I’ve had her since senior year.”
“It’s rusting. You’re a millionaire. Buy a new one.”
“Nope.”
Cassian groaned. “Why not?”
“She’s been with me through every win, every loss, everything. You know I lost my-”
“Stop! You already told me, and I almost throw up every time I get in this ass-mobile.” 
Rhys laughed and punched his shoulder, then said thoughtfully, “You know, I think it was right where you’re sitting.”
Cassian swore and scooted as close as he could get to the door. 
“Don’t worry, you can get out. We’re here.” 
As soon as he put the truck in park, Cassian jumped out of the cab and wiped the seat of his jeans off with his hand, making Rhys laugh. 
He climbed out of the truck, his body still lined with adrenaline. He’d played his ass off, crushed the opponent, and carried his team to victory. 
He supposed he had Cassian to thank, too, considering he’d also played his ass off and kept Rhys from getting pummeled. 
Their success was echoing through the city on excited whispers. Both of them had already turned their phones off they were getting so many calls from team managers. 
They walked into the wonderfully slow bar, nodded to the few people still around who luckily didn’t ask for pictures, and went to find Azriel. 
He was sitting at the bar, chatting to the bartender. Even though the bartender was hands-down one of the most attractive women he’d ever seen, it was the woman near Azriel that gave Rhys pause. 
Cassian saw the look on his face, smirked, and nodded toward the empty chair between Az and the girl. 
A good end to a good night.
He winked, then slid in the chair, nodded to Az--who rolled his eyes--, and turned to the woman. 
She had clear blue-gray eyes, dark blonde hair, and full lips. She was... exotic. Different. 
He smiled confidently and said, “Hey. How you doing?” 
It was a simple line, but one that worked countless times when paired with a southern accent. 
He couldn’t tell if the look on her face was amusement or shock. “Where the hell are you from?”
That reaction was one he was used to, so he grinned and said, “Virginia.”
“What are you doing in Boston, then?”
He couldn’t stop his eyebrows from pulling together. She was in a sports bar, where his face had just been plastered on every TV for four hours, but she didn’t know who he was? “Work,” he said simply. 
Rhys could feel his best friends’ eyes on him, but he ignored them. “So, what’s your-”
The girl turned to the bartender, ignoring him completely, and said, “Mor, I’m going to make a call.” She cut her eyes toward the men around her and murmured, “Watch my drink.”
Every single one of their eyebrows shot up. Did they look that much like criminals? Sure, they wore a lot of black, but every one of them were multi-millionaires. Did he come off like a date-raper or something?
The bartender, Mor apparently, rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t take it personally. Even balls to the wall drunk, she’s cautious.”
Rhys could tell there was more to that story but shrugged and asked for a beer. 
Mor slid it across the counter and smiled knowingly. “She’s pretty, right?”
He just turned to Azriel and asked, “How have you been, man? Did you report the game?”
“Yeah, they had me follow your stats the whole time. Boring shit,” he replied, laughing. 
“I bet you could hardly talk fast enough.”
“Cocky bastard,” Cassian muttered. 
Azriel nodded to the bartender and said, “This is Mor, by the way. I’ve known her since I left the NFL. Mor, this--as I’m sure you know--is Rhysand and Cassian, although I call them Dumbass 1 and 2.”
“You’re a funny, funny man,” Rhys muttered. 
Mor’s friend came back and slid into her seat. Mor put another drink on the counter. The woman raised an eyebrow. “I said one drink, Morrigan.”
“Morrigan? Jesus, you’re already drunk aren’t you?” 
Before she could respond, Az said, “Mor, perhaps you’d like to introduce the guys to your friend?”
She smiled and said, “Guys, this is Feyre Archeron, my very best friend who loves me so much she’ll stay and have another drink.”
“Since you’re buying,” Feyre said sweetly, picking the drink up. “And because I know you’ll make me feel bad about leaving so soon.”
Cassian asked, his accent even thicker than Rhys’s, “Why the bad mood, gorgeous?”
She turned and leveled a look at him. “I’d rather be doing something else.”
Rhys rolled his eyes as his best friend leaned down towards the woman and smiled slowly. “Well, you should’ve told me sooner. I’d be glad to do something else with you, baby.”
Azriel and Rhys both looked at each other and shook their heads. Cassian flirted with everyone. It drove them insane, but it was at least predictable. 
The woman unlucky enough to have his current affections set her drink down with a little too much aggression, making Rhys chuckle. “What’s your name?”
“Cassian,” he replied confidently. 
“Cassian, believe me when I tell you I have absolutely no interest in having sex with you. Leave me alone and go shook a chicken or something.” 
The look on Cassian’s face was priceless, and Rhys bit his lip to keep his laugh in. Like Rhys, he was used to women being very... open to his suggestions. 
Before Cass could even retort, the woman looked to her friend and asked, “Who the hell are these guys? Your friends?”
Mor pointed to Azriel and responded, “He is my friend. Those two rednecks,” she jerked her head toward Rhys and Cassian, “I don’t vouch for.”
Rhys put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “We’re Azriel’s friends, which makes us pre-vouched.” He turned to Feyre and smiled. “You single?” 
________________________________________
“No,” Feyre said at the exact same time Mor yelled, “Yes!”
The man next to her smiled smugly. “Since you’re single, let me buy you another drink.” She opened her mouth, but he said quickly, “Say yes. It’s just one drink, darling.”
His accent was so ridiculous, it sounded like he should be riding on the back of a horse in cowboy boots and a hat. 
“I said I’d have one drink,” she stated to Mor. “I’ve had two. I’m going home.”
“Of course you are.” Her best friend sighed dramatically. “You don’t care about me at all, do you? I haven’t seen you in a month, and you come to my bar and stay for all of ten minutes-”
“Mor-”
“Then try to leave, and I probably won’t see you for another-”
Feyre gave in with a huff. “Oh, my god, fine! I’ll stay. You’re so damn dramatic.” 
Her best friend jumped up and down like a toddler, clapping her hands stupidly. 
“Now I don’t have an excuse, do I?” She tried not to roll her eyes at how big Rhysand’s smile grin grew.
“Don’t get so excited. I’m just using you for liquor.”
“Fine by me,” he replied smoothly. “I’m trying to get you drunk.”
Despite herself, she laughed. She wasn’t used to such honesty. She definitely wasn’t going home with the guy, but she couldn’t deny how insanely attractive he was to her. The kind of attractive that drove women crazy. 
He was so tall, he towered over her even sitting down. He had dark hair, tan skin, and the most unique shade of eye color. They seemed almost purple and practically glowed as they raked over her. 
She turned to Mor and gestured for another drink. “You associate yourself with the strangest people.”
Mor just shrugged. 
“So, what do all do for work?” she asked the men around her, trying to make conversation. 
Rhys quickly said, “We’re- uh- in sports.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn’t give her a chance to ask any more questions. “What about you?”
She saw Mor roll her eyes, but she kept it simple as she said, “I’m a scientist.”
“That explains it,” Cassian said with a laugh. 
This man had a special talent for pushing peoples’ buttons, it seemed. 
She turned to him and narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to go ahead and guess that you ‘being in sports’ means you’re a football player, since everyone in this city is so obsessed with the sport. And you know what? Between the constant head trauma and the accent...” She looked him up and down with narrowed eyes, then said sweetly, “It explains a lot.”
Rhysand launched into a coughing fit. She saw Azriel glance towards Mor, but her best friend just shrugged and said, “Not a big football fan.”
“We can tell,” Cassian muttered. 
“What kind of scientist are you?” Rhys asked, ignoring his friend. 
Mor sighed, but Feyre said, “It’s complicated, but I’m basically a nuclear chemistry-”
“It is boring as hell, I assure you all,” Mor cut in. 
Feyre rolled her eyes and sipped her drink. 
Mor got a strange look on her face, bent down, and grabbed a bottle of tequila. “Who wants a shot?” 
All three men at the bar raised their hand. Feyre just rolled her eyes.  Looks like it was going to be a long night.
_____________________________________
As Feyre got up to use the bathroom, ignoring all of their taunts about having a small bladder, the bartender looked at Rhys and waggled her eyebrows. 
“What?”
“Oh, we’re going to act like you weren’t just eyeing my best-friend’s ass?” She laughed, then said, “Feyre.”
“What about Feyre?” he said, keeping his voice neutral. 
He liked her, sure. Over the past couple hours, she’d loosened up around him. She was... funny. And smart. And sarcastic. 
And yeah, she was beautiful as all hell. He’d love to take her home, but... he wasn’t a relationship guy. Football took all of his time, and he traveled practically every weekend. The women he slept with were all young and didn’t care about anything other than his latest game. 
Feyre was different. 
“You like her, don’t you?” The bartender was nosy, that was for sure. 
“She’s... serious.” 
Mor raised her eyebrows, clearly waiting for him to continue, so he said, “I don’t date. And Feyre is... serious. She probably wants a relationship and marriage and all sorts of shit-”
“You know,” Mor interrupted, “I thought people were crazy for saying a southern accent makes people stupid. But you have got to be one of the biggest idiots I’ve ever met if you think that girl wants a relationship.”
“What?” 
“She works over fifteen hours a day. Spends all her time in a hospital with nerds looking in a microscope. She wants nothing to do with a relationship, let alone marriage. Trust me.”
“Oh.” 
The woman rolled her eyes and nodded to where Feyre was walking back to them. 
Before she made it to the bar, he turned to Cassian and said quietly, “Get a ride back with Az.”
“Gladly. I hate that truck.”
He glanced toward Feyre and muttered, “Now, idiot.”
Cassian, brilliant actor he was, yawned obnoxiously and said, “Well. I’m gonna hit the hay.” He winked at Feyre. “It was nice meeting you, honey. Call me if you ever need some southern hospitality.”
She shook her head but a smile ghosted on her lips. 
“I’ll refrain from the innuendo, but it was nice meeting you, too,” Azriel said to Feyre.
Mor followed the two of them toward the exit to say goodbye.
“You’ve had too much to drink to drive home,” Rhys stated as soon as they were alone. Feyre laughed, clearly onto his game. 
He rose and extended a hand. “Come on. I’ll drive you back. I only had one drink.”
“Is this your version of southern hospitality?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
She seemed to consider this, then murmured, “It’s very different from Cassian’s.” 
Rhys smiled. “I’d be happy to show you that version. Let me drive you home.”
“I live close to here,” she laughed. “I’m walking.”
He tried not to be too disappointed. The odds of her taking him home were slim anyway-
She slid off the stool and put a hand on his arm. “But Boston can be a dangerous city. Come with?”
_____________________________________________________
Rhysand got up from his seat and threw an arm around her shoulders. “Lead the way, darling.”
“You really have to stop calling me that. You sound ridiculous.”
She didn’t really mean it, though. His accent was... different. Sexy. He was sexy. Something he was most definitely aware of, but Feyre currently didn’t care. 
Cobwebs. 
He was funny and seemed nice enough and... 
She ignored Mor’s knowing smile as they left, telling her she’d call her later.
“I have a feeling you’ll be busy,” she said knowingly. 
She ignored that, too. 
As they started the short walk toward Feyre’s townhouse, his arm still slung across her shoulders, she asked, “So, did you win tonight?”
She could feel his chest rumble as he laughed. “Yeah, we won.”
“And you played the...”
“Steelers.”
“Right. Congratulations, then.”
He seemed to think her lack of football-knowledge was amusing. “Why the hell do you live in Boston?” he asked with a smile.
She froze. 
“What do you mean?” she said, trying to be casual. 
She led them around a corner that led to her block. 
“You hate football. You don’t like crowds. You could probably work anywhere. Why not live somewhere else?” 
They walked up to her house, and she answered simply, “I moved here to do my PhD at Harvard, and they offered me a job. Made sense.” 
“And do you like it here?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
She smiled, unlocked her door, and replied, “Ask me in an hour.”
He mirrored her grin, then pushed her by the shoulders through the door. “Give me two, and it’ll be your favorite place in the world.” 
Feyre laughed, locked the door, then turned to him. Leaning against the door, she looked him up and down and muttered, “Clocks ticking, Rhysand.”
________________________________________________________
As Rhys opened his eyes, he was wonderfully aware of the weight atop him. 
The naked weight.
Blowing Feyre’s hair out of his face, he smiled as she murmured something in her sleep. She was probably tired. 
They hadn’t gotten much sleep. 
Given how cautious she was when they’d first met, he’d half expected her to kick him out pretty early. Needless to say, he’d been pleasantly surprised. 
When the feeling of her on top of him grew to be too tempting, he ran his fingers through her hair and murmured her name.
She shook her head, making him grin. 
His fingers drifted over her back and he loved the way she felt in his arms. After a minute, she turned her head, chin resting on his chest, and looked up at him. 
“Good morning,” she said simply. 
He just pulled her up to him, pressing his lips to hers. She smiled against him, legs coming up to straddle his waist. 
Rhys took in their position and smiled, leaning up to kiss his way up her neck. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “Cowgirl’s your favorite position isn’t it? And you say I’m country.” 
He snickered, proud of his joke, then practically choked on the sound as she slid herself onto him. “Shit, Feyre.”
"No more jokes, Rhysand?” she murmured, rocking her hips slowly. 
“Just Rhys,” he panted. He leaned forward to take one of her breasts into his mouth, and she gasped, the sound music to his ears. 
“Rhys,” she moaned, fingers digging into his back. 
“Yes, Feyre?” He gripped her hips to keep her still as he asked, “Do you need something?”
She narrowed her eyes at him, and he tried not to grin. 
“I said ‘Good morning.’ Don’t make me liar.” 
This woman would be the death of him. He laughed and released her hips, reveling in how she responded to every movement, every touch. 
She picked up the pace, and Rhys just sat there with his teeth gritted and tried not to ruin the moment for both of them. 
He could tell when she was close, her legs tightening around him, voice shaking as she called out his name. He pulled her hair, kissing up her exposed neck and across her jaw to her ear. 
“Come for me, Feyre darling,” he whispered, pulling on the shell with his teeth. 
She moaned, falling apart in his arms, and Rhys had to use sheer will to wait until she was done to finish. 
This woman... was the definition of seduction. Even after a whole night together, he couldn’t get enough. 
As they came down together, he looked at her and smirked. “Good morning.”
She smiled and kissed him, biting his lips gently. Even though he’d just had her, his body was ready for more. 
He was about to flip them over when she ruined the moment and said, “You have to leave.”
She climbed off him, and he watched with amusement as she sprung from the bed, ripped the sheet off of him, and started pacing around the room. 
She found his pants at him and threw them at him. “I’m serious, Rhys. I have to... do stuff.”
He ignored the clothes on his chest. They were both completely naked, and if he had anything to say about it, they’d stay that way for a while. “Like what? You told Mor you have the day off.” 
“I do, but-”
“Then come here.”
She crossed her arms. “Rhysand.”
He sat up and extended a hand. “Just shut up and come here. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” 
_________________________________________________________
Oh, I’m sure you will, Feyre thought as she rolled her eyes and took his hand. 
Then gasped as he used the other hand to rip the sheet off her and throw her on her bed. 
She barely had time to process before he was on top of her, pressing kisses across her chest, down her stomach. Further. 
Sweet Jesus, she thought. The man hadn’t let her sleep more than two hours last night. Not that she was complaining. The cobwebs were completely gone, that was for sure. 
A moan escaped her lips as his teeth scraped her thigh, and he chuckled. She was about to flick his shoulder, but then his lips slid higher, and every thought emptied our of her head. 
She couldn’t keep herself still as he kissed her, so he held her hips with both hands. 
Hers found themselves in his hair and she pulled as he ran his tongue up her center. 
“Rhys, baby,” she panted. She didn’t care how she sounded. Didn’t care about anything but the sight of his head buried between her legs. 
She didn’t know if it was because she was out of practice or because he was some sort of sex god, but she was already close. Again.
By the time she came, her entire body was limp with pleasure and she was close to seeing stars. 
When she opened her eyes, he was above her, smirking like a cat. 
He leaned down to kiss her, but she flicked his nose in annoyance. 
“If you try and fuck me again before I get some food, I’ll strangle you.” 
Ignoring the warning, he buried his head in her neck and tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Feyre darling.”
She laughed against her better judgement, but pushed his shoulders until he let her up. If she didn’t eat something, she might pass out when they went again. 
She grabbed his t-shirt from last night and threw it on as she walked to her kitchen. It came down to practically her knees, making her look ridiculous, but she didn’t care. It was soft and big and smelled like him. 
“Pancakes?” she asked, turning around to catch him looking at her in amusement. At what she was wearing. 
She raised an eyebrow, daring him to say something. 
“Pancakes would be great.”
Feyre ignored the look in his eyes and started cooking. And kept ignoring it as he watched. 
Every time she looked at him, he looked like he was five seconds away from throwing her over his shoulder and dragging her back to bed. 
The idea of messing with him a little more was too tempting to ignore. 
“Close your eyes,” she ordered secretively, reaching into her fridge. 
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but gave in when she raised her eyebrows. 
She used a finger to tip his head backward, then whispered, “Open your mouth.”
His lips curved into a smile, then opened. She took the can of Ready Whip and sprayed some whip cream in his mouth, laughing as his purple eyes shot open, full of amusement. 
“Cute,” he muttered, swallowing the whip cream. 
She leaned in and licked some of the remainder off his bottom lip. He froze, then reached for her. Before he could get those arms around her, she walked to the stove and took the pancakes off. 
Sliding an unhealthy amount toward him, she said, “Eat your breakfast, dear.”
Rhys gave her an annoyingly perfect smile and devoured the food. She looked at him as he ate, wondering how he looked like a Greek god when he ate like... that. 
He looked up as he finished and laughed at the look on her face. “Baby, don’t invite a football player over if you don’t expect him to eat all your food.”
She took their plates and stuck them in the sink. When she turned around, he immediately strode over and grabbed her face, pulling her lips to his. 
He kissed her thoroughly, then pulled back far enough to say, “Meet me in your bedroom.” Another kiss. “And Feyre? Bring that whip cream.”
__________________________________________________________
By the time Rhysand left, Feyre could hardly stand up. She had no idea how she was going to make it through her shift tomorrow, given that she was so exhausted she could sleep probably for a day straight. 
That’s when she realized that for the first time in her career, she didn’t want to go to work. She wanted to call Rhysand and tell him to come back. 
That’s not an option.
A relationship was out of the question. It’d be cruel to him to invite him back, knowing it would never go anywhere. For all she knew, he was trying to settle down. With a nice girl who’d give up her life to have his babies and be a football wife. 
Hell no. 
As she got out of the shower, giggling at how shaky her legs were, she told herself to forget him. 
But when the phone rang, she was surprisingly disappointed when she looked at the caller id and saw it wasn’t him. 
As soon as she picked up, Mor practically yelled, “How was it?!”
“How was what, Mor?”
“The sex last night, idiot. Was it good? I bet it was good. You don’t look like that and not have a seriously huge-”
“Mor! Calm down.”
She could tell her best friend was enjoying this way too much. “I’ll calm down when you tell me. Everything.”
Feyre laughed, then gave in and asked, “What do you want to know?”
“How long did he stay? Oh, you made him walk back to his truck in the middle of the night, didn’t you? Mean woman.” 
When she didn’t respond, Mor pushed, “Unless you didn’t. When did he leave, Feyre? Hm?”
“An hour ago,” she admitted. 
The howl that Mor let out was practically inhuman. “Oh my god! You nasty bitch! Or, wait. Is he the nasty bitch?”
Feyre laughed. “You have no idea.”
“I cannot believe you let him stay all day. He must be good. He’s good isn’t he?”
She didn’t have to think back to remember the answer to that question. “You have no idea,” she repeated. 
Mor laughed. “I’m so happy for you. Are you seeing him again?”
“No, probably not.”
She stopped laughing. “And why the hell not?”
“I don’t date. It wouldn’t be fair to him to keep sleeping with him and lead him on-”
“You’re both idiots.”
That stopped her. “What?”
Mor sighed on the other end of the call. “He doesn’t date. At all. He’s seen with 20 year old blondes who probably don’t know their head from their ass. You don’t have to worry about him trying to tie you down.”
“Oh,” she said stupidly. 
Of course he wasn’t the dating type. He was a professional athlete. Women probably threw themselves at him. 
“For someone so smart, you really are an idiot.”
“You have a point. Look, I have to go. I’ll call you later.” It was only eight PM, but she could hardly keep her eyes open. 
“Worn out, aren’t you?” Mor asked in a knowing voice.
“Good night, Morrigan.”
____________________________________________________________
Rhys wasn’t surprised to see Azriel and Cassian in his apartment when he got back the next day. 
“You dirty dog,” Cassian said smugly, throwing a pillow at his head.
Rhys smiled and told him to shut his fat mouth. “What are you idiots doing here? Get evicted?”
“Waiting on your ass,” Azriel said. “We’re going out.”
“Not everyone got laid last night,” Cassian said sourly. “Ruined a good win.”
Az and Rhys both ignored him. “Wanna come?” 
“I’m gonna crash, actually. I have an early meeting tomorrow with coach.” It was an excuse; he’d barely made it home without falling asleep at the wheel. 
“Mmhm, an early meeting with coach,” Cassian said knowingly. “More like a late night with a pretty blonde.”
Rhysand just winked and said, “We made sure to avoid your seat in the truck.”
“Disgusting,” his best friend said bitterly as the pair walked toward the door. “I hate that truck.” 
As soon as the door swung close behind them, Rhys showered and passed out. 
_______________________________________________________
Three days later, Rhys was watching highlights from the game when his phone rang. He smiled as he saw the caller ID. 
“Unless the hospital is calling to tell me I’m dying,” he said as he picked up, “I’m going to assume this is Miss Feyre Archeron.”
“Wow, an athlete with a brain,” the sarcasm flowed through the line clearly.  
“I’m a package deal, baby. So, what’s up?” If this was a booty call, he’d make her say it. He’d definitely give in, but he’d make her ask first. 
“I don’t date,” she blurted suddenly. 
He paused, then said, “Me either.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t know what to say, so he just mimicked, “Okay.”
“Then come over.” 
Rhysand smiled, looking at his watch. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
_____________________________________________________
Two months later, they’d spent practically every night together. Either he’d stay at her house and get kicked out at the ass crack of dawn when she left for work, or she’d stay with him and he’d wake up alone.
On the rare days her boss forbade her from working, they’d spend all day together, running errands, cooking, fooling around. Hell, she’d even come to one of his football practices. “Out of pure boredom,” she’d claimed. 
He’d never tell her, but seeing her had become the best part of his day.
Sure, he’d resigned his contract for the next year to keep his dream job, but even that paled in comparison to her coming over. He’d started to depend on her. He’d started to care about her. 
Only Cassian--who gave him shit about it daily--knew. And had been told to keep his mouth shut about it. 
Because he knew that as soon as he told Feyre, she’d bolt. He just had no idea why. 
Sure, he’d said he didn’t date. He was thirty-eight and had a terrible relationship track record, having only had a handful of serious ones. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try, right? 
He’d never felt like this before... never been so desperate to spend time with someone. And it wasn’t just the sex like he’d thought for the first few weeks. 
Because even when they weren’t having sex, he wanted to be around her. Wanted to hear her laugh, the one she let out when he surprised her or she made fun of his accent. Wanted to see her smile. Wanted to see her asleep in his bed, wearing his t-shirt. 
He wanted her. 
Ridiculous.
The first woman to openly not want a relationship with him, he can’t get out of his mind. 
Snapping out of his thoughts, he noticed her staring up at him. “What?” he asked, worried everything he’d been thinking was written on his face.
“Nothing,” she said for the fifth time, stifling a giggle. 
He rolled his eyes. “Just say it.” 
“I cannot believe Dirty Dancing is your favorite movie!” She exploded, gesturing to the screen as if he were blind. “You’re a football player.” 
“Which means I can’t have a good taste in movies?”
She shrugged. “It’s just not what I was expecting when you suggested we watch a movie. I figured you just wanted to come out here and have sex again.”
He grinned. “I did that for your sake. I figured if we stayed in bed any longer, you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
With her head on a pillow in his lap, she looked completely adorable as she looked up and stuck her tongue out at him. “How considerate.” 
“Southern hospitality knows no limits.” 
As they watched the movie, Rhys couldn’t help but sneak glances at her. She was... distracting. The ocean eyes, full mouth, and delicate features were pretty much a constant distraction for him. 
When the final scene started playing out, Rhys grinned like an idiot and said, “Dance with me, Feyre Archeron.”
“What?”
“Come on. I wanna show you something.” He took her hand, hauled her off the couch, and took her to the biggest open space in his apartment. 
He put his hands on her shoulders and told her to stay put, then walked to the other side of the room. 
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she said immediately, realizing what he had planned. “Absolutely not.”
Rhysand laughed and said, “Run and jump.”
“Hell no! You’ll drop me.” She crossed her arms and stayed put.
He rolled his eyes. “I promise I won’t drop you. You’re about a hundred pounds soaking wet.” 
“No.”
“Chicken.”
“Excuse me?” she asked incredulously. “You seriously think that’s going to work on me?”
“Yep.”
“You’re right,” she admitted, barely giving him any time to prepare as she ran toward him, yelped, and jumped.
His hands wrapped around her waist as he lifted her up above his shoulders. She hollered like a wounded cat, but she stayed in the air and lifted her legs as he spun her around slowly. 
She giggled as he held her up, and the sound was so adorable that as he let her down, he slowly dipped her. Her hair brushed the floor as he held her, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed a kiss to her lips. 
He could tell she was surprised when she froze, but then she melted into him. 
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close and opened her mouth for him. It was like it was the first time they’d kissed, and he couldn’t get enough. He kissed her like his life depended on it, and she responded to every movement. She sighed into his mouth and he drank the sound in. 
When he finally brought her back up and pulled away, she had tears in her eyes. 
“What?” he asked, concerned. 
Feyre’s brow was creased as she brought a hand to her mouth. “I have to go,” she whispered. 
“Feyre.”
She paced around his apartment, picking up her clothes and throwing them on as she went. “I have an early morning tomorrow.”
“You always have an early morning. What’s wrong?”
She pulled her boots on, zipped her jacket, and smiled tightly. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ll... see you later.” 
He didn’t have time to say anything before she sped out the door. 
Shit.
______________________________________________________
“He kissed me,” she said as soon as Mor answered the phone.
A pause. “He hasn’t kissed you before?” 
Feyre sped down the road to her house, explaining, “Of course he’s kissed me. But this was different. He dipped me, Mor. Like actual dipping. And he kissed me. Not to get in my pants, but just because. Like he couldn’t stop himself.”
“Oh. You think he has feelings for you?” 
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.” This was the last thing she needed. The past month had been good. So good. 
But it had to end. She didn’t want a relationship... even if the idea of never seeing him again hurt so much she couldn’t breathe. 
He’d become someone to her in the two months they’d spent together. And even though it’d hurt like hell, she had to cut it off. Before it got worse. 
“Feyre-”
“Don’t ‘Feyre’ me. I’m fine.”
Her best friend didn’t let up. “No, you’re not. Ever since Tamlin, ever since that night, you haven’t been fine.”
“Stop talking. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“Mor-”
“He hurt you, and now you don’t trust men. You got freaked out tonight because this thing with Rhysand could be real, and you’re scared. You’re scared if you let yourself love him, he’ll hurt you.”
Feyre suddenly yelled, “Wouldn’t you be?”
The line went silent, so she continued, “Yeah, I’m fucked up because of my marriage. It’s pretty easy to figure out. But wouldn’t you be? I was with Tamlin for eight years! Did you know that after hearing your worthless and pathetic and that you deserve what happens to you for so long, you start to believe it? So unless you’ve dealt with that for eight years and been trapped in a marriage to someone like that for eight years, don’t you dare bring it up to me. I have to go.”
She didn’t give Mor a chance to respond as she hung up. 
She pulled into her driveway, took a deep breath and told herself the tears flowing down her cheeks were from her fight with Mor. 
_______________________________________________________
“We’re closed,” Mor yelled as Rhys walked in the bar, then looked up and froze. “Oh.”
“Tell me, Mor. Tell me what happened to her.” He knew there was a reason she’d been freaked out after he kissed her. He just didn’t know what it was. 
“To who?”
He came and sat in one of the bar stools, leveling a look at her. “To Feyre. Why did me kissing her send her running for the hills? I know she told you. She hasn’t answered my calls in six days.”
She shrugged, trying to make herself look casual. “Maybe she’s just not into you.”
“She’s into me.”
Mor snapped, “Maybe she’s not.”
His eyes softened, and she knew he saw it for the lie it was. “What happened to her?”
He could tell she was struggling with not telling him. She might not. But he wanted to fight for her. Wanted to make her happy. He just had to know how. 
She took a deep breath and said, “Feyre and I used to live in New York, you know. That’s where we’re from. And Feyre was married.”
He nodded for her to continue.
“They got married young, and he... changed. He... just.. he was so angry. All the time.” She took a shaky breath. 
“At first, I didn’t notice it. I didn’t see that anything was wrong. But one night, about five years into their marriage, I went to their apartment for dinner, and I saw that she had makeup on her cheek. Not a lot, but... like she was covering something up.” A tear that rolled down her cheek. 
“And he saw. That bastard saw me notice it.” She wiped her cheeks, trying to compose herself. “And I didn’t see her for three years. He wouldn’t let her go anywhere besides work. And he hardly let that happen.”
Rhys closed his eyes sadly, but she continued. “I didn’t see my best friend for three years. Until she showed up in the emergency room.”
His eyes snapped open. 
“I’m her emergency contact. I don’t know why she never changed it when she got married, but she didn’t. So I got the call, and drove to the hospital, and she was-”
She swallowed a sob. “She was in a coma for two days.” 
Mor cleared her throat. “When she woke up, I don’t know how to describe it. She was... different. I helped her divorce him and get a restraining order, but it wasn’t easy. He controlled all her shit. Bank accounts, everything. She was never the same. We left, packed up, and moved to Boston together. She didn’t want him to know where she lived. I think... sometime I think she’s still scared he’ll track her down.” 
“It took her three years to even go on a date. Another to have sex. She says she’s fine, but ever since that night, she won’t let herself actually let anyone in her life. She’s always been a workaholic, but after what happened... I don’t know. It’s like moving on, having a life, makes her remember her life before.” 
Mor sobbed, “And I don’t know how to help her. Because he’s a cop, you know. That’s why it was so hard for her to leave him. We had to go to the freaking governor to get the restraining order.”
A sob wracked her body, so Rhys leaned across the bar and pulled her into a hug. It made sense. Why him showing any sort of feelings freaked her out. Why she’d been cautious around him, Cassian, and Az when they’d first met. Why she didn’t want a relationship with him. 
But it didn’t mean he couldn’t fight for her. That he couldn’t tell her that he’d never hurt her. 
“Mor,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
She pulled back and wiped her eyes. “Well, now you do.”
“I want to be with her.”
She nodded, and smiled sadly. “I know.”
“And she wants to be with me, too.” 
Mor nodded again. “Go get your girl, Rhysand. But, just be careful. And I swear to God, if you’re anything like him-”
“I’m not,” he interjected. 
“-I’ll shoot you. I’m not making the same mistake twice.”
“I’m never going to hurt her. You can count on that. Do you think she’s still at the hospital? If she’s not going to answer the phone, I’m gonna track her ass down.”
________________________________________________________
Feyre scribbled down her note, then peered back into the microscope. She knew it was late, but it’s not like she had anywhere to be. The thought sent a pang through her chest, but she ignored it.
She was so distracted thinking about how big of a mess she was that she didn’t hear him come in the lab.
“Feyre,” a familiar male voice said from behind her. 
She spun around and opened her mouth to scream, but he was faster. She cried out as his fist connected with her ribs, but he stifled the noise when he slapped a hand over her mouth and shoved her against the door. 
She tried to swing a fist toward him, but he pinned her arms against the door. 
“It’s been a long time,” Tamlin said, smiling. “It took me a long time to track you down. You know how I found you? Paparazzi posted a picture of you leaving some football player’s apartment at three in the morning. Little whore.”
She whimpered as he squeezed her jaw. 
“So I came to see you. At first, I wanted to punish you. You were my wife. Mine. And then you go and divorce me. For no reason. I wanted to know why.”
Howie, she thought desperately. If she could signal Howie, he’d come and save her. 
She ignored what he was saying, blocked it out, and bit his hand as hard as she could. 
Tamlin jumped back with a surprised yelp and she barely had a chance to scream before his fist connected with her eye. She fell to the ground and he kicked her in the side, making her curl into a ball. 
“You bitch! Why are you screaming? If you’re trying to get that fat security guard, he can’t hear you.” 
No one’s coming. A tear ran down her cheek onto the floor. 
“Now, as I was saying,” he continued as if nothing had happened. “At first, I wanted to punish you. I had it all planned out.”
He knelt on the floor, brushing the hair off her cheek. 
“But then I realized something. I realized you ruined my life. You told everyone I worked with, hell you told the governor, that I abused you. You got me kicked off the force.” 
“Why are you here? What do you want?” 
Please leave please leave me alone-
“I want you to suffer for what you did-”
“I do-” 
Her cheek stung as a palm connected with it, making her cry out. 
“Do not interrupt me again.” His voice was so cold, so calculating. “I want you to suffer. I want you to lose everything, like I did. But the only thing you ever cared about is work. And I couldn’t get you fired. No, you’re too good at your job.”
She shook with fear as he smiled down at her.
“But then I thought, if the job won’t lose you, you can lose the job.”
He ran a thumb over her lip, and she was paralyzed with fear when she realized the bitter taste in her mouth was gas. 
“What did you do?” she asked softly.
His fist closed around her throat. She clawed at his hand, kicked at him, tried everything, but she was stuck. It had never mattered how hard she fought. 
When her vision started to fade, he let go. 
“Don’t question me,” he snapped as Feyre hauled oxygen into her burning lungs. 
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a lighter, grinning down at her.
Feyre’s stomach bottomed out. 
She had to think, had to do something. Or else she was going to die in here. 
“You were so consumed by your work, you didn’t even smell the gas I lined this fucking room with. Always so distracted by your work.” 
He laughed softly, “And now you’ll burn with it.”
He flicked the lighter open, and time seemed to stand still. Feyre didn’t let herself hesitate as she reached onto the counter, grabbed the beaker she knew was sitting there, and broke it over Tamlin’s head. 
He swore and closed the lighter, then swung at her. She rolled away from him, placing a kick in between his legs that had him gasping for air. 
She got up and sprinted for the door. Her fingers were closing around the handle when he caught up to her, grabbing her head and slamming her face into the metal door frame. 
Feyre sank to the floor, and Tamlin knelt in front of her. She tasted blood, felt it running down her face, and knew from experience her nose was broken. 
As he punched her in the stomach, she could tell she’d have a ruptured spleen. 
He was still dripping wet from the beaker, but he leaned close and laughed. 
He opened the lighter close to her face, the heat warming her skin. 
“You always were a fighter.” 
This is it. If she didn’t fight now, it was over. He’d drop that lighter, and they’d both go up in flames. Together at last. 
Gritting her teeth, she told herself she wasn’t going to die here tonight. She was going to live. 
She was going to kill her ex-husband. 
Bringing her knees close, she rallied her strength and kicked his chest as hard as she could. As he fell backward, she jumped to her feet. 
Before he could react, she grabbed the lighter out of his hand, threw it on his chest, and rushed out the door. 
What Tamlin hadn’t realized when he’d lined the room with gas was that there were more chemicals in there than anywhere else in the hospital. He didn’t even have to use gasoline. But now that he had, one open flame, and the whole place was going to blow.
She ignored the growing flames on the other side of the glass as she engaged the door’s security lock. Ignored Tamlin’s screams as the petrol from the beaker reacted with the oxygen in the air and the present flame, erupting in flames twenty times hotter than usual. 
She ignored everything happening around her except Rhysand. 
Rhysand, who was running toward her, a confused and terrified look on his face. 
She had no idea what he was doing here, but she sprinted full force at him, also ignoring the fact that he was a professional football player. She wrapped her arms around him and tackled him to the ground as the room behind her erupted. 
Glass and debris and pieces of paper still on fire rained down on them as she looked down at him. 
She laid on top of him, shielding him as best she could, and grabbed his face. Please be alive, please be alive.
His eyes shot open, arms coming around her to brush debris off her back. 
“Feyre, are you all right? What the hell happened?” His voice was fuzzy, like she was underwater. 
She probably had a concussion from where Tamlin had slammed her against the door. 
Tamlin. 
Tamlin was dead. She’d killed Tamlin. 
“He’s dead,” she whispered. “He’s dead.”
Rhys was shaking her, telling her to stay awake. Alarms were going off, the sprinkler system sensing the fire and raining a flood down on them. 
He was screaming her name. 
She just looked at him and smiled softly. “I love you, by the way,” she whispered. Like it was the easiest thing she’d ever said. Like she’d been waiting to say it. 
“I love you,” she whispered again.
Then passed out. 
_______________________________________________________
There was something warm and heavy on her lap. And it had hair. 
She opened her eyes and looked down at Rhys, peacefully sleeping with his head resting on her legs. 
Gently, she ran a hand through his hair. 
She was in a hospital bed, that much was obvious. There were probably police men outside waiting for a statement from her about why her much-beloved lab had been blown to pieces under her watch. 
She knew from experience that as soon as she officially woke up, she’d be surrounded be nurses and police officers and doctors asking how she felt and... 
She ran a finger down Rhys’s cheek. 
She knew he was awake when his mouth twisted into a smile and he murmured, “Do that again.”
She did. 
His eyes opened to meet hers, full of worry and passion and anger. 
“Hi,” she whispered. 
“Hi.” He picked his head up and put a hand on her cheek. “You’re so beautiful. This gown suits you.”
She knew he said it to distract her, and smile tugged at her lips, even as tears sprung to her eyes. 
She was in the hospital. Again. Because of her ex-husband. And Rhys was here. He’d probably never look at her the same after this. Would probably pity her now. 
He leaned in, and she thought he was about to kiss her, but his mouth landed on her cheek instead. As he licked her tear off her face. 
“That’s disgusting,” she murmured, not pushing him away as he moved to the other cheek. 
He pulled back and grinned. 
“Mor told me about your ex-husband,” he said softly. 
Before she could reply, he surprised her by murmuring, “And I honestly don’t know why you say you don’t have any country in you.”
Had he hit his head when she’d tackled him?
“What?” 
“Considering you barbecued his ass,” he finished with a laugh.
Despite how awful and wrong that was, a giggle escaped her. And another. And another, until she was laughing along with him. 
“That’s so fucked up,” she said, still smiling. 
“Yeah, it is, but it’s all I’ve been able to think for the past four hours.” 
Then his smile faded and his eyes grew serious. He put both hands on her face and pulled her close to him. “Feyre.”
“Rhysand.”
“It’s over now. He’s never going to hurt you again. No ones ever going to hurt you again. I’m so proud of you.” He said it all in the softest tone possible, and it made her chest hurt with how much she needed those words. 
“I killed him,” she whispered, the reality of it crashing into her. 
He shook his head. “You defended yourself. He was going to kill you. You fought like hell, and you won.”
Feyre nodded, pulling him closer until his weight was on top of her and his arms were around her. 
“You kicked his ass,” he murmured through her hair. “My little brawler.” 
She smiled, running her hands over his back. 
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her. 
She pulled back far enough to say, “What do you possibly have to be sorry for?” 
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here faster and I didn’t protect you-”
“Rhysand.”
“Yes.”
She shook her head and flicked his nose. “Shut up.”
“Okay.” 
He hugged her again. “You should know,” he said a moment later, pulling back to give her a smile, “that Mor is outside with Azriel and Cassian.”
“Oh, God.” 
“Yeah. I think they had to give Mor a sedative to calm her down. I’ll go get her if you want.”
Feyre shook her head, deciding to give herself another moment before dealing with that brand of crazy. 
“Do you remember what you said to me? After you tackled me? Which, by the way, was insanely sexy.” 
She knew under the humor was a twinge of anxiety, so she said, “I could talk about the homo-eroticism of what you just said, but I’ll give you a break. You’re under a lot of stress.”
Rhysand grinned and raised an eyebrow. 
“I love you,” she murmured. “You know I do.”
“I do,” he replied smugly, smirking like a cat. “I love you, too.” 
He leaned down and kissed her softly, ignoring the probably nasty black eye and bruised jaw. He kissed her, and she didn’t care about anything in the world. 
Until the door banged open. 
“You’re awake and you didn’t tell me!” Mor screeched, running in the room and throwing herself on Feyre, bruises be dammed. “Of course you didn’t because you wanted a chance to make out with your boyfriend before you did. Selfish, Feyre! Selfish!”
“Mor,” she muttered, hugging her back tightly. “I’m awake.”
“You’re such a bitch,” he best friend laughed.
“I love you, too.”
Rhys laughed and got out of his chair, probably going to talk to his friends and update them. 
For the first time in years, everything felt right. It felt good. She was excited for tomorrow, not because of work, but because for the first time in a long time, she had people in her life she was going to fight to keep there. 
For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid. 
_____________________________________________________
FUCK sorry this is so long! I literally had no intention of taking this route when I started writing it, but shit happens when it’s 2 am and you’ve had a long week. 
As always, feel free to send me requests/asks/whatever. I love hearing from yall. 
@bamchickawowow
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He marched up the steps to his quarters. Seeing Seth marched with him. "I bet Bea is happy." Seth nodded. "Yeah, them and Tiffany seemed to be overjoyed." We made our way through the dull hallways in silence besides the other people finding their own rooms. "420DS, that's us." We walk in taking in the room, the walls were bare and grey, a bunk bed in the corner, with two desks on the opposite side. A dresser was next to their bathroom, a single light hanging from the ceiling was the only source of light. "Yeah..... I get top!" Seth hurried over and threw his stuff on his bed. "Dang it!" I sighed throwing my stuff under my bed. Seth giggled, walking into the bathroom. I walked over to the desk picking up a piece of paper.
Rules to follow (these do not apply to the MC unit)
1) No fights. This isn't a playground. This is serious.
2) color ranks are important. Not precincts.
3) Training is required. If you can't fight, you can't do you job.
4) Be polite. Everyone here is here because they were chosen. You are expected to act as friends even if you hate the person's guts. We need a well oiled unit, not a dysfunctional one.
5) Everyone will be tested to see if they are ready for their first mission, if this is disobeyed punishment can be as harsh as death.
Okay... I guess I can do this. Looking around I found a bowl full of tacs, careful not to prick myself I grabbed one, hanging up the rules. "Why is there a schedule in the bathroom and not the main room?" Seth called, walking out and grabbing a bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Shrugging Drake sighed. "No clue." Seth nodded. "Yeah, Same. Anyways, you coming to lunch?" Nodding, they both make their way to the eating areas, everyone flooding into the white rank cafeteria, as that was the only doors open. Tables were scattered throughout the room, windows being the only source of light. Food was laid out for people to grab, groups of people already sitting down. "Hiya Drakie boy!" Bea giggled observing Drakes face and the food as they stepped closer. So close but so far...
The group of four sat down, eating and chatting. Loud feedback from a mic sounded throughout the room, everyone covering their ears, and some laughing. The lady from earlier was standing at the doors. "Hello, I am Leila. Your color ranks shall be determined after your first test. Which is right now! Suprise~!" Leila turned and walked off as papers were handed out. "Why did you even wanna come here? It's barely a normal place." Bea scoffed at Drake. "Calm down. It's just a standard test."
"That wasn't a 'standard' test! That was so messed up! How in the world is that normalized?" Bea hummed. "Just procedure, I've read all the books on this job okay? Its perfectly normal. Its getting late, let's head to our rooms? Our color ranks are waiting for us there." Tiffany nodded, and they walked off, presumably to their shared room. Seth gestured for Drake to do the same. They entered and set down their things. Seeing something on the desk Drake walked over, examining what he found. It was a necklace, a simple silver chain with a green arrow at the end. 'Guess that's my color' "what did you get, Seth?" "Two crossed arrows... what does that mean?" Sighing Drake collapsed onto his bed underneath Seth's. "I don't know how this place works. Just get some sleep."
The boys were awoken by the sound of the intercom. They hurriedly put on their clothes. Drake wore a grey button up, and skinny jeans. Seth wore a hoodie and sweat pants. The two boys soon split to go to their respected cafeterias. Drake grabbed a tray and sat in the corner, eating a bit here and there, but mainly just playing with his food. "Hey, your a new one aren't you?" I looked up to see a guy wearing a jacket and a blue shirt. He sat down across from me. "Yeah, the names Drake." He smiled reaching his hand out. I shook it carefully. "Great! I'm Jay. Me and my sister are your mentors! We're basically responsible for you. Today we show you around, then after that we make sure you get to classes. Yadda yadda, you know all that jazz." I shifted in my seat. "There's teachers though?" Jay nodded. "But the only teach you to fight, we basically do the rest, but that's an honor! It means we are one of the best, of our specialty fields." I nodded, resting my head on my hand. "Hi! Sorry it took me a bit, I'm May! I'm Jay's sister!" She took a seat next to Jay, adjusting her shirt. "Drake." I smiled. She had pink hair in a messy Bob cut. Jay had blue hair, he face had scars here and there, while his sister looked untouched.
"So, this is the hall of leaders! Our color gets full access to this part. Everyone who has ever been a traitor, hero, owner, you name it!" It was a long corridor with pictures lining the walls, lights hanging above the pictures, plaques were placed underneath the pictures, presumably displaying the person's name. They stopped at the first picture. "This is the founder, Aditsan Lee. Part of a Navajo tribe. He designed all of the necklaces for the red and green colors." Aditsan had a stern look about him, and he looked like the type of person you didn't wanna cross. I looked at his plaque, it read 'Aditsan Lee founder'. Jay turned to the next picture on the other side. "This is Aife O'Brien, co-founder, she designed the necklaces for the purple and blue ranks." The lady wore her hair in a messy bun, wearing a green dress, holding a thorn crown, I looked at the plaque, it read 'Aife O'Brien'. "Any questions?" May asked. "Uh, it doesn't say she was co-founder?" May nodded her head. "Yeah you're right! But, there's a reason for that, her lover was said to be a witch-" Jay elbowed May. "Don't feed him lies May. She was at first, but after a while, she just stopped. She didn't wanna be associated with this place. Her 'lover'
Was a quiet person, and kept to herself. She was said to have some mental illness." Aife's eyes looked haunted if possible for a painting. "Okay, but what about the other colors? Like white?" They started down the hallway again. "Through the years other owners made new color ranks," we past portrait after portrait.
"This one though is the most important one of the whole history part." It was a the same as the others, except the person had no face, no features what so ever. It seemed so out of place with the other paintings. I looked done at the plaque, to hopefully learn more about the figure. But the plaque was featureless. Just a rusted gold color.
"Jay Robert's, please report to the main office."
The intercoms buzzed before turning off. "Oh, that must be for my meds, continue without me!" He yelled as he ran back down the corridor. "Sorry about him." May smiled, "he isn't usually so strict, he hasn't had his meds for a while so maybe that'll help." I nodded. "Hey, uh, why don't they have a name?" "We don't know their name. We only know that they ran and made other ranks," May looked at the time. "We better get this tour moving! I'll lend you the history books about it later." May started to hum as we walked closer to the end of the corridor. "Who did you get drafted with?" I quirked a brow. "Drafted? I thought you were chosen?" "Right! Right, uh, who did you get.... chosen with?" May asked while putting her hands behind her head. "Uh, my best friend Bea, Seth and Tiffany." May spend up a bit. "Are they not your friends?" "They are! It's just, we met yesterday." May chuckled opening a door, immediately screaming and grunts were heard. "This is the fighting room, don't worry, you have different hours." Ahe closed the door and continued walking.
They went to the library, common areas for when two colors got together, and a music room. "This is the last stop of the tour! Yes, I know this isn't the whole building, but when you start getting called to other places you'll figure it out yourself. Plus, if I showed you everything we'd be here forever!" May pushed open glass doors and a gush of wind hit me, the smell of rain and pine trees hitting me like a truck. It was a garden, rock paths ran through it, and a waterfall was at the front. "Its beautiful isn't it?" I nodded. There was a gazebo in the middle of the garden with fairy lights dangling from the roof. "This place is open during free time, and other events. You don't just risk your life and get back to work!" She twirled around the opening before you reached the rock paths. "Be careful though, the drop from up here to down there," she stopped twirling and pointed over the edge. "Is *blows rasberry*" she held up a thumbs down. "Yikes... why did they build it here then?" May shook her head. "No clue, it's getting late. Let's get you those books green boy!" She giggled leading me to the library. It took all day for the tour?? Its not even the whole thing! "These books will be on the necklaces symbols and meanings! And also everything on the founders and owners!" Oh boy, this is gonna be a long night.
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That's it for chapter 2! Sorry for it being so crappy. It's like 1568 words? Something like that, hope you enjoyed!!
Working on a sander sides thing- so that should be up soon
This was not proof read
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innerpostmentality · 4 years
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The Return of Mister & Mistress Sinclaire Part II - The Fire
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A Choices Desire & Decorum based AU fanfic All rights to characters and settings from the Desire & Decorum fiction belong to Pixelberry Studios Featuring: Ernest Sinclair, Luke Harper, Lady Dominique, Caiden Lykel (oc), Marina Burke (oc) Rating: PG-13   Warning: Angst Word count: Long post, sorry it’s nearly 5000 words This takes place after Part I - Idyll Tagging: @darley1101 @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @speedyoperarascalparty @hellospunkiebrewster @tornbetween2loves @gardeningourmet @melodyofgraves @thequeenofcronuts @symonde @ritachacha @hellooliviaolivia @paisleylovergirl @kennaxval @regencylady1810    He was bone weary as he hadn’t been since his days in service to the crown fighting Napoleon. His fortune in being able to get fresh mounts had taken its toll on him keeping him in the saddle for twenty eight of the last thirty two hours. And for the last two hours, Luke’s heart had been in this throat and it took all the restraint he could muster not to spur his horse as he watched the towering plume of black smoke rise from Gretna Green. The flat plains broken only by hedges and occasional rock fences delineating farm borders allowed him ample view of the smoke of a serious fire. Now he was still several miles away and his horse wasn’t fresh so he spoke softly to the horse and urged him into a canter.      The road had been empty this morning once he got in view of the billowing black tower of smoke, everyone living within sight had already sped to aid the village. He could just barely start to see the buildings when a hay wagon with two men aboard barreled toward him headed away from the village. He moved to the verge frowning as they passed in the light loaded hay wagon. The driver snapped his whip over the team of two to urge them to greater speed.  He frowned after the two hale looking men running away from the fire struck village but had no time to pursue them as he made for the town. A few minutes later the strange encounter was forgotten as he pitched in with every man, woman, and child in the village trying desperately to contain the fire and keep it from spreading to other buildings. There were a couple of bucket lines and several men who were using shovels to throw dirt on any embers drifting into grass. It looked like the fire had started at the stable and blacksmith. It was hours later before he could look for the Sinclaires. He finally found Ernest covered in soot and mud deep in conversation with some other men.   Ernest looked startled for a brief moment as Luke approached him then gave him a huge smile extending his hand to him. “Master Harper!! Forgive my state, and please allow me to introduce you to Mister Camran and Master Smith Elliot. We were just discussing this bit of villainy.”  “Villainy?” Luke raised his brow even as he shook Mister Camran’s hand.  Master Elliot nodded. “Tis certain. Gled tae meet ye, Master Harper.” The smith’s hand dwarfed Luke’s as he shook it.  Ernest was frowning. “Mister Harper I am happy that fortune brought you to us in this time of need. But I know that you are not here without cause and I am anxious to know it.”  Luke nodded. “Indeed sir. We need to speak. Is there an Inn where I might acquire accommodations?”  Ernest shook his head. “Mister Harper you will stay with us at the cottage. There are beds in the loft aplenty and I know Lady Sinclaire will be in accord with me on this.” He smiled.   Luke lifted his brow, “I should not wish to intrude. And please allow me to congratulate you on your nuptials.”  Ernest nodded to the other men and patted Luke on the shoulder. “Gentlemen, please excuse us. I know my lady wife will be very happy to see her friend and anxious for my return.”                                 ________________________
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  The Dowager Countess of Edgewater took Mister Hartfield’s hand to assist her out of the carriage then took but a moment to smooth her skirts before she proceeded to the grand entryway of Addington Farm the residence of his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury. The door was opened as they reached the top of the stairs by the majordomo who swept into a bow inviting them into the entryway. Servants bustled about taking their cloaks and the gentlemen’s hats.    “Lady Dominique, Mister Hartfield, Mister Konevi please allow me to welcome you to Addington Farm. I am Master Graham at your service. We have prepared rooms for you if you would like to settle and rest before dinner. Or we may set a tea for you in the parlor if you prefer? His Grace has scheduled your meeting for after dinner.”    Dominique smiled at the silver haired majordomo, “Thank you Master Graham. Some tea would be quite refreshing though I cannot speak for Mister Hartfield and Mister Konevi.   I was wondering if Lady Mary is in residence? I must confess that I was hoping that despite the suddenness of this visit I might see my old friend while I’m here.”    Master Graham returned her smile inclining his head. “It is a happy circumstance then that you are here now. Her Ladyship travels to Bath at the end of the week to visit her daughter. She instructed me particularly that if you were to take tea she would join you. Though she would not want to impose upon your rest if that was your desire.”   Dominique turned to Mister Hartfield and Mister Konevi. “Will you join us? You are most welcome if you so desire.”    The men exchanged a look and each bowed to Dominique. Mister Hartfield nodded to Master Graham. “If her ladyship will permit I would retire for a bit before dinner.”  Mister Konevi smiled at Master Graham, “I should most like to take a walk about the lovely gardens I spotted as we approached and stretch my legs a bit before dinner if that is permitted?”    Master Graham escorted Dominique to the parlor. It was a beautiful room with two grand windows faced East providing a lovely view of the gardens. An enormous fire place mantled in Italian marble dominated the North side of the room with a life sized portrait of the archbishop hung above it. A portrait of Lady Mary hung on the East wall between the two large windows and a whole gallery of smaller but exquisite family portraits were proudly displayed on the Southern wall of the room. The Western wall was graced with several large paintings of Addington Farm and the surrounding forest and gardens. Four comfortable couches and four matching armchairs upholstered in dark blue satin brocade were arranged around the room. Rosewood sofa tables graced with vases of fresh flowers sat behind the couches and matching parlor tables sat beside each of the armchairs.  “This is a lovely room, Master Graham.” Dominique spoke softly admiring the thoughtful arrangement and pleasant airiness of the room as she walked about it admiring the pictures.  “Thank you Lady Dominique. I will see to your companions and send for your tea. I’m certain Lady Mary will join you shortly.” He bowed and left her alone.  Mere moments later Lady Mary entered going to her with open arms and a welcoming smile. “Dominique!! It is wonderful to see you!”  Dominique laughed and embraced her friend of more than thirty years. “You are kind and beautiful as ever Mary. I was just admiring your paintings. If my old eyes don’t deceive me these fine pieces are yours.”  Mary laughed. “Ah yes. I found it a thing to do. And once I got started with our first child I felt I must continue with the others.” Her smile softened. “In fact it is why I journey to Bath the end of this week. Our youngest daughter Isabella has had her first child and I want to paint them.” She took Dominique’s hand and told her about each of the paintings until the tea cart arrived. Then they sat in the armchairs close to the fire with their tea.  Mary smiled as she sipped her tea, “But Dominique, I know something must be amiss. You must tell me what is about that you come with two solicitors and but a few hours notice? You know you are always most welcome but I know you and that was very strange. I told Charles that something dire was afoot.”  Dominique nodded. “You are right as always, Mary. I fear I made a horrible mistake and now I’m desperately trying to right it. I know not what you may have heard of the goings on the last several months. But I am…” Dominique pulled her handkerchief from her reticule and covered her face a moment collecting herself before continuing. “It has been so hard. And I have muddled things badly with regard to my granddaughter Rose.”  Mary reached over and took Dominique’s hand. “Dear, now, now, I am certain Charles will help you. It surely cannot be so bad.”    Dominique squeezed her hand. “You are such a comfort to me. Truly. But you do not know the mess I have made.    I sought a match with Duke Karlington for my granddaughter Rose. I knew he was a bit older than her. Still I thought he was a handsome man, and wealthy, and titled. His lands match Edgewater admirably.” She sighed and sipped her tea. “Alas he is no gentleman. He did not deal honestly with me, Mary.”    She shook her head. “And I had no notion of the agreement that had been drawn between my dear Vincent and Mister Sinclaire of Ledford Park. It was not until after my foolish announcement that I had agreed to the betrothal with Karlington that I learned all the details of the agreement between my son and Lord Sinclaire regarding Lady Rose.    Only once we arrived back home after my foolish announcement did Rose show me the marks on her arm where the Duke had bruised her. Even then I still did not know about the previous agreement between my son and Mister Sinclaire. And honestly, it shames me to say I was still too caught up in my own fancies to comprehend how deceived I had been by the Duke. I was working to draft suitable terms for their union providing for Rose’s support. And Karlington was being ever more unreasonable. In the end Rose fled.    Only after... Only after I lost her.. did I learn. When her Solicitor Mister Konevi came to me with Mister Hartfield  who is Mister Sinclaire’s solicitor did I learn of Vincent’s arrangement with Mister Sinclaire.   Mister Sinclaire it seems was so impressed with Rose upon their meeting that he went straight way to Vincent to ask permission to court her; and if she came of her free will to find affection for him, he asked permission to wed her. Vincent thought of Mister Sinclaire much as a son already and with Mister Sinclaire’s proposed betrothal arrangements they came to a happy agreement. But all was kept in secret. After the misfortune of Mister Sinclaire’s first marriage he was adamant that Rose know nothing of the proposed arrangement between her father and him regarding her betrothal. He wanted her affection to be a true one not forced in any way.”   Dominique shook her head. “Had I only known; I never would have undertaken to approach Karlington.”  Mary’s rapt attention was held by Dominique’s confession. And she nodded sympathetically. “You did not know, Dominique. You must give yourself some reprieve for acting in good faith with insufficient information.  Have you found Rose?”  Dominique dropped her eyes from her friend, uncomfortable with dissembling but convinced in this small part it was necessary. The three of them had spoken at length on their journey here deciding their course of action as they approached the archbishop. Her part was to secure the support of the Archbishop’s wife Mary who was her long time friend. No direct mention of Rose’s elopement would be made. The intent was at the end of it all for the Archbishop to insist that as soon as Rose was found she and Mister Sinclaire be wed. That way there could be no conniving by Countess Henrietta as to the legitimacy of the match or the Edgewater inheritance.   Her voice was very quiet. “Not yet. Mister Sinclaire, Mister Harper, Mister Lykel have all been dispatched to search for her. But I have no word yet. And worse, Mister Hartfield fears that in his anger Karlington may have arranged for a bounty to be put on her and possibly Mister Sinclaire as well after I withdrew my consent to the betrothal with the Duke.    The Duke certainly threatened me after he read my withdrawal in the paper. He said he would sue for breach of contract and ask the crown to forfeit Edgewater to him! In truth I believe it is all he wished from the beginning.”   “I went straight to Bishop Monroe with Mister Hartfield and Mister Konevi and the papers drawn between Vincent and Mister Sinclaire that predate my foolishness. As well as all the copies of the rejected arrangements I tried to make with Karlington. And Bishop Monroe wrote his Grace the Archbishop a letter supporting all that I’ve said. I very much hope that Charles can help me and my dear Rose.”
 Mary patted Dominique’s hand. “Charles will help. I know he will after you have told him all that you have told me.”                         -------------------------------------------
   Caiden Lykel absently scratched the scruff on his jaw and glared at the macabre sign depicting a decapitated turbaned head swinging above the entrance of the Turk’s Head Tavern. It had taken him two days he really didn’t feel like he had to locate Miss Burke. He had spent more than a handful of pounds a pence at a time supporting half the street urchins in Leeds to find her. If she wasn’t so vital to his plan he would have gone with Mister Harper. But she really was the only woman he knew who he could trust to pull this off and handle herself in a fight if it came down to it.   If, and it was a big if, he could persuade her.
 He had met her on a trade junket. He grinned with the recollection, “met”, he had caught her stowed away on the ship he’d been sent to return from Calcutta for the East India Company, the Hercules a fine new merchantman on her maiden voyage loaded with spice for the London markets. He caught her the first time dressed as a boy hiding in the cargo hold between crates of spice. Her disguise kept him from realizing that the urchin he dragged from between the crates was actually a woman. He put her to work as a cabin boy. The cabin boy went missing a day later.  The second time he found the stowaway was ten days later.  The urchin was hiding in the stack of empty livestock cages in a used pig cage to be exact. They had cast anchor in Mauritius for recaulking and to take on fresh water and supplies. He had been directing unloading the water barrels and empty livestock crates when he saw the filthy lump in a swine cage. Fearing some mischief had befallen and thinking he was dealing with a dead body he opened the door of the cage and reached in only to have a filthy foot planted squarely into his jaw knocking him back before she rolled from the cage and round house kicked him in the solar plexus knocking the wind from him before dashing for the rail. It was the wrong rail apparently because she stopped and grabbed a free belaying pin before sprinting back across the deck to the seaward side of the ship. One hapless sailor tried to grab her only to meet the expertly wielded end of the belaying pin. Caiden had, had enough and recovered enough he bellowed at the men to catch ‘him’!   She turned long enough for him to catch the flash of her dark eyes and in that moment he was stunned. Somehow despite all the filth and men’s clothing he realized two things about this urchin. He was a she. And She was amused. There wasn’t an ounce of fear or concern in that look. She was laughing at him. She was laughing at him, and the men coming after her had no clue what was happening.  She rolled beneath the reach of one sailor only to headbutt another man in the crotch sending him sprawling and clutching his bruised manhood. The belaying pin thwacked another swabbie in the side as she spun up and over to the far rail. She tossed the pin rather casually in Caiden’s direction before she dove off the rail into the sea. Caiden didn’t even think about the insanity of what he did as he followed after her. Boots, belt, hat, pistol, rapier and daggers all went into the sea with him as he dove twenty feet into the warm Indian Ocean. Caiden could swim but not with his boots full of water and twenty pounds of cutlery and clothing weighing him down. It struck him as somewhat amusing that his crew was cheering him on as he was about to drown. He was trying to divest himself of his belt that held his pistol and blades when he felt her hand grab his jaw from behind. She was swimming behind him, she struggled but managed to pull him up to the surface.  “Idiot.” She hissed in his ear her face next to his as she stroked for the shore. A few minutes later she let him go and he realized he could stand. She swam away from him and he saw her glorious red hair coming unbound as she strode from the sea onto the beach.  “Wait.” He called after her. Only vaguely aware of the calls of his crew as they began to realize the nature of the stowaway.  She turned her head looking at him over her shoulder with a lifted brow. “I don’t think so.” Her voice was low and silken with an accent that wasn’t from any Indian dialect he could place. Her sea cleansed features revealed alabaster skin and a delicate almost ethereal beauty completely at odds with the expectation one would have of someone, anyone, much less a woman who could elude or disable at least six men before rescuing him from drowning.  “You… you have my thanks.” He mumbled feeling almost dizzy from the events of the last few minutes.    She laughed and gave him a bow. “And your dagger which I suspect will be of more use to me.” Her eyes darted to the ship where crewmen were still calling to their captain at the rail.                                                   ***  Caiden’s reminiscing was interrupted as he saw the lad with the cap atop his red hair exit the tavern he’d been watching and heard her laugh. If he didn’t already know, he wouldn’t know at a brief glance that there was a female beneath the clothes. He shook his head amused that two years later she was still posing as a boy. He dashed across the street and saw her posture shift the instant he turned in her direction.  “Wait!”  She stopped and turned her head. The bow of her cap shielded her eyes from him but he saw the dimple of her smile and heard the chuckle in her voice. “I don’t think so, Captain Lykel.”  “Caiden. Just Caiden. Please Miss Burke. I need to speak with you.”  She wiped her face and adjusted her cap. “I’m going to the market to get some chickens for the tavern.” She continued her walk toward the market.  He fell into step beside her. “I need your help. I have a friend in trouble.”  She smirked at him, cocking her head to look in his black eyes. “Well I’m surprised.”  “That I need your help?”  “That you would ask.”  She went to a stall giving a sack to the merchant and picking out three fine chickens which she paid threepence for before taking the sack with the chickens from him. She turned and looked Caiden up and down, assessing before heading back toward the tavern. “What sort of trouble is your friend in that you need my help?”  “I believe my friend and his new wife have a bounty on their heads. Put there because she ran away rather than marry Duke Karlington, an arrangement made by her grandmother without her consent.”  Marina stopped and turned to face him fixing him with her dark chocolate eyes. “A bounty?”  He nodded. “The Duke has some connections that are less than savory.” She arched her brow, “Without agreeing but entertaining my curiosity, what sort of assistance can I provide, Captain?” “I have a plan. It requires someone who might pass themselves off as Mister Sinclaire’s wife; and who I know can handle themselves in a fight.  And I’m not a captain anymore.”  She laughed at him. “Captain there is one thing I know. A Captain is always a Captain.”  He shook his head but smiled. “Miss Burke, I can pay you.”  “Really?” She smiled enough to show perfect pearl white teeth. “What is the bounty on them?”   “What do you mean?”  She cocked her head and there was a mischievous note in her voice. “What if the bounty was more than you are offering?” She shook her head and switched the bag with the chickens to her other hand. “How do you trust me, Captain? You know little of me. We are even. I stowed away on your ship. Beat up your men. Stole your dagger. I pulled you out of the sea. You got me to England. We are even.”  “You stowed away multiple times on my ship.”  “Only because you kept putting me off.”  Caiden smiled at her. “It didn’t deter you. And it’s how I know you can handle this if you are willing. I don’t know how much the bounty is on them. But I promise if we find out I will more than match it.”  “So if I agree what will be required of me?”  “First we must ride with speed to Gretna Green. That will be two or three days in the saddle if we can get fresh horses. Once we are there undercover of night I will send the Sinclaires to catch a boat to Ireland and thence to find passage back to London. You and I will assume their roles and leave Gretna Green as Mister and Mistress Sinclaire. Travelling by coach back to London.”  “So we are to be the bait?”  “Aye. And if we are fortunate we will capture those who may testify to the bounty and who set it.”  “You will have to buy me suitable clothes for this charade you propose.”  He nodded and his grin got big as he realized she was seriously considering helping him. “Done.”  “You must also provide all my expenses, horses, room, food.” She was watching him carefully.  “Done.”  “You must also keep my room above the tavern while I am gone. You must arrange to pay my rent for the next six months.”  His eyes widened but he nodded.  She held out her hand to him to shake. He looked at her tiny hand and resisted the urge to bend over it and place a kiss on her knuckles. Taking it in a surprisingly firm shake feeling the calluses on her fingers that told tales of hard work.  “We have an accord, Captain. I’ll meet you before the tavern in an hour ready to ride.”                 ______________________________
    Luke told Ernest of his meeting with Mister Lykel as they walked toward the cottage leading his tired horse. He told him of his friend’s words about the nature of Duke Karlington’s companion Gideon Payne and Mister Lykel’s concern that a bounty may have been placed on their heads.
  Ernest nodded gravely and steered them toward the river that they might rinse the worst of the soot from their hands and faces before going to the house.  
   At the rivers edge they found one bucket filled with water and another laying on its side as though dropped. Both men frowned as what they were seeing registered. Then Ernest turned dashing for the cottage shouting for Rose.
   Luke tied his horse where he could drink but not trod where the tracks by the river were. Then went to look carefully around the river bank.
 Ernest’s heart felt like it would explode in his chest and his vision was tunneling with panic and despair as he burst into the cottage calling for Rose.
 The silence was a knife in his heart as he dashed from room to room. The dishes from their morning breakfast sat unwashed in the tub. The chamber pots were unemptied. He dashed through every room looking, crying her name. Terrified he might find her body. Broken at the thought that she was gone. He abandoned the house and went to the stable calling. The cart horse and cow still secured in their stalls greeted him but no Rose. He stumbled back out howling her name desperately.
 Luke ran to Ernest when he heard the mortal despair in his voice. He found him on his knees in the yard weeping, moaning her name.
 “Ernest,” He put his hand on his back and helped him to his feet leading him into the cottage and sitting him on one of the stools in the kitchen. He looked around and found a bottle of Scotch and poured a good measure into two glasses for each of them. “Ernest, drink.” He watched Ernest take the Scotch and gulp it then bury his face in his hands as he wept.
  Luke’s deep voice was the soothing tone he used to calm skittish horses as he spoke softly to the distraught man.
 “Ernest, you must take comfort that she is alive. Mister Lykel is on his way. And, I believe I saw the men who took her.”
 Ernest’s head whipped up, “What? How? We must go rescue her.” He stood and stumbled toward the master bedroom.
 Luke followed him. “Sir, stop. You must listen to me. If we are going to go after them we have to have a coach and a fresh team. Neither of us are in any shape to chase after them on horseback. The horse I rode in here is exhausted and needs to be cared for. Unless you have some fine horses in that small stable you don’t have a horse that could go after them.”
 Ernest stared at the bed a long moment tears streaking down his sooty face. His voice was soft and broken, “I can’t believe I lost her. I…”
 “You haven’t lost her, sir. Bad men have taken her. Doubtless to collect the bounty we feared. But they didn’t kill her. I saw their foot prints in the soft soil by the bank. I saw wagon tracks. And I remembered the hay wagon that I saw this morning. It was lightly loaded with two men but headed away from Gretna. And the driver was using his whip on the horses. If I hadn’t seen the village afire I would have had words with them for the way they were driving their horses. But I was in haste to get to you. I had no idea that they had Lady Sinclaire until just now. Their horses will not hold to that pace long. So either they are going to have to make camp somewhere close or they are going to be slowing down trying to change or rest their team. What’s more, the right wagon wheel has a smith mark in its rim. I saw it in the print.
 We need food. And we need a coach. We need rest. Neither of us is up to riding after them. I need you to think. Is there anyone here who may be able to help us? It’s going to be dark before we can leave and we might miss any sign of them departing the road if we try to pursue in the dark. So we need to prepare. You need to write to Mister Lykel so he knows what transpired should he arrive after we have left. I can see about packing some food and tending the animals here. I need you to see if you can enlist us some help and find us some horses. We also must be prepared to help Lady Sinclaire should she have any injury when we find her. We will find her sir.”
 Ernest nodded, setting his jaw and pulling himself back in control. He walked over and rinsed his face and arms in the bucket of fresh water that was sitting on the hearth by the banked fireplace. “You are right. Please forgive me. I, I thank you for your support in this dark hour Mister Harper. It means more than I can express.
 Can you show me the tracks with the mark you spoke of? I must go speak with Mister Camran and Master Elliot. I know they will help if they can.”
His blue eyes filled with pain fixed with Luke’s. “She is my life, Mister Harper. I must find her. I will find her.”
  To Be Continued………….
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junionigiri · 4 years
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and you say, stay Chapter 6 - What You’re Missing
Chapter summary: Secretary Uraraka goes out on a date.
Rating: T
Thanks to the Director, she sleeps a grand total of 4 hours that night. Seems that no matter what that guy does, she ends up sleep-deprived. If it’s not deadlines, it’s unwarranted marriage proposals, and if it’s neither of those it’s his weird words and his clueless stare and his warm jacket and his infinite mochis and the silly boop at her nose and the best first date she’s ever had.
Granted she doesn’t have another first date to compare this to, except for that one guy in high school who gave her the french fries that came with his burger. Maybe it’s too presumptuous for her to say that it’s the best date ever. But, Director Todoroki closed down MightyLand for a date! And let her ride Space World seven times!!! If another guy existed in the world who could bring her to a private date in an amusement park and then feed her five-star food under the stars please stand up.
Actually, it didn’t have to be as stellar as this one. Anybody else who isn’t her Demon Boss is welcome to make her feel as giddy as she does now. Ochako still hasn’t accepted that she can allow herself to feel this way for her demon-of-a-boss. It doesn’t stop her stupid mouth from smiling the entire night, though.
“Your owner is too much. He totally ruined all the other first dates for me,” she tells Her Very Own Victoria (Victoria II for short) sourly. “And you smell like him so it’s also your fault I couldn’t sleep!”
The doll smiles innocently.
“Humph! You’re lucky that you’re really cute and really soft,” she mutters, burying her face into the cat doll’s plush head for the umpteenth time. She’s so frickin’ fluffy and just the exact size for hugging. Ochako can forgive that she looks like the first cat she’s ever met who has managed to become the bane of her existence.
Mid-hug, she feels something within the doll. Something hollow with edges, hidden within Victoria II’s little jumper. Warily, she inspects the pocket and fishes out a pretty box tied with a ribbon.
A teardrop-shaped moonstone hanging from a delicate silver chain shimmers prettily when she opens the box. It’s nothing like the big or flashy white gold/diamond encrusted pieces the Director gave his previous girlfriends, but Ochako instantly likes it without question. It’s dainty and so, so pretty, glowing a shade of blue that’s just like moonlight.
But she keeps herself from becoming too excited. There’s no note, no labels, nothing. Director Todoroki didn’t mention that he had two gifts for her and there’s no reason why he’d buy her anything like this. Maybe he left it here by accident?
She could have waited to ask him when she visits his penthouse in an hour, but she’s impatient and it might be awkward to tell him he gave her the wrong gift in person. She takes a chance and sends him a casual SMS:
Uraraka Ochako (0455 AM) [image attached]
Uraraka Ochako (0456 AM): this was in Victoria II’s pocket (*✧×✧*)
Director Todoroki (0456 AM): Of course it is. I put it there.
Director Todoroki (0456 AM): Do you like it?
Ochako is surprised for a couple of reasons--one is that he’s up super early, and another is that what, it wasn’t a mistake! Why would the Director give her something like this after treating her to so many other things last night?
Well… it isn’t always easy to see the Director’s intentions, but Ochako has had a nine-year master’s class on that. The most obvious answer is what he said last night--that is, it is simply something to say goodbye, to show his appreciation. Some bosses are just that generous. She’ll happily ignore all the other weird, confusing, (heartracing) things he said and did in favor of that very reasonable explanation.
Uraraka Ochako (0457 AM): Of course, Director!
Uraraka Ochako (0457 AM): I mean, sure do! (=✪ᆽ✪=) Thank you, I really like it!
Uraraka Ochako (0458 AM): Oh, I’m also leaving for the penthouse in a while. Please wait for me.
Director Todoroki (0458 AM): I’ll be fine. You can come to work at seven.
Uraraka Ochako (0459 AM): Are you sure? I’m awake now, it’ll be easy for me to come to you to assist you.
Director Todoroki (0501 AM): I’m sure. Just be ready with our agenda when I get to work.
Director Todoroki (0501 AM): [image attached]
Director Todoroki (0502 AM): By the way, this Victoria is requiring you to wear that necklace today.
The image he sends her shows the living British Shorthair in all her irate glory. She’s loafed up over a futon and frowning enthusiastically at the camera as if she’s aware that the photo is meant for Ochako. She’d chortle at the ridiculousness of it, but then she sees the Director’s long pajama-clad legs and a portion of his bare torso in the background and suddenly her face feels ridiculously hot.
Stupid Director. Despite that she sends him another thank you message and takes another moment staring at the necklace. It’s so pretty over her fingers, is it really okay to just wear it?
She clasps the delicate chain around her neck and stares at the moonstone hanging near her collarbone. Oh no , it looks nice on her. She can wear this to work everyday, and judging by the angry cat’s grimace she really has to.
Well, orders are orders, she thinks coolly as she tries her darndest not to explode in a giddy mess while getting ready for work.
*
“Ochako-chan?” Mina asks with narrowed eyes as soon as she steps in the office at six thirty in the morning. “You’re late?”
Office hours begin at eight, but the staff of the Office of the Executive Director usually starts their day at six. For Ochako to appear thirty minutes late without the Director is terribly unusual, and immediately everyone’s glaring at her suspiciously.
“Sorry. Traffic. It happens,” Ochako answers, fighting not to avoid everyone’s eyes. “But it’s okay, the Director knows. You guys shouldn’t worry about him being in a bad mood or anything.”
“This is most alarming,” Iida murmurs with a concerned flash of his glasses. “This has only ever happened once in your nine year history with the company! And that was during the big earthquake 5 years ago!”
Kirishima shakes his head. “Nah, she was in the director’s mansion during that one so it doesn’t count. But there was that time when the trains shut down so you had to parkour your way across town to get to work! The Director went Demon-King Mode over that one.”
“Yeah, and then he bought you a car. And then you gave it to Shoji,” Monoma deadpans in sheer, palpable jealousy. “So what, the Director’s gonna buy you another car today? Can you at least drive it once before you give it away?”
Honestly, why does everyone remember every single thing about her work history? “He isn’t going to buy me another car, Monoma.”
“If he does, you lose and I get the car.”
Whatever. “Deal.”
Satisfied, Monoma twirls back to his work and the others follow. All except for Camie, who’s waiting for her at their reception desk outside of the Director’s room. The taller secretary greets her with a coy smile. “Ocha-babes, those stories were cray. Did he really buy you a car?”
Ochako laughs nervously. “Yeah… he didn’t want me to be late ever again, but I can’t just take a car , y’know?”
“Ya. I gotcha,” Camie says with a wink. “That fab necklace tho? Wouldn’t guess that was Directoroki’s style but it’s cute on you so I say, keep that one.”
“Wh-what? No, this isn’t from--”
Maybe the wide-eyed sputtering is more incriminating than anything because Camie’s smile is bordering on shit-eating. So much for her elaborate lie of ordering it online. In any case, it’s too late to defend herself when Director Todoroki himself arrives without warning.
They stand up and bow. “Good morning, Director Todoroki.”
Even though it’s another rare morning where Todoroki had to do all his morning rituals by himself and his tie is a little crooked, Ochako is surprised at just how dapper he looks in a suit and how his hair looks different when it’s styled for work. She wonders why she’s taken aback by him now when Director Todoroki being handsome isn’t really anything new--in fact, it’s a requirement, the product of her hard work on most days. Is it because she didn’t see him at the penthouse today?
There’s an extra split-second his eyes spend searching for the stone over her collarbone, and another for his mouth to quirk upwards in approval. And then she knows exactly why she feels so weird.
“Secretary Utsushimi, confirm our next meeting with Takami-san from the Chairman’s Office. We need to see them before noon today. Don’t take no for an answer.”
“Gotcha, Director.” Camie is on it in a flash, that knowing, dangerous smile never leaving her lips as she dials the number. Ochako tries her best not to shudder.
“Secretary Uraraka.”
“Yes, Director.” After years and years of serving him, that’s all she needs to know what she has to do next. Gathering the day’s schedule, priority documents, and urgent letters, she follows him into the office.
*
Three days pass by them in the usual whirlwind of meetings and gruelling office work. Thankfully Director Todoroki has stopped acting as strange as he did during their private goodbye party, and Ochako has been able to focus on her work as she usually does. With the art center opening looming closer and closer and the day of work they’ll lose tomorrow for the annual mandatory Company Day, lord knows they need it.
There’s lots to be done, but on that particular day, Ochako is working double-time. She even skips lunch in favor of munching on just a couple of strawberry chocolates while she drafted letters at the speed of light. By 5 PM she is 95% done, so it’s worth it.
She lets herself drink her second cup of coffee in the office pantry next to Camie when Mina wobbles in, tired as hell herself. “Move over, ladies. I need coffee and I need it now,” she slurs hoarsely.
“Gurl, here you go. Rest. Relax. Lubricate.” Camie pushes a freshly made cappuccino over to her, which the pink-haired girl takes gratefully.
“Thanks gurl! You the best! Endeavor Secretaries are like, a different breed of human, ” Mina says with a sigh. “I haven’t seen the two of you get up from your desks the entire day, how are you guys still alive? ”
“Nah, I was just trynna keep up with Ocha-babes. She’s like, in beast mode today.”
Ochako laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, Camie-chan! I told you you could take a break anytime. It’s just that I have to leave early today, so…”
Mina makes a blubbering noise over her coffee. “Oh gurl wait. Is that today!?”
Ochako beams. “Yep!”
Camie looks at them one after the other. “Uh. What’s today, fam? Are you winning the lottery or something?”
“No, ~duh~. Well, maybe that’s one way to put it? The Lottery of Love. ” Mina snorts. “Our dear angel secretary here is finally going on a date!”
“Oh. Worm.” Camie’s smile is both coy and intrigued. Ochako can almost hear her thoughts ( I thought you and Directoroki was bonin’, but okay ) but all she says is, “That’s lit, fam~get it, gurl, I’m rootin’ for ya~”
Ochako shakes her head. “Nah, it’s just a blind date. I don’t even know if we’re gonna get along, so...”
Suddenly more energized than the half-dead state she was in when she walked in, Mina vibrates in excitement. “Oh my god, Ochako--I know the guy, okay, and like, I won’t spoil anything but I’m super sure that the next time we talk about it is the two of you inviting us to your wedding. So you better not be late, because--”
A shattering noise interrupts them from behind.
“--Bakugou’s as impatient as the Demon-- aaaaah, Director, you’re bleeding, what happened?!?! ”
“Ah.” Director Todoroki was, for one reason or another, looming behind them and holding a designer cup from Hermes. Was. Now it’s just shards of 100,000 yen ceramic along with blood and steaming green tea, which he regards with cold nonchalance.
“I broke my cup,” he replies blankly.
Ochako is the first to jump to his aid. She zooms past the other girls so she can take all the broken pieces off his hand and examine all the cuts up close. “I can see that! Director, what were you thinking?! Be careful! Oh my gosh you’re really bleeding!”
There are exactly four cuts, the longest of which is less than 1 cm, nothing deep, nothing that can leave a scar. Good, good. The tea hasn’t burned his right hand, which is a miracle. “Director, you’ll be fine. We just need to disinfect this quickly. I’ll bring you to the infirmary right now.”
Out of nowhere, her hands feel warm. Not from the tea or anything, but from something intense starts to make her skin tingle. When she looks up, Director Todoroki is staring at the point of contact of their hands, his gaze unreadable.
“... sweet,” Camie mumbles behind them.
The moment breaks. Ochako (and judging from the chill behind her, Director Todoroki as well) glare at her, while Mina gives her a sharp, meaningful nudge to the ribs.
“The cappuccino, I mean. It’s super sweet. The power of stevia, amirite,” the other secretary explains, smiling away the pain at her side. “Ocha-babes, the infirmary’s too far away. You can take care of Directoroki in the office, right? We gots a first-aid kit there.”
Ochako doesn’t appreciate the way her eyebrows raise, but Director Todoroki does not seem opposed to the idea. She leads the way back into the office, pulls out the first-aid kit, and treats his wounds over his plush office sofa. “Director, I know you’re clumsy sometimes but how did this even happen?! Should we return this set of tea cups? They might be defective...”
“No, this was an accident. There’s absolutely. No. Problem,” the Director grits out. He seems annoyed for an entirely different unspoken reason, but if he isn’t going to say anything, Ochako isn’t going to pry.
A few gentle dabs of disinfectant and a few bandaids later, the Director’s hand is looking better. If he needs to be in a photoshoot within the next 24 hours she’ll just have to tell the photographer to hide his right hand somehow. “There. Good as new. Well… almost.”
Todoroki flexes his hand experimentally. “It is. You can get back to work now.”
“Oh, about that…” Ochako straightens up and tries to keep her face from being too excited. “I’m almost done for the day, Director. All I need is your signature for this letter here…”
She shows him the English-language letter she drafted for him earlier. He looks through it with a scowl, taking longer than usual to search for any errors. She’s confident that there are none, though, and it is almost begrudging how he picks up his fountain pen to scrawl the characters of his name at the bottom.
“Thank you, Director,” she says with a bow. “Now… since all my work is done, I wanted to ask if I can leave early.”
Todoroki regards her with another fresh, cold scowl. “All of it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen that report from General Affairs yet.”
“You gave that assignment to Secretary Utsushimi. But, Shinsou from General Affairs submitted it this morning. You already replied to them.”
Todoroki hums. “How about that meeting with the Belgium group?”
“Monoma-kun and I have sent you and all the other division heads the agenda,” she answers confidently. “You also replied to us already.”
“And the marketing report for--”
“--there are corrections to be done over at Chief Midoriya’s office. Asui-san is taking care of it.”
“... Victoria.”
She blinks. “She’s admitted overnight at Dr. Koda’s clinic for an executive check-up, isn’t she?”
Todoroki huffs. “... well. It seems that you’re truly done for the day.”
Ochako raises her eyebrows expectantly. “... so…”
He stares at her for a few, strange moments. She feels his eyes scan hers, and then the necklace around her neck. He obviously isn’t happy for some reason, but his mood shifts a little seeing the stone over her collarbone.
“All right,” he says. Ochako wonders if she imagined him mumbling, you win. “You are dismissed.”
Ochako smiles and bows as she leaves the office. “Thank you, Director. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Oh my god. I pulled it off. Feeling adequately victorious, she takes her phone out and sends someone a message. I’m on my way. See you in twenty minutes!
*
She makes it to the Dagobah Seaside Park in eighteen minutes. Normally she’d be wary to appear so eager, but Kirishima-kun and Mina-chan were pretty pushy about her not being late, so she rushed there as quickly as she could. She only had time to fix her hair a little as she stood near the bench where she’s supposed to meet her date. She fishes out her phone just to make sure that she hasn’t missed this guy, but then an abrasive voice calls out to her from behind.
“Oi.”
Turning swiftly, she looks to the source of the rasp. “Oh… Bakugou Katsuki-san?” she asks cautiously.
“Yeah. Who else?”
He’s got the most intense pair of red eyes she’s ever seen on a person, and the fluffiest blonde hair. The scowl on his face looks as angry as it does in all the photos that Kirishima has shown her. Even the rasp of his voice is exactly the same as it sounds in all his Youtube videos. It’s impossible for her to mistake the guy for anyone else, and he knows it.
“Yeah, who else?” she agrees with a laugh that she hopes doesn’t sound too uncomfortable. “Nice to meet you! I’m Uraraka Ochako.”
“I figured. You’re the only roundface in this shithole,” he says with a shrug.
“ Roundface?! ” she repeats, after an affronted pause.
“Yeah.” Bakugou has no reservations at all to peer in closer to her face, as if examining an alien life form. “Shit. I thought Shitty-Hair was shittin’ me when he showed me that picture of you stuffing your face with beef ribs. I didn’t think anyone’s face would be this round. What the fuck. You’re like a fuckin’ hamster.”
“Hahaha, oookay.” Ochako steps back away from his fingers which definitely has ill intentions against her cheeks. “Well, I dunno what to tell you, I was born with ‘em. How about you, were you born with Pomeranian fur on your head?”
She definitely doesn’t want to be rude, but he’s managed to say so many curse words and vague insults within the first five seconds of meeting her, and it’s weird.
Bakugou scowls at first, which she expected, but then he laughs--a rough, barking sound. “Damn, talking shit off the bat? To me?! I underestimated you, cheeks, you’re tougher than you look.”
Ochako scrunches up her face. “Not used to it?”
“Nah.” Bakugou smirks. “That means you can keep up with me. Let’s go. Wasting fuckin’ daylight here.”
Ochako follows him along the boardwalk and into a small, hip restaurant at the beachfront. Kirishima must have told him about her fear of fire, because he tells her that he would have brought her to this grill he liked that served ‘good spicy shit on skewers.’ He assures her however that ‘this dump isn’t that bad and there’s no fire.’
“Oi, Soysauce-Face! Get us a table,” Bakugou barks as soon as they step in the establishment.
A tall, plain guy whom he addressed as ‘Soysauce-Face’ turns to him with an exasperated look that turns into a smile when he sees Ochako cowering behind her handbag. “Oi, Bakugou! Date night, huh? I didn’t think you had the balls to go through with it.”
”Go die,” Bakugou grumbles. He doesn’t even wait for the guy to take them to their seats and just picks the nicest booth with a view of the ocean, tossing out the little reserved signage on it without remorse. Meanwhile the guy, whose name is Sero according to his nameplate, follows her with a menu.
“So… Uraraka, huh?” Sero grins after she introduces herself. “You’re Kirishima’s friend from the office. Well, it’s been ten minutes and you haven’t run away screaming from Bakugou yet, so I guess it means the date’s going well.”
“Shut up, Soy Boy,” Bakugou grumbles. “Get us some fuckin’ ramen already. Roundface is starving.”
So, from the first few moments of the date, Ochako can already pick out things about Bakugou that definitely leave much to be desired. The most obvious of them is his potty mouth and his staunch refusal to call anyone by their actual names. Even though ‘Roundface’ and ‘Angelface’ are better than the names he called his friends (apart from the rude names he called Kirishima and Sero, he called Mina ‘Raccoon-Eyes,’ and there were two others in the group called ‘Pikashit’ and ‘Ears’), it’s definitely putting a damper on the entire dating experience.
Okay, so that’s the biggest problem with Bakugou. The other things, she admits, might just be her being picky. Like Bakugou ordering for them without asking her what she liked. Bakugou scowling at everything. Bakugou’s tendency to scream when he’s calling for Sero’s attention. Bakugou picking a place that’s super crowded and not at all private and intimate. Bakugou only being kinda tall but not really that tall, unlike Director Todoroki--
--He drapes his coat around her easily. He’s much taller than her and has wider shoulders, so naturally she’s--
Wait, Ochako thinks in alarm, Where did that come from?
“Oi. What’s eatin’ you, Cheeks?” he grumbles as she literally shakes her head free of any invasive thoughts about the Director.
“Nothing,” she laughs awkwardly. “Just that, um, this ramen’s really spicy, huh?”
“Hah? That shit is not spicy.” To demonstrate his point, he dumps another handful of ghost peppers in his. “Mine’s better. Try it.”
Ochako rolls her eyes. “Thanks, but I’m not interested in getting hemorrhoids.”
“Roundface, what the fuck. Don’t talk about that kinda shit in front of food.”
Okay, so maybe she’s just picky. If she ignores all those things, this date is actually pretty fun. Despite all the profanities, Bakugou is an interesting person to talk to. He has a lot of stories as extreme investigative journalists tend to have, but to her surprise he asks her things about herself and almost seems (begrudgingly) interested. Ochako can’t imagine why--she’s just an average secretary of some hotshot executive downtown--but somehow she’s telling him about her interest in astrophysics and judo classes at the Gunhead Dojo, and suddenly she seems pretty interesting herself.
“Huh. And here I thought you were some fragile chick,” he says with a smirk. “You know you gotta prove it now, right? On our second date, we should try to beat each other’s asses or something.”
“You got weird kinks, mister,” she says with a playful look of disgust.
“What, you gonna say no?”
“Well… you look like you could use a good ass-kicking. Let me think about it.”
He laughs gruffly again, and is it weird how comfortable she feels? He doesn’t seem to mind when she acts like herself.
And he really is handsome, the way bad boys are handsome--rough, headstrong, the exact polar opposite of the quiet, refined grace that Director Todo--
“Seriously cheeks, if you got hemorrhoids I’ll take your ass to a CVS or something.”
Ochako puffs her cheeks. Dammit, she’s finally spending time with a guy who isn’t the Director, she has to be better than this! “Let’s stop talking about hemorrhoids. Don’t talk about that kinda shit in front of food.”
Bakugou grins. “Weirdo. What kinda office lady talks like that?”
… It’ll take a lot of getting used to, but she guesses that the two of them can get along, after all.
Oh, although there is another thing to be concerned about--all the looks they’re getting in the restaurant. She should have expected this since she is with Bakugou Katsuki, the infamous independent journalist who’s known for exposing corruption and organized crime and living to scream about it. She’s still surprised when the first set of fans come up to their table asking for an autograph, though.
“B-Bakugou Katsuki-san?” a timid college kid asks, shaking in his boots. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I’m a big fan of Ground Zero , and that expose you did on Detnerat Corp was--”
He clicks his tongue. “Piss off, nerd. Go die.”
“Bakugou-kun!”
“What?”
Ochako is about to defend the poor fan, who is shaking even more in his boots. But then the kid bows, looking happier than a lark. “Th… thank you for the words, Bakushinchi! Oh my god, dude, did you see that? Bakugou-fuckin’-Katsuki cussed me out like I’m trash!!! Did you get it on video?!”
Dumbfounded, Ochako watches as the fan gushes about the experience to his other friends. She looks at Bakugou oddly. “Okay, that was weird.”
“Tch. Yeah. All fuckin’ nerds is the same.” He dumps his chopsticks on the table, followed by a few crisp bills from his wallet. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
Ochako doesn’t argue. It’s about time they left anyway--has it really been three hours since they started talking? Sero waves at them with a smile that’s all too exasperated as they leave his restaurant.
They move on to a cafe that’s definitely quieter and less crowded than Sero’s. There are very few people giving them interested looks, but no-one looks like they’re going to bother them. Ochako gets a giant strawberry parfait while Bakugou frowns at her over his espresso.
“Tch. You’re gonna get diabetes,” the irate blonde grumbles.
“I’ll live,” she says with a happy sigh. “Gosh, strawberries are the best. And look how pretty it is! You don’t know…”
With the taste of strawberries lingering in her mouth, she follows him... Flowers of all colors surround their feet, glowing ethereally under the moonlight. The city below, the stars above. It’s a beautiful night.
“... what you’re missing,” she finishes lamely. Suddenly, the parfait doesn’t taste that good anymore, and she only has Director Todoroki in her mind. As she has intermittently, for most of the night.
She sucks at dates, doesn't she.
“I’ll live,” he says with a scowl. “Anyways, you told me that you had something to ask me.”
Oh, right. Her lackluster dating history aside, there’s another important reason why she agreed to this blind date at all--the fact that Bakugou Katsuki is a brilliant investigator.
Suddenly pensive, Ochako puts her dessert spoon down and takes a deep breath for courage. “Right. Um, so I know that we just met and I shouldn’t ask any big favors, but--”
Bakugou clicks his tongue so sharply he could have cut her bangs. “Just spit it out, Pink-Cheeks!”
“Okay, geez.” Again, Ochako takes a deep breath. It isn’t easy telling anybody this, because the hazy memories have an alarming tendency to make her hands shake. “There’s an incident that I’ve been trying to get information on, but over the years I’ve come up empty. Since you’re good at this stuff, I wonder if you can help me find it. Oh, but it might be impossible--”
“Unless you’re makin’ shit up, I’ll get that, no problem. What, you think I can’t? ” With an insulted grunt, he says, “What incident are you talkin’ about?”
“I’m not making it up,” she says, although there’s a tiny sliver of doubt at the center of her heart. Who knows how much of that did or didn’t happen when her memories are so bad? “There used to be a neighborhood near MightyLand in the nineties that’s demolished now. Back in 1995, a fire broke out from one of the houses there.”
“... a fire, huh.”
Ochako nods. “A big one, too. I… don’t remember why, but I was sure it was... arson. I’ve looked for articles about arson or accidental fires or anything at all in that year, but apart from records of Endeavor buying out that land years later, there’s nothing that comes out.”
She had considered that no-one would care about fires in a neighborhood filled with poor people, but it’s frustrating that there’s absolutely zero evidence of it happening.
Bakugou, unexpectedly, has her rapt attention. “Endeavor bought out that land, huh.”
“Yes,” she answers carefully. “But years after that incident. From what I know, they eventually gave that land to the Might Group, which they used to expand the amusement park. It’s all legitimate.”
He rubs his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “Ya got a clue about the people in that fire?”
Ochako is hesitant to say anything about that. But she relents, “I’m sure there was… a woman there. And a boy. Probably five years old at the time. Um, I’m not sure about the others.”
“Huh.” The interested glint in the blonde’s eyes intensifies like ember. “Were they mother and son?”
“Um.” Come to think of it, even if her instincts told her they were mother and son, suddenly she’s not so sure. She can’t even remember what they looked like anymore. “I… don’t remember--I mean, I don’t know who they are, so it’s hard to tell.”
“So I take it you didn’t check for records on kidnapping or anything like that.”
“... no.”
She can hear his thoughts racing a mile a minute. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get you that story, Roundface. Fuckin’ easy.”
She exhales in relief. “Thanks so much! It’s been on my mind for so long, it’s driving me crazy.”
It’s also a relief for her that Bakugou doesn’t ask her any questions as to why she’s interested in the incident, although that’s a little strange in itself. Either he’s figured out things on his own, or he expects to know as the investigation goes on. But if he asked, she’s going to give him an honest answer. Anything, as long as she gets some clarity after twenty-four years of wondering.
“... oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even offer you any compensation or anything.”
Bakugou shrugs. “Ain’t interested in your dirty corporation money. But there is somethin’ you can do for me.”
She should have known. The mischievous smile on his face and the menacing twitch of his hand going for her face is all bad news. “You are not pinching my cheeks on the first date, Bakugou Katsuki.”
“No?” he snickers. “Newsflash, Angelface. I do whatever the fuck I want.”
*
Outside that particular cafe, Hagakure Tooru, the overworked secretary of Marketing Division Chief Midoriya Izuku, is grumbling all the way home. “Tsuyu-chan, I’m so tired! How have we lasted in Marketing for this long?!”
Tsuyu makes a sound that sounds exactly like a frog’s croak. It’s a weird mannerism that gets her a lot of weird looks, but Tooru reckons that all brilliant people had weird mannerisms and that’s probably the price to pay. Anyways, Tsuyu-chan is cute when she does it. “It’s super tough, Tooru-chan, but we get by. Besides, Midoriya-chan is a good boss who always knows what to do, so that makes it a lot easier.”
“Oof… he’s good all right. Too good,” Tooru huffs in exasperation. “I mess up at least once a day! And he’s always so nice about it. Sometimes I wish he’d just tell me off, y’know? I’m starting to get embarrassed!”
Tsuyu chuckles. “Just keep doing your best, Tooru-chan.”
“I aaam! But I know he’d like a secretary like Ochako-chan. Too bad that she’s the demon Director’s--”
Oh, speak of the devil?? Or, the angel, in this case. “Isn’t that Ochako-chan in that cafe over there?!”
On a table near the glass windows of a trendy cafe, Uraraka Ochako sits across a blonde guy with nice arm muscles. She seems to be smiling at him. “Oh. You’re right, ribbit. ”
“And on a date?!”
Tsuyu nods. “It’s nice that she finally has some free time since she’s resigning. Anyways, we should…”
Click.
Tsuyu looks at her with wide, unbelieving eyes. “Did you just take a picture of her and her date?”
“Uh, yeah?? I mean, look at how sweet they are! That guy’s touching her face so tenderly~”
“I wouldn’t call that touching,” the green-haired girl comments, pointing to the picture. The blonde guy’s obviously pinching her cheeks like dough. “And I think you should delete that photo. We should respect their privacy.”
She chuckles as she presses send. “Too late~! I’ve sent it to our group chat with Ochako-chan! Aw, Tsuyu-chan, don’t look so worried, I promise that this is just for the three of us!”
Tsuyu croaks. “That would be okay… except you sent it to Midoriya-chan, ribbit .”
Tooru does a double take on her phone screen. Oh, shit! “Wait, I can delete this--” she cries, just as a little checkmark at the bottom of the photo appears with the word read. “Oh noooooo! Not again!”
“Ribbit,” Tsuyu sighs in exasperation.
*
At around the same time, Shouto is drinking with Midoriya at his penthouse. They have their usual glasses of whisky between them. Sato comes by with a plate of zarusoba for him and katsudon for his green-haired friend. Shoji comes back from Dr. Koda’s to tell him that Victoria is doing splendidly. It’s a pleasant, stress free night and there’s absolutely nothing in Shouto’s mind that’s bothering him.
“You’re awfully relaxed,” Midoriya observes with a curious smile.
He sips his whiskey with sheer ease. “I am. All our projects are going along well, and Victoria’s healthy. Why wouldn’t I be relaxed?”
He laughs. “Uraraka-san’s blind date’s going on right now, isn’t it? I’d have thought you’d be, um, curious about it by now.”
“Why would you assume that?”
A muscle visibly twitches under Midoriya’s eye. “Well, you know, ‘cause you’ve been so dead set on wooing her so she’d marry you? And you made me do all those crazy things to help you? Not that I’m complaining about how crazy stressful it was or anything, but…”
Shouto cuts him off with a look of nonchalance. “Even so, I’m not worried about Secretary Uraraka going out on a single date with an unremarkable person. Objectively speaking, there’s no way that an ordinary person will interest her after our date.”
“Well, you may be right. But she wants ordinary, so I mean, I’d be a little worried.”
Midoriya is always expecting the worst. Shouto, however, is completely confident in this one. No ordinary man can do all the ordinary things she wants the way Shouto did them for her. “This date will end earlier than either of them planned. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, okay.” Midoriya’s phone vibrates on the table at that exact moment. He makes a surprised sound as he sees the screen. “Oh. Secretary Hagakure sent me a picture… huh, hottie alert, three bomb emojis…?”
“... you allow your secretary to speak to you that way?” Shouto asks, genuinely curious.
Midoriya laughs awkwardly. “N… no, she must have sent this by accident again. I mean, it’s fine, one time she sent me a video of Kirishima-kun doing push-ups at the helipad at Endeavor Tower… oh wait, I shouldn’t have told you that--”
Shouto shows him a face that just does not care, and Midoriya’s relieved for that. “Anyway, just gimme a sec to delete this… wait. This is Uraraka-san and--”
Shouto watches all the blood drain from Midoriya’s face, which happens in an impressive span of 0.75 milliseconds. “Is this… Kacchan?! ”
Shouto takes the phone from Midoriya’s grasp before either of them realize it. On the screen, Secretary Uraraka sits at a nondescript cafe. She’s wearing the same outfit she wore in his office hours ago, with the moonstone gleaming blue over her pale collarbone.
Across from her, an ordinary blonde man--no, an ordinary blonde punk --is reaching over and pinching her cheeks. The guy is smiling. Uraraka’s got an uncomfortable grimace that can easily be mistaken as a smile.
What the hell is this.
“T… Todoroki-kun, my phone, you’re destroying my phone--” Midoriya pleads from somewhere next to him.
How dare this… whatever the hell this guy is. Pinching his secretary’s cheeks familiarly and making her uncomfortable. Unforgivable. “What the hell is a Kacchan?”
Midoriya yelps as the world rumbles around him. “Th-that’s a guy I knew from childhood! Kacchan--I mean, Bakugou-kun… he’s that reporter who does those exposes! Remember, he did that one about Detnerat a couple years back?”
Ah, that one. He and his team exposed that the company used their technology to spy on their consumers for all sorts of delicate data. They were involved in a lot of unsavory things--organized crime, graft, bribery, cults. It was big news that led to their downfall and indirectly helped Endeavor Inc. prosper. Shouto thought it was impressive before, but now...
“That is not an ordinary man. Why would Uraraka be with him?”
Now, he feels threatened. Another person is out to get someone that belongs to him . And for once, he isn’t sure about the outcome.
“I… I don’t know,” Midoriya yelps. “Wh… where are you going, Todoroki-kun?”
Before he realizes it, the quiet Shouji and the alarmed Midoriya are chasing him as he’s on the way out of the door. He clicks his tongue and rushes out of the penthouse in irritated silence.
*
Ochako massages her cheeks in irritation. “You really went overboard there, Bakugou-kun,” she grumbles.
He sneers at her. “Your fuckin’ fault for having marshmallow cheeks.”
Bakugou doesn’t have a car, just a motorbike. He offered to take Ochako home on it, but it’s too scary. If she got in an accident, she wouldn’t be able to participate in Company Day, and Director Todoroki wouldn’t be happy about his office starting the games with a big disadvantage.
They’re waiting for the Uber to come pick her up. Bakugou clicks his tongue in distaste. “Tch. That icyhot bastard. Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes told me all about how he got you dangling on a string.”
She laughs lightly. “No, he’s not as bad as it sounds.”
He scowls. “Yeah he is. I get it if you’re just a chickenshit who’s scared to die on a motorbike, but you don’t wanna ride with me ‘cause you’re afraid of disappointing that half-and-half for fuckin’ Company Day. Your shitty boss has got you fuckin’ whipped .”
That almost sounds like a valid point. Puffing her cheeks in annoyance, she mumbles, “I’m also scared that you’ll kill us both. Don’t get me wrong.”
“Whatever.” Bakugou mindlessly fishes out a cigarette from his pocket. “That Uber’s taking his time. I’m gonna give that bastard a piece of--”
When the lighter comes out of his pocket, Ochako’s heart stops. She watches, frozen, as his thumb grazes the wheel of the lighter, threatening to form sparks. The fire’s already starting in her head even before it does in reality. She wants to stop him, but all she can manage is a squeak.
He hears her frightened noise and looks at her with alarmed red eyes. “Shit, I forgot.” He raises both his hands in the air. “I’m not lighting anything up, okay, calm your--”
It happens very fast: one moment Bakugou is talking, the next a hand decorated with bandaids appears out of nowhere and shoves him right in the face. He manages a swear word in before he attacks the person by pulling on his tie and swinging a fist.
The fist misses--barely. The other person steps backward, fist drawn back and mismatched eyes absolutely livid. Ochako finally processes what’s going on.
“Director Todoroki?!”
True enough, Todoroki Shouto is there on the sidewalk, eyes glowing and aura so threatening she swears she sees a mountain of ice looming behind him. He’s got a hand on Bakugou’s collar, while Bakugou has one hand on his. They both burn with obvious murderous intent.
“Half-and-half bastard!” Bakugou grits out, struggling against his grasp. “The fuck was that for?! You wanna die?!”
With a cold, cold voice, Todoroki answers, “You were about to send my secretary into a panic attack. I merely did what I had to do.”
She knew about the Director’s temper intimately. He’s calm like a bomb hiding in the lull of the ocean--cold, controlled, and terrifying in that way. But this… this is different. It only lasted for a few seconds when his hand landed over Bakugou, but Ochako saw it: unfiltered, uncontrollable rage.
For a moment, Ochako thought she was looking at Todoroki Enji.
Her instincts scream at her to stop him before it’s too late. “Director, I’m fine! Please don’t hurt him!”
“Tch, who’s hurting who? I’ll kick his ass!”
Thankfully, despite Bakugou’s rant, the Director listens to her and lets Bakugou go. The frightening chill in his eyes gradually ebbs, slowly, slowly. It takes a few moments before it’s completely gone, leaving a mildly confused look in his eyes that tells her he isn’t sure how he got there either.
“Secretary Uraraka--”
“--Kacchan! Todoroki-kun! Stop!!!”
Chief Midoriya comes running out from a car somewhere, followed by an alarmed Shouji. Ochako is left wondering what a Kacchan is, until she sees how the blonde’s face sours instantly.
“Shit, here we go,” Bakugou mutters, rubbing his face violently with one hand.
“Ohmygod I was so worried that both of you were hurt I didn’t know what was going on Kacchan I swear but we found out you were with Uraraka-san by accident and Todoroki-kun got worried and I swear I tried to stop him but--”
Ochako can hardly process a single word Chief Midoriya is saying. The other men are also starting to appear pretty overwhelmed about the word vomit accompanied by an onslaught of tears. Bakugou, in particular, is beginning to tick like a dynamite about to blow.
“--and if you were going to fight in the street Shouji-kun and I were ready to punch you guys just so you calm down but I’m glad you didn’t and--”
“Shut the fuck up, shitty Deku!”
This time, Bakugou launches himself toward the murmuring Chief, who gasps and flinches away. Luckily, the stoic Shouji successfully separates the two of them. Amidst the curses of the angry blonde, he turns questioningly to Director Todoroki. “Sir.”
The Director merely shakes his head. “We’re done. Secretary Uraraka, you’re coming with me.”
Before she can stop him, the Director’s grip is already on her wrist and she’s being dragged to his car. “Wait, Director--”
“Oi, asshole.” Bakugou’s stare is dark and unforgiving when he regards Todoroki again. “You think you can just walk away from me after trying to beat the shit outta me? I can charge you for assault, y’know.”
Director Todoroki gives him a look that’s just as dark. “Are you threatening me? Is this the part where you’re going to blackmail me for money?”
“Don’t insult me,” he growls. “Fuckin’ rich boy, you think throwing your dirty money around makes your problems go away? You think people can be bought and treated like property?”
He’s staring at the point where Todoroki’s got a hold on Ochako’s wrist. The Director notices and pulls Ochako even closer to him, far from Bakugou’s reach.
Midoriya turns to Bakugou. “Kacchan… please. Director Todoroki isn’t going to do it again,” he whispers fearfully.
Bakugou rubs his face with his hand. “Shut up, Deku. I’m not gonna ruin your shitty boss. But remember that I can if I want to.” He doesn’t hide the look of disgust in his eyes seeing Ochako behind the Director, but he still calls out to her as if he wasn’t there: “Uraraka, I’ll call you. I’m outta here.”
“A… all right, Bakugou-kun. Thank you,” she manages to say as he leaves, even when her wrist starts to feel like it’s freezing.
There’s a look in Bakugou’s eyes that tells her that he plans to come back for her soon. For her not to worry, he’ll get her out of there too, because suddenly he needs to do it for her. It doesn’t last long, though, as he shoves his helmet on and rides off on his motorcycle, not looking back once.
Todoroki Shouto’s grip on her suddenly feels like a ball and chain. As they walk to his car, he doesn’t let her go.
10 notes · View notes
alpxcamin · 5 years
Text
More Than Just a Job
Requested?: nope~
Words: 5.2k
Group: Stray Kids
Member(s): Jeongin (feat. JYP lmao)
A/n: Omg this has been in my drafts for like 3 months wtf...Also, if the words are bolded, it means you’re speaking english lol and also a warning, this is kind of dramatic?? Idk I hope you enjoy this tho!! This was supposed to be one fic, but it was getting too long so I decided to chop it lmao. Next parts are coming soon ^^
Part 1 || Part 2
“Jeongin!”
“Ah, Miss y/n, I’m here!”
You turned around, scowling at the frantic boy. He was dressed in his usual white button-up shirt, paired with a long black tie, black dress pants, and black leather shoes. He was slightly hunched and a little messy, but still acceptable. His half-slicked back hair framed his fox-like facial features showed slight fatigue.
“Why are you late? You’ve never been late,” you hissed, making the Jeongin shrink into himself.
“I’m so sorry, Miss. I woke up late today. I have no excuse,” he gulped, fixing his hair.
“I’ll excuse you this time and this one time only. You’ve never been late before so I’ll let you off the hook. If you’re ever late again,” you stared coldly into his eyes, “You’re fired.”
“Yes, ma’am. I apologize,” Jeongin bows before scuttling to his small desk on the side of the room.
You sigh and walk towards your own desk before plopping into your comfortable swivel chair. You watched Jeongin as he set his things down by his desk and got back up and left the room. Jeongin was your personal assistant and you had to admit that he was the best you’ve ever had. You’re the youngest CEO, having graduated three years early, and have won multiple awards for your amazing work.
You became busy quickly and at the youthful age of only eighteen, you still were not able to handle all the stress by yourself. So, you began searching for someone to aid you with your work. You’ve looked and looked and worked with a couple of people, but they weren’t the right fit. Your life became drastically less stressful and you felt less pressure as soon as you met Jeongin.
He was the same age as you, but still in college. Now, it has been four years since you’ve started working with Jeongin. It’s his last year in college now so you’re hoping he would become more available after he graduates.
You stare down blankly at the paperwork in front of you, contemplating on whether you should start them now or hand them off to Jeongin to finish. Just then, the door creaks open and you look up. Jeongin shuffles in with a small tray of snacks and a fresh cup of steaming coffee, as usual.
“Here you are, Miss,” Jeongin sets the tray down on your table, “The coffee is still hot. You should wait a while.”
“Thank you,” you nod, dwelling in the scent of fresh coffee and sweet cookies.
“Oh, should I take the paperwork, Miss?” Jeongin asks, noticing the pile of papers you were previously staring at.
“Sure, thanks,” you shrug, handing him the stack.
You silently munched on the cookies and drank the coffee as you watched Jeongin start on the paperwork. To say he was a hard worker was an understatement and you felt bad for being so harsh on him. He has amazing work ethics, always polite, and he always followed your orders all the way down to the smallest details. He always had a smile on his face despite all the yelling, stress, and work he had to deal with. You really admired him, so as his boss, you believed that it was best to let him face challenges to help him grow.
Jeongin suddenly looks up, catching you staring at him. He gives you a sweet, dimpled smile before setting down his pen and getting up. He made his way over to your desk and took the empty tray.
“Would you like me to refill your cup?” he points to the empty cup in your hands.
“It’s alright. Just finish the paperwork by lunch. We have a meeting after,” you hand him the cup before turning back around to look for some files.
After Jeongin came back, the two of you worked in comfortable silence. Jeongin knew mornings just weren’t your thing so he didn’t bother you too much. It was your routine. You and Jeongin would come into the office, he’d get you some snacks and the two of you worked silently. Then, after lunch, the two of you would attend meetings if there were any and then get back to work, but Jeongin would speak up more. Finally, at the end of the day, Jeongin would drive you back home before heading for his night classes.
Occasionally, he would have to sign out in the middle of the day if his school schedule conflicted with his work schedule. You would reluctantly let him go, but you understood that he had to graduate.
Before you knew it, it was already noon. You looked up from your laptop and your eyes drifted to Jeongin, who was scribbling away. You got up and walked up to his desk.
“Have you finished?” you look down at what he was writing.
“I’m almost done. I’ll finish this last sheet and go to lunch,” Jeongin smiled up at you.
“Good. This meeting is going to be draining,” you roll your eyes at the thought of who you were going to work with today.
“Of course. Have a nice lunch, Miss,” Jeongin waves as you left the room.
---
“Jeongin. Do you have all the paperwork?” you ask as you walk steadily towards the meeting room.
Jeongin trailed behind you, “Yes, I have the paperwork and a couple of additional files.”
“Good. You know how this man is. Disgusting,” you seeth, stopping in front of the door.
You take a deep breath before opening the door. You put on a fake smile, showing off your pearly white teeth. The jolly, old man in front of you let out a bellowing laugh and you cringed internally. You had worked with him quite a few times and you had come to learn that he was extremely touchy. Jeongin has had to intervene many times. Unfortunately for you, he was good friends with your deceased parents and so naturally, your parents had hoped that you would work closely with him. You only agreed because your parents asked you to. You respected them and their decisions so you reluctantly complied.
“Y/n, good to see you again, love,” the middle-aged man spread his arms wide open for a hug.
“Please, do not call me ‘love’, Mister Park. I’ve told you many times,” you stepped back a little and reached for his hand for a quick shake.
“Aww come on, we’ve worked together for such a long time. Your parents and I were close anyway,” he shrugs before taking a seat on one of the ends of the long table.
You sat down on the opposite end and Jeongin sat next to you. The meeting officially began and you internally groaned. It would be another two hours of your life wasted. Mr. Park had never been too interesting and you always quietly dozed off whenever he was talking. Luckily, Jeongin always took down notes and spoke for you whenever you didn’t feel like interacting.
“Alright, what do you have to say this time,” you sigh, your fingers held up your head by your temple.
“I think you’re going to like this one,” Mr. Park chuckled.
“You say that every time,” you discreetly rolled your eyes. You heard Jeongin let out the slightest giggle next to you. He must have seen it.
“No, but really. This time, it’s big,” Mr. Park shakes his head, leaning forward.
You leaned back,” Then tell me.”
Mr. Park began his long, boring speech and you completely tuned him out. You blankly stared at the clock right above his head. In the middle of his rambling, he suddenly got up and you shook yourself awake a little.
“You’re going to go on a business trip to endorse my newest product!” Mr. Park practically yells.
“Pardon?” you slam down on the table, standing up as well.
“We’re sending you to tour the U.S. to endorse my new product. You’ll be out and about for a whole month. Isn’t that exciting? You young people love traveling, huh,” Mr. Park laughs, clapping for himself.
You looked in disbelief at the jovial man. You had never liked moving around and being an introverted person, traveling and being with people always drained you. You were also never really one to be the center of attention, despite being the CEO. You always had Jeongin present the latest products or do the talking. Being front and center made you feel weak and powerless. You never liked the feeling of people staring at you, waiting for you to mess up or belittling you.
“Sir, would you please elaborate?” Jeongin asks, placing a comforting hand on yours.
You weakly collapsed back into your chair. Your heart pounded rapidly in your chest and you give Jeongin a quick glance. He simply smiles warmly your way and patting your hands a few times, trying to calm you down.
“Of course, Mister Yang. Well, my new product is in need of some promoting. A beautiful, young lady like y/n would be great for marketing,” Mr. Park smirks.
“It’s not even my product. Why can’t you find someone else from your company to do it?” you scoff.
“This is a partnership, y/n. You must do some kind of work,” Mr. Park snorts as if it were obvious, “Besides, you kind of owe me this since your parents asked you to work for me.”
“Work with you, Mister Park,” you shake your head, trying to regain your composure, “I don’t work for you.”
“Sure, whatever. Anyway, we’ve already booked flights and hotels so you have to go. Traveling starts next week,” Mr. Park replies nonchalantly.
“Mister Park, I’m not sure that’s enough time to prepare for everything,” Jeongin looks at you worriedly.
“Ayy, don’t worry about it, kiddo. You children can adapt quickly,” Mr. Park’s cocky voice drifts off as he leaves the room.
As soon as the door shuts behind him and his employees, you dropped your head down to the table, clutching it with your arms. You let out a small groan. You could feel your tears bubbling in your eyes, but you refused to cry.
“Miss y/n...we’ll get through this. I’m here to help,” you felt Jongin's large hands rest on your back, rubbing it softly.
You sat up and looked at him wearily. His hand was still making comforting circles on your back. You didn’t want to drag him away from school for two whole months. It would just prolong his days of juggling studying and work.
“Are you sure?” you sniff.
“That’s what you hired me for, isn’t that right?” Jeongin chuckles kindly.
You nodded sadly, “I guess you can be dismissed now, today. I don’t want to do anything so please just take me home.”
“Of course. Let’s go,” Jeongin nods, helping you up.
You and Jeongin make your way to his car and he opens the door for you. You slipped in and buckled up. Jeongin soon joins you in his car and begins heading back to your house. It was only two in the afternoon, but you just wanted to sleep for the rest of the day. You rested your head on the window and watched as the colorful city flew past you.
“Jeongin,” you whispered, peeking over at him.
“Yes?” he responded, still looking at the road.
“Are you sure you want to pause school for an entire month...just to help me ‘endorse’ this product?” you guiltily ask.
“Of course. It’s my job to help you, right?” Jeongin glances over at you, smiling.
“Thank you,” you nod, before going back to watching the lively city.
---
You sat in your swivel chair, waiting for Jeongin to arrive. For once, you were dressed in casual clothes in the office. It felt weird, but you reminded yourself that you were leaving soon. You heard a knock before the door creaked and you spun around.
Your eyes widen a little at the sight of your assistant in casual clothing. Jeongin’s hair was down and fluffy. He had on an oversized, canary yellow hoodie paired with comfortable denim overalls. In his hand right hand was a medium-sized suitcase and a backpack hung from his left shoulder.
“You look like a minion,” you bluntly tell him, snickering a little. He looked cute though.
“I didn’t even realize that,” Jeongin frets, checking over his outfit.
You laugh a little, causing Jeongin to nervously giggle along. A ‘ding’ from your phone startles both you and Jeongin and you check your phone. The driver sent by Mr. Park had arrived and you sighed. You and Jeongin make your way down to the parking lot of the building.
A large, black van was parked and the driver was waiting for you. He opened the trunk and Jeongin helped you put your luggage in and put his in as well. You left your backpack in the back as well, but Jeongin kept his with him. Jeongin opened the door for you and you hopped in, buckling up right away. Jeongin slid into the seat next to yours and buckled up as well.
The ride to the airport was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. After an hour drive, you finally reached the airport. The number of people traveling in and out the doors nearly made you faint. Luckily, Jeongin knew how to maneuver through the busy airport and the two of you safely made your way to your gate.
“What’s the schedule today?” you ask, holding your backpack close as you sat nervously, waiting to board the plane.
“Well, we’re going to the west coast, California, first. It takes about fourteen hours to get there. It should be about seven in the evening when we arrive. Mister Park booked a hotel one hour away from the airport. The hotel offers dinner so we could eat there and just rest for the day.” Jeongin informs you.
You simply nod, already dreading the long flight. Soon, first-class flyers were called so you and Jeongin lined up, to board the plane. The woman at the little podium in front of the gate scanned your tickets and you and Jeongin made your way to the plane to find your seats. Jeongin lifted your luggage into the little compartment above your seat and easily slid his in as well.
“Do you want the window or aisle seat?” Jeongin asks, adjusting his backpack.
“Uh, window,” you shrug before shuffling to the seat and sitting down.
You placed your backpack in the little corner between your seat and the seat in front. Luckily, there was a lot of room since you were riding in first class. Jeongin slips into his seat next to yours and slides his backpack underneath his seat.
Soon, all the passengers boarded and the pilot announced that you were lifting off. You had never flown before and to say you were nervous was an understatement. As soon as the flight attendants showed up, you quickly strapped on your seatbelt and pulled on the loose strap so that you were strapped in as tight as possible. Your hands gripped on the armrest so hard that your knuckles turned white. You felt lightheaded when the plane started moving.
“Hey, don’t be scared. You can hold my hand if you want,” Jeongin’s soothing voice breaks you out of your panicked state.
You looked over at Jeongin’s hand before hesitantly accepting his offer. You felt the plane tip upwards and you immediately shut your eyes, tightening your hold on Jeongin’s hand. You felt Jeongin give your hand a light squeeze. Finally, the plane evened out and you opened your eyes, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.
“Are you okay?” Jeongin asked and you looked over.
“Uh, thanks,” you awkwardly let go of his hand, immediately missing the warmth and comfort of it.
“No problem,” Jeongin smiles.
Throughout the flight, you and Jeongin discussed the plans and different flights. It had already been eight hours into the flight and dinner had just been served. You were beginning to feel drowsy and your head rolled back and forth as you tried to stay awake.
“Miss, are you tired?” Jeongin asked, his voice soft.
You sleepily nodded. Jeongin leaned over and you leaned back, a little shocked at his sudden advancement. He noticed and apologized.
“Uh, you can tilt your chair back if you want. Just press that little button there,” he leaned even closer to point at the button on the inside of your armrest, “And just push back.”
You pushed the button with your thumb and pushed back as instructed. You let out a small squeak of surprise when your seat slammed backward. Jeongin began laughing and you felt your cheeks heat up.
“No need to shove that hard,” Jeongin giggles, helping you adjust your seat.
“We should invest in a private jet. This sucks,” you pout.
“Noted,” Jeongin laughs.
You unbuckle your seatbelt, deciding that it was more comfortable that way. Jeongin soon joined you in leaning his chair back. Soon, your eyelids began getting heavier and heavier and you drifted up into a dreamless sleep.
---
A bright beam of light woke you up. You were a little disorientated, confused as to why you didn’t feel like you were in bed. Blinking, you tried to wake yourself up and you looked down. A rose pink jacket had been draped neatly over your body. You were confused. You didn’t remember having that over you when you fell asleep, much less owning it. You looked over at Jeongin’s seat to ask him, but he wasn’t there.
You sighed and looked out the window. The sky was light blue and the white, fluffy clouds drifted underneath the plane. The bright sun shone through the window, illuminating your lap.
“You’re awake,” a sudden voice makes you jump and turn around.
“Oh, it’s you,” you sigh in relief, placing a hand over your pounding heart.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jeongin chuckles, “Did you sleep well?”
“I suppose. This seat is nowhere near as comfortable as my bed though,” you complain.
“I can imagine,” Jeongin laughs, sitting back down.
You remembered the jacket still draped over you and you shook it off. Folding it neatly, you held it out to Jeongin, “I assume this is yours.”
“Yeah, you were shivering in your sleep. It gets pretty cold on planes,” Jeongin explains, taking his jacket back.
“Oh, thank you,” you awkwardly nod.
“You only slept for four hours. Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“Four hours? It felt longer,” you frown, “I’m fine though, thanks for asking.”
“Well, we’re landing in two hours, so you can get more rest when we get to the hotel later,” Jeongin says.
“Okay, sounds good. Make sure to give Mister Park a call when we land. I don’t want to deal with him,” you hum, “Tell him ‘thank you’ for paying for the hotel.”
“Of course,” Jeongin agrees.
The two hours passed quickly. You and Jeongin just went over the week’s plans another time before the pilot announced the landing of the plane. You were more than ecstatic to get off and Jeongin chuckled at your enthusiasm.
You practically bolted off the plane as soon as the plane halted, but Jeongin held you back. He reached up and opened the compartment and pulled out your luggage. You watched as he grabbed his own.
His hood had been pulled over his head, leaving only his soft bangs and handsome face exposed. His sleeves slid down as he reached for his luggage and exposed his toned arms. He wet his lips before pulling his luggage out of the compartment, causing his arm muscles to flex. You had to admit, he looked pretty attractive at the moment.
“Alright, we can head out now,” Jeongin turns to you, pulling up the handle from his luggage.
You frantically turned around and began walking, pretending as you hadn’t just been checking him out. You didn’t know what got into you and why Jeongin suddenly looked so attractive. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was seeing him in casual clothes for the first time. Maybe it was spending fourteen continuous hours with him. Of course, you had thought he was handsome before, but you were never really attracted to him. Shaking off these thoughts, you focused on making it out of the bustling airport.
Finally, the two of you made it out to the exit and luckily, the car to pick you up had already arrived. Jeongin loaded both yours and his luggage into the car and the driver set off towards the hotel. On the way, you pulled out a small booklet and handed it to Jeongin.
“Here, study up on your English,” you tell him, "Mister Park may have chosen me to do the promoting, but you’re going to have to at least understand the locals here.”
“Of course. Thank you, Miss,” Jeongin takes the book and immediately begins flipping through it.
“Also, don’t forget to call and thank Mister Park,” you reminded.
“I’ll do that right now, Miss,” Jeongin set the book down and pulled out his phone, searching his contacts.
You stared outside the window, but you were listening in on Jeongin’s conversation with Mr. Park. You felt a little guilty for shoving the call onto Jeongin, but you really didn’t want to deal with that creepy, old man after an uncomfortable fourteen-hour flight.
“Hello, Mister Park. This is Yang Jeongin, Miss y/n’s personal assistant,” Jeongin paused and waited for Mr. Park’s reply, “Yes, we’ve arrived safely, sir. Thank you for booking the hotel for us.”
You looked over at Jeongin and gave him a thumbs up. He gives you his brightest smile, and you turn back to look out the window. You don’t know what’s happening, but you felt yourself blushing at his adorable smile. That’s never happened before.
“Thank you, Mister Park. We will call you later. Goodbye, sir,” Jeongin ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket.
During the rest of the car ride, you and Jeongin simply enjoyed each other’s company, well at least you enjoyed it. You were never sure if Jeongin liked you because of the constant, bright smile on his face. He had always been one who could easily mask his annoyance or distraught so you never really knew.
Finally, you reached the hotel and you had to admit, it was quite nice. It was one that you would personally book for vacation if you ever traveled. You and Jeongin waited in the lobby for the bellhops to help with your luggage and to sign in. You watched Jeongin as he marveled at the sight in front of him.
“You seem to like this place,” you chuckle.
“I’ve just never been in such an expensive hotel before,” Jeongin looked around in awe.
“You’ll have to get used to it,” you smile, admiring the boy.
“I guess I will,” Jeongin looks back at you, his eyes sparkling with joy.
“Let’s go check in,” you began walking towards the check-in desk.
“Hello, sir. We’d like to check-in. The reservation was made by Mister Jinyoung Park,” you informed the man in perfect english.
You heard a little gasp from behind you. Turning around, you saw Jeongin who quickly placed his hand over his mouth. You gave him an amused grin before turning back to the employee.
“Here’s your key, Miss. Have a nice night,” the employee handed you the key.
“Thank you,” you examined the key card, “Excuse me. Why is there only one key? We have two people.”
“Sorry, it says here...Mister Park only booked one room,” the man shrugged.
Your mouth dropped open as you stared at the employee’s retreating form. He disappeared behind the staff door and you aggressively turned to face Jeongin who jumped back a little.
“Is there something wrong, Miss y/n?” Jeongin asked, brows furrowing in worry.
“Mister Park…” you hissed under your breath, eyes flaming.
“What happened?” Jeongin inquired.
“That goddamn fool,” you scoffed, a dissatisfied smirk appeared on your face.
Jeongin shivered a little at the sight, “Uh...Miss y/n, you have to tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”
“That oaf booked only one goddamn room!” you roared, shoving the key card in Jeongin’s face. His face flushed and he looked down shyly.
“M-miss y/n, I’m sure it was a mistake,” Jeongin gulped, “We should call him to change it.”
“His cheap ass probably paid for only one room because it was too expensive and he wanted to annoy me. He knows I like my privacy. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of annoying me,” you fumed, completely ignoring what Jeongin had just said.
Jeongin’s face was now even redder, “A-are you sure, Miss y/n?”
“I’m more than sure,” you smirked, your gaze piercing through Jeongin’s poor soul.
“O-oh, o-okay,” Jeongin choked out.
You stormed away to the elevator, Jeongin meekly following. You angrily pressed the up button and stood there, waiting for the elevator, arms crossed over your chest. Your foot rapidly tapped against the tile floor. Luckily, no one else was in the elevator when it arrived and you and Jeongin stepped in. Jeongin pressed the button to the penthouse and you pouted all the way to the top.
“Are you really sure, Miss y/n?” Jeongin hesitated as the two of you reached the room door.
“I’m sure, Jeongin,” you hissed, snatching the key from his hands and swiping it.
You entered the room. Usually, you would be more than satisfied with it, but the only catch is that there’s only one bed. Your knees turned into jelly and you collapsed, but before your knees could hit the floor, Jeongin caught you and helped you up.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Jeongin worries.
“T-there’s...only,” you feel as if you were going to cry, “one bed.”
“What?!” Jeongin screeched, nearly falling over and almost dropping you.
“Mister Park is going to regret this,” you mumbled, already planning a murder plan.
“W-we should r-really go ask for a room change,” Jeongin begs.
“No, we’re not. We can’t let Mister Park win,” you glared at the blubbering boy.
“O-okay,” for the first time, you saw Jeongin near tears.
---
Toothbrush in hand, you squeezed a little glob of toothpaste onto it and began brushing your teeth. You peeked into the bedroom, hair still dripping wet. Jeongin was sitting awkwardly on the couch, scrolling through his phone. The television was on, but the volume was low. The two of you decided that some white noise would be the best way to distract you from the fact that there was only one bed. Jeongin had offered to take the couch, but you insisted that he slept on the bed. You couldn’t have him in a bad condition during the promotions tomorrow. Besides, you were a good boss.
“Oh, Miss y/n,” Jeongin looked up from his phone, noticing you peeking out of the bathroom.
“How early do we need to be up tomorrow?” you paused your brushing, the foamy paste all over your lips.
“The meeting starts at eight in the morning. We should eat breakfast before though...so maybe be up at seven?” Jeongin gets off the couch and walks towards you.
He hands you his phone and you scrolled through the schedule, nodding a few times. You ducked back into the bathroom to rinse your mouth out before popping back out. You handed Jeongin his phone back.
“Miss y/n, you should dry your hair. You can’t afford to get sick now,” Jeongin looks at your soaking hair worriedly.
“It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” you dismiss him, waving a hand.
Jeongin reached for your waving hand and grabs your wrist. He gently tugged you back into the bathroom before plugging in the hairdryer and turning it on. His actions shocked you, but also made you a little shy.
You watched through the giant mirror as Jeongin dried your hair, occasionally ruffling it to make sure it was drying evenly. Your eyes traveled all over his face. His brows were furrowed and his tongue was peeking out from his mouth. He had the cutest “concentrating face” and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Finally, Jeongin turned off the hairdryer and you parted your hair away from your face.
“I could have done that by myself,” you huff, trying to mask your satisfaction.
“Well, it’s my job to help you out,” Jeongin chuckles.
“Whatever,” you pout, “You can use the bathroom now.”
Jeongin simply laughs and retrieves his clean clothes before entering the bathroom and locking the door. You sigh and slipped into bed and scrolling through your phone. You hadn’t really thought about the consequences of sharing a bed with Jeongin until you actually got into the bed. Although it was the penthouse and the bed was fairly large, the bed was still meant for only one person. You swallowed harshly, trying to imagine how far you’d have to scoot to keep a safe distance from Jeongin.
Before you knew it, Jeongin was out of the bathroom, clad in a plain white t-shirt and light gray joggers. You subconsciously slid further down into the blankets, covering your face with your phone as you tried your best to look away. You’ve never shared a room with a boy, much less shared the same bed with one. You felt shy. You felt like a little girl who was experiencing something new.
Jeongin shuffles over to the bed and hops in, staying at the very edge of it like you were. You appreciated the space he left in between the two of you and bid him goodnight before turning off the lights.
You rolled away so that you weren’t facing him and closed your eyes. However, no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t sleep. Not with Jeongin right next to you at least. You weren’t sure if Jeongin was asleep or not, but you could hear his soft breathing and it comforted you a little. Soon enough, your eyes began drooping and you were knocked out cold.
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~Admin Liz ♡
100 notes · View notes
aliloverthetop · 5 years
Text
don’t trust wikipedia
Pairings: Pining Logicality, based on a post by @sympathetic-deceit-trash, sorry it’s late
Summary: Logan doesn't know why his face burns up like a falling meteor or his heart seems to skip a beat. He doesn't even know why his hands shake and get sweaty. He was supposed to be the one who knows everything, but he doesn't know how this works, what this was. Why every single thought or thing always lead to Patton at the end. When everything gets too confusing, he searches the place he didn't even think he would search: Wikipedia. (OR Logan and Patton are the oblivious people to ever live.)
Normally, at 3 a.m., the devil's hour. He would be drawing up scheduling plans for the next day for Thomas. He would be through his third cup of coffee and sixth piece of Crofters and toast. He never really did do things for himself at that hour, like sleep or watch Sherlock again. It was always about Thomas. Tonight was one of those nights where he has time for himself and research that he deemed absolutely important.
There were strange things happening to him. All of which didn't make sense. His face burned up like a falling meteor and his heart seems to skip a beat. He found himself smiling more, complimenting more. He didn't know anything. Logan didn't know why he ran into the fridge when being addressed as "honey" nor did he know why he could feel his hands shake just the slightest when he can feel a pair of eyes blink at him as the owner of these eyes steadied the seat Logan was standing on. He doesn't know why his hand dropped the stupid coffee cup when he felt lips pressing against his cheek. But all of those things lead to one person: Patton.
It was obvious that Patton had triggered some sort of disease when he stared at him. Logan was pretty much sure it was a virus. One that causes him to be a mess of long limbs, red rashes on the face and heart palpitations. His head spins thinking about it. As he was sweeping the ceramic off the floor, he told himself to go and research. Because that's what good scientists do.
So here he was.
Logan breathed out. He honestly didn't trust Wikipedia. He was a teacher. Teachers were pretty much born with the need to hate against Wikipedia. However, the last time he checked WebMD and told it that he had a large headache, it diagnosed him with brain cancer. (He later found out that Roman had thrown a printer at him during that really awkward game of Twister to help Patton win, or maybe it was so he and Virgil could have a bit of banter about keys and mispronunciation? He didn’t know. How he didn't notice? He didn't know.) But he found himself typing his symptoms in any way.
And nothing showed up.
He frowned, eyebrows meeting together. Oh. He tried being more thorough, be he found blank spaces instead. So he was the first to have this disease? Logan huffed out breath after breath. What the hell did this mean? God, if he's the first person to have this disease then there will be no cure known to man... well, fuck. Isn't that inconvenient? He was going to need to start making a cure tomorrow, well, he could start today... no. Patton and the others would nag at him to sleep. Worse, Remy may slide through the walls like a white blood cell could pat him on the head and Logan would break another pair of glasses from slamming his head down on the desk. But no, Remy could go and take a morning off. Meaning... 
Logan’s going to get another set of eye-bags.
By the end of the night morning, he decided to name this disease. He was the one who discovered the disease and he was damn sure that he could name it. So he did. Cardio Rush Disease. The abbreviation for it, for whoever is too lazy to pronounce six damn syllables was Crush Disease.
Good findings for the ni-
Logan woke up with a bruise on his forehead, a long page of random numbers on his computer, and yet another, broken pair of glasses.
Great. Lovely, there were tons of synonyms in his head that could’ve made a ‘Virgilesque’ sarcastic comment.
Logan went downstairs without any glasses, stomach already aggressively asking Logan for nourishment. (Stomaches couldn’t talk, of course. This was  a form of pathetic fallacy to show how-) Smack! Who put the wall here?
Virgil snorted as he propped his feet up on the breakfast bar while he cradled a ball of hair in his hands, "Where did your glasses go, Lo? You trade them in for those eyebags?" He pushed a tray towards his direction. He eyed the tray, noticing there was a warm mug of black coffee on it and a stack of fluffy pancakes with a berry-red colour. Logan noticed the butter slice in the shape of a heart on top of the pancakes despite his lack of glasses.
He gently pushed Virgil’s legs off the bar and looked at the food, “Oh, thank you for the breakfast. I’m sure it will be nutritionally nourishing.” He watched as Virgil snorted and placed his legs on the empty stool next to him.
“I didn’t make it. Patton did. Thank him later will you? Patton spent all night trying to figure out how to make those pancakes, Remy had to walk in and drag him to bed.” Virgil replied, opening his palm to reveal the ball of hair- oh wait... that’s a tarantula.
Logan eyed the pancakes, suddenly filled with a very warm sensation that warmed his cheeks. Oh, there’s the disease taking place again. He took the cutlery on the side and cut into the pancakes, letting loose steam. He took a bite and his eyes lit up in surprise when he tasted Crofters in the pancakes. Oh, dear Einstein, this was...
Logan ate all of them and drained the coffee mug. He felt this weird, warm fuzzy, feeling inside... that he couldn’t exactly place. His mind shot to the possibility of the Cardio Rush Disease taking place. Which led him to yell, “AH!” The anxious Side then fell off the stool out of shock from Logan’s sudden exclamation.
“What the actual fuck?” Virgil hissed as he got up, his back sore from hitting the ground. “What was the yelling for?”
“I was just thinking about the connections between a disease I discovered last night and the symptoms I’m experiencing at this moment,” Logan said as he put the dishes in the sink. Virgil raised a squiggly shape on his face, which after lots of squinting, Logan found to be his eyebrow and urging him to continue his explanation. The logical side launched into the whole story, Virgil petting the tarantula’s back as Logan started to explain the cause and the symptoms.
“-the symptoms usually include the change of the beating of the heart, a heartbeat may be skipped. Then there’s this strange feeling like you have been gently-” Logan checked his flashcards, “-yeeted into a bathtub after a cold day. Another one is getting strangely embarrassed at normal things like nicknames such as ‘honey’, ‘lovely’, and more... shaking of limbs, red and quite warm rash on the cheeks and ears that fade away... To add on there’s an uneasy feeling that settles in your stomach. And... a strange want to keep having this though I feel utterly stupid having it. All of this has happened while I was talking about, conversing with, looking at, and interacting with Patton. Which leads me to believe that Cardio Rush Disease stems from Patton and he has somehow infected me with it. It’s new, and it seems like no one has listed this disease down in WebMD so I think I may be dying-”
Virgil burst out in a fit of laughter, Logan blinked as the little tarantula joined in with small squeaky laughs and the other Side yet again fell on the floor. “Are you alright?” He asked as the laughing subsided.
“Oh you have no idea, don’t you? You guys are the most oblivious pair to have ever lived...” He said, smiling. “I think I’ll let you figure out the ‘Crush Disease’.. and I’m pretty sure you’re gonna get another round of symptoms soon.
“What do you me-”
“Hello, ladies, lords, and non-binary royalty! Welcome our lovely Lord of Puppy-Sugarland, Patton!” Roman yelled, prancing in the room.
Patton walked in with a pastel pink skirt and a lovely pastel blue shirt to match, a ribbon around his collar.
Logan would later add nose-bleed and fainting to the symptom list. 
a/n: another story out of the drafts! sorry this is so late and if the characterisation was shit. I really hope you like it and possibly comment on it or reblog with a comment! have a good time kiddo! -heath
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b-b-b-billdenbrough · 5 years
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can i be close to you? // stenbrough
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“Alright so if you’re looking for prompts, mmmmmmconsider stenbrough like cuddling and maybe talking about the events in the sewer and what happened while Stan was separated from the group (sorry I’m on anon I’m shy)”
i’m sorry this took rlly long i just kept getting busy and having whack ass depression days but !!! i finished it last night!!! here u go !!! <3 <3 <3 read it on ao3 here <3  pairing : stenbrough wordcount : 2,150 tw : self harm scars  reblogs appreciated v much
Three years, five months, and twelve days. It had been three years, five months, and twelve days since the loser’s club defeated Pennywise. Stanley Uris remembered that. It wasn’t as much that he wanted to, but he couldn’t forget that day, despite his efforts in forgetting any of it happened.
At first, it felt unreal. Acceptance to such a concept wasn’t something Stan would do. For one It didn’t make sense, and that was enough for the losers to think that Stan thought. But he was terrified of It, and admitting that would mean he thought It was real, and he would never do either of those. Admitting his fear, to him, meant admitting defeat at the first sign of danger he faced. Waking up every morning, he felt a brutal reminder of that damn clown and the lady with the flute. The ring of scars around his face were an unavoidable reminder of his own past, and all the feelings never shared from that summer.
Pulling a sweater over his head, he felt the fabric against the scars surrounding his face, giving his the gentle reminder of being abandoned by his friends. While slipping his arms into the sleeves, fabric brushed against scars reminding him of the isolation he felt in the time after. No matter how good of a mood Stanley Uris woke up in, the good feeling couldn’t seem to stick with him after that.
On that particular day, however, Derry High School had been on February break, and Stan been able to hang out with the losers the entire time, having gone five days since he had last seen any of them. He missed being around all of them as a group, and as individual friends who he loves. He missed hearing Mike talk about the farm, and his dog, whenever Stan prompted and felt like he needed something to cheer him up like seeing one of him best friends light up like Mike would. Mike had the ability to make himself someone’s home.
He already felt himself missing studying with Ben in the library, bringing snacks for them to share, and having each other’s studying routines and schedule memorized for so long neither of them need to think about what the other is going to work on. Their bond was one that he couldn’t describe as anything but clean. They didn’t mess around when together, and they never fought about anything.
He missed letting himself goof around at lunch with Beverly, seeing that was the only time during the day he knew for certain he would see her, making Stan’s mind try a little harder to have fun during the half hour they got to see each other. She could always get him to have a little more fun, care a little less when they were together.
He missed Eddie’s worry about Stan. It wasn’t as often, as Stan tried not to let his friends know enough to feel worry for him, but there was a level of comfort knowing someone cares enough to worry about the little things in your life. He would never tell Eddie how parental the action felt, because Eddie wouldn’t like it, but the comfort in the actions warmed Stan’s heart.
Missing Richie Tozier wasn’t something Stan would say out loud, but he missed the jokes his best friend made, along with the voices Stan always rolled his eyes and laughed at. Their understanding of each other like no other friendship he had with anyone, and they both noticed their understanding of each other, while being so different. And last, but most clearly not least, Stan missed Bill.
He missed the smaller things between them, like sharing his sandwich with Bill, who never learned how to make a good lunch or shop for groceries after his parent’s shut themselves away. Stan missed helping Bill study French and getting to hear him speak the language without any faults or signs of a stutter, or hiding out in the library during their study hall period and trying to help Bill understand chemistry, which he was truly horrible at. Alongside that, he missed the comfort Bill brought. The warmth that came along with his presence, and the kisses they shared, but never labeled, sneaking around their friends, along with the whole world. Standing a little too close, holding hands for a little too long, Stan was feeling himself miss everything about Bill, more so than his other friends.
Missing all his friends didn’t do Stan any good. He had avoided long periods of alone time after the encounter with Pennywise. The time he spent separated from his friends would only make him think, and remember hid trauma, making more little scars along his arms when he couldn’t deal with it all at once. Luckily for Stan, however, despite his own feelings consuming him, had planned to stay over at Bill’s house for the night a few weeks ago.
Entering Bill’s house without knocking was considered the norm for the losers, as Bill’s parents didn’t care what happened in their house, and Bill always considered them welcome in his house. Stan remembered Bill saying that his house wasn’t a home without the loser’s keeping him company, only the memory of a family to keep him company.
There was a draft in the living room, the lights and curtains not allowing any light inside. He couldn’t tell if Sharon and Zach were home, but he knew if they were, it wouldn’t matter. Stepping up the stairs to Bill’s room, he could hear a record playing faintly. He recognized it to be by The Smiths, “There is a Light and it Never Goes Out”. The song was one of Bill’s favorites, and he and the rest of their friends all pitched in to buy the album it was on on vinyl for him during Christmas season. With a light knock, Stan opened the door, smiling when he saw Bill at his desk, typing away at some story he’d thought of on his typewriter. The noises of the typewriter, and the music playing absentmindedly in the back reminded Stan of how lonely and quiet Bill’s life was when he wasn’t with his friends, which Stan could fully understand.
“Just g-gimme a s-s-second, I’m a-almost done this p-paragraph.” Bill typed the rest of what he thought as Stan moved to sit on his bed, laying down after hearing Bill type more and more. The song ended, going on to Some Girls are Bigger Than Others, the last song of the album Bill loved. Stan knew Bill had probably been writing since last night, forgetting about sleep and staying up, only moving out of his spot to change the album or play it again. The sound of Bill typing stopped, Bill sighing as he stood up, feeling his body move for the first time in a while. He smiled over at Stan, blowing some of his hair away from his face. Stan moved closer to the wall for Bill to lay down with him, which he happily did, laying shoulder-to-shoulder with Stan. “I-I missed you, I f-feel like i-i-its been a long time.” Bill turned to look at Stan, finding Stan’s eyes already on him. They both smiled at each other, finding it natural for them to be so close. Hesitating for a second, Bill leaned over to kiss Stan slowly, missing the feeling of their lips connecting after having been away from him for too long. The feeling wasn’t new to either of them, but it still felt the same as the first time. After a second Bill pulled away, a soft smile resting on his face. Stan found Bill’s smile to be one of the most stunning things he’d seen, making a smile evident on his face as well. Both of the boys moods were in a better place than they had been at the start of the day, or even compared to when Stan walked in, just by a simple action like a kiss. And as much as Stan wished it could, he knew the mood shift from earlier couldn’t last him all day, even with Bill around him.
Stan enjoyed hanging out with Bill like they did. Bill and him would talk, lying close together, and he was content with it for the most part. The comfortable small talk filled their ears as well as filled the loneliness they had both been plagued with all throughout their time away from their friends. The sweater he wore continuously scratched against his arms, making him cringe at the feeling against his scars. Stan didn’t notice his constant movement, which vastly differed from how he normalls was.
“S-Stan, are yuh-you okay? You seem k-kind of t-tense.” Bill’s tone was gentle, and his movement to hold Stan’s hand was as well. Stan pulled his hand away from Bill’s too quickly, making his own eyes widen in shock of what he had done. It was such a simple gesture on Bill’s part, they have held hands an eternity of times, but all Stan could think was he knows he knows he knows until he managed to process what Bill asked him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, I’m fine.” His voice came out weak, like he’d exhausted himself and wanted to rest again.
“B-b-bullshit. What’s b-bugging you?” Bill reached over again, trying to see Stan as he’d turned away. “I know y-you miss the losers, b-b-but we’ll s-see everyone tomorrow, r-remember? We’ve only g-got one m-more day awuh-wuh-way from them.” Stan felt his own chest starting to rise and fall with less ease, feeling weight on it inside him. He thought it might be the weight of everything he had been hiding from everyone, crushing him with the guilt and shame he felt.
“What about next time?” Speaking felt even heavier, but he knew he couldn’t stay silent forever, and he couldn’t keep this burden on his lungs any longer. “What about the next time I can’t see you guys, or the next time you leave me alone? Remember Neibolt? That fucking clown? What if there’s no fucking next time.” His chest felt heavier with every word, but his brain cleared up more he spoke. “You don’t know the shit that happened to me, Bill. You remember the lady with the flute? The one who ate my face? Do you know how scared I was that I was going to die? That the last memory I would have would be of some demon eating me in a fucking sewer all alone? I’ve never been so damn scared of being alone.” Stan didn’t notice the tears streaming down his face until they started to land on his neck.
Stan hadn’t seen Bill look so heartbroken since that year, when his own brother went missing. He felt that maybe he snapped, he’d talked too much, he should’ve put it all in the past when it happened and not have to worry about it three years later while trying to have a good day. Bill tried to reach to hold Stan’s hand again, which Stan lightly accepted, barely grasping onto him, internalizing his fear even farther without realizing it.
“I d-didn’t w-want to p-push you to t-talk right after It h-h-happened. We were a-a-all n-nervous you didn’t want to t-t-talk about it, and wanted to w-wait on you to b-b-be ready.” Stan couldn’t feel the words instantly calming all his nerves and magically solving his issues, he felt comfort in them nonetheless. “I cuh-cuh-care about you, so muh-muh-much, I d-didn’t know it was that h-h-horrible.” Bill looked at Stan’s hands, the hands he was holding, seeing scars peeking out from his sleeves. Bill couldn’t bring himself to saying anything, feeling Stan’s tiredness radiating off of him. “H-Hey, I love you, okay?” Bill tried to remind him, smiling gently at Stan as to meet him where he is. Stan can only offer a weak smile back, more for Bill’s sake than his own.
“Can we just… I’m so damn tired.” Stan already is pulling himself under Bill’s comforter when he started talking, gently pulling Bill’s hands over to make sure he knew that he wanted to stay close anc cuddle up to him. Bill followed along, pulling the blankets over him, turning to face Stanley’s back and wrap his arms around him. Stan sighed to himself as Bill did so, holding his hands as they spooned. All the pressure previously trying to collapse Stan’s chest had left him, feeling like he could breathe for the first time in years. It wasn’t a full breath, somewhat shallow and hard to keep in his lungs, he didn’t feel the burden he’d been hiding for so long plaguing him anymore. With Bill close by to keep him feeling secured, he felt less of a reminder that It happened, and told himself for the first time that you made it.
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itsdannyg · 5 years
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James Roday on Reddit discussing Treehouse
Reddit with JAMES RODAY
I’m James Roday from Psych and A Million Little Things. I also directed two horror movies for Blumhouse’s Into the Dark Horror Anthology Series on Hulu. AMA!
JAMES RODAY: Roday here. I think. I'm typing things in a box so that seems encouraging.
JAMES RODAY: I think I'm an hour early. That's the first time in my adult life this has ever happened. I'll pop back by a little later. And I'll be READY.
JAMES RODAY: Yo! How about I knock out these early bird questions like a baller.
QUESTION (CharlotteBeer): Given your latest is part of a seasonal series, when did you start work on the script -- and how long did it take you? How did y'all settle on the Ides of March?)
JAMES RODAY: CharlotteBeer -- it all came together very quickly because of my schedule on AMLT. Got the thumbs up in April and we were shooting in early June. It was an idea I had been kicking around for years but current climate and conversation definitely opened a window and my collaborators and I jumped through it.
CharlotteBeer -- Oh, and we settled on International Women's Day. Hulu made it Ides of March.
ASSHOLE QUESTION (yanderebeats): So uh what the fuck was that scene with them putting the snake on his arm? Like what was the direction given to mcpoyle exactly, did you specifically tell him to do the worst job possible or what
JAMES RODAY: Yandererbeats -- 1. Well, the dude is tripping on psychotropes so he's seeing all kinds of shit and the ladies are using that to their advantage. 2. No, I think Jimmi Simpson is a genius and generally requires little direction from me 3 (bonus) You sure this is what you want to be doing with your time?
QUESTION (ConicalSun): What advice would you give to someone that wants to pursue work in film? Directing in particular.
JAMES RODAY: ConicalSun -- Make something. Get familiar with a camera and how to shoot. If you can afford to take a filmmaking class that provides instruction and equipment, sometimes that helps speed the plow. But I'm guessing you know what you like and don't like about movies and it's easier than ever to get out there and make your own content so give it a whirl.
QUESTION (psych-o5life): Out of every character you have ever played, which one are you most like?
JAMES RODAY: psych0-5life -- Probably the dude I'm playing now on AMLT.
QUESTION (seppukuu): What is your writing process like? Do you live out the stories in your head or, since you usually have a writing partner, do you prefer a more systematic approach that involves discussions and outlines?
JAMES RODAY: Seppukuu -- Todd and I have been writing together for over 20 years now. We have such a great shorthand that we can accomplish a lot quickly without spending much time in a room together. Vodka helps. We talk story, specific scenes and generally write the stuff we see best in our heads, respectively. Once we have a very rough draft, everything becomes much easier and the streamlining and polishing begins. That's generally when character voices really start to take shape as well.
seppukuu: In vodka veritas!
QUESTION (Nikesneaker): Hi James!
Do you have a favorite director/actor/actress that you look up to as a “hero”?
P.S. supa excited for Psych: The Movie 2
JAMES RODAY: Nikespeaker -- I grew up an enormous fan of Val Kilmer as an actor, Rick Baker and a SPX Make Up Artist and Stanley Kubrick as a director. I'd add Bergman, Wes Craven, John Landis and Quentin Tarantino to the list of directors I've really appreciated over the years and Lynne Ramsay is an absolute force of nature. I also CANNOT WAIT to see what Julia Decournau does next after RAW...
QUESTION (mooviescribe): If you were to direct another horror feature (not for Dark Horror), what type of script catches your eye?
JAMES RODAY: mooviescribe -- I will def be directing more horror. I love the genre and believe there are plenty more good stories to be told. As for scripts -- anything that moves me catches my eye. Being scared is fun but if it makes you think and feel -- that's the real fire starter
JAMES RODAY: I just realized I can reply to questions by hitting reply. This is GOOD SHIT.
QUESTION (Wizardmer): I am such a huge fan of Psych, and some of my favorite episodes were the fun homages to classic horror movies, here's lassie was my personal favorite. Was there any other horror movies you wanted to do as an episode?
How did the costume design come to life for treehouse? I loved those awesome outfits, super dope
JAMES RODAY: They let me check most all the remaining horror boxes in A Nightmare on State Street. It's just a big sloppy buffet but I loved every minute of it. Costume and mask design were the work of the incredibly talented Diane Crooke. She was one of a whole team of lady designers that elevated every element of Treehouse and I am eternally grateful.
QUESTION (UHeardAboutPluto): Have you heard about Pluto?
JAMES RODAY: That's messed up, right?
UHeardAboutPluto: James, you have made me the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Pysch is my favorite show ever, and that response from you was perfect. Thank you for being awesome!
QUESTION (AsymptoticGames): I just want to point out that I love when co-stars of some of my favorite shows hang out outside of the show. On that note, how was Dule Hill's wedding?
JAMES RODAY: Beautiful.
QUESTION (psych-o5life): Are you helping with production on Psych the Movie 2?
JAMES RODAY: Co-wrote the adventure and we're prepping it now. Steve will be directing and it's gonna be sweet.
QUESTION (bakuryu69): Hey big fan James - what drew you to directing horror. Will you be doing more work in the genre (possibly pineapple related)?
JAMES RODAY: I've been a fan of horror since I was old enough to know what movies were. Somehow convinced my mother that I loved being scared and wanted to learn how all the cool special fx and make up worked. She went for it.
QUESTION (Maxzhouse): Hey man, I really dig your work. I was wondering if you’re into writing and if so what your process looks like? Thanks mate!
JAMES RODAY: It generally looks like one inspired hour of writing a day and 23 hours of procrastination and thinking I should never write again.
Maxzhouse: Ah a man after my own heart! Thanks for answering brother, Hope the best for you and yours. Peace, love & Mercy
QUESTION (seppukuu): You said before that your high school production of Elephant Man was the most challenging acting gig you've ever done. Is this still true, and would you like to do it again now that you have considerably more experience under your belt? What would be another (type of) character you'd find most challenging/exciting to play?
JAMES RODAY: I'm too old to dip back into John Merrick's skin but man that is a tough play to pull off. Moving forward, I think characters that are well written with a real point of view (good or bad) are the ones that we all want to play as actors.
QUESTION (TheReelPliskin): Hey James. I just wanted to say you're awesome! I've been watching everything you're in or a part of ever since I saw a little movie called Rolling Kansas. Can't wait for the new Psych movie and I fell I'll hafta get Hulu now so I can see your new movies. Ok. Enough of that. Now for the question. Outside of Psych and Little Things, what is one of your personal favorite movie or show you've been a part of? P.S. . . SUCK IIIIIIT!!!
JAMES RODAY: It's gotta be Treehouse. And a tiny film I was lucky enough to be a part of a few years back called Pushing Dead directed by Tom Brown. Worth checking out. Important subject matter.
QUESTION (deadpool902): Hey James!
Quick two-part question:
What aspect of anthology storytelling entices you the most?
Were there any horror stories or films that you turned to for inspiration when directing for Into the Dark, and if so what were they?
Thanks for stopping by and I can't wait for your return to Santa Barbara!
JAMES RODAY:
The fact that, in this case, 12 different filmmakers got to come in and do anything they wanted without worrying about stepping on toes or syncing up with any of the other films
Raw, Thelma, Goodnight Mommy -- 70s horror.
QUESTION (tedlogan43): Mr. Roday - Gravy was fantastic, A Million Little Things blows my mind, and Psych is a part of who I am at my core. I wanted to ask what it is like to get to continue working with so many great professionals like Dule Hill, Michael Weston and Jimmi Simpson. Do you feel like your continued projects with them are improved by your on-going relationships with them? Thanks for the profound impact your roles have had on my life!
JAMES RODAY: I am tremendously lucky to have so many insanely talented besties. I am no dummy. I surround myself with ladies and gents that make me look way better than I deserve and will continue to do so as long as they'll let me.
QUESTION (fangirl005): What is the best thing about working on AMLT?
JAMES RODAY: The cast. And knowing that we're dealing with issues that affect so many people every day. It feels good to be a part of those conversations in even the smallest of ways.
QUESTION (jmsturm): Hi Mr Roday, big fan.
Who would win if Shawn went head to head with the Mentalist?
JAMES RODAY: Well he'd def be the comic relief.
QUESTION (TheWalkingGamefreak): Good evening James, just want to say hi
JAMES RODAY: sup
QUESTION (seppukuu): Marvel called and wants to give you half a billion dollars to direct Guardians of the Galaxy 3. Do you accept, and would you still try and shoot it in 3 weeks on a 200 dollar budget instead?
JAMES RODAY: hahaha. that's a great answer and the honest to God answer is that I'd only do it if I thought I could bring something unique or unexpected to the fanbase. Otherwise there are plenty of ladies and gents for the job.
QUESTION (FusionCinemaProd): What would you say is the most creative horror film of the last decade?
JAMES RODAY: Creative? That's pretty subjective. I'd say last years reboot of Suspiria was a pretty big creative swing that mostly succeeded IMHO. And I stand by RAW as one of the best films of the last decade, period.
FusionCinemaProd: Raw is a fantastic film. I’ll have to check Suspiria out on blu ray when it comes out here in the UK.
QUESTION (modsrfagbags): What was your favorite “Gus don’t be...” line from Psych? My favorites gotta be either “eleven and a half pound Black Forest ham” or “the 100th luftballoon”
JAMES RODAY: I am a sucker for a luft balloon
modsrfagbags: Oh shit thanks for responding
QUESTION (imdannyg): Have to admit, the torture scenes with Peter Rake (Jimmi Simpson) gave me flashbacks to your work in Blood Drive. Is there any connection there at all and/or did it prepare you in anyway for this scene in Treehouse?
JAMES RODAY: Welcome Daniel. You know I hadn't thought about it until just now. The two projects are so tonally different but I'll say this -- shooting scenes designed around a character that cannot move is challenging to say the least. Blood Drive probably did serve as a dry run for me without even realizing it.
QUESTION (seppukuu): Have you ever done special effects make-up on another person? If not, would you like to try or are you happy watching the professionals do it for you?
JAMES RODAY: I used to do it quite a bit as a kid. There's a reason I didn't end up being the next Rick Baker.
QUESTION (HippoMafia42): Hey James, huge psych fan here, I know psych the movie 2 will start production sometime this month, but when will that be? Hopefully within the week?:)
JAMES RODAY: Soon. We need a little time to find and build things.
QUESTION (miatosc): What was your favorite scene to shoot this season on a million little things?
JAMES RODAY: There were so many. My scenes with Colin the dog in the "day before" episode were especially sweet.
miatosc: haha! I was guessing any scene with Colin since he’s such a sweet dog.
QUESTION (thepineapplesplat): James! Man glad to hear your free-spirit self. Huge fan of Psych and no matter how much I’ve watched the episodes over and over it never ceases to make me smile. You were apart of a master piece and taught me to always stay true to the inner child in me. Absolute master piece!
Serious question, do you see yourself doing any meet and greets with fans in Canada? Perhaps in Vancouver where Psych was shot?
JAMES RODAY: thanks! So glad it resonated with you. As for meeting fans, I'm always happy to say hi -- I struggle with the format of conventions because I wish fans didn't have to spend their money. They already do so much by just watching and keeping shows on the air....
thepineapplesplat: Yeah definitely makes sense. Meeting you and Dule Hill is definitely on my bucket list. I’m not a huge on meeting celebrities (I think of them as regular people) but psych stars will definitely hold a place in my childhood/adolescence memories. Thanks for bringing it to life! Sorry if I seem like I’m fan girl-ing out haha!
QUESTION (seppukuu): Will we ever see a new play written (and directed) by you?
JAMES RODAY: someday.
QUESTION (psych-o5life): What was your favorite episode of Psych to film?
JAMES RODAY: Probably Dual Spires because it was the closest I'll ever get to being in Twin Peaks.
QUESTION (NateLeport): What was your favorite episode of psych to work on? What was your favorite running gag like the pineapple, I’ve heard it both ways, come on son, I’m Shawn spencer and this is my partner ____, etc.
JAMES RODAY: I became partial to singing suck it towards the end
QUESTION (leeselislisuh): What was your biggest recurring nightmare as a kid? Mine happened a lot when my mom was pregnant with my little sister, and I kept dreaming she'd be born with a full set of very pointy teeth. Horrifying. Huge fan and excited to see more of your work!!
JAMES RODAY: What a question. And what a nightmare. I used to dream that I was a werewolf but I thought that was awesome and didn't want to wakeup
QUESTION (bsischo): When does the next Psych movie come out? I loved that series and I really enjoyed the last movie.
JAMES RODAY: Good question and not sure of the answer. If I had to guess I'd say around the holidays again
bsischo: Really looking forward to it!!!
QUESTION (imdannyg): How did the music choices for Treehouse play out? Priscilla Ahn's Under the Covers is the bomb!
JAMES RODAY: All those needle drops are in the script. I tend to write very specifically to music and, knowing we'd have little to know music budget, I chose songs we had shot at getting. We got all of them. Priscilla, per usual, stepped up and wrote something incredible just for the movie. Another ridiculously talented dear friend who I will employ forever and ever as long as she says yes.
QUESTION (TheWriteOwl): James, thank you so much for doing an AMA and letting us all fan-girl our hearts out. I think it's rare to see someone who moves as smoothly as you do from being a comedic genius in a show like Psych and a thrill master in movies like Treehouse.
What attracted you to these two, disparate genres, and can you speak a little bit about why you think you've seen so much success in both?
JAMES RODAY: Better to be lucky than good and I've been very lucky. I have dedicated myself to being as good as humanly possible to try and make sense of how blessed I've been. Growing up, horror and comedy were the genres I gravitated to the most so they've been in my bones for a very long time. I still remember seeing An American Werewolf in London in the theaters as a six year old. That just about sums me up.
TheWriteOwl: Your dedication and your inherent love for what you do really shows up in your work. As a fan, it's awesome to see - thank you!
QUESTION (eppukuu): Film or digital?
JAMES RODAY: Film. But I do understand the revolution. We shot the first three seasons of Psych on film and Tuesday the 17th was shot on Super 16 which is one of my very favorite formats. There's something truly special about knowing you only have so much film to shoot on and so many takes to get it -- really brings a crew and cast together. And it just looks so good. Though technology has definitely curbed that with HD.
QUESTION (angelusgirl): I started watching Psych after I watched the awesome episode Dual Spires. What was your favorite Twin Peaks Easter egg in the episode or memory of filming it?
JAMES RODAY: The last scene in the diner was a blast because it was a basket of easter eggs. And I'll never forget watching the cast of my favorite show reunite in real time at the Sutton Place bar. Some of them hadn't seen each other in 25 years.
angelusgirl: And a follow up if I may, what did you think of the showtime season?
JAMES RODAY: Well. I loved it because it felt like the deepest recesses of David Lynch's mind were turned loose and who knows if or when we'll get to experience that again. That said, I understand why it wasn't for everyone and if you came in expecting an evolution of the original series....well, you probably didn't get what you were hoping for.
QUESTION (cabose7): How is Timothy Omundson doing?
JAMES RODAY: He's such a badass and he's doing great. He has exceeded expectations at every turn and I cannot wait to bring Lassie back home.
QUESTION (]miatosc): what’s it like working with Allison Miller? She seems super funny and passionate about her work.
JAMES RODAY: Miller is a truly gifted performer. I lucked out getting her as a scene partner. She pushes me, carries me and makes me better. No question.
QUESTION (imdannyg): Did you write Agnes with Nancy Charles in mind? She (and all the cast) is incredible!
JAMES RODAY: We did not but boy did she come into her audition and own that role. When she left we all looked at each other and were like "well, that's that."
QUESTION (seppukuu): You survived the (non-zombie related) apocalypse. The planet is a wasteland. What do you miss most?
JAMES RODAY: Dogs and pals.
QUESTION (mndrlyn): Hi James! Two questions. 1. Does the beard stay for the new Psych movie? 2. What do you do in your off time that makes you happy?
JAMES RODAY: You'll just have to wait and....oh who are we kidding, Shawn doesn't have a beard. I generally spend as much time in NYC as I can and relax by thinking about the next juicy thing I can make. And vodka and sports.
QUESTION (psych-o5life): Do you know what's gonna happen in AMLT season 2?
JAMES RODAY: I may know a thing or two -- which still leaves close to a million
JAMES RODAY: You awesome ladies and gents I'm gonna wrap this up in the next five minutes. We've actually gone over an hour and I don't want to break Reddit.
QUESTION (imdannyg): What are the most difficult constraints to overcome with a limited budget such as this? Is it just time, is it human resources, is it gadget/technology oriented issues? What extra thing would help the most with a limited budget like Treehouse?
JAMES RODAY: All of the above. And I would always choose time over money.
QUESTION (SydneyHollow): Shawn was a big hero of mine for a long time. Then I realized over time that Shawn is a huge dick. Nevertheless, your ability to breathe such life into his character is nothing short of amazing. All the actors on Psych, really, are truly gifted!
​Did you ever have doubts about how successful Psych would be?
JAMES RODAY: Hahaha! I love this. And believe me the longer the show ran, the more challenging it became to keep a character like Shawn digestible. It's like watching Puck of Peter Pan for muuuuch longer than a movie or a play. But yes, that was a wonderful group of actors and humans and we are family. Lightning in a bottle to be sure. The success of Psych never ceases to amaze me. Truly. And that's all because of the fans. 100 percent.
QUESTION (JessicaSimbro): In writing a female role for one of your films, what personality traits does an attractive woman have in your mind? And what then makes that same woman gaspingly frightening?
JAMES RODAY: I believe attractiveness lives primarily on the inside. I'd say the same for what makes anyone frightening.
QUESTION (woahbells): From interviews you seem introverted and introspective but not uncomfortable being questioned about both work and personal topics. Assuming I'm correct and that you are an introvert, how do you reconcile that aspect of your personality with fame?
Also, I noticed the subtle pineapples on Peter's daughter's shirt at the end. Was that intentionally done?
JAMES RODAY: Not my choice but I also didn't veto it so...
QUESTION (firmhair): Come back to White Rock. Our Pier is gone :(
JAMES RODAY: Deal. And with that, thank you all for joining me. It's always a pleasure to connect with you all. If you haven't checked out Treehouse on Hulu, give it a spin. I am enormously proud of the work from all involved and especially grateful for the opportunity to work with and learn from so many talented and insightful women. Be kind to yourselves and others and get ready for a million little spoonfuls of delicious flavor in the future....
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seenashwrite · 6 years
Text
The Lore You Know (Part Five)
Status: Part 5 of 6 Word Count: 5.9K Category: Mini-Series, Mystery, On-The-Hunt, Humor, Behind-the-scenes Canon-Compliant Rating: 18+ [for language/sexual situations] Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sam x Reader/Female O.C. #1; Dean x Female O.C. #2; Reader/Female O.C. #1 x ??? (ahem-surprise!-ahem) Warnings: Coarse language; mild-to-moderate allusions to sex/activities of a sexual nature Author’s Note(s): The draft of this was lost, and this was to be completed a way long time ago, and boy howdy I’m sorry the muse didn’t hit me again til recently, but I hope you enjoy and that it was worth waiting for, one last part to go; see more post-story Overall Summary:  see Part One ; reminder: this takes place in early S11 Part Five Summary: The agent stumbles upon a discovery that seems too good to be true; Dean lands himself in real trouble; the waitress shows a different side; the agent finally reveals the truth behind her mission
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                * ~ * The Lore You Know: Master Post * ~ *
WEDNESDAY
I slept like the dead that night, thanks to the fact that Sam didn't sleep in my room. He'd said something about not wanting to wake me up, though he did just that at half past the crack of dawn, when he came in and grabbed up his laptop and his bag, barely even looked at me. Well, that's not exactly true - he did at my admittedly snide goodbye.
"Cheer up, Sammy. It's Wednesday."
The door was slammed shut without another word.
I was still turning over the news from Wildcat in my mind. The trio of terror had most definitely gone rogue, and their stunt of turning my request for a touch of mayhem into a horror movie meant they were dunzo. The Recovery Team - which in this case, meant recovery of pieces because this was elimination-level shit - was supposedly en route, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be any time soon. I called Wildcat as I finished getting ready for the day, told him I was pulling rank, and Recovery should let me know once they had the goons cornered, hold off on the wham-boom til I gave the word.
"He won't like it," Wildcat advised.
"But you can get around him, can’t you? For now? Isn't he bopping around some other world, hunting for his X-marks-the-spot?" I replied. "C'mon. You're the best at covert shenanigans."
"And you are a control freak," Wildcat stated, but I heard him clicking away, putting in the team's orders, relating I was running point.
I finished applying my lipstick, rubbed my lips together, then made that pop sound just to piss him off; I grinned when I heard him sigh. "Kitty, I got no choice. Sam's onto me hard core. Got a feeling I'll need the distraction if I don't want this assignment to bloat and belly up."
"This better work. If he gets word, I wouldn't want to be in your Louboutins, my dear."
Wildcat's comment was perfectly timed, as I was right at that moment slipping them on. "Just make sure Recovery knows to keep those shitbirds corralled, no sedating darts, let the mania fly - and to keep out of sight of the Winchesters."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'm sending them on the prowl, which they’ll do, because I’ll share how my fantastic partner in covert crime has alerted me to the location of the creeps-of-the-week. General vicinity. Give or take."
"So it's to be a snipe hunt."
I picked up my keys, walking to the door as I answered. 
"Yup. I got work to do."
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The boys took the bait, too pumped for the action to bother being pissed at me or question my saying I was going to follow a lead Wildcat had given me on the mara’s hidey-hole. I didn't have one, of course, and it didn’t matter since daylight hour evisceration wasn't her jam. What I was actually up to was boring as fuck, but a necessary bore - I was stuck in my car on an old-fashioned stake out, across the street from the waitress' house, waiting on her to emerge. I'd texted her under the guise of taking her to lunch, but got no answer, and there was no light on in the bedroom I knew to be hers; no doubt she was still asleep.
At least one roommate had returned to the roost, but I didn't get a glimpse of her until late afternoon, when she opened the front door, crossed her arms, and stared right into my eyes.
And when I looked into hers, I sat up straight, felt my eyebrow arch on its own. "Fuck me," I muttered.
As I walked across the street, she came out onto the small landing, closed the door behind her, re-crossed her arms. She was an absolute dish, tips to toes, tall and curvy, looked like she'd just hopped off a vintage Hollywood poster. It was a purposeful, polished presentation, one I appreciated, so much so I honestly didn't want to update the database with this newly encountered, mighty fine brand of mara.
To say I couldn't hardly get my head wrapped around this stroke of luck was the understatement of the goddamned century.
"You can call me Raquel," she said by way of introduction, didn't ask my name, and I didn't volunteer it.
"And our girl in there's working the Mansfield angle,” I replied. “Damn, now I kinda wanna meet the other roomies, who else we got? A Loren, a Monroe --- ooh, dare I hope --- a Lamarr?"
"You amuse me. You know why I look the way I look. Part and parcel of living alongside them. Which I enjoy more than hiding in the woods."
"Still. Didn't have to go bombshell to chum the waters. You got good taste." I gave her a lingering once-over, admiring more than just the perfectly fitted slacks and cashmere shell. "Beyond the Chanel, I mean."
"Likewise. Those shoes are in excellent condition for how old they are - though I could say the same for you."
"I'm real big on regular maintenance. Mind if we get down to business?"
"I've no business with you. I don't deal with your kind. I only want to know why you're camped outside of my home, yet doing nothing."
"Yeeeeah, but this may interest you - benefit you. I'd like to take a couple potential problems off your hands. And I'll throw in three super-powered square meals, team full of buffed after-dinner mints to sweeten the pot. All-male review."
"And what am I to do in return?"
I grinned. "Make a big fucking mess of main street tonight."
"I have plans tonight."
"That so? If you got another dirtbag lined up, well... you don't need my help, but I'd be up for a quick peep show. Never seen it go down in real time."
"I rarely go down."
My grin widened. "I wanna be like you when I grow up."
That earned me a wicked - but genuine - cackle, head thrown back and all. "Aren't you just a peach. I do take pleasure in a witty woman."
I tilted my head toward the house - and the waitress slumbering inside. "My experience with ol' Mansfield says you're in short supply. There's a not-so-good-head-on-her-shoulders joke somewhere in there, but I've been a little off my game."
"Your game seems quite on point from where I stand." She paused, returned the once-over. "So. Should I consider changing my plans for tonight, tell me: what's your pleasure? Traditional start? Or full gallop?"
"Hmmm. Mine? Given what you're working with ---" I took a step closer, ran a finger under the long string of pearls that landed right above her cleavage "--- may wanna come on the scene like Lady Godiva."
"That's how you'd have me come?"
Jesus. "Just considering, huh? I thought you didn't do business with my kind," I said, removing my hand, but letting it drift away slowly. That ultra-fine cashmere blend felt - dare I say it - heavenly.
"Are we still discussing business? Or I have I misread?"
I glanced at my watch. "We got a while til sundown." I looked back into those sharp, glinting eyes. "No business for hours. Not a man to deal with for miles."
Raquel brought a hand to my face, swiped a thumb across my lower lip then down, smearing the red lipstick to my chin, admiring her handiwork for a few breathless beats - breathless on my part, that is - before she met my gaze again, and responded.
"Give me a minute. I'll make sure the baby's fast asleep."
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I couldn't say if it was when I was getting in some going-down, or if it was when Raquel was strapping up that the sleepy-time cocktail wore off and the waitress slipped out of the house, but the series of borderline belligerent texts from Dean sure pulled me out of a helluva afterglow.
The short version was that she'd gone to the restaurant for no good reason, then when her co-workers - the ones not on the slab -  started talking about the manager's murder and the subsequent massacre, the brain cells that managed to rub together opted to regale the soon-to-be-stunned folks with so much detail about said deaths that one of them called the cops. Thankfully, brain cells three and four kicked in, and Dean was her phone call after she'd been officially arrested following enough of a quote-unquote confession to convince the powers-that-be she was definitely involved, whether the ditz routine - or the nutbar routine, depending - was for show or not. I managed to shoot a text to Raquel in the time that it took Dean to get back to the motel and pick us up, telling her that we were running behind schedule, but she didn't text back, and there wasn't much time to dwell on it, because, well, Sam.
I knew when Sam made with the flirting and the come-ons that it was an act, didn't even need to check the tap to know he and Dean had made a plan that morning while they were out chasing the fake lead, all to try and get one over on me, go after the mara on their own after the cakewalk of dispatching the trio - presumptive arrogant dicks - wanting to keep me busy, even if it meant Sam had to do the dirty work while Dean went off alone to finish up the recon.
Which was bad. Very bad. Extremely bad.
Sam had barely gotten his mouth around a nipple when my brain started screeching out a red alert, and I sat up so quickly, he rolled off the bed, bumping his head on the night stand.
"It was a set!" I shouted.
"The hell?!" he shouted back, rubbing the bump.
"Last night," I answered, quickly getting dressed. "Dean. Where was he?"
"What?" Sam asked with a frown, getting to his feet.
"Cut the bullshit, Sam, this is serious!" I exclaimed, whipping back around. "Stop with the fuck-her-incoherent plan for a second, all right?"
"What?" he repeated, but there wasn't much of a question in his tone.
"I know that you know I'm not all what I've put myself out there to be, and I also know that you know that I know this right here isn’t anything legit, so listen up: you're right. Dean's right. I'm a liar. But I'm not lying now."
"Sure you aren't."
"Dean's in real danger."
I don't know what the expression on my face looked like, but Sam immediately stiffened and gulped - he'd heard me loud and clear. 
"Tell me," he said, hustling to get his clothes back on.
"You first - when Dean got laid last night, do you know who it was?"
Sam looked at me, puzzled. "The waitress was at the club ---"
"NO!" I yelled, threw one of his shoes at him, which he dodged. "Focus! In the car, dumbass! Who did he fuck in the car? Did he say a name? Did you see her, like was she the bartender at the restaurant, or was the medical examiner a chick, or ----"
"I don't underst ----"
Since he was officially being of no use to me, I bolted out of there, took a sharp left, started banging on the door of Dean’s room; the waitress finally opened it nigh on the twenty-thousandth pound, standing there cool as could be with that rat's nest of bleach piled atop her head, the near see-through joke of a blouse replaced by an old black tee of Dean's.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, sweetly, politely, even though there was a slight grunt underneath her words, seeing as how I'd shoved her ass to the side, plowing ahead to the bathroom where I rightly assumed the confirmation of my gut feeling was located.
"Oh fuck me," I said for the second - okay, more than that, but in this sense - time that day.
"I got almost all of my mascara off it," said the waitress, coming up behind me. "I didn't realize it was so nice."
She'd washed it out in the sink, that shirt-turned-snotrag that I’d found under the seat and handed to her earlier, and it was now hanging over the shower rod. It reeked of motel shampoo, and the mascara hadn't really come out, just gotten smudged around into grey stains that made the cream cardigan look like a jaundiced leopard. I reached up, pulled it down, closed my eyes briefly before I read the tag, even though I knew. I just fucking knew.
CHANEL
"It's, um, not yours, is it?" she asked.
I threw the cardigan into the tub as I turned to her with a look for asking such a dumbshit question, one I was now positive she knew the answer to, and not just because it was plain that I wouldn't touch Dean unless it was a proverbial gun-to-head situation.
She jumped slightly, the combo of the sharp splat of the clothing and the fierceness in my eyes rightly startling her. I took a small step forward. She took a big step back.
"Y-your... your eyes are... the, um... they look like how when... when sometimes my ex would take ----"
"Yeah, my pupils start to dial it up to eleven when I get scared or pissed, and I ain't been scared of anything in a long, long time, so guess where I'm at right now."
"Mad at me?"
I grabbed her by the neck, put her up against the wall, and she squirmed, clutched onto my wrist. I didn't choke her, nor did I lift her off the floor, but I had a damn good grip. She needed to get my message. Fast.
"Now I don't give three shits how you play it in front of Sam and Dean, or the rest of the human race for that matter, I really don't, but from here on you're dropping this dimbulb bunny shtick with me, because I get you're legitimately shit-for-brains and too stupid to breathe on most subjects, but not when it comes to people. You're pretty damn good at reading people, aren't you?"
Though she kept hold of my wrist, the halt in the squirming and the chagrined expression on her face was my answer.
"You navigate jobs like stripping and waitressing as pro as they come, and you handled those cops like a boss, and you summed up Dean in a hot second, knew exactly what fantasies to wrap him up in. How am I doing? Reading you?"
A barely-there shrug.
"Thought so. And you're crafty, I read all about how you got yourself out of the marriage to that asshole biker who liked to knock you around. Duke the Douche, your sister liked to call him, wasn’t that it?"
Widened eyes.
"Oh I did my homework on you, you think I wouldn't? So we're done with this sweet little ray of sunshine bullshit. I hate those small-dicked fuckers who hit women ---" I slid my grip up, pressed into her face hard with my fingertips "--- but I got a big dick, and I will break your jaw if the next words out of your mouth aren't in your real voice, and show some real brains, and have some real information, 'cause you don't start talking straight, you're not gonna talk at all, you got me, Malibu Barbie?"
She nodded best she was able, and I let her loose. As she sat on the bed, head dropped, posture slumped, she cleared her throat. And then she started picking at chipped polish on her thumb.
I huffed and crossed my arms. "We're on the clock here!”
Sam chose that moment to enter the room, opening his mouth to no doubt start yelling again, but the waitress beat him to it. Except it wasn't a yell that came out. What came out was a voice that was still light but less breathy, and a good quarter step down on the scales than what we'd heard so far.
"What do you wanna know?"
Sam's eyebrows shot up, looking from her, to me, then back again.
"When did Raquel get back in town?" I asked, getting right to it.
"I'm not sure when, exactly. I'd talked to her on the phone while I was at work the other night."
"We're gonna need to get some exactly. Was it when your manager was playing grab-ass?"
"Mmm-hmm. And I told her I was getting scared, being all alone. That the FBI was in town investigating those murders."
"And you told her about the murders? That they were your roommates’ boyfriends?"
"Uh-huh."
"And she made a beeline back, so you wouldn't be by yourself."
Another set of nods. "But she said she didn't want me to miss out on a good time, that I needed to get out of the house for some fun, get my mind off it, so she'd go with me to the club opening, hang around til I felt comfortable." The waitress paused and gasped. "She's okay, right? Did anything happen to Raquel? She was home when I left today..." A puzzled look briefly crossed her face. "I think she had company over, because I heard ----"
"Yeah, yeah, she's great, she's fine," I interrupted. I turned slightly to Sam, including him on the next level of my sleuthing. "I have the feeling that together, the two of you will fill in some big gaps. I want you ---" I pointed at the waitress "--- to tell everything Raquel said about last night, and you ---" my finger went in Sam's direction "--- to tell everything Dean said."
They both looked at me blankly.
"On your marks! Get set!" I prompted, and in my most threatening tone.
Sam went first. "Ah, well ---” He paused, glanced at the waitress. “Listen, I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything, but Dean... he sometimes just ---”
The waitress cut him off. “It’s okay, Sam, I know he slept with somebody else. It’s not like we’re dating. Go ahead. Tell her whatever he said.”
And what Dean said was this: it seemed while Sam and I had been up to some legitimate dirty work the day prior, in the time between the morgue and the trio’s meltdown, Dean had decided to park himself at a bar and sulk over how the waitress was planning on having a ball without him. So after striking out with the hot co-ed bartender - god, just so unbelievably predictable - who'd reportedly called him "geezer", he took his bitter ass over to the club, despite the soiree being invitation-only. And he spotted someone more his age leaning against a light post to the side of the building, puffing on a pale pink Fantasia, someone who put that baby bartender to shame, someone who was an absolute dish, tips to toes, tall and curvy, looking like she'd just hopped off a vintage Hollywood poster.
And ol' Raquel knew him on sight, courtesy of the suck-face selfies the waitress had showed off of the two of them, bragging about what a tough guy he was, how charming, how he had all the right moves. Given the waitress' foul taste in men, and the way she was a damn dirtbag magnet in general, Raquel likely presumed Dean was one more in an ever-growing line. The waitress reported that Raquel hated the professor for stringing along roomie Monroe, and she loathed the long-time boyfriend of roomie Loren for stringing her along since junior high.
"Oh shit," I muttered, bringing a hand to my forehead. I'd inadvertently had two of the mara's prime targets taken out. At least she didn't know; if she had, she'd have likely tried to rail me in the not-so-fun way.
"Oh shit, what?" the waitress asked, and it broke me out of my thoughts.
"What came next? Did Raquel tell you she was leaving?" I asked as my reply.
"Mmm-hmm, because she’d met a guy. She said she’d stay if I was still nervous. But I told her it was okay, because my friends were..." the waitress began, but trailed off.
"They're dead, we know, gotta keep moving honeythighs," I said with a few snaps of my fingers, which caused Sam to glare at me as he sat on the bed next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. I sighed, opted to move her along without going full-tilt bitch. For now. “When did you know it was Dean - was it the sweater?”
Sam cut in, speaking to the waitress. "Time out - your roommate is the person who --- I don't ---" He looked to me. "She's the reason you think Dean's in trouble? I mean, you know this woman?"
"So do you.”
The waitress’ eyes grew wide as she stared at Sam. “You slept with Raquel, too?” Then, softly - “Wow.” Softer - “Ew.”
Sam frowned at her, then brought his eyes to mine with a look that said Spill it.
“You do. Well. You know her work," I said, hoping my return look conveyed my meaning, and boy howdy, did it.
Sam glanced down at himself, or rather, at his now-rumpled Fed gear. "Let me change," he told us, standing and rushing over to his bag.
"We'll be in the car," I replied, then gestured at our clearly clueless third wheel to gather up her stuff - and once we were settled, she started gathering some clues.
Leaning forward, resting folded arms on the back of the front seat, brow knit, she asked, "How did you know it was Raquel? I don't get how it has to do with Dean being in trouble. He's not in trouble with me. So you and Sam don't have to be upset on my account."
I fought the urge to pop her in her perpetually pouty lips, but instead just shifted to look at her. "I met the ol' girl earlier, noticed she was wearing the shell to that sweater set. Not many people dress like that around here. And it was crammed under the front seat, and he’d gotten his panties in a twist when Sam had put you in back last night. I put p-and-v together, like a good investigator does."
"But you investigate..."
The question trailed off and no babbles followed, so I took in the sight of myriad light bulbs firing up behind her eyes. "Go ahead.” I gave a quick point to the motel. “Apparently hair care's taking priority over certain death, we got a minute or two.”
“Is Raquel who you guys have been looking for? You think she did... that she's been murdering people when she was out of town? Because she wasn't? Wasn't out of town? She was in town? And she was ---"
"Yes. I'm saying Raquel came back in town and killed your manager."
"But she didn't kill the boyfriends or the people at ---"
"No."
"No?"
Shit. "Yes. They're, ah.... they fit her M.O. No to the club."
"’Cause she has an alibi,” the waitress said, glancing to her left, at the scene of Dean’s crime. Looking back up, she asked, “So Raquel’s, like, a for real serial killer?" A beat or two, a few of the bulbs ratcheting up the wattage."Oooh, orrrrrr...."
"Yeah. Or."
What felt like millennia of silence passed before the waitress spoke up again. "Can I ask you something? About something you said earlier?"
At that moment, Sam came out of the room, hair perfect, weapons bag thrown over a shoulder. I started the engine as I responded. "What?"
"You have a dick?"
I rolled my eyes. "Metaphor. Do I need to explain what a metaphor is?"
A sheepish look immediately hit her face. "Maybe?"
"Later."
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WEDNESDAY, 5:38 p.m.
"You think she's going to kill Dean how she killed our other roommates' boyfriends, don't you?"
Sam and I looked up from our weapons assembly to stare at the waitress, surprised.
We'd broken into the diner on the modest main street, the one that had been our go-to lunch and late-night-dinner stop. They'd have normally been open and hopping, but the mayor had initiated a curfew; triple homicide plus mass murder'll light a fire under even the sleepiest of towns. It was a little extreme - everyone should be closed for business at 5:00, everyone should be locked in their houses at 8:00 - but it worked perfectly for me. I had no doubt my boss' attachés were in town, likely put their finger on the scale so that Recovery would have full run of the area.
"Do you think that's why she... why she did it?" the waitress added. "To see if he was a cheater? I told her we weren't serious."
"She's not your friend," Sam said, but gently.
"You think that's what it was, though, right?"
"Maybe she got the impression you like Dean more than you let on," Sam suggested, resulting in an instant down-turned look from the waitress as response, yet just as suddenly, she raised her head again, back to her bright, bubbly - and in this instance, clearly faked - persona.
"Hey, I bet you guys are hungry. Or, you will be after you're done... um, working. I'm gonna get going on some food, okay? Okay!"
She'd barely finished her sentence before turning and heading in the direction of the kitchen. I opened my mouth to call out and tell her not to bother, to just sit still for once. Sam put a hand on my arm.
"Let her feel useful," he advised.
I jerked my arm away, went back to looking over the arsenal we had laid out across the tables of three booths. Between the two of us, it was decently impressive. Impressive for most anything other than a mara of Raquel's caliber, anyway, that I made sure of - last thing I wanted was her incapacitated. Long as they worked her down to the level I could get her non-corporeal and pop her into that pandora gizmo (be still my heart, in-house coven and some FedEx-worthy transportation spell work), then I was gold.
"I don't know that our team will get here in time to nail the bitch, but this'll at least keep her busy, help you get Dean out of whatever bondage she's got him into," I commented. Lied. Whatever.
"So they are coming?" he asked.
"Oh yeah. Locked and loaded."
"Why do you think she'll go after Dean? Won't she have bigger issues to worry about, with them breathing down her neck?"
"What loyalty she thought Dean should have to Barbarella was beyond me, but suffice to say she took it for a test run, and he failed, and given that she couldn’t get her rocks off with the two long-time sources of her ire, it makes sense that the manager’s comeuppance was gore-a-palooza. Still. I met the broad, she's intense. No way that one asshole satisfied the craving. Especially since he wasn't actually involved with anyone at their Playboy mansion."
Sam nodded, began sticking various weapons on him, but when he started to put his jacket on, he noted me pulling out my case of toothpicks and froze. "Um, that's your prep work? You're not going to change clothes? Maybe bother with getting yourself locked and loaded?"
“Nope,” I replied, sticking the pick in my mouth and returning the case to my pocket. “I’m staying here with the waitress. Hold down the fort. Make sure she doesn’t add to the mess your brother’s gotten us in.”
He pulled his jacket on the rest of the way, straightened it with a sharp tug, and huffed as he ran a hand through his hair. Then he looked me dead in the eye, saying, "I could actually use your help, you know."
I shrugged. "She needs it more."
"Because you care so much about her," he shot back, the words coated in sarcasm.
"Has nothing to do with caring, it's just logical. You and Dean are a team, can practically read each others' minds. Like I told you before: it’s hunting 101. Limit liabilities in the field.”
“Thanks for the tutorial, it’s my first day.”
“I'd be a distraction. One of us could bite the dust."
"What, because I care so much about you?"
I snickered. "Oh honey, no. Because I care so much about me. It wouldn't matter if the sensible thing - you know, greater good and all that - meant you needed to handle some goon when another had Dean against the wall, you'd turn your back on what mattered just to rush to his side."
"Turn my back on... Right. Yeah. Since Dean doesn't matter."
"Are you leaving at any point in the next century? To scoop up whatever's left of Mr. What Matters?"
"You're a bitch," he muttered as he stormed by me, knocking into my shoulder on purpose.
"You’re a large-diameter dickhole," I muttered back; then, louder, as he walked out the door, I got in one final dig. "Have a stellar Wednesday! Fingers crossed it doesn’t turn out Tuesday!"
He shot me a bird without turning around.
I locked the door behind him, put the half-drawn blinds down all the way, and turned off all the lights except for the ones directly over the counter seating area, to make it look good for the waitress. She came out of the kitchen to find me taking off my suit jacket and hanging it on the hand-carved coat rack by the door. So, so quaint this joint - I hoped it'd catch on fire.
"We're closed!" she said, but when she saw it was me, a tiny frown hit her face. "Did I not hear the bell ding?"
"You did. Sam's off and running. It’s just us girls," I replied, walking over and plopping down on a stool. "So what's cooking?"
"Nothing yet, I'm just getting some burgers and a pie ready to go for when they come back."
"They may not come back."
"You think they'll leave without saying bye?"
I gave her a look. "What did I say about the playing dumb?"
She blinked a few times, then softly said, "Oh." After a pause, she added, "I guess it's a habit."
I took her in for a moment - minus the mascara still holding on from the night prior (fuck if I knew how, I'd have to ask her the brand), her face was clean of makeup, revealing a barely-there touch of freckles. Her hair was in a smooth ponytail, the clip-in extensions coming out when she took it down from the messy bun, and she looked fantastic. And I told her so.
She let out a near soap opera-level gasp. "Really? Seriously?"
"Lookit, if all that other shit makes you happy, I mean, you do you. But from where I sit, it doesn't seem to, and it seems like a real pain in the ass to deal with every day."
She snickered and nodded. "It's not cheap, either. But that’s what Dolly says. Takes a lot of money to look so cheap."
I grinned. "See, there? Smart cookie. You don't have to play dumb to be attractive. Trust me, the kind of men that attracts? The kind who don't even bother to remember your name? Not worth your time, anyway. I think you know that."
"Men like Dean?"
"Like Dean. He's a mess of trouble sewn into a sack of squirrel."
"You don't like him very much... I mean, the way you talk to him... talk about him..."
"I'm pushing him because he tends to get pulled off course by women, whether it’s chicks like you or his landfill of mommy issues, and I'll let you in on a secret: he's getting closer and closer to a real grade-A cunt back on the home front. He needs to get done with her so that he - and Sam - can really start getting down to business. Like I'm trying to get down to business. With you."
"I don't understand. I’m not playing dumb, I promise."
"I didn't come here for some creature, the mara wasn't my mission - neither were they, them being here was a surprise. A kinda nice one. See, my assignment was to get to you."
She eyed me warily. "What do you want with me? T-to... are y-you... gonna kill me?"
I laughed. "No, no, pumpkin - I try not to get my hands dirty nowadays. But I'll tell you another secret: I was behind the first two dirtbags taking dirt naps."
Her eyes got wide. "Are you really the creature? Not Raquel?"
"Oh she's the real deal. We knew about your roomies and their troubled love lives from profiling you, and her cover was way good. Don't get me started on our surveillance team."
"O-okay, I won't."
"That asshat manager of yours was an unplanned bonus, so was Raquel, but earmarking those other creeps as the ones to be taken out instead of some rando townsfolk was just me being... nice."
"You don't seem very nice."
I tapped her forehead with my finger. "See. Like I said. Smart. Ditch the dumb act for good. This looks prettier on you."
"But I don't get it - why'd you do that? Have them killed?"
"I wanted to scare you."
The waitress blanched. "It... it worked. But ---"
I reached out, took her hand. "I need you to go back home."
She stared at me, opened and closed her mouth a few times, then inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath which didn't do a thing to bring any color back to her cheeks.
"You need to patch up whatever went down between you and your sister. You know. The one who works at that low-rent wing joint called Cooter's, which should be getting sued any time now."
That got a response. "We haven't... it's been years."
"Your sis is roomies with a gal that my company's very interested in - but she's about to screw herself over with all the partying she's starting to do with said sister. She's gotta be as pure as a newborn babe... well, maybe not that clean, but at least on paper, she needs to be close if she's going to get her foot in the door with a politician who’s going to be a big damn deal. And you’re going to teach her how to be a class act."
"I don't know anything about ----"
"You will. Because I'm going to teach you."
The waitress pulled her hand away, took several slow steps back, shaking her head as she went.
I stood, began to walk around the counter. "Don't you think you've spent enough time on the run? Doesn't matter what name Dean calls you, 'cause it's not your real one."
Now her face flushed. "Well... I bet your name's not real either!"
"I bet you're right." I came to a stop right in front of her. “This gal is real, real important. And we don’t want your sister to play the part of mentor, we checked her out, and - no offense? - her idiot act is legit. There’s that, and the weed. She’s a space cadet, but you? You’re a diamond in the rough. Not to mention? You’ll be rewarded. Oh baby girl, will you ever.”
Another round of silence, some looking around at anything and everything that wasn’t me, and when she met my gaze again, I knew I had her when she asked, “So who is she?”
“Your new best friend is one Kelly Kline.”
The lights suddenly began flickering. Car alarms went off. I felt a small vibration up to my ankles as the ground briefly shook. Shouting floated our way from somewhere down the street. The Impala’s engine came and went. Then, in the not-so-far distance came the sound of galloping, and it got closer, and closer, and fast, the sharp clomps on the pavement indicating our favorite mare was not wasting any time.
“What is all that?” the waitress whispered.
I smiled, shot her a wink as I answered. 
“It’s showtime.”
Feedback makes my ❤️ go boom
See Nash Write : Master  |  See Nash Write : Mobile 
🏷️🏷️Wanna be tagged? Hit me up! 🏷️🏷️
Author’s Note #1: I am profusely sorry for the lateness of the completion of this story. The draft for the final parts was accidentally deleted, and then I had an out-of-the-blue thing, and then I lost my mojo on this story, blah-blah-biscuits, excuses and whatnots. Mea culpas all around, especially to the folks whose challenges this included. I won’t do this with challenges again, cross mah heart.
Author’s Note #2: My personal challenge was to see if I could seamlessly integrate more than a few prompts (okay, sooo… between y'all & some from my own challenge, it ended up around 20… what’re you staring at?) without the challengers feeling shorted & without you all noticing what they were. Why?
Even without the bolding of prompts that authors often include, sometimes they don’t feel like they “fit” with the writer’s typical style/cadence, at least for me. So see if you can guess them & be the judge of if I pulled it off.
The challengers are all being noted below, however the prompts won’t be revealed til the last installment. [There’s one that stretches throughout, and I didn’t want to ruin the ending!]
It is *not* my expectation the Challengers read this whole thing/beyond the part where their prompt(s) were (especially poor Melissa, whose prompt is the one that spans the entire shebang!), cross-my-heart!
Author’s Note #3: I’m also not gonna use the tags for all the challengers anymore because I’d given y’all the link to the master post way-back-when for inclusion in your challenge round-up posts/lists, hope that’s okay - besides, I’m finishing this up so late from when it started, I’m doubting you’re following your tags anymore. Did I mention I apologize? I’m *so* apologizing.
Author’s Note #4: All my stories (save the pure humor & goofy AU) are set in the same “universe”, and Top of the World readers may wanna pay attention to this one, in particular. ;) They’re getting an epilogue to this that contains some juicy behind-the-scenes tidbits in celebration of the completed first “season” and the premiere of season two later this summer, which is loooong overdue! (Wait, it’s August, is summer technically over? Okay, then, late summer/early fall. Eek.)
*~* The Challengers *~*
Featured in this part.....
a #Nash200
Featured in next (final!) part…..
@katymacsupernatural​ - #katys wish upon a star challenge [2/2]
@super-not-naturall​  - #Tristan’s 200 Follower Challenge
@hannahindie​ - #HanCelebratesWithPawnee
more #Nash200s
Previous parts….
@kas-not-cas​ - #Kas’ 2.5K dialogue challenge
@itswitchcraft-not-googlemaps​ - #GoldenGirls1.5k
@wideawakeandwriting​  - #randomwritingchallenge  
@katymacsupernatural - #katys wish upon a star challenge [1/2]
@cas-is-my-hero​ - #cas-is-my-hero 100 challenge
@kathaswings​  -  #Lina’s chiliad
@deansdirtyduchess​ [the artist FKA melissaj616] - #Melissa Celebrates!
@idreamofhazel​ - #hazels throwback challenge
…..and of course, #Nash200s
Also in past parts, the “JUST FOR KICKS” pair….
@theblackharrystyles [the artist FKA blackcaptainrogers, FFKA senselesssamii ] - #Samii gets scary
@impala-dreamer​  -  #Dreamer’s OP4A Challenge  
[This wasn’t their “real” entry, I just threw ‘em in because they honest-to-goodness happened to be close to things I’d wanted as dialogue anyhow!]
Tag List:
@impandagrl    @waywardjoy  @jalove-wecallhimdean  @jame-sbarnes  @just-another-busy-fangirl  @amanda-teaches  @fanforfanatic  @salt-n-burn-em-all  @thisgingerlikescoffee @cyrilconnelly  @rozadolphin @carryonmycobaltangel @ilsawasanacrobat  @klaineaholic  @helvonasche   @zepppie  @amionthetumbler @tankcupcakes  @littlegreenplasticsoldier  @emlostinwonderland  @michellethetvaddict  @theoriginalvicki  @ellen-reincarnated1967  @copperseraphim  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @crowleylovesyou  @bumbleball13  @anticipate1003  @raspberrymama  @lastactiontricia  @butiaintgonnaloveem
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adrianners · 6 years
Text
AO3 tag game
Got tagged by @kitsunebi-uk (thank you!) and I gotta do something with all this energy now so here we go!
WHAT IS YOUR TOTAL WORD COUNT ON AO3?
Currently 71,158 words, but I’m forever sneaking in to make small edits or fix the odd typo.
HOW OFTEN DO YOU WRITE?
I don’t have a schedule for it, but I keep two WIPs open at all times and jump into them as I get ideas. I do a bit every day, but it runs more like a few weeks of a few sentences per day followed by 5k in 24 hours.
DO YOU HAVE A ROUTINE FOR WRITING?
On a macro scale, I do a mix of outline and zero draft. I typically write the first scene and then think my way through the whole story, outlining as I go and stopping to jot down important lines or snippets when they hit me. The usual result is I have complete-ish first and last scenes with a mess in the middle. For example, the first thing I wrote in The Measure of My Time was that Oxford Very Short Introduction pastiche and the rest of chapter one, and the next chapter I finished was the epilogue, which was done long before I started posting Measure to AO3. On the other hand, both Living in the Maybe and Undoing the Poem took a long time to find their endings. Yuri on Persona (aka “When to Make Yourself a Hero”), my current main WIP, is the first time I’ve fully outlined before I even created a draft document, but that was a must because it’s going to be in the ballpark of 20 chapters. And now I’ve got the first scene done in the draft and an extra 3k words of future scenes in the outline, so I’m back to my usual.
On the scene level, I start with dialogue, sometimes so much so that it reads like a script, and flesh out actions until there’s, like, a story or something. I don’t usually work chronologically within scenes, same as above. They have beginnings and endings, and then I gotta figure out the twists and turns between those points.
If we’re talking location, music, etc.? At home, always. Cannot write in public or in my office spaces. Usually no music because I can’t listen passively. Coffee because I’m always drinking coffee.
WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE KINKS/TROPES/PAIRINGS?
To preface, I don’t actually do transformative fandom for a lot of media that I love. I haven’t read fic for the MCU or Critical Role, and with Star Wars I went through a lot of the EU as a teenager but don’t care to read amateur fic. Star Trek, Doctor Who, BSG, Persona, Sailor Moon, Discworld, The Good Place, all major media influences on my life with zero or near-zero appeal as fic. So this isn’t anywhere near a full treatment of the things I ship non-transformatively.
I’m super character-centered, so favored kinks and tropes depend 100% on what I’m reading. Characters and ships have gotten me into things I otherwise don’t care for, and I often still don’t care for those things with other characters/ships.
My typical approach is fixating on a character or two and shipping them with several other characters. In YoI, that character is Yuri Plisetsky, at least in terms of ships. I like him with almost anybody under the right circumstances. Viktor is also that way for me on a much smaller scale re: ships and a big, big way re: fixation.
Some other characters and their ships that have stuck with me through the years: Treize Khushrenada of Gundam Wing, shipped with Zechs, Lady Une, and sometimes Heero and/or Quatre a few years and a lotta therapy down the road in Treize Lives AUs. Remus Lupin of Harry Potter, shipped primarily with Sirius but also Tonks, just as the bisexual disasters they are instead of… whatever the fuck that was, Joanne. Ohtori Kyouya of Ouran High School Host Club, main ship being an OT3 with Haruhi and Tamaki, but nobody fuckin writes it, so I mostly read Kyouya/Tamaki and Kyouya/Haruhi and dream of the day I get a plot bunny for them. If I started on Bioware characters, we’d be here all day, but my big one is Kaidan Alenko, shipped with Shepard of any gender, Ashley Williams, OT3 with Shepard and Ash aka Team Milky Way, and Steve Cortez.
Viktuuri are my outliers because I mostly (mostly) don’t ship them with other people, or if I do it’s usually (usually) in a way that results in them being together in the end, either as a couple or in a poly arrangement. But then, they’re also the ones who made me start writing fic after a fifteen-year break, so their impact on my life has been waaaaaaaay disproportionate.
DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE FIC OF YOURS?
Right now, it’s both stories of the Measure-verse so far. They are long (for me, the lady who otherwise does one-shots of 1.5-5k words) and I finished them and the setting is pretty weird and I love them.
YOUR FIC WITH THE MOST KUDOS?
*sigh* Dilemmas. 2355 right now. I don’t like to sound unappreciative, but maaaaaaan do I not consider that story an accurate representation of my priorities as a writer, so the fact that it has almost six times the kudos of my next fic down (PDA Monster, which, along with much of my work, is 100% representative of my priorities of fuck you) is kind of frustrating sometimes.
ANYTHING YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT YOUR WRITING?
My inability to spot words or phrases I don’t reuse too badly in a single story but across my whole body of work, hooooo boy, that’s another matter.
I’d seen people complain about smut being difficult to write, but wow Measure chs 3 & 6 were a hardship. It’s an action scene with so many moving parts where you’ve gotta keep the focus tight on the characters’ feelings so it doesn’t get clinical, and also you don’t want it to get too flowery, and also there’s only so many ways to describe what’s happening here without slipping into metaphor or turning into an A&P textbook, and also aarrrrrrrgh. I need more practice. So of course I decided to do Yuri on Persona at a hard T rating. *headdesk* 
NOW SOMETHING YOU DO LIKE (ABOUT YOUR WRITING)?
I do not half-ass things ever ever ever. I stand behind my characterization choices (though I also don’t want to write characters the same way across all stories! I like exploring multiple takes on one person), and I work hard to sell even the simple or odd things I write. I’ve always had a good memory for detail, but I honestly think my grad work has given me strong skills at building my arguments based on canon evidence and working them into plots without obviously pushing an agenda (major exception being PDA Monster because I was real mad, and even then I bet nobody can guess who caused it).
Now I’m gonna make more coffee and take a swing at some Yuri on Persona.
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