#also also also i have no fucking idea how golf works either so we’re just gonna pretend it’s easy for jack to pick up on things ok

[we-are-inevitable]

have fun!

kath i usually adore you but this was so hard <3

not gonna do a blurb, just gonna do bullet points! jatherine fans, here we goooooo

okay when i think of royal, usually it’s fantasy, magic, medieval, fun- that’s not what i’m going for here though.

katherine pulitzer is the princess (of the usa? of new york? i don’t know) and the year is 2023. she’s rich, goes to a preppy university, her family has their own plane and her first car is a rolls royce. she’s never had to lift a finger, and rarely ever does she have to do actual work unless it’s for school, where she’s studying media communications- a rather fitting field of study for someone who controls the country, right? anyway, she’s like, WEALTHY wealthy.

and her father likes people seeing her out with him. he likes keeping up the family appeal, so whenever he goes golfing- because what else do rich white guys do?- he brings her with him. its how they try to “””relate””” to their people; if citizens see the Royals golfing like “regular people” then surely they’ll respect them, right?

theyd probably be better off going to an NFL game or something but that’s a bit of a safety risk so we move

anyway. princess katherine doesn’t like golf, and it’s very apparent from the way she just constantly looks bored on the course. they have their regular caddies who follow them around, chat with them and stuff, but they’re all old and rather boring, and she would love to find someone her own age to chat with to make these long days more bearable.

one day, they show up to the course- a country club for the elites- and there’s a new caddie. his name is Jack. he’s twenty, a year younger than katherine, with brown skin and curls kept neat under a cap. supposedly, he’s only filling in for one of their regular guys, but he keeps coming back and coming back until he’s a permanent fixture on the course, giving pretty good advice to katherine’s father.

and katherine has never really experienced anything like it. usually, the people theyre around respect them so much they act rigid and fake, but this Jack guy is so casual and at ease with them, cracking jokes that make her father belly-laugh, telling her stories and generally being almost… a friend, to her.

and he’s rather attractive, too, so that helps.

the more she learns about him, the more she likes him. he’s only working at the course because he needs something to put himself through college, otherwise he can’t afford it. when she asks if his family has always been involved with the country club, she finds out that jack has never really had a family until recently; he was adopted pretty late in life, around sixteen, by a wealthy woman named Medda Larkin. katherine knows of Medda; she’s a regular fixture at the country club, as a performer rather than a guest, so she must have pulled a few strings to get Jack the job, but he’s incredibly good at it.

they start talking outside of the country club, too. katherine does something a little risky; she gives him the username of her fake instagram, the private one under a different name rather than the public and professional one that she has to have as a member of the Royal Family. they talk and talk and talk until it’s obvious they have feelings for one another, and their relationship starts then; they sneak around, go on dates in places the princess should never be, share hidden hisses in alleyways, hook up in jack’s apartment in a bad neighborhood just so they aren’t caught.

it’s thrilling. it’s exciting. it nearly comes to an end when her father finds out. idk maybe theres something in jack’s past that kind of sticks out like a sore thumb in the world of royal suitors- i’m thinking he was on the run a lot, since his foster homes weren’t great. maybe he sold weed to afford food, maybe he was in and out of homeless shelters, maybe he has a record of shoplifting because he was so desperate.

i also think that jack would be pretty outspoken about his distaste for the royal agenda in general; he sees them do nothing and yet they’re more wealthy than he’ll ever be, and he sees how they treat people like him- the lower class, the marginalized communities, etc. i genuinely think that listening to jack is what makes katherine kind of change her mind and realize her privilege, and makes her want to do more to make up for it.

this can end one of two ways: a prince harry and meghan markle way, with kath denouncing the royal institution and living a happy life with jack away from her titles, or katherine becoming queen and marrying jack, and, thus, they’re both in positions of power where they can try to make positive change, despite the history of what her family may have done.

or they keep everything a secret and suddenly katherine is thirty, married to another royal, caught in an affair with jack kelly, a stoner who went from being a caddie at a country club to owning his own tattoo shop in the heart of manhattan. not a great headline for a queen, but man does she love the thrill.

can you believe i just wrote about golf.

[kinfanfiction]

Charlie Eppes x Fem!Reader - Chapter 4 - Some Indescribable Feeling

A/n: This fucking GIF oh my GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!

Little Women is my favorite book, and now it’s the reader’s too, you're welcome.

Yes, this is way shorter than I wanted it to be. No, I don’t think there’s anything more to be added to it.

     Waking up knowing it was Friday morning was a beautiful feeling. However, it was disorienting to not wake up in your own bed. You took a second to process your surroundings, and then you got up and went to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Your eyes felt heavy at first, but the further you went along through your routine, the more awake you felt. You got dressed in formal work attire, as usual. You enjoyed dressing up nicely for work, it made you feel more professional. You grabbed Little Women from your bag, your favorite book. You’d reread the book multiple times since you were twelve, and now you read parts of it for comfort.

     You didn’t see anyone in the kitchen when you went downstairs, so you welcomed yourself to it’s contents and made yourself breakfast and lunch. You packed your lunch for later and ate your breakfast at the table as you began reading at the beginning of the March’s Christmas morning. Alan walked in with a newspaper in his hand. “Good morning, Y/n. You sleep well?” 

     You smiled politely. “I did. The guest bed is incredibly comfortable.” You spoke before taking another bite of your breakfast.

     “I’m glad.” He smiled and then paused, trying to think of what else to say. Thankfully, you came up with something.

     “What are your plans for today?” You questioned in between bites.

     “I was thinking of going to the golf course today, to get my mind off things and see some old friends.. What about you?”

     “I’ve got a couple classes expecting my presence today, and after that I’ll see about spending time with Charlie.” Alan grinned at the thought of you two growing closer again.

     “It’s sweet, the friendship you have with my boy.” He expressed softly. “You’ve always been good to him. He’s really needed that. Someone who accepts all versions of who he is.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but simply ended the conversation with, “Have a good morning, Y/n.” Before he walked off. You sat in your chair and though for a moment about what he said. Little did he know you needed a friend like Charlie just as much as he needed you, if not more. 

     You finished your breakfast, grabbed everything you’d need for the day, and walked out to your car. You stuck the key in the ignition and pulled out of the driveway and towards the CalSci campus. When you got there, you continued working on grading your student’s work. As you read through each paper, you noticed one from Daisy Lewis. You quickly graded it, giving her an A, and then writing, ‘Come talk to me after class.’ In the top right corner of the page. You hated writing notes like those, because you knew how terrifying receiving them was, but it had to be done because she’d crossed a line. 

     The class went along smoothly as usual but at some point you had to give out graded papers, and when Daisy received hers, she looked momentarily relieved, until she read the note you left. Bowie, who was sitting next to her, looked at the note and their eyes widened. You continued on with the lecture, and then at the end of class, after everyone else left, Daisy did her little walk of shame over to your desk. To your surprise, Bowie followed suit. “I’m so sorry, Professor L/n, this was all my idea, please don’t be upset with Daisy, she only got roped in because of me.” Bowie ran to her defense.

     You chuckled at how dramatic they were, “I’m not upset with anyone, I just want it to be known that Professor Eppes and I would prefer it if our personal lives were not interfered with by our students.”

     Bowie and Daisy nodded profusely, “Of course, and we’re so sorry. It won’t happen again.” Bowie agreed. 

     “And I’d also like to know why you did it. Do either of us grade too harshly? Was that the problem? Because if you ever have a problem with how we grade, you are always welcome to simply talk to us. You don’t have to go to these lengths for an A.”

     “That’s not why we did it..” Daisy began to explain.

     “We did it because, well, everyone is curious to know why you and Charlie are so close, and we thought it was because maybe you...” Bowie felt so embarrassed they couldn’t finish their sentence, but you knew what they were getting at.

      “..You wondered if we had feelings for each other? So you pulled.. that?” You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, dear. Well, first of all, that’s none of your business, and secondly, yes, Charlie and I are very close, and I care about him immensely, but as a friend. Now, I don’t want anything like this to happen again, so if you could tell anyone else involved in the speculation about me and Charlie’s relationship, I would greatly appreciate it.” You paused briefly, and then your tone shifted from relatively lighthearted to more stern. “I’m easy on you today, but if you do something like this again there will be serious consequences.” Bowie and Daisy nodded. “Now that’s settled, you both may go.” You said, shooing them both away. They left the room quickly. After that interaction was over, you quickly got to work on grading for your next class of the day. 

     After the school day was over, you went to check on Charlie, only to see he wasn’t in his classroom. You asked the professor of the neighboring classroom if they’d seen him, and they said he hadn’t come in all day, and had a substitute fill in for him. You thought that was strange, he hardly ever missed school. You drove back to the Eppes’ house, and Alan was quietly watching television in the living room, but Charlie was no where to be seen. You tried to distract yourself from worry by diving into your work at the dining room table, but you were so concerned that you couldn’t focus. You put your work away and tried to read more from Little Women, but you weren’t processing any of the words. 

     Finally, Don and Charlie burst through the front door. “Charlie helped us solve the case!” He announced to you and Alan, which made you turn to look at Don, and then quickly to Charlie. You were relieved they were alright, and that they'd caught their guy, but Charlie didn’t seem too thrilled about the success. He gave a false grin, which you noticed right away. 

     “That’s great, Charlie!” Their father exclaimed.

      “Yep, and now I’m absolutely wiped. So, goodnight everyone!” He spoke quickly, before going up to his room. You furrowed your eyebrows and went up after him. He didn’t get a chance to sit down on his bed before you were already in the door. 

     “What happened?” You questioned without hesitation. 

     “What happened? Nothing happened, we got the guy, everything’s fine now.” He insisted in a very unconvincing manner. 

     “Mhm.. right, because your whole demeanor just screams, ‘Everything’s alright.’” You retorted sarcastically.

     He huffed, a little annoyed that you were so good at reading him. “What do you want me to say?” He demanded in a slightly irritated tone. 

     “The truth.”

     “Fine. The truth is, even though we got the guy, and we saved a woman from being murdered, and possibly many more women from the same fate, I still feel incredibly guilty for not working fast enough to be able to save the women he did kill.” 

     Your expression softened. “Charlie.. don’t do that to yourself. You did absolutely everything you could, and so did every agent in the Los Angeles FBI department. You think they can afford to carry the guilt of everyone they didn’t save with them? It’d tear them apart if they did.” You grabbed both of his arms and made him look into your eyes. “Let me say this again, and really take these words in. You did everything you could, and because of you, no one else can be hurt by this guy. Do you understand how incredible that is?” He didn’t look so sure right away, but the more he thought about what you’d said, the more he relaxed. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and nodded. 

     “Thank you, I needed that.” He said with a soft, affectionate smile.

     “Of course.” You smiled back, until a new question occurred to you. “Does this mean you’re going to continue helping the FBI with their cases?” 

     He thought for a moment, “Only if Don wants me to.” He responded decidedly. You frowned a little at the idea.

     “You could really be putting yourself in danger if you do.” You reminded him.

     “I’ll be alright.” He attempted to assure you, “Don wouldn’t let me get anywhere near the dangerous parts of each case. He won’t knowingly let me go anywhere near something or someone that could hurt me.”

     You clicked your tongue and hummed, “Mhm, knowingly indeed.”

     “Oh, don’t be so worried. Don will make sure I’m safe if I continue working on cases with him.”

     “You know I have trouble not being worried about you. For a brilliant mathematician, you sure can be an idiot sometimes.” You spoke in a playful tone to let him know you were joking.

     He scoffed and feigned being offended, “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Please, you’re only saying that because you care too much about me for your own good.” He teased as he ruffled your hair. 

     You chuckled, “Maybe that’s true..” You wanted to joke around some more, but you found that was all you had left to say.

     The two of you stood quietly for a second, looking into each other’s eyes and not knowing where the conversation was to go after that, and suddenly, you noticed the atmosphere around the two of you change. You didn’t know how, why, or in what way, but somehow it made you feel almost nauseous. You quickly broke eye contact and looked at the floor. “Well, before you dive into any more cases, or work, you should take a break.” You suggested. He smiled and nodded. 

     “I think I will.” He agreed. “Would you like to watch another movie?” 

     “Sounds perfect.”

     The two of you sat down on the guest bed, propped up against some pillows, and you turned on Little Women. “Oh, why would you turn on this again? You cry every single time you watch this movie without fail.”

     “Yes I do, but it’s worth it for all the comforting moments.” You insisted. 

     “Mhm, I’ll get the tissues.” He stood up and grabbed a nearby box, which made you laugh. 

[horansqueen]

New Angel - Chapter 18

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1  ☆ chapter 2  ☆ chapter 3  ☆ chapter 4  ☆ chapter 5  ☆ chapter 6  ☆ chapter 7  ☆ chapter 8 ☆ chapter 9 ☆ chapter 10 ☆ chapter 11 ☆ chapter 12 ☆ chapter 13 ☆ chapter 14 ☆ chapter 15 ☆ chapter 16 ☆ chapter 17

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.5k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

"I can't believe you brought me here." Millie sighed, shaking her head slightly but grabbing a ball anyway. "I can't play, you know it!"

"You mentioned not being good at golf, and at football, but you never said anything about bowling." I argued, trying not to smile too much.

"I mentioned sports in general!" she let out a bit louder. "I suck at all of them."

This time, I couldn't help my lips from curling big. It was finally friday and also the fifth day Millie and I were spending together. It was insane how fast time seemed to pass when we were together but I liked it. I also liked the fact that she was ready to follow me in my stupid ideas, and I was happy to follow her in her crazy ones. I had had many friendships in my life but nothing ever felt like this one. I was trying new things, learning things too, and even discovering things about myself that I don't think I would have found out without Millie's help. I knew it wouldn't always be entertaining the way this week had been but it could definitely be enriching forever.

"You can do it! I believe in you!" I let out, half-joking.

She raised her nose up and grimaced before shaking her head. "Don't be money on me, you'll quickly become poor."

I chuckled and she turned around, grabbing the ball and throwing it in the alley. It rolled around and quickly reached the gutter, making me press my lips together as I tried not to laugh. Okay, maybe she really sucked at it.

"Okay, this is confirmed." Millie let out as she walked up to me. "Bowling is still a sport. I suck at it."

I laughed and finally got up, waking up to her and grabbing a ball too. I was not the best at bowling but I was not so bad either, and I grabbed her arm on my way, bringing her with me. I handed her the ball and she frowned for half a second before grabbing it and I turned her around, placing her hands on the ball. She allowed me to move her fingers, staring at what I was doing and licking her lips. It made me smile more and I kept my hand over hers.

"Okay fist off, you need to relax a bit. You're way too tensed. You need to stay relaxed when you give the swing." I explained slowly, waiting a few seconds. "God, Mill, relax!"

She sighed but I finally felt her relax against me as  I pressed my body slightly more against hers.

"Now you need to line up and not just throw the ball and hope it'll find the right way."

Millie's shoulders fell and she turned to me, frowning at me. It made me chuckle again and she raised her eyebrows.

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No," I argued. "I think you expect to be bad at it so you put zero effort in it."

This time, her traits softened and she licked her lips again without answering my comment. "Okay, and what else?"

"Your swing needs to be relaxed, but when you finally throw the ball, you need to some power. Aim for the middle. Oh, and twist your wrist on the left. Not too much, just enough, okay?"

"This is too much information at the same time."

"Come on, Mill. You can do it."

I took a few steps back but kept my eyes on her as she breathed in and out before finally throwing the ball. Instead to get in the gutter, it rolled in the alley and hit two pins that feel down. Millie turned around swiftly, her brown hair moving around her body, and threw her arms in the air, letting her head fall back slightly.

"Yes! I'm the bowling queen!"

I crossed my arms on my chest and started laughing at her reaction. Some people turned around to look at us and I rolled my eyes, a smile still spread on my lips.

"Yea yea, I'm still gonna win."

We kept playing for a while and even if I won all the games, she was getting better and better and for some reason, it made me proud of her. We walked back to my car and as I was driving home, I saw her took her shoes off and bring her feet on the seat, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Maybe someday, we can go try playing golf together." she explained, making me raise my eyebrows in surprised before I glanced at her. "If you're ready to teach me, of course."

"Yea! Yea of course!"

She sent me a bigger smile and leaned her cheek on her knees, still looking at me. "Cool, you're a good teacher, and I actually had fun."

"That was the goal."

As soon as we walked back in the apartment, she walked to the kitchen and I rushed to my room, grabbing a pack of cards and joining her as she put two beers on the table along with a bottle of vodka. We sat in front of each other and I started dealing the cards.

It was a ritual we had with Louis on every friday night but even if we hadn't talked about it together, neither of us had expected Louis to be there. He was barely at the apartment anyway these days and the fact that Millie still had feelings for him made me think it was actually better that way. We both knew he was spending all his time at his girlfriend's but we didn't mention it. In fact, we hadn't talked about Louis, Grace or Summer at all on that day either and I was fine with it. We could spend time filling the lists and all of that during the weekend... or never.

Millie pushed her empty beer away and filled our shot glasses with vodka. We swallowed it at the same time and I saw her eyes water.

"Don't drink too much." I pointed out, my lips curling on the right. "We're having a party tomorrow night, and also you won't be able to see your cards."

Millie laughed louder than expected and she shrugged a shoulder. "I probably won't get drunk tomorrow, to make sure everyone's safe."

"That's very mature of you." I replied with a small smile. "Now show me what you got."

Her eyes met mine and her lips curled into a cheeky smile. "Are you ready to lose?"

Just as I was about to answer, we heard the front door open and we both jumped slightly, not expecting it. Louis frowned when he entered the kitchen and after a few seconds, his face changed. Maybe I should have felt guilty for doing something with Millie that he was normally a part of, but I didn't.

"Shit, it's friday already?" he asked, placing his hands on the table and leaning closer. "Why didn't you guys remind me?"

"We just thought you were busy." Millie mentioned, shrugging a shoulder and looking at the cards in her hands.

"Maybe I could invite El?" he asked, ignoring her innuendo. "She could play with us."

"No, she can not." my best friend quickly replied before I could say anything.

"Fuck off Millie, why are you acting like that?"

I kicked my friend under the table and cleared my throat to catch Louis' attention but his eyes never left Millie who wouldn't even blink.

"What Millie means is that it's a thing we had only the three of us, you know?" I tried to explain calmly. "It's our thing, and adding someone would just not work."

It took over a minute for Louis to finally move his body back, his hands sliding on the table before they fell on each side of him. I could feel anger emanating of him and I didn't really understand what made him so mad. After all, he was the one who was never here, he was the one who literally dropped us for his girlfriend, and he was the one who broke Millie's heart. If anything, we should be the angry ones.

"Well apparently, you guys don't need me anymore."

I was expecting him to storm off but it's Millie who got up quickly, her chair making an annoying noise as it rubbed against the floor.

"You're the one who doesn't need us anymore, Louis!" she pointed out, making my heart jump in my chest. "So you know what? You fuck off!"

Quickly, Millie threw her cards on the table and grabbed the bottle of vodka, rushing out of the kitchen. i jumped again when she closed the door of her room roughly and slowly got up, shaking my head and leaning myself with my hands on the table.

"Did you really propose to bring your girlfriend here? Are you stupid of what?"

i was talking low but I knew he totally heard how pissed I was with the tone of my voice.

"Shut up, Niall!" Louis quickly replied, his voice louder than mine. He searched for something in his pocket and shook it between his fingers. I frowned slightly until I realized it was Millie's list and my lips parted.

"You didn't have the right to read this." I pointed out, my heart skipping a beat.

"Oh yea? Well Millie forgot it in the living room!"

It was definitely an accident and somehow, I thought it could have just slipped out of her pocket when we were watching tv. She probably didn't know it was there and even if she did, she probably thought Louis wouldn't come back for a while and that it was safe. I knew it was wrong of me to blame him for checking a random paper but I was mad anyway.

"That is none of your business!" I let out, trying to snatch the paper out of his hand.

He pulled away just in time and I breathed in, trying to remain calm. "This is my fucking business! My name is all over it!" he argued.

"That doesn't make it your business!"

I was getting even angrier and at the same time, I just wanted to leave and join Millie. It was her I should be with instead to be arguing with Louis, which was most likely useless anyway.

"Oh but it's your business, right? Because you think I was not good enough for her! You think she deserves better than me!"

In a rough movement, Louis threw the list on the table and I quickly grabbed it tight as I remembered what I had written on it.

"She does! She fucking does, okay!" I almost yelled. "You didn't treat her the way she deserves! She deserves better!"

"And who's better, Horan? Uh? Who's better for her? You?"

The way he said the last word was like a slap in the face and without thinking, I moved my upper body back, still staring at him. I didn't want to pick sides at first but now I had done it without even thinking about it. I looked at my best friend and felt my heart drop in my chest. We were both fighting for no good reason and I hated it. I licked my lips and breathed in deeply before sighing.

"Look, I'm not gonna fight with you, okay?" I let out in a softer tone. "You and Millie... you went through something, and she needs time. Which works because you're busy too. I just want to be there for her, okay? Don't take it so personal."

"How can I not?" Louis pointed out, still a bit mad. "This is my name! This is me you're talking about!"

I sighed again and shook my head. "Just.. go find your girlfriend, okay? I'll see you at the party tomorrow."

Louis' eyes moved up and down on me and finally sighed too. "Yea, it's better I leave for now."

Without an other word, he walked to his room probably to grab a few things and I waited until I heard the front door close again. I walked to my room to get changed and turned all the lights off before walking to until Millie's door, knocking gently on it.

"Mill, can I come in?"

It took a few seconds and I heard the door unlock before it opened. Millie stood in front of me, staring in my eyes, and I noticed she got changed too. We stared at each other for a while and I raised my eyebrows, making her sigh but move away to let me in.

We ended up laying in her bed, under the covers, facing each other, and I kept silent for a while. Her eyes seemed to shine with the lights coming from her window and I realized she had been tearing up, maybe she even shed a few tears.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm.. I'm at that point where my heart aches because I love him but I know he's not meant for me. I know I was not happy with him. I know that what we had was not what a love relationship should be. And... realizing that hurts, too."

I let my eyes room on her face and it made me think about Grace. Perhaps I was exactly at that same place when it came to my ex girlfriend and although it did hurt, I was slowly getting used to it. Maybe I should give Summer a chance, after all? It was not good to stick or hang on to something like the relationship I had with Grace, or the one Millie had with Louis. We should both seek something better and I knew it. Happiness was possible, it just needed a bigger effort.

"That's a first step in the right direction." I explained in a whisper. "You're doing great, I'm super proud of you."

Millie's lips curled in a grateful smile and she pressed her lips together.

"Thank you. I'm proud of you too."" she murmured back. "You're gonna sleep here with me?"

"If you want me to." I proposed with a shrug as she nodded quickly. "Then I will."

She reached for the lamp near her bed and turned the light off before laying back down in bed. I started thinking about Summer and how I never really gave her a chance. I didn't love her but I really liked her. She was a pretty and sweet girl and I had no idea why I was rejecting her over and over again. I knew I needed time to make a choice but the more I was thinking about it, the more I knew my choice wouldn't be Grace.

"Niall?"

"Mm?"

"You're never gonna leave, right?" she breathed out, taking me out of my thoughts.

"Where do you want me to go?"

"You know what I mean." she whispered again, making my eyes flutter open. I kept blinking a few times until I could see her shadow in the dark. "I lost Louis, I don't want to lose you, too."

I reached for her hand on the mattress and squeezed her fingers as tight as I could. "I'm never gonna leave, I promise. I'll always be there for you."

[puckinginsane]

What Am I?

Jamie Benn one shot

Warningsish : Smuttyish language. A curse? I think just one. 

Words : 7.8K 

I really hope y’all like it. I worked really hard on this.

🎵 Tell me, have you seen a sunset Turn into a sunrise? Kiss right through the night? 'Cause we should try that sometime Hold you 'til the mornin' And if I said I'm fallin' Would you just reply "I know you are, but what am I?"🎵

I usually don't go to bars or clubs with the intent of picking up a guy. Sometimes it happens, but most of the time I'm there to have a good time with my friends and get a little tipsy. Not tonight. Tonight I am here to get drunk and to get laid. It's one of those nights where the only way I'm going to escape life for a while is to get hammered and make bad decisions. Lately life has given me one punch in the gut after the other so I need a win.

I've already spotted my target. I've been watching him on and off for the last 45 minutes. He's tall, tatted, handsome. Built like an ox but hasn't said much all night. The guys he's with have all the energy and he's the observer. We've locked eyes a few times throughout the night but he'd always just look away. I'm not sure it's me he even saw. It's a bit busy in here tonight.

I watch as his friends try to convince him to go to the club with them but he insists they go on without him. He's nursing the rest of his beer so if I'm going to make a move it's gotta be now. I push any thoughts of doubt out of my mind. I need to just go for it. No more waiting for something to happen. If I want it to happen I’m going to have to make it happen myself. And what I want is for him to take me home and make me forget all of my problems, something I thought the alcohol was going to do but it’s done a shitty job so far.

I sit on the open stool next to him and lean on my elbow on the bar. "You should have gone with them. They look like fun."

He looks at me with a raised eyebrow, intensity in his eyes, then just looks down at the bar and shakes his head. "I'm not interested in the fun they're looking for tonight."

I inch closer to him. "What kind of fun are you looking for? I'm looking for some fun myself." I place my hand delicately on his forearm, not sure of how he's going to react to it. He flexes under my touch but doesn't pull away. "Some anonymous fun just for tonight. To escape life for a while." I give him my best I want to fuck you eyes and hope he feels the same way about me. 

"I'm looking for the kind where I finish this beer and head home."

"That doesn't sound very fun at all, unless you're taking me with you."

"That is the fun I'm trying to avoid."

"Shame." I drink the last bit of my drink and call the bartender over. I'm not going to be taking no for an answer tonight and he's the one I want, I need, to take my mind off of everything. I order us a few rounds of shots. "You need something stronger." I hope he doesn't reject me. My experience with men is that most of the time they can't resist shots with an attractive woman, no matter how hard they want to fight it. 

To my surprise, he picks up the shot glass and looks me dead in the eyes as he takes it. Suddenly it's about fifty degrees hotter in here and I think you could hear my heart beating from across the bar. "Aren't you going to have yours?" He has a cheeky tone in his voice, knowing that my panties have disintegrated into nothing simply by the way he's looking at me.

I almost forgot. I can barely remember my own name as he continues to look at me with those eyes. "Of course." I take my shot while keeping eye contact with him, the same as he did with me. "Another?"

"Why do you want to escape so badly?"

"Rough week, month, year. I just wanna feel good tonight, for once." Does he really want to know? I want to skip the life stories and get right to being naked. 

He picks up a shot glass and hands it to me before picking one up for himself. "I hear that."

We do a few more shots and I'm trying to study him, but I can't get a read on him. I can't tell if this is going somewhere or if he just wants to get drunk with me and leave. He's not exactly flirting, but he's not rejecting my advances either. He's a bit mysterious how he sits there not saying much with his mouth, but saying everything with his eyes. He needs this as much as I do, whatever this turns out to be. I can tell.

“We can continue to do this or we can get out of here for some fun. I know you want fun. Why deny yourself? Let’s get out of here.”

He stares me down, pursing his lips together. Is he actually thinking or does he just want to watch me squirm? “One more drink then I’ll get us an Uber.”

“You’re serious?” I was almost expecting for him to turn me down again.

“I’m serious. You wore me down.”

“Don’t act like I’m forcing you.”

“You are.” The ends of his mouth curl up into a smirk.

He wants to act all innocent but he’s got a bad side to him and it comes through more and more as the night goes on. He’s not fooling me. We each have one more drink before closing out the tab and heading outside to wait for our Uber. I am still surprised that we are about to go back to his place. I’m not nervous. I thought I’d be nervous. I look up at him and he’s staring at his phone, jaw clenched. I can’t help thinking about all of the things I want to do with him. I can’t wait to kiss those pillowy lips of his. 

He leans in close to talk to me. “He’s almost here.” He awkwardly places his hand on my back, almost wrapping his arm around me but changing his mind halfway through. I feel him relax a few seconds later. The last thing I want is for him to feel awkward around me. The whole point of leaving together is to feel good and have some meaningless sex.

When we get in the car I lean up against him and to my surprise he doesn’t tense up when I do. It’s nice. The one thing I notice is that he is so warm. He must be nice to snuggle up against on a cold day. That is something I definitely should not be thinking about right now. This is going to be a one night stand. Anonymous sex. One and done. A no sleepover situation. The walk of shame. All of those cliché phrases that means I will never see him or think about him again.

The ride is quiet, but not awkward. The alcohol is really starting to hit me, now that we’ve left the bar. I can feel myself smiling like a dopey idiot. I’ve accomplished what I set out to do tonight. I just hope it’s worth it. I hope that it does help me escape the way I need it to.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he mutters in my ear, sending chills down my spine, making me wish this guy would drive 50 miles per hour faster than he is right now.

“I’m good. You good?”

“I’m great.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Good.” 

For some reason this doesn’t feel like I’m about to go home with some random guy and have sloppy drunk sex. My limited experience has been that we are all over each other from the bar to wherever we’re going. Kissing, touching, flirting. There’s really been none of that here. I wonder if I’m making a mistake, that I was too eager, that I’m going to be left wanting more.

I quickly learn that not only are we not on the same page, but that he’s also full of surprises when the car pulls up to Top Golf and stops, not his house, where I thought we were going. We get out of the car. I can’t believe I thought he was taking me home with him. I should have known. I should have listened to my instincts. Maybe I should have been more specific.

“You know this isn’t the kind of fun I was talking about, right?”

“It’s not?”

I have no idea if he’s being serious or if he’s messing with me. “No. It’s not.”

“Oops. We might as well go in, we’re here.”

“This is really what you want to do?”

“You want fun. This is fun.”

“If you say so.”

He places both hands on my shoulders. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”

"Allriiiiiight. I'm counting on you."

"Mini golf or driving range?"

I can't believe he's serious. "I'm feeling adventurous tonight so driving range. I've never done it before."

He grins. "This should be interesting."

We head inside, choose a bay, order drinks and food, and get started on whatever is happening right now. At this point I'm just going with the flow.

He sits down in front of the scoring screen. "We have to put our names in for the scoring. What's yours? I'll put them in."

"This is supposed to be anonymous fun."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Nicknames?"

"Perfect."

"What should I put for you?"

"My friends call me Bunny."

"That's cute. Bunny it is."

I watch as he enters my name, then his. "Why are you Chubbs?"

"Just a nickname that stuck. Why are you Bunny?"

"Because I have endless energy. I go go go."

He raises an eyebrow and looks back over his shoulder at me. "Not other reasons?"

I smile. “There might be.”

He smirks before standing up. “The clubs are over there. We each are going to get ten turns to hit the targets. The harder the target, the more points you get.”

“Wait. Hold up. I thought I was just gonna be hitting a bunch of balls. There’s points involved?”

“Yeah. It’s a game. It’s just for fun, though.”

“Alright.”

“You take your club, wave it over here like this, and a ball will pop out.” He shrugs. “Then you just hit it. Don’t let go of the club, though.”

“I won’t. What do you think I am?”

He gets all in my face. “Drunk.” He belly laughs and I can’t help laughing too. “Do you want me to show you how to hold the club, how to swing well?”

“As tempting as that offer is I think I can handle it. Thank you.” I start to step up to take my turn, but then look back at him. “If you get that close to me, touch me, then golf is the last thing I’m going to want to do.”

"Don't you wanna go hard and deep, though?" Putting purposeful emphasis on hard and deep, obviously to drive me crazy..

Unexpected. I almost drop my club “Ok, yeah, let’s just get out of here.”

“Go. Hit the ball. It’ll make you feel better.”

He's actually torturing me now. And enjoying it. How can he flirt like that and act like it's nothing? I normally hate games, but I like this game he's playing. One look from him and I am a puddle of goo. Each word out of his mouth is carefully selected and has a purpose. He knows exactly what he's doing and it only makes me want him more.

The waitress comes over and drops off our drinks and food so I take a long sip of my drink before going back to the tee to take my shot. I try to focus on the ball as I can feel his eyes burning a hole in me. I don’t dare look at him because I will lose my concentration. I’ve only ever played mini golf and never actually driven a ball before so this should be interesting. I will be happy with any kind of contact with the ball.

I’ve seen this done a billion times, ok maybe not that much, but enough for it not to be impossible to do. Sure, I’m feeling a little loose but it’s not like I’m trying to perform brain surgery. All I have to do is hit the ball out there somewhere. I grip the club the way I think I should and I swing back and hit the ball. It is not graceful and I barely touch it and the ball weakly goes off to the side. How embarrassing.

He stands up and walks towards me. "What was that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Not everyone can be professional golfers like you apparently are."

"I'm not, but my two year old niece has a better swing than that."

"I'm in heels and I'm drunk."

"Excuses. I’m drunk too."

"I don't know you well enough to have to take this abuse from you, you know."

"You should take your heels off "

"If you wanted me to get undressed, you should have just taken me back to your place."

“It’ll be way easier but go ahead and be stubborn if you want.”

I take my heels off and my feet feel a hundred percent better. I also feel significantly shorter standing in front of him now. "Now I can be Tiger Woods."

He laughs. "I wouldn't go that far. At least better than a two year old I hope."

“Let’s see what you got, Chubbs.” I sit down and lean back on the couch and watch as he grabs a club and steps up to the machine. He is one beautiful sight of a man. 

“Watch closely.”

“Believe me, I am, there is nothing that could make me take my eyes off of you.”

He bashfully smiles and looks at the ground before moving his ball to where he wants it. He explains to me how and why he grips the club the way that he is, tells me the proper way to swing the club, what to do with my hips, everything I need to know to do better in my next turn. He hits the ball and looks way more graceful than I did. There’s a satisfying tink sound when the club hits the ball. It lands close to the target but doesn’t hit it. He mutters under his breath at himself. How could he be angry at that? To me it looked perfect. He turns towards me. “You think you got it now?” 

“I think so.”

I feel a lot more sturdy without my heels on. I am feeling more confident in myself this time. I am going to crush this ball. I try to remember everything he was saying to me but it was hard to concentrate on the words when there are so many other things to focus on. His perfectly kissable lips, those dark brown eyes that I just can't get enough of, the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man or a woman. I could go on. I take a swing and this time I can feel the contact with the ball. It goes flying and I jump up and down. "I did it! I did it!" I could not be more proud of myself.

He darts up from the chair. "That was great! Way to go, Bunny!" He holds his hand up for a high five and I smack it. "Felt good, didn't it?" He hugs me.

"Felt really good." I look up at him smiling and he's looking down at me. "This feels good too."

He smiles and licks his lower lip. "You're gonna be harder competition than I thought."

“You said it’s just for fun.”

“Mhmm. Winning is fun.” He nudges me a few times with the cutest smile on his face. I can’t help giggling. I love that he’s starting to let go and be happy. He looked so sad in the bar and here he seems to be in his element.

I pick up the menu. “I’m going to order myself a drink. Want one?”

“Don’t you think you should go easy on the drinks?”

“I’ll be fiiiiiine. It’ll just be one. Maybe two. Want one? Oh my god orange dream sounds amazing. I’m ordering two and you can have one if you want.”

He grins. “We’ll see.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay for them.”

“Nonsense. Order whatever you want. I got it.”

“You sure? I don’t mind. I’m not trying to play games or anything.”

“I’m sure. I wanted to come here and I’d never let a woman pay. It was nice of you to offer, though.”

“Ok. If you change your mind let me know.”

He steps up to his ball and hits it so, so far. “I won’t.” He smiles. “Your turn.”

I get up and grab my club. "If the waitress comes by can you order those two orange dreams for me?"

"Yeah. I can. Still think you should go easy."

"They water the drinks down at these places. I'll be fine. It's cute that you're so worried, though.”

“You’re cute.” He says it low and bashful and has made himself blush, but he has the most adorable smile on his face that he couldn’t fight even though he is trying his hardest.

I think I’m blushing too. I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t sure he was even into me. “Thanks.” I can’t fight this dumb smile on my face either. He’s got me all flustered now. The first time I swing at the ball I miss it entirely. “Fuck!” I look back to see that he’s busy ordering from the waitress and didn’t see my epic fail so I play it off and go again like it was my first time. I try to concentrate on the ball but I can’t help looking back and watching him. He’s so damn attractive that it hurts not to be close to him. I actually connect with my second attempt and I actually hit one of the targets. I wasn’t even trying. “I hit it! Did you see? I hit the target!”

He looks up on the screen and sees the score. “Sweet! I saw! I ordered drinks and some more food. Are you cool with nachos and chips and guac?”

“I am very ok with those things. Thank you.”

He walks very close to me on the way to take his shot and stops while he’s right next to me and leans down. “I saw you miss, by the way.” 

“Maybe I need you to show me how to swing after all.”

“I thought you couldn’t handle it.” He’s still talking directly into my ear, which is making me weak in the knees.

“I want it anyway.”

“Too bad it’s my turn.” He leans against me for a second before walking away. I watch that perfect ass walk all the way to the tee. I’ve decided that watching him play is way more fun than getting up there and making a fool out of myself every time.

I step up to take my turn. “I’d like that help now, if you’re still offering.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I’m still offering.” He starts to position himself behind me and just as he is about to get right up against me and hold onto my hands his phone rings. He mutters several curses under his breath and steps back. “It’s my brother. I gotta take this. I won’t be long. Just go ahead and take your turn.”

I sigh. Of course his brother would call. He was close enough for me to feel the heat off of his body and the anticipation of his hands on me has gotten my heart racing. I don’t want to go. I want to wait, but I don’t want to seem desperate so I take my turn and it’s ok. I am not going to be a golf master any time soon.

He ends his phone call rather quickly, but not before our food and drinks get brought to us. I sit down and wait for him to join me before digging in. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be. Family's important."

He nods. "Yeah. Very."

"Is….. everything ok?"

"Yup. He just got out of work and wanted to talk. I'll catch up with him later."

"Or tomorrow."

He blushes. "We'll see."

We eat our food and have our drinks before he takes his next shot. For this being an anonymous night we sure are learning a lot about each other and having great conversation. No names, though, we have both agreed that it would be more fun that way. We are going to stick with Bunny and Chubbs. I am having one of the best nights of my life. This has been so unexpected and fun and taking my mind off of everything that’s been getting me down lately. Chubbs might just be my new hero.

“I was wrong about those drinks, they were not as watered down as I thought they’d be. I’m cool, though. Ice cold.”

He chuckles. “Is that so?”

“It’s soooo so.”

“Alright then, ice queen, I believe it’s my turn.”

“Kick that ball’s ass, Chubbs!”

“I will. Just for you, Bunny.”

I get all giddy when he says my name, well, my nickname. I’ll never look at it the same way again. My friends call me it as a goof almost, but to him that’s who I am. I didn’t think I could have this much fun with a stranger. Talking with him at the bar, I would have never thought this is how my night would end up. I really thought I was going to be leaving alone. He has a cocky swagger as he walks up to take his turn. He looks back at me before he goes, perhaps to make sure that I’m watching him.

I never thought I would ever have this much fun doing anything golf related. I am going to have to come back here with my friends. Chubbs and I continue on with our game and of course he gets more points than me. That was never a question. Golf is obviously something he loves and this was my first time and it doesn’t help that I’m drunk. I wonder if I would do any better while sober. I’ll have to find out at some point.

As our number of rounds start to wind down I start to wonder what comes next. I want to keep hanging out with him. My initial intentions are still there, maybe even stronger than before. I wonder if he will want to continue the night or just go home. We have been flirting the whole time, but I still can’t get a great read on him when it comes to his intentions.

He shakes my hand. “Good game.” He looks at the floor and then all around. “There’s other things we can do here if you want.” 

I smile. He wants to keep hanging out, that’s a good sign. I really want to get him alone, though. “Did you wanna get out of here? We can go to my place or your place...if that’s something you want to do.”

“Your place is good.”

My whole face lights up. I was kind of expecting him to turn me down. “It is?”

“Yeah.” 

I immediately take my phone out and open Uber to get us a ride to my place. “We should wait outside.”

“In a hurry?” he asks in that asmused at himself tone that I’ve gotten used to. He loves to tease. It’s annoying how much I like it.

“Maybe a little.” I start to walk away.

“You’re gonna leave your shoes here?”

I stop and turn around. He has the biggest grin on his face. I am so happy I amuse him so much. “Oops.” I put them back on. “Now we can go.” He is close behind me, not touching, but close enough that it feels like he is.

It feels as if life is going in slow motion as I watch the little car on the Uber app inch through the map on its way to us. I wasn’t sure this moment was actually going to happen and I really don’t want to give him time to change his mind. No matter what happens when we get to my place doesn’t matter anymore. I just don’t want this night to end. I’m not ready to say goodbye forever to him just yet.

“You’re impatient.” I can hear the amusement in his voice as he looks over my shoulder at my screen.

“I always watch the map.”

“You like to be in control.”

I shrug. “Depends.”

He leans in close. “I do.”

I feel that in all of the right places and it takes everything in me not to jump on him right here and now. “Where is this fucking car?” 

He points at my screen. “Right there.” I look at him in almost disbelief. Who is this man and why is he drawing me in like this? His shoulders shake as he chuckles to himself.

I bite my lower lip. He’s charming without even trying. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my entire life. The car pulls up in front of us. “And here it is.”

The vibe in this Uber is way different than the vibe in the Uber on the way here. I can tell he wants me. His body language is the polar opposite. On the way here he was so tense and standoffish, now he is more relaxed and he couldn’t be closer to me. Our legs rub up against each other and I smile. Any contact with him sends electricity through my veins. He very confidently places his hand on my thigh and leaves it there. He wouldn't dare think about touching me on the way here. I rub his hand with mine, then move it back to my lap.

I continue to watch the map as we get on our way, purely out of habit. “Should be there in about fifteen minutes,” I mutter to him, as if I don’t want the driver to hear me. I have no idea why. It’s not like he doesn’t know. I rest my head on his arm. I guess I’m feeling more comfortable too, no longer worried about scaring him away. He agreed to come home with me and we both know where this is headed. I feel the weight of his head on mine and can't help smiling. It's been entirely too long since I've been this close to anyone. It feels nice. It doesn't matter that I don't know his name, this is exactly what I needed.

When we get up to my door I have a bit of a difficult time finding my keys in my purse. I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face as I continue to struggle. I finally grab them and fumble with them as I try to get my key in the lock.

He chuckles. “Are you sure you live here?”

“Yes I live here. I’m just…” I finally get the key in the keyhole.

“Drunk.”

“I got it in, didn’t I?” I open the door and we step in. “Here we are.”

He looks around. “This is nice. Bigger than I thought it would be.”

“It’s a great space. I lucked out on getting it. There were a few people interested. Do you want the grand tour?”

“Sure.”

I take him all around my place, unsure if he actually wants to know about any of this stuff. I walk through as fast as I can so I don’t bore him to death. Of course I save my bedroom for the end of the tour, that’s the most important room.

"This is my bedroom, ya know, where the magic happens."

"Magic, eh? Full of yourself."

"I practice my card tricks in here. What are youuuuu referring to?"

"You can do card tricks? Show me."

I laugh entirely too hard. Of course he called me on my bluff. "I can't! I don't know any." I go into a fit of giggles. “I was just joking. Ever hear of one?”

He smiles. "You're so drunk."

"Takes one to know one, bud." I poke his chest and he watches my finger as I do it. “Besides, I’m not that drunk anymore.”

“Still pretty drunk.”

“I blame all of those extra Top Golf drinks.”

“You mean the ones I told you to go easy on?”

“Mhmm. Yup. Those would be the ones.”

He takes a quick look around. “Cozy.”

“Maybe you’ll find out just how cozy later.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Later?”

“Yeah, I saved the best for last. Wanna see the roof?”

“You’re not going to push me off, are you?”

I laugh. “Nah. Too messy.”

The rooftop terrace is the main reason why I bought this condo. Situations like this is why I wanted a rooftop terrace. I bring a good looking guy home and get to say the line, wanna go up to the roof? And the roof is actually the best part of the whole place. It’s private, cozy, romantic, and all mine. I keep telling myself I am going to start a garden up here, but it’s probably never going to happen.

“I only moved in a month ago so I haven’t finished decorating up here.” Right now all I have is seating and a few tables. Some are single seats and some can seat two or more people.

“You should put an outdoor chess table over there.”

“A chess table? On no. You’re a nerd, aren’t you? I brought a nerd home with me. What have I done? How did this happen?”

"Takes one to know one." He smiles, so proud of himself.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. So funny. A game isn’t a bad idea, but not chess.” We sit down on one of the couches. For outdoor furniture, it is pretty comfortable.

“This is pretty nice. Do you spend a lot of time up here?”

“Yeah, most of my time. I love being outside and I could do a lot of things on my iPad. I want to get a fire pit, I just haven’t decided on which one yet. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“If you can’t have a backyard this is the next best thing, for sure.”

"Yeah. I want a house eventually, but this will do for now. I love it."

Something in the corner catches his eye and I follow his eyes to try to figure out what he's so fascinated with. "What's in there?"

I finally realize he's looking at the cabinet. "Oh! Come with me. I'll show you." I love showing off everything I've bought for up here. I think my friends are a little sick of it so I'm glad I have someone new to show. I open the cabinet to reveal all of the goodies I have stored in there. "I may have gone a little crazy. There's the hammock. I don't like to have it out all of the time since it takes up so much room. I have extra blankets and pillows for when I wanna get snuggled up out here so I don't have to go back inside to get any."

"Smart."

"Thank you. I have these little heaters for when it gets cold, and I plan to get one of those tall ones eventually. A broom and some other boring stuff and that's about it."

"Looks like you're prepared for any situation."

"I try to be. It's also a bit of laziness because once I'm out here I don't want to have to go in and out to get stuff."

"And yet you don't have a fridge or cooler out here."

"It's a work in progress. It's on the list, believe me. I still have a lot of plans for this place. It’s my chance at a fresh start.”

“Seems like a good place to start to me.”

I nod. “I hope so.”

"So, who are you trying to forget tonight?"

"I never said it was a who."

"It's always a who."

"Who is your who then?"

He shakes his head. "Mmmno. I asked you first."

"It's a lot of different things, not just a guy."

"But there is a guy."

"Was a guy. What about you?"

"No guy for me."

"Who's the girl, smartass?"

"I never said I was trying to forget anyone."

"But you are. That's why you're here."

"I'm here because you're persistent."

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

I could bring up the fact he has a tattoo on his bicep that's a heart with KT in the middle, but I don't want to scare him off. He obviously doesn't want to talk about it. I've made it this far, it's better to just drop it and move on.

I take a deep breath. "We were in bed one night. Nothing crazy or unusual. We were just on our phones, about to go to sleep. He turns to me and says 'remember when we were happy?' which confused the hell out of me because I thought we were happy. I thought things were perfect. Looking back on it now I know they weren't perfect but they seemed like it at the time. I was happy, though. I didn't need perfect. I just needed us. I still...I miss him?" I figure if I open up maybe he will too.

"You don't sound sure."

"Maybe I just miss what we had. That's never coming back whether we're together or not. He wasn't happy and there was nothing I could do to change that."

"And you think tonight is gonna help."

"It has already."

He grins. "Told you."

"You know what? I'm tired of your smug and cocky attitude."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am." I go to playfully push him but he grabs my wrists and stops me.

"You're blushing." I try to pull away but he's got a good grip on me. Not hurting me, but way stronger than I am. "Not so fast."

I'm too drunk to even attempt to hide the giddy smile on my face. He smiles back at me with those dimples and crinkle eyes that I've been falling for all night. "It'll be way more fun if you let go."

He hesitates but then slowly lets go and I try to tickle him but he stops me again. "What are you doing?" He's amused. He continues smiling and stumbles a bit.

I laugh as I try to hold him up, as if I'm doing anything. If he were to actually fall we'd both be on the floor. "You ok there, wobbles?"

He looks me in the eyes and sways a little bit. "Fine."

"Are you gonna tell me about your who?"

He shakes his head. "No." He runs his fingers through my hair. We haven't broken eye contact this whole time. All I want is for him to kiss me, although I could look into his eyes all night and be perfectly fine with that.

He slowly leans in and kisses me. I'm a little in shock at first. I was beginning to think it wasn't going to happen. He holds onto the back of my head and I kiss him back. I never want it to end. We deepen the kiss and it becomes more passionate. It’s very intimate for two people who just met, who don’t even know each other’s names. We become more and more desperate for each other and our hands begin to wander and explore each other’s bodies.

He runs his hands up and down my back, his fingertips just graze my ass and start to wander back up. I almost whimper and his hands stray further and further away from my ass. I want him to grab it, push me up against a wall, and have his way with me. I slip my hands under his shirt to touch the skin on his back. I am craving skin contact and need to touch more. He’s taking his time with his hands exploring my body and normally I would get impatient and want to get right to the action, but kissing him and feeling his hands all over me is a new form of heaven I didn’t know existed.

He finally caresses my ass as he moves from my lips to my neck and I swear my pants evaporate from the heat my body is generating. His hands mirror mine and go under my shirt and it’s electricity through my veins when he makes contact. I kiss around his ear. “Just take it off,” I say, almost in a whisper, in his ear.

He kisses up my neck and to my ear as he messes with my bra. I’d be impressed if he could unclasp it like this. “Can people see us?”

“I don’t know, but we can go inside if you want.” His ass has been calling my name all night so I take this opportunity to grab it and it’s so much nicer than I thought. I don’t move my hands, I am going to be touching this all damn night.

He makes a noise in my ear and nibbles on my earlobe. It seems as if he’s enjoying it as much as I am. “Yes. Inside. Now.” 

I smile and kiss him nice and long before grabbing his hand and taking him inside. Somehow he had gotten my bra unclasped so I take it off from under my shirt and leave it on the chair in my office, which is what leads out to the roof. Before we get any further he stops us, holds onto my hips, and kisses me. His lips are perfect and I wish I could kiss him all night. I know I’m drunk so I’m trying not to be a drunken, sloppy mess about it. I want him to want to kiss me all night as well.

We get to my bedroom and he kicks his sneakers off right away, then he takes his hat off and places it on my dresser. His hair flops down into his face and he runs his fingers through it to push it back on his head and out of his eyes. How have I spent all of this time with him and not known that he has the greatest hair known to man. It’s like porn. It just falls right back into his face. I run my fingers through it for him this time and he smiles as he leans down to kiss me again. He hovers in front of my lips, just out of reach, and rubs his nose along mine. The tease. I palm him through his jeans and he bucks his hips towards my hand. I don’t mind taking our time, but I am not going to be teased. I fucking want him and want him right now. 

When I set out tonight I was hoping to have some sloppy, drunk, meaningless sex. I did not expect to meet a guy, go out on a date, take him back to my place, and have some of the best sex of my life but that is exactly what has happened. I thought it needed to be anonymous and a one night thing and I’d never have to see him again, but how can I let this guy walk out of my life forever after tonight? I can’t. I have a feeling he feels the same way. I hope he does anyway. As we lie in my bed catching our breath I wonder if these same thoughts are going through his head. It’s still so hard to read him. All I know is that he definitely had as good of a time as I did. 

"You should stay. There’s a great view of the sunrise from the roof." This is going against everything I thought tonight was going to be, not like the rest of it has gone to plan. I don't even know what's happening anymore. "Unless you have somewhere to be in the morning."

"Nowhere to be. I can stay." His voice is soft. I don't think he's believing tonight was real either.

“I can get a blanket from the cabinet. They’re nice and fluffy.”

“Do you want to go back up there now? It’s a nice night.”

“Are you sick of seeing me naked already? Alright, I get the hint.” I nudge him and laugh. We probably should get out of bed, though, I don’t want to get too used to him being here.

He laughs and nudges me back. “If we stay here longer I’ll wind up falling asleep and I’ll miss it.”

“You’re right.” I sit up and he runs his hand up and down my back. I can’t help smiling. “I’m gonna put sweats and a shirt on if that’s ok with you.”

“Whatever you want.”

We clean ourselves up in my bathroom before getting dressed. I grab some water from my fridge before we head outside just in case we get thirsty. It’s the perfect night to stay up and watch the sunrise. It’s not too cold, there really isn’t any kind of breeze even. The sky is clear so if I didn’t live in the middle of a big city I bet we’d see a sky full of stars. He sits on the couch and I get a blanket from the cabinet. I hate to admit that I am really looking forward to snuggling with him. I sit next to him and we get all cuddled up under the blanket.

We talk a little bit about my other plans for the deck and he tells me about his first apartment he lived in when he moved to Dallas. I love talking to him, nothing is awkward. The conversation is flowing and I feel like we have a nice connection. No matter what happens after he leaves tonight, this has been pretty special. We might also be doing a little bit of kissing in between talking and that doesn’t hurt either.

“I do have a who.” We hadn’t spoken in a few minutes but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a silence that let us enjoy the night sky and gave us time to think about what’s gone on tonight so far.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s ok. I want to.” He sighs and pulls me closer to him and mindlessly traces circles on my arm. “We were starting to grow apart. We had our own careers, our own goals. We did the long distance thing for a while but it wasn’t working out so we took a break. I think it hit me way harder than it hit her and I probably should have taken that as a sign that it was time to move on, but I didn’t. We tried again but it just wasn’t the same. It was hard to admit but it just wasn’t working anymore.”

“That sucks. You think you’re with the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with and then you gotta start all over again.”

“I wasn’t looking to just yet. I don’t know what I want right now.”

“You don’t have to know yet.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what I want either. Tonight was not something I regularly do.”

“Same goes for me.”

“The one night stand part or the taking a random stranger on a date part?”

He grins, showing those irresistible dimples. “Both.”

“Well, it was a pretty great night, so thank you.”

“You came up to me and wouldn’t give up so I should be thanking you too.”

“You thanked me a few times already.”

He blushes and buries his face in my hair. “That was fun.”

“I told you.” 

He belly laughs and pulls my head to rest on his shoulder. We still have a little while until the sun rises but we find ways to occupy ourselves until then. When I first saw this rooftop deck this is exactly what I imagined I’d be doing on it, I just never thought it would actually come true. I couldn’t have asked for a better night escaping all of my problems. I know they’ll be there to deal with tomorrow, but it was great to escape them for one night. I hope I helped him escape for a little while too. 

By the time the sun starts to rise we are both sober and struggling to stay awake, but we manage to see the whole thing and it does not disappoint. The sky is covered with yellow and orange as the sun says good morning. I am happy I asked him to stay and that he agreed to. I always feel that when I start my day off with a beautiful sunrise, that it’s going to be a good day. I would normally take a picture of it, but I’m too busy watching him be in awe. I never knew that when I bought this place that I would have the best view in the city.

I sigh, knowing that he’s probably going to be leaving soon and not knowing what the future holds for us. I could offer to make breakfast. He said he didn’t have anywhere to be today. I think I’m too tired to move, though. We do have to sleep at some point. I could ask him to come back inside and sleep the day away with me but I think that’s a little too ambitious. I try to study his face and get some kind of idea what he’s thinking. I see joy in his eyes so maybe there’s a chance.

He looks at me smiling. “This is amazing. I’m glad I stayed.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I am exhausted and should probably go home and get some sleep.”

My heart sinks a little. “I’d offer to drive you but I’d never make it back. I’m pretty tired myself.”

“I’ll take an Uber.”

We stand up and I fold up my blanket and put it back in the cabinet. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Thanks.”

We make it to the door and I decide that I’m going to let this be what it was supposed to be, a one night thing. Although, it’s pretty much killing me that I don’t even know his name. I should not have made that stupid rule. He hugs me before opening the door. I hug him back and don’t want to let go, but I know I have to so I do. 

It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open at this point but I look up at him just to get one last look before he goes. “I know we agreed no names, but I would really like to know yours.”

He shrugs. “That’s what next time is for.”

[collecting-stories]

Fangs - Rafe Cameron

Request: Could I request smth where the reader and Rafe are having like a secret casual fling, but then Rafe admits he's catching feelings and the reader tells him that she's in love with John B (her best friend)

Request: Can I request a Rafe fic based on Matt Champion - Fangs , or Cocaine by Pink Sweat$ 🥺🤲🏻 whichever one inspires you more to write

A/N: Since Reputation is a similar storyline I thought I would change up the outcome...also...a smidgen of smut (it’s not my forte so I apologize in advance if its the worst thing you’ve ever read.)

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

The curtains were still drawn, just a hint of sunlight peeking through as you sat on the bed, tying your bikini top. On the other side of the door you could hear Rose Cameron’s shrill voice bossing around the maid. Inside the room it was still mostly dark, chilled from the air conditioning, the comforter was mussed up on the bed, pushed away from your side. You had your shorts in hand and grabbed your shirt from the floor. Keys, phone, wallet, all sat on the nightstand next to a pink bong.  

Behind you, on the other side of the bed, someone groaned. You looked back over your shoulder as Rafe pushed the comforter away from his face, hair mussed. His fringe hung in his eyes as he yawned and looked over at you.  

“Hey, you leaving?” He asked, watching as you tied your hair back.  

“Yeah.” You nodded, standing up. The cool composure you worked so hard on falling into place. Rafe sat up, scooting toward your side of the bed as he leaned back against the headboard. “I’ll text you later?”

“Okay.” He looked a little lost in the morning and you knew it had everything to do with last night.  

If it had been before or even in the heat of the moment you could’ve easily ignored it. Written him off as trying to get you there or just being a little too far gone. But it wasn’t either of those things. He’d said it as he came down. With his weight on you, sweaty in too warm bedroom, he’d kissed you a little longer than usual and told you he loved you.  

You’d chosen to ignore it, at least you pretended too. But the words were there at the forefront of your brain the entire night. Nothing you did made you feel more restful. You knew what you should’ve done. You should’ve pulled on your clothes right then, told him you were cutting things off, and left.  

“We’re not gonna-”

“I’d rather not, Rafe.” You replied, grabbing your phone to check it. A text from Kiara asking if you’d heard from John B. According to your phone it was later in the morning than you’d thought it was. “I told you-”

“Casual, yeah I know.” He nodded, “it doesn’t feel casual though.”

“Please, Rafe, don’t do this.” You stressed.  

“You’ve been here every night this week. You can’t act like that doesn’t mean something.” He said, moving so that he was at the edge of the bed, grabbing your hands. You didn’t pull away immediately, staring down at your hands intertwined with his.

You’d been adamant that this thing you were doing was only casual. And that hadn’t been an issue for Rafe in the beginning, or at all, until last night. And now you were wondering how long he had been catching feelings for you.  

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I like having sex with you.”  

“Baby,” Rafe pulled you down onto his lap. He kissed along your neck and shoulder and you moved your head to the side to give him more access.  

You tried to ignore the way his fingers ran along your thigh. “Don’t Rafe,” you wanted to say that you didn’t want to do this, to have to end things because he was getting too emotionally involved. But then you would have to admit that maybe you wanted to continue because you were that involved too. 

The hand around your back brushed along your side, fingers grazing the edge of your bikini top. You gripped your clothes tighter as his other hand pressed against the inside of your thigh. It was a silent request for access, one you were too familiar with by now. That should have been the warning sign, the pressure against your thigh should have woken you out of the trance that seemed to enclose Rafe’s bedroom but instead your other leg went slack, falling off his lap, your foot stabilizing you as you opened up for him. 

Eyes closed, the sensation of him drowned out any thoughts that had been weighing you down. His hands were warm against your skin and you shifted on his thigh as his fingers slipped passed your bikini bottoms. You always wore bathing suits to his house under the guise that you had just literally been swimming but usually it was simply because it was easier to pull a string than to both taking off clothes. 

“Holy shit Rafe,” you stuttered, grabbing his forearm as his middle finger circled your clit. His other hand moved up to your throat as he placed kisses along your shoulder. Somehow he’d managed to manipulate your body so you were straddling one of his thighs, facing the door to his bedroom. With your back against his chest, his grip on your neck tightened just enough that you could feel the pressure of his fingers on your throat at the same time he pressed against your clit. You jerked forward, breath catching from lack of air. 

“What’s the matter baby?” His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. 

You inhaled, nails scratching at his forearm as he continued to play with your clit, middle finger brushing against the bundle of nerves so delicately it was barely a touch. But you knew what he was doing. You were always hypersensitive in the morning and he knew it. 

His grip on your neck loosened as he slipped his middle finger inside of you and your toes curled around the carpeting. “Please, Rafe.” Your voice sounded far off. 

“Does that feel good?”

You nodded, head bobbing against his shoulder. He pressed his thumb against your clit and you whimpered at the sudden pain it caused.

“That’s not an answer baby.” 

Rafe was nothing if not a control freak and you liked the idea of someone else taking over. You let him be as controlling and possessive and needy as he wanted. 

“I’m waiting.” He moved his thumb, gentle circles still enough to cause spasms. You weren't sure if you were already halfway there or still having aftershocks from the night before. 

“Fuck, yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, It feels good,” you breathed out, rewarded by him beginning to move his finger in and out, he added another, stretching you just enough. You weren’t just hypersensitive you were still sore from him last night and you could only handle so much. “You always know how to make me feel good.” 

You felt Rafe smile against your neck. There was nothing he loved more than praise. And he certainly deserved it.

-

“I’ll call you later, I promise.”

“I’m going to the club later with Topper and Kelce if you wanna come by.” He offered.   

Part of your agreement with Rafe was that you didn’t hang out in public. It was one of the first things that you had proposed when you started this casual thing, that no one could know what was going on with the two of you. Especially not considering who your friends were. If John B or any of the pogues found out that you had even looked in Rafe’s direction you would be excommunicated. Having sex with him was out of the question.  

You heard yourself say maybe instead of no and you kissed him even though you knew it wasn’t a good idea. Once you were gone Rafe laid back down, burying his head in his pillow and groaning. He seriously regretted telling you that he was falling in love with you and that he wanted this to be more than sex. But now that he had told you he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He knew why this started, because you didn’t think the guy you liked was interested in you.  

It had been a blow to the gut last night when you admitted to him that you were in love with John B. Of all the people in the Outer Banks you had chosen that smart ass pogue to be in love with. He’d kept his cool though.  

“You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.” You had remarked as you on his bed with him the night before.

“You can tell me how in love you are with John B but I don’t see you fucking him.”  

“Rafe-”

“It doesn’t matter alright.” Rafe had sworn that he didn’t care that you claimed you were in love with John B, you were there with him. You’d gone to the party last night to see him, not John B and when you went home it wasn’t with John B.  

But he couldn’t deny that he hated seeing you leave in the morning, knowing that you were going to find your pogue friends and pretend like nothing had ever happened between the two of you. He wanted this to be more than secret texts and meeting up at night so no one would see you together. He wanted to take you out during the day and actually show up with you at a party, not just watch you from across the room.  

You had told you were in love with John B because you had been in love with him since sixth grade. Always too chicken to tell him how you felt, you were hopelessly in love with your best friend and hated anyone that occupied his attention. It was at a party, when you saw him chatting with some touron, that you got drunk and had sex with Rafe for the first time. Now it felt like all the time and you didn’t need to think about John B smiling at some other girl to get you in Rafe’s bed. It was enough for Rafe to text you and tell you that he missed you or that he was thinking about you. And you knew what that meant but you didn’t want to think about it.

-

The vallet at the club let you through when you told him you were there to see Rafe Cameron. You’d never been to the club before though Rafe had invited you a few times. It was always meaningless because you both knew that you would never go there, that was too public. If anyone saw you with him there was no explaining to your friends what you were doing with him.  

He was outside at the golf counter with Topper and Kelce and you hung back, waiting for him to notice you watching them. When he did, he passed his club off to Kelce and walked over to you, weaving through tables and chairs. This was it, you thought as he approached you. This was it. He stopped in front of you, ready to ask what you were doing there because sure, he had invited you, but seeing you actually there was surreal. He didn’t get the chance to ask though as you kissed him. You grabbed his shirt and kissed him without warning.  

Rafe’s eyes went wide. Before he could kiss you back you were pulling away.  

“I lied.” You admitted.

You didn’t tell him that you’d gone looking for John B that afternoon when he didn’t show up to hang out like he was supposed to. That you’d seen him on the dock kissing Sarah. You had stood there on the deck staring at them kissing and realized that you felt nothing. You weren’t mad, you weren’t so upset you thought you might burst into tears like you had at that party months ago. You were completely indifferent. It felt like watching strangers kiss, it meant nothing to you and you knew why. Because you had told Rafe that you were in love with John B and you wanted casual only but you were lying.  

“Lied about what?” He asked, still feeling dazed by your actions.

“I’m not in love with John B.” You replied, the words sounding foreign to your brain. You’d dedicated so much of your life and energy to the unrequited crush you had on your best friend, “I don’t want this to just be casual.”

Rafe licked his lips and grinned. He imagined that Topper and Kelce were watching, trying to figure out what was going on. He was too far into this to care about their opinions. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Isn’t the point of me telling you I wanna be public that we...ya know, are public?”  

“Right now I just want you to myself.”

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @howdyherron @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @ssprayberrythings @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox 

[t-o-m-hollands]

Tom x You

Summery: Tom and his brothers have a pub. You, trying to avoid working on your new album, spend most of your time in there. Lots of flirting and bickering ensues.

Themes: Sort of frienemies to lovers, slow burn, mutual attraction but they are both to dumb to realise. General dumbness all around. Idiots in love.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Drinking and swearing. Smut in future chapters.

PART I of IV

***

At 8 years of age your father hands you a worn guitar and with the patience of a saint teaches you how to make it play the holiest of sounds. Every day you practise, until your fingertips has hardened and they move effortlessly over the strings.  

At 10 years of age you write your first song. It’s a puerile little tune about a sweet boy with hair like honey and an opportunity lost. It’s repetitive and nonsensical but your mother hums the chorus for weeks after hearing it.

At 14 years of age you meet up with a record label and when signing the dotted line on the contract you feel a chill down your spine and your grandmother’s stories about the crossroad demon comes back to you verbatim. With determination you still put your name on the paper in a signature you’ve spent hours practising. Only days later you hear your voice on the radio for the very first time.

At 17 years of age there are headlines in magazines about you, photos of men they claim you’ve dated and interviews with people who claim to be a ‘close source’ to you, even though you’ve never met them, spilling lies on every page. You find out your closest friend has sold information about you to the tabloids for over a year.

At 19 years of age you go on a world tour, though the only parts of the world you see are airports, hotels and playing venues and then later at night: nightclubs. You travel the world, but you learn nothing about it.

At 22 years of age and your boyfriend breaks up with you for an actress. There isn’t a day that year that tabloids don’t ‘report’ on it. He spends most of the time telling the world how much happier he is in his new relationship, and you spend most of your time staring down into a bottle.  

At 24 years of age you feel drained, dog-tired and worn out. On a regular basis there’s photos of you stumbling out of pubs, bars and restaurants all over the internet. Your record label is threatening a lawsuit and you haven’t talked to your manager in weeks. You have no friends and your family doesn’t know what to do with you.  

Okay, so maybe being a successful singer isn’t all that it’s cut out to be. Especially not when the entirety of the internet is making fun of you.  

And yes, maybe you’re in a flunk and haven’t written anything decent in months. And okay, maybe you haven’t even picked up a guitar in weeks. And maybe throwing away your phone in order not to have to face the record label was a bad idea. And maybe, hand on heart, the right solution to your problems is not to waste your days away in a well-hidden pub in a backstreet in London with the cutest pub owner you’ve ever seen, with biceps that makes you want to drool. A pub owner who has no interest in you and finds you annoying beyond belief.  

Yet here you are,  

again.

***

“It’s Tuesday” Tom informs you as he hands you cherry coke and a straw.

So, it goes like this. Tom is obsessed with time. He’s always informing you of either what day of the week it is, or the time of day. As if he’s trying to shame you into realising that 10 am on a Tuesday is not an acceptable time to order a dry martini.  

“So?” You ask, feigning ignorance as you open the can. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that this is a coke and in fact completely free of alcohol. I mean in the good ol’ day they at least had the cutesy to put cocaine in there.”.

“Don’t worry” he says, scrubbing the surface of the already clean counter-top “there’s a shit load of other stuff that’ll destroy your insides in there”.

You try not to roll your eyes, honestly you do. You fail. “Oh no, is it sugar? Please, doctor say it isn’t sugar!” you wail dramatically.

“No, not just sugar” and you can tell he’s also trying not to roll his eyes at your exaggerated play acting. “You know, I saw this documentary once about what they put in coca cola and –”

“No, nope, no, no. Absolutely not” You shake your head vehemently as if that will stop his words. "I would literally rather hear you talk about goddamn golf for an hour than put me of one of life’s few great pleasures”.

This time he doesn’t manage to stop himself from rolling his eyes at you. “Oh, I think we both know you find more pleasures in life than coca cola”.

Before you can answer him something insanely witty the door to the office behind the bar opens and an anxious looking Harrison step out. “Tom, Sam says the fish delivery didn’t show up again so we’re out of cod and therefore fish ‘n chips.”  

Tom rubs his face, looking worried. “Alright, I’ll call him up and see what happened.”  

But Harrison still looks tense. “Also…” he trails off, losing courage.  

“Also, what?” And Tom too sounds tense now.  

“Well, Downey from the bank called, he says the invoice is way over due and he wants a meeting. I told him you’d call today”.  

Tom keeps rubbing his forehead, as if to literally fight of a migraine, and his shoulders tense. “Yeah, yeah I’ll call him this afternoon”. Harrison nods and walks back into the kitchen

“You know, I cou –” but you don’t get to finish your sentence before he interrupts you. “Don’t” he says, voice sharp as a whip.

“But, it would just be a loan, honestly I – ”

“No, and I mean it.” And you judging by the tone of voice he uses and the stern look he gives you you’re well aware that he isn’t joking. It’s like his usually warm and kind eyes are nailing you down into your seat. “I’m not gonna borrow money from a customer, as you well know.”  

The problem is that really wouldn’t be a big deal for you to offer him a loan or give it as a gift really. You love this pub. You love the people working here and the patrons and coming in for a drink or a meal or simply a chat and a laugh. It’s your safe haven. No one ever hardly ever bothers you here. No one asks you for a selfie or asks you about when more music is coming out. No one tugs at your sleeve or try to sneakily take a photo of you. Here, you are normal. And it would devastate you to see the Holland boys lose it all when you know you can help. You have more money than you know what to do with.  

However, you know there’s no arguing with him when he’s got that look on his face so you don’t, just keep sipping on your cherry coke as your foot taps along to the song on the radio. From inside the kitchen you can hear the faint sound of the Holland twin's laughter.  

Tom turns away from you to sort out the whiskey glasses on the counter behind him. But when picking up a glass he fumbles, and it falls out of his hand and lands right on his foot, though it fortunately doesn’t break.

“Ah, fucking bastard!” he shouts, grabbing hold of his injured foot.

“You shouldn’t swear in church, you know” ¨you say, as you finish your coke.

He looks at you indignantly, pouting like a child, “well, lucky for me, this is a pub.”

“You say potato, I say tomato, now make me a real drink.”

“For fucks sake, darlin’, you gotta eat something.”

***

So, it’s either late or early, depending how you look on it. On tube stations all across London early worker are already gathering on the platforms to take their commute to work. Not you. Not Tom either.  

Now, Tom is an early riser and has been since childhood. His nanna used to say that he had energy enough for three children. Despite regular closing shifts at the pub he likes to be up at dawn. Says he likes to get an hour at the gym and a walk with Tessa in before he heads to the pub to make sure everything is in order. After having checked with Sam that everything is stocked for the day, he has his protein loaded breakfast while ordering supplies or read through whatever paper work he need to be on top off before opening up the pub for the day.  

Tom hates having this routine disturbed.

So, it goes like this. Harry had been the bartender most of that night, since Tom had ‘other business to take care of’. Whenever Harry was bartender he’d usually spent more time drinking with you than he did serving up the other costumers. When Tom came back and saw the state of you, he’d sent you home, telling you that you’d had enough for one night and asking Harrison to walk you home. Then he’d giving Harry a proper telling off. You had dutifully walked with Harrison to your apartment, thanked him sweetly, and then as soon as you saw that he had passed the corner walked into another pub just across the street for more. It wasn’t as charming a place as The Hollands and their bartender sure wasn’t as handsome or as fun to annoy as the regular one at Hollands. But in a pinch, anything will do.  

Upon closing hour however, as you made your way home, you’d discovered that your keys were missing. Being absolutely wasted this did not worry you in the slightest. You just strolled back on unsteady legs to The Hollands to see if you’d dropped them there. Tom, who had closed the pub for the night, was still in. From the windows you could see him going through stacks of paperwork in front of him, a frown on his face. Upon hearing you knocking on the window at 2 am he’d jumped out his chair to see what was going on. When seeing you three sheets to the wind, dressed in a thin dress on a cold summer’s night the frown on his face had gotten worse.

Now here you are, in his apartment, in the dead of the night, and he’s offering you a plate of tortellini. Tessa had been overjoyed to see you and after having been allowed to greet you she had then been sent to her place and out of the way of your drunk, stumbling feet.

“But I hate tortellini” you whine.

“Christ sake, Popstar, just eat the damn food”

“No, I hate it, Tom, I hate it so much, it makes me think of- of- ” you hiccup.

“Are you actually crying right now?”

“It makes me think of- of - cheese sauce and -”

“Sorry, but what now?”

“And – I – I – I hate cheese sauce”. You’re full on sobbing and he just stares at you in disbelief.  

Then, somehow the world seems fall the wrong way around. It takes you a second to realize that you’ve slid down on the floor and that you’re staring up at the ceiling. Tom’s strong arm take a hold of you and he guides you to a sitting position, leaned up against the wall. With your face in his hands he stares at you in indignation but there’s something else there too. You’re drunk enough to dare to call it tenderness.  

Suddenly you’re aware that you’re sobbing, but you can’t remember why that is.

“Fuck who knows” he responds and when you give out a sound that’s something halfway between a sob and a laugh he starts laughing too. “If I make you something else to eat, will you eat it then? You’ll feel better in the morning if you do”.

Your head feels heavy, so you lean it against his hand and nod. “No cheese sauce, please”.

He rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing too. “Sure, no cheese sauce for Pop Princess.”

“Oi!” You call out “You promised to never to call me that!” Pop Princess was the title the tabloids had given you early on in your career. He keeps smiling, but it’s a gentle smile, and trace the frown between your eyebrows with his finger, as if he’s trying to erase it.

“Will you please just sit here while I cook?”

You nod again, too tired to say anything. He gets up, and you can hear some pouring water and then he places a glass of water in your hand. “Drink” he orders, then he’s gone again, and you can hear the clattering of pots and pans as he starts cooking. You’re just staring into the wall, trying to make it stop spinning; limbs heavy with sleep and whiskey, a nice buzzing numbness in your head.

Then he’s in front of you again, looking at you with a frown “I thought I told you to drink that” and you look at the full glass clasped in your hands. “Seriously, you’ll feel better if you do”.

You roll your eyes “oh, please, Tommy. Remember who you’re speaking to. I’m the local drunk, there’s no need to lecture me in hangovers”. But you do as you’re told and chug down your drink and hand him the empty glass. “Good girl” he says and gets back to his cooking. Before long the delicious scent of food is spreading through the tiny, cramped kitchen.

You start humming a song you wrote years ago but never released, low enough so you think Tom won’t hear you over the sizzling pan. But he does.  

“What’s that?” he asks, curiosity in his voice.

“Oh” you say, leaning your head back against the wall as you close your eyes in the hope that the world will stop spinning. “Just a song.”

Everything goes quiet for a while and you find yourself wondering if you’ve fallen asleep. But then you hear his voice. “Keep singing, please”.  

It surprises you, the amount of tenderness in his words; such a gentle bequest. So, you do as you’re told. In a voice raspy from the whiskey but sweet from his kindness you sing.

“I’ve been holding my breath, I’ve been counting to ten, 

Over something you said, I’ve been holding back tears 

 While you’re throwing back beers, I’m alone in bed

You know I, I’m afraid of change, Guess that’s why we stay the same, 

So tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags, get on the road, 

Find someone that loves you better than I do, darling, I know, 

'Cause you remind me every day, I’m not enough, but I still stay”

You trial off and he keeps quiet too and goes silent again. Then he slides down beside you, a plate of pasta carbonara in his hands which he offers you along with a fork. “Eat” he orders gently. You do, and it tastes delicious.

“God, Tom, you could rival Sam in the kitchen”.

He snorts but you persist. “Seriously Tommy, I’d hire you as a private chef if I didn’t know you’d be an insufferable employee”.

He snorts again, but you can tell he’s amused. “Wow, thanks a lot”

“Seriously, you’d always complain about my lack of organization, or the fact that I keep all of my face masks in the refrigerator, or that I never have any food at home or that I don’t eat at regular hours or that I sometimes just forget to eat and just have a Red bull for dinner instead or that I – ”

“Jesus Christ” he interrupts you “who the fuck let you be an adult? What’s wrong with you!?”

You’re wolfing down your food, so it takes you a moment to answer. “Someone said my problem was ‘a mind-boggling lack of general discipline and a staggeringly low ability to organise’” you finally say.

“Who said that? I mean they’re not wrong”.

“You said that” you point out as you finish your plate of carbonara. “Also, this was scrumptious, and also, may I sleep here tonight?”

He looks at you in disbelief “Yeah, duh, I’m not kicking you out? I mean, I thought that was the general idea of this”.

He grabs a hold of your plate and takes your hand in his other as he guides you both up to a standing position. He places the plate among the other dirty pans in the sink and then lead you to his bathroom. Giving you a new toothbrush, he orders you to brush your teeth while he changes his sheets. He hands you a shirt to sleep in and when you’ve changed you argue for a good 10 minutes while about who’s to sleep on the couch before he puts his foot down and say he’ll ban you from his pub unless you take the bed instead of him. So, you do.  

His bed soft and comfortable and smell of his detergent. From the living room you can hear Tessa’s deep breaths and the sound of Tom tossing around on the sofa. You wonder how uncomfortable he is.

“Tommy just come in here instead” you call out, voice drowsy.

“No, I told you, you take the bed”

You snort. As if you were going to give this bed up, no chance. Not now that you know how comfortable it is.  

“Yeah, duh” you answer. “Wasn’t planning on taking the sofa, but the bed’s big enough for the two of us, innit?”

Dead silence from the living room. Even Tessa seems to have been struck silent.

“You sure?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I'm sure, for fuck’s sake Tommy, just come in here”.

You hear the sound of footsteps slowly making their way across the floor, then he’s in the doorway. Clad in a pair of black boxers and a black t-shirt, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as he avoids looking at you.

You pull down the covers and he lay down beside you, keeping his distance in the bed. You have your backs against each other, staring into separate walls and even through the whiskey you can tell this is awkward. You want to ask him to hold you, but you’re scared he doesn’t want it. Scared he doesn’t even want to lay beside you. You are after all just a costumer in his bar. A costumer you know he can’t afford to lose.

You don’t know how long you lay there in silence, his scent surrounding you, the soft sound of his breath lulling you into further relaxation but eventually you drift off to sleep.  

When you wake, he’s gone. A note on his pillow tells you he’s gone to the gym, telling you to take anything you want for breakfast and just leave the keys at the pub later.  

When you close the door behind you you can’t help but feel that something tender happened in there, something important; but you know he doesn’t feel the same.

***

It’s Monday night, as Tom has been so kind to remind you off, and you’re plastered.  

Earlier the pub had been full to rim of football supporters shouting and singing and sharing pints before a big game, filling the entire place with an excited buzz. Now they’ve all gone off to cheer for their heroes on the field and only the patrons remain.  

Harry is bartender tonight, and Tom has placed himself in the back of the pub, a stack of paper in front of him that he keeps leering at. With a drink in your hand and a happy-go-lucky attitude you seat yourself on the opposite side of his table, determent to cheer him up.

“’m gonna write a song about you.” You inform him, voice only somewhat slurry.

“Go on then.” He doesn’t look up at you, just jots something down on the form in front of him. He’s wearing glasses tonight and they make him look so handsome you want to scream in frustration.

“Well, what rhymes with Tom? Rum!”

“Oh, Christ, no. No, I’ve changed my mind.”

“Tom, he serves rum and tequila.” You sing. “Wait, what rhymes with tequila?”

“Please don’t”

“Heliophilia!”

“Okay, ’m literally begging you not to do this.” He’s looking at you now, his caramel eyes filled with both amusement and genuine dread. You don’t listen, no, you sing.

“Tom, he serves Rum and tequila,

he loves the sun, it’s called heliophilia

his pub needs fundin’, he lives in London”

“Wow. That is a hell of a forced rhyme, pop princess.”

“No, no wait!”

“Wait? I will literally pay you to stop”.

But then you start singing for real, in a voice so sultry that it makes him freeze mid motion, hand just about to turn the page over.

“Have you’ve seen my bartender

he’ll serve you whiskey, he’ll pour you rum

so sweet it’ll make you tender

but all the whiskey in Tennessee

couldn’t have that man agree

to ever share a drink with thee

no, all that sweetness’s just for me

cause babe, he’s my bartender

Yes, have you’ve seen my bartender

He’ll hand you wine, he’ll sell you gin

I think it’s a sign when he hands me my wine

When hand’s touching hand, skin touches skin”

Tom seem to be frozen in place when you stop, and over at the bar you hear Harry give a loud whistle. “Fucking hell, popstar” he cheers.

Tom still doesn’t say anything, just observes you, seemingly speechless. And maybe you’re imagining it, but he’s cheeks seem pinker than usual.

"Well, at least I didn’t rhyme rum with cum” you say, trying to get a reaction out of him. And then “I did think about doing it though” and you lift your glass to him as if in a toast before you down it.

He snorts, back to his normal self and stare down at the paper again.

“Now, honestly, Tom. What did that piece of paper ever do to you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at it like you want to set fire to it. You’d like me to do it for you?”

“No thanks, reckon he’d sue”.

“Who is he?” you lean over the table and closer to him and you swear you can practically see him ordering himself not to look down at your cleavage. “Is he god?” you whisper in mock horror. “Cause, I wouldn’t worry too much, Tommy. You see, God can’t sue. Well, someone in America tried to sue Satan once and they couldn’t cause they couldn’t hand him the papers. Turns out Satan hasn’t got an address. Reckon the same goes with God”

He rolls his eyes “oh, this guy definitely has got an address. He lives in Knightsbridge.” And then, in a voice unusually bitter he adds “posh twat”.

“Oy” you warn, jokingly, “those are my neighbourhoods'”.  

A sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh escapes him “Oh please” he laughs “please, you might live in Primrose Hill now, but you’re not Knightsbridge posh. Sorry to disappoint, Pop Princess”.

You glare, but it’s all in good humour. “So, who is this not-God-but-rich-as-God man sending you paper?”

The humour disappears from his face. “Downey, from the bank”.  Then he turns to the bar and shouts, “Harry, hand me a pint, ye?”

“And a whiskey for me, please” you request sweetly.

“No way, Harry, she’s cut off for the night. Tell Sam to make her something to eat” he orders his younger brother who rolls his eyes but obediently begin to head into to the kitchen.

“Not tort -” you begin shouting as an instruction.

“Not tortellini” he shouts at the same time. “And no cheese sauce either” he then adds.

You smile at him and this time you swear he’s blushing.

“Who’s Downey? You ask. And you know you’re prying, but you also know that Tom needs help with something and if there’s anything you can do to help, you will.  

“A bank man who wants me to pay my loans back”. He answers eventually after a long silence, when he figures you’re not going to give up and talk about something else. Harry comes back and hands Tom a pint and then leaves to take care of a costumer at the bar.

“A bank man, who lives in Knightsbridge?” You ask, bemused.

Tom smiles “oh, believe you me, Downey’s not your average bank clerk.” Then, in a serious tone, “look, I know you want to help, but there’s nothing you can do, ye? So drop it”.

“But I-”

“Drop it. Seriously, pop princess, there’s nothing you can do, I’ll figure something out”. He doesn’t sound harsh and the way he looks at you is positively adoring. Then he does something unexcepted. He reaches over the table and pulls a loose string of hair behind your ear. It’s a soft and sweet gesture and you want to reach over and kiss him but before you can he removes his hand and seconds later Harry places a dish of steaming pasta carbonara in front of you. You smile and thank him and he makes his way back to the bar.  

You eat in silence for a while as he continues to read through stashes of papers. You decide to leave the subject, for now at least.

“Yours is better, by the way”. He looks up at you, confused. “Your carbonara” you clarify. “I mean, Sam is an incredible chef and you’re lucky to have him, but yours is my favourite”.  

His cheeks heat up, again.

***

R E A D    P A R T   T W O     H E R E

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Dilliam - A Battle of Rank

Today I learned about the Purple Heart! It’s absolutely perfect for Damien given everything he’s gone through! According to research I did on the USO, the Purple Heart was originally called the Badge of Military Merit. It wasn’t actually in use in the era I set WKM, but hey, Mark’s manor had a high-tech security camera among other things, so let’s blame broken time!

Unfortunately, not-writing has taken over my brain. BUT! I've had this saved so I can gradually work on something absolutely kinda-angsty-but-adorable that you inspired. Hopefully it’ll work for you!!

For context, in the War/Role Reversal AU, Damien lost most of his left leg while in the war. This goes a little into detail of his struggle with a prosthetic leg, but I’m not entirely sure what the tag would be for a trigger warning. If anyone knows it (or anything else I might have missed), please let me know! I’ve used a read-more just in case.

(also, I need to give this AU a proper tag for easier searching. Whoops)

Word count: 1,293

-

There was no denying the closeness between a Colonel and one of the soldiers that had been under his command during the war. When he discovered Damien was alive, but badly injured, William decided to dedicate as much time as he could to help Damien adjust to his new life. Whether it be emotional support to help him through the grief of losing a leg, or physical support (being a physical crutch or carrying him), William tried his hardest to be there. That didn't change when Damien finally could get a prosthetic a year later and relearned how to walk with it. William stayed loyal no matter what.

The general in the barracks noted this behaviour. William was always an eccentric, but helping another soldier seemed to give him grounding and a focus. Who knows how he might have handled the impact of civilian life if left drifting alone. Though it was not a normal situation… Colonel Barnum was never one to do things the "normal" way. Perhaps General McRoy noticed the loyalty of old friends twinned with the guilt of not being able to do enough to help. Perhaps he noticed the love that William was struggling to keep a secret. Either way, he said nothing and allowed his subordinate more flexibility with his duties.

Which was how Damien was being escorted back to City Hall by William after an official visit to a local school to talk about the purple medal he had received during the war. The pair took advantage of the pleasant weather and opted to walk the short distance back instead of taking the official vehicle as they had earlier. It allowed the two friends to chat about small nothings and their friends.

"- so then Mark kicked up quite the fuss after the ball splashed in the swimming pool. I don't think I've seen him have such a temper tantrum over golf since - Damien?" William cut himself off mid-sentence as he turned his head to notice Damien wasn't there.

"I'm alright, keep going." Damien tried to insist with a wave of his free hand. William could see how Damien struggled to walk, how he was leaning heavily on the ornate cane, how exhausted he looked. The Mayor gave a heavy sigh as William marched over. "Colonel, please. You don't need to-"

"You can't keep pushing yourself if you're tired, Damien. I'm going to help you back to the office, and then you're going to rest. Colonel’s orders." He looped Damien's right arm over his shoulder to provide further support as they hobbled toward City Hall.

"Fine, you can help, but I hope you realise how humiliating this is," scowled Damien. The sour tone was noticed, but ignored by William.

"We're nearly there," William instead replied, nodding toward the building as he tried to lift the mood for the final stretch.

--

William stepped out of the office to fetch Damien a cup of water. When he returned, he was greeted with the sight of Damien back at his desk, busy at work. The glass was slammed down on the desk with such intensity that it made Damien jump.

"Is this what you call 'resting'?"

"I'm sitting, just like you said. What more do you want?" Damien reached to the left to grab a page that had fluttered off when he jumped, to no avail. William had snatched it up, forcing him to stay in the conversation.

"I left you on that couch for a reason, Damien. You were supposed to be putting your leg up to let it rest. I trusted you to be able to follow that simple order!" William pointed to the couch in question. His snapping didn't deter Damien.

"Did you forget I can't lounge around during work hours? If my legs hurt, they hurt. I'm an elected official. I'm supposed to be working to help the people. That's why I ran for election-"

"- and that's why you went to war!" William cut him off. "Always thinking about others and never considering the consequences to yourself! Tossing away pieces of yourself until there's nothing left, is that what you call serving others? Are you content with destroying yourself for the sake of others, Private?!"

“For God’s sake, William, we aren’t in war anymore! You aren’t my superior that I have to obey every little order from. We’re both civilians, and I’m now higher ranked than you!”

"Don't you talk to your commanding officer like that!"

"Don't you talk to your Mayor like that!!"

Damien slamming his hands on the desk cut the argument short. Both men were on their feet, glaring at one another. Damien's hands were flat on the desk to keep himself balanced, but it did little to stop his vision doubling and his head briefly drooping. It was only for an instant, but it was enough for him to feel firm hands on his shoulders, gently easing him back into his seat. The chair was turned so William could kneel down and look him in the eye.

"I've told you a dozen times not to stand up so fast. You get dizzy far too easily," tutted William, placing a hand on Damien's forehead to make sure nothing else was awry. 

"I'm sorry," Damien mumbled, "I know you mean well. It's so frustrating knowing I'm so… Helpless. Everything tires me out faster, simple things are such a struggle. It's been - what, four years? - since I lost my leg and it's still like I'm back in 1919 in that blasted rehabilitation centre trying to balance all over again." As he blurted out his frustrations, William rubbed circles into the back of Damien's hand with his thumb. "What happened - what we helped do - I wouldn't change my outcome for the world but… God, I just wish I didn't keep falling back when I think I've made progress." William sighed softly in sympathy. He had received a rather nasty gunshot wound in his shoulder that sometimes acted up, but it rarely hindered him. Damien couldn't go a day without being reminded of his leg.

"Don't start that nonsense, Private. You've come on in leaps and bounds. Your stamina is much better, your gait is steady and even. What happened today is one tiny stumble on the long road of recovery. Just stop, look back, and see how far you’ve come.” William seemed so sure of his words, until he noticed the way Damien’s face scrunched up. “... What?”

“Everything you just said used walking metaphors. That’s the opposite of reassuring.”

“Oh, uh, shit, I… Fuck, sorry.” A nervous chuckle escaped the Colonel. “You’re doing great, Damien. You know you’re the smarter one out of the two of us. Using smart words in a smart way is your job, not mine. I barely survived high school, remember?”

“But you’re a Colonel. That means you’re a very smart man too,” Damien, at last, had a smile on his face. “May I take your hand?” When William nodded, the Mayor was quick to do so and kiss the back of it. “Thank you for being here for me, even if I’m still the worst patient.”

“You’re a woeful patient. But you’re handsome, so I’ll forgive you.” The smile was matched as an idea popped into William’s head. “May I kiss you? As an apology, I mean.”

“Yes, sir.” It was a quiet reply, but enough for William to hear and quickly follow on that request. When he pulled back, he reached out to adjust the medal still pinned on Damien’s jacket.

“There. Now, finish what you’re doing so I can take you back to your house so you can lie down without interruption,” Damien gave William a tired look, but the Colonel quickly continued, “s-speaking as a concerned boyfriend, of course.”

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 4

September 28th 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was letting it all out.  

Siena had called, cooped up in her room in the house she rented with two other girls, taking a break from studying for torts law or shorts law or whatever type of law it was that she had to study.  It was these moments – moments when Siena caught up with her younger sister – that reminded her that she was slaving through law school because Aberdeen would probably need a lawyer one day after doing something colossally stupid.  She’d usually start the conversations with “You can’t tell mom and dad…” and Siena would promise not to.  And, well, she’d keep that promise.  Because sisters never told.  They only ever told on Camden.

Aberdeen told Siena about the night with William in June – she told her about a week later, after Siena was finally settled back into her place in Ottawa.  They’d talked about it for a while and had come to terms with the fact that Aberdeen would never see William again because of the whole Sweden thing and because of the fact that Toronto was a city full of a few million people.  They’d accepted it and moved on.

But then, of course, William showed up in the elevator on her first day of work and the floodgates opened.  

“Wait…hold on a second,” Siena held her hand up.  “You’re telling me you hooked up with a Toronto Maple Leaf.”

“Yes.”

“A hockey player.  That guy was a hockey player.”

“Yes,” Aberdeen stressed.  

“And now…” Siena paused.  “You work for the president of the team that he plays for.”

“Precisely.”

Siena let out a long, loud sign, facepalming before rubbing her temples.  “I don’t know how you get yourself into these situations, Aberdeen,” she shook her head.  “I honestly don’t.”

“I don’t, either.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

Aberdeen looked at her sister weird.  “There’s nothing I can do about it.  It says right in the employee handbook that no employee and player are allowed to hook up.  I can’t tell Brendan and William can’t tell the rest of the team.  That’s that.”

“Are you scared he might?”

Aberdeen considered the question.  “I really don’t know.  On one side, I feel like if he really wanted to tell them he would have told them already, and Brendan Shanahan would have found out through the grapevine and I would have already lost my job.  Like, I wouldn’t have even gone to Newfoundland.  On the other hand, I feel like the comments he’s been saying to me just make it seem like this is a game to him and he’s waiting on the most opportune moment to tell.”

“Comments?” Siena asked.  

Aberdeen sighed.  “I went to dinner with a bunch of them in St. John’s because Jason invited me, and he asked me who my favourite Leaf was in this really flirty way,” she explained.  “Then a few days later he found me alone and told me I should have said him.  Or at least have said he was fucking awesome because that’s what I said that night after we hooked up.”

Siena facepalmed again.  “Oh, Aberdeen…”

“I know, Siena.”

“Does Kasha know?” she asked.

“Of course Kasha knows.”

“Kasha won’t tell a soul.  She’s good like that.”

“I know.  My problem here is William.”

“Listen, Aberdeen…this is a fucked up situation but it’s…I mean, technically you didn’t hook up with him when you were employee.  It was months before.  You had no idea who he was.  That’s what my lawyer brain is telling me right now.”

“I don’t know if that matters,” Aberdeen said.  “I keep getting told that this is the dream job, that if I do well with Mr. Shanahan I can have my pick of any job in any field that I want in Toronto, including writing.  That’s how well connected he is.  I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side at all.  I have to be on my best behaviour and I have to keep doing well.”

“Then keep being on your best behaviour.  Keep doing your job,” Siena encouraged.  “And keep William away.”

***

September 30th, 2019

With only two days until the start of the season, Brendan had a lot of meetings with a lot of people.  There were meetings with hockey ops, meetings with the head scouts, meetings with player development, meetings with analytics.  It was a much busier time than just three weeks ago.  A lot more coffee runs.  More ordering of catered lunches.  More running around like a chicken with her head cut off, like Brendan said she would.  And this wasn’t even the start of the season.

Brendan wanted her to sit it in on the meeting he had now with basically the entire senior management so they could go over upcoming events and initiatives they’d put on throughout the season.  Kyle Dubas would be there.  Brandon Pridham and Laurence Gilman, the assistant general managers would be there.   Dave Morrison, the director of player personnel would be there.  Brad Lynn, the director of team operations would be there.  Stephen Hare, the director of finance would be there.  Steve Keogh, the director of media relations would be there.  Alison Rockwell, the director of business relations would be there.  Leanne Hederson, the manager of hockey operations would be there.  

Aberdeen was clearly studying the employee directory.  

They had a list of things to talk about, and talked through them all.  Aberdeen had her notebook and tried to take notes, but she felt like she was writing a foreign language and none of this would make sense when she went to read them again.  There was talk about “You Can Play Night”, about galas, about charity golf tournaments, about community outreach programs, about the alumni events, about the MLSE Launchpad initiatives…

Then they started to talk about alternate jerseys.  She thought there was only home and away jerseys, but no, there was apparently a third for a special night.  A “St. Pats” jersey.  It was green.  A definite change from the blue, but they kept going on and on about it.  Do we do this?  What about this?  How about this?  It was incredibly pedantic.  She felt like she was in science class again, doodling instead of taking notes since she had no clue what was being said or what was going on.  

“Do you think we should go with the same one from last season, or should we choose a new design?” Dave Morrison asked.

“It’s hard to say.  If we go with last year’s design, jersey sales may stagnate or decline if we compare it on a year-by-year basis, but a new design will boost that,” Stephen Hare said.

“Well, listen.  It’s the 2019-2020 season.  We can go with the design from 1919-1920,” Brandon Pridhan said, pulling up the mock-ups of the jersey.  Aberdeen took into account the green and white, the lettering, everything.  “Or should we balk the season number and go with this one, the 1926-1927 season design?” he held up the other mock-up.  It was basically the exact same design, except the colours were inverted.  

They were having an extremely serious and long discussion about this?  Aberdeen snorted from the corner.

Suddenly, when she looked up, every eye in the room was on her.  The smile immediately dropped from her face.  Brendan was looking at her.  “Something funny?”

Oh shit.  Oh shit.  Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.  “No, no…” she began, trying to cover for herself.  “It’s nothing – you know – it’s just that they look exactly the same to me.  I…you know, I’m still learning about all this stuff.”

“This…stuff?” Brendan asked, repeating her words.  The look that he gave her – she never wanted to be looked at like that again for the rest of her life.  “Oh…okay.  I see.  You think this has nothing to do with you.  You get hired by the Maple Leafs and you sit in on this meeting with, oh I don’t know, that iPad Pro which the company paid for, and you scoff because you think we’re taking this too seriously, and you don’t care about what jerseys fans put on their back.  But what you don’t know is that this hockey sweater is not just blue and white, it’s not just green and white, it’s actually a symbol,” he paused, moving from his spot at the table, walking around it.  “You’re also blindly unaware of the fact that in 1919 the Toronto Arenas were about to go under, only to be saved by a group of investors who renamed the team the Toronto St. Patricks, and who later made Conn Smythe their managing partner and their eventual owner.  Conn Smythe ended up changing their name in 1927 to the Toronto Maple Leafs because that maple leaf was the national symbol of Canada and, as he said, a badge of courage and a reminder of home of when he was a Canadian Army officer during World War One,” he picked the design he liked most from Brandon and pinned it onto the board, taking another from the pile.  Aberdeen’s heart stopped beating.  “The blue and white, he said, represented the Canadian skies and Canadian snow.  The name has changed, the investors have changed, and the logo has seen design changes, but that maple leaf is a symbol that represents the identity of Toronto, the history of this city, and the pride of the country.  It represents millions of dollars and countless jobs, and so it’s sort of comical how you think that you ever made a choice that exempted you from caring about these jerseys when, in fact, this city’s identity and one of the most well-known national symbols were selected for you by the people in this room who ran this hockey club.  All because of the influence of this stuff.”

He held onto a picture, holding it face up.  She broke eye contact to look down at it, only to see it was the maple leaf that was currently on the jersey.  The thirty-one points, meant to represent 1931 and the opening of Maple Leaf Gardens; the 17-vein detail, meant to represent when the franchise was founded in 1917; the 13 veins at the top, meant to represent the 13 Stanley Cup championships.  She realized what this symbol meant to not only the people in this room, but to the city, to the fabric and identity of it, to its storied past and bright future.  She realized the history behind it, the countless people who wore the sweater or jersey with pride for over a century now.  She realized how wrong and careless she’d been.  

When she looked back up, Brendan was staring at her.  So was everyone else still seated at the board table, some of them with amused looks on their faces.  “I’ll be outside if you need me,” she said, barely above a whisper because she was too embarrassed to even speak.  She clutched her iPad Pro and took the picture, walking out of the room.

The second the door closed behind her, she burst out into tears.  The tears streamed down her face as she escaped into the washroom, slamming the stall door behind her and locking it before breaking down in the bathroom stall.  Brendan Shanahan had just embarrassed her in front of some of the hockey world’s most important people and she deserved it.  She couldn’t believe she could be so fucking stupid and so dumb and callous and just such a…such an idiot.  And now here she was, crying about it in a bathroom stall.  She’d never be able to recover from this.  Brendan would think she was an idiot until the day she died.  He’d die before her and in heaven he’d still think her an idiot.

She stayed in the bathroom stall for a while, crying it all out and eventually stopping because she had no more energy to cry.  She opened the stall door and looked at herself in the mirror, trying to wipe away the tears.  Her eyes were red and of course, her cheeks were stained with tears, but she was thankful that she wore waterproof mascara that day.  She tried to collect herself, even though she had just made a complete ass of herself.  She still had a full day of work to do.  She still had to make it until 5pm.  Somehow.  

When there was nothing more she could do to fix her appearance, she sighed and decided to head back to her desk, ready to face whatever punishment Brendan was going to give her when he got out of the meeting.  There was nothing more she could say or do.  She swung open the door to the washroom and stepped out into the hallway.  

Although when she did, she crashed into a body.  When she looked up, it was, of course, none other than William Nylander.  Because her day couldn’t get any better from here.  “Hey,” he said, smiling at her.  

“What do you need?” she asked, not bothering to greet him.

He noticed the tone of her voice and the redness of her eyes and immediately changed his demeanour.  “What’s wrong?”

She side-eyed him.  As if he cared.  “I just made a complete ass of myself in front of Brendan.  No biggie,” she huffed.  

“Did you get a coffee order wrong or something?”

Now she really side eyed him.  She understood the stereotype of personal assistants, but this was not the time to start making jokes and devaluing her job.  “What do you want?  Why are you even in the offices?” she asked.  

He shrugged his shoulders.  “I wanted to see you.”

She scoffed.  “Oh, get a life, William.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know why you feel the need to keep taunting me when we’re on the job, but it needs to stop,” she said.  “Don’t you have drills to go through?  Don’t you like, I don’t know, need to tape a stick?”

It was his turn to give her a look.  “Hey, don’t be mad at me just because you screwed up at your job today.  I came up here to see you because I wanted to see you.  I’m trying to be nice.”

“Taunting me at my job isn’t being nice,” she said.  “If you can’t tell, I’m not having a good day.  So I’d appreciate it if you just…wouldn’t.”

“Whatever you did can’t be worse than sleeping with a Maple Leaf and then working for his boss,” William retorted.  

Okay, now she was angry.  She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the small kitchen – the one she’d retreated to when she walked in on them in their underwear – and shut the door behind them so they could have a private conversation.  “Listen to me,” she began, her voice as steady and as intimidating as it could be.  “I know I’m not saving the world or anything, but this job means a lot to me.  This isn’t a fucking game to me like it is to you.  This is my life.  This is my livelihood.  This is my career prospects in any industry in Toronto if I do a good job here.  And you, William Nylander, are not going to take that away from me.”

“I’m not trying to take that away from you,” William declared.  “Don’t you think that if I didn’t want you here, I would have told the guys or told Brendan already?”

Aberdeen thought back to the conversation she’d had with her sister, where she brought up the exact same point.  She shook her head.  “Then stop with the comments.  Stop with the ‘coming to see me’, flirting in front of your teammates, and the flirting in general.”

“I can’t do that,” he responded.  

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Because I want you.”

The words hung in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time as William and Aberdeen stared at each other, his blue eyes piercing her hazel ones.  Her jaw dropped at his words, and she tried to respond but she couldn’t think of anything to say.  There was nothing to say.  He just dropped a bombshell and she had no way to recover.  He wanted her.  He wanted her.  He…wanted her?  “W…What?”

William didn’t respond.  He only smiled.  He didn’t say anything else as he left those words with her, opening the door and leaving the kitchen, leaving her completely dumbfounded.  

***

Later on that night, as Aberdeen was walking back to her condo after the day’s work (and not seeing Brendan again – probably for the best, since she was going to write out and rehearse her apology she’d tell him tomorrow if she didn’t get a call that she’d been fired tonight), her phone buzzed in her pocket.  She assumed that it would be Kasha, wanting to know what they were going to do for dinner.  But when she looked at her screen, it was an unknown number that texted her.

i promise im not going to tell anybody. im not going to tell any of the guys, or kyle, or brendan, or anyone what happened in june. that stays between us.

im not that guy.  i wouldn’t do that to you.

She stopped dead in her tracks.  A pedestrian behind her almost crashed into her and yelled at her to watch where she was going.  She collected herself and moved off to the side so people could pass by her and she could read the texts over and over and over again.  She didn’t even want to know how he got her number.  She didn’t want to know what covert operation he pulled.  

She gulped.

***

October 1st, 2019

Aberdeen was impatient in the backseat of the town car as she and Lou waited for Brendan to appear.  Her leg was bobbing up and down and she was pretty sure she would have chipped all her nail polish off by now if it wasn’t shellac.  She had written out and rehearsed her apology to him and knew exactly how she was going to deliver it.  She knew she had to makes things right.

“Miss Bloom,” Lou said from the driver’s seat, looking at her through the rear-view mirror like he often did.  “Nervous energy.”

“I’m sorry Lou,” she apologized, trying not to bob her leg.  “I just need to say something to Mr. Shanahan.”

“Something bad?”

“How many apologies have you heard in this car?” she asked.

Lou chuckled.  “Many, Miss Bloom.”

“How does he react to them?”

Lou shrugged.  “Depends.”

She gulped.  As if on cue, Brendan emerged from his house.  Lou got out of the car to open the door for him.  

“Good morning, Aberdeen,” he said, his voice cheery as he got into the backseat.  He already had a stack of newspapers with him.  He was acting as if nothing was wrong.  “How are you this morning?”

“I’m…good,” she replied, confused.  She decided she should just get right into it.  “Mr. Shanahan, can I speak to you about something?”

“Brendan,” he corrected her like he always did.  He was focused on the newspaper in front of him.  “And yes, Aberdeen, you may.”

“Can you look at me?”

That caught his attention.  He lowered the newspaper and took off his glasses, waiting for her to begin.  She took a deep breath.  “I want to sincerely apologize for my comments yesterday in the meeting,” she began.  “It was really insensitive of me to scoff, and then to make that comment – just really callous, and I want to apologize.  I don’t want you thinking that this job means nothing to me, because it does.  It means the world—”

“Aberdeen,” Brendan interrupted her, holding up his hand.  She stopped talking, and could tell he was thinking of what to say.  “First of all, thank you for your apology,” he began.  “What I said to you in that room, in front of everybody – I just wanted to make sure you know the importance of the work we do here.”

“I do.  I mean – I do now.”

“Hockey in Toronto is not just hockey,” he began.  “It’s a living, breathing entity in and of itself.  The sooner you realize that, the sooner you will see the importance of not just my work, or the work of anybody else that was in the room that day, but of your work too.  You are part of the Toronto Maple Leafs now, Aberdeen, whether you like it or not.  You have a role to play here in the success of the team just like anybody else.  Just because you’re an executive assistant, it doesn’t mean you don’t.”

“Yes sir,” she nodded her head.  

“I know you have a steep learning curve to go through.  I knew that when I hired you.  You’ll go through it.  And you’ll make a hell of a lot of mistakes along the way.  But you’ll go through it.  And you’ll come out better.  With more knowledge.  Understood?”

“Yes sir.  Absolutely,” she nodded her head.  Brendan sent her a quick smile before putting his glasses back on and focusing on the newspaper again.  “So…I guess this means I’m not fired?” she asked, just for reassurance.

That actually got a laugh out of Brendan.  “No, Aberdeen.  I could never fire an Etobicoke girl.”

***

October 2nd 2019

The season opener was just pure insanity.  There was no other way Aberdeen could rephrase it besides that – just pure insanity.  Brendan had meetings, she had to coordinate this, she had to run for coffees, she had to go get notes from someone, the phone was ringing off the hook…Lou even had to take her in the town car up to Yorkville, to Prada and to Gucci and to Hermes, so she could pick up ties for him to wear once all the media came rushing in.  It was a complete shit show.  She barely had time to eat, drink, or even think because she was so busy trying to get everything done.  

But something happened to her once she and Brendan made their way up to the media gondola to sit in the President’s private box with Kyle Dubas and Brandon Pridham: she watched the game.  From start to finish, she watched the Toronto Maple Leafs dominate the Ottawa Senators 5-3 to win the game.  She saw Auston Matthews score two goals – and William assist beautifully on one of them.  It was textbook perfect.  She saw the comradery of the boys on the bench.  She saw Brendan and Kyle seem excited.  

She remembered back to how excited the people of Newfoundland were at just a practice and an exhibition game.  She saw how excited the crowd was tonight at the way the team played and the outcome of the game.  

She began to get it.

She followed Brendan out of the gondola so they could head down to the locker room about five minutes before the game was going to end.  When the team began to come in, she wondered if she should clap – her questions were answered when she saw the equipment personnel fist-bump the boys.  She held out her hand to show her support.  Brendan laughed.

“Wooooo!  Let’s go baby!” Auston screamed as he looked directly at her, fist-bumping her with his enormously large hockey glove.  In that moment, she was sure one of them was going to knock her over one day.

“Good job boys!” she yelled out as they trickled in.  John was next, giving her a fist-bump and a quick nod.  

Morgan saw her and screamed at her.  “Wooooo!”

“Wooooo!” she mimicked, smiling from ear to ear as she fist-bumped him.  She held her hand out for Andreas, for Kasperi, and for Sandin.  William filtered through, and when she caught his eye, a large smile appeared on his face.  “Good job boys!” she yelled out again as they fist-pumped.

As they boys filtered into the locker room and began to take off their gear, Brendan walked in, motioning for Aberdeen to follow him.  She stood behind him and Kyle Dubas as they watched Mike Babcock make his post-game speech and present the team with one of the Raptors’ game used balls from their championship run.  One player would get it after every game won.  Auston got it tonight for scoring two goals, and he did a few tricks.  

Aberdeen helped usher Mike into a separate room so he could do post-game media before they went into the locker room.  She watched as a horde of reporters stuck microphones into his face and asked him questions about the game.  When Brendan called her back into the locker room, he told her he was free to go.  

She looked up at one of the TV monitors that was broadcasting Mike’s interview from the other room live, wanting to hear what good things he had to say before she left.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw William approach her, the bottom half of his gear still on, chucking something into the garbage.  He stood beside her, looking up at the monitor too to listen in.

“Can you speak to Matthews’s goals tonight?  The assist from Nylander must have looked good on your end,” one of the reporters asked.

“Yeah, the goals were good.  Looked really good.  The assist looked better than the one’s from last season, that’s for sure – he’s clearly been practicing,” Mike began.

Aberdeen didn’t hear anything else he had to say as she furrowed her brows.  She knew that she didn’t know anything about hockey, but she thought the team played fantastic tonight.  They won, for heaven’s sake.  If she was a casual viewer and thought they played well, and that William’s assist on Auston’s goal looked incredible, that had to speak for something, right?  A person who wasn’t even a fan being impressed?  She didn’t know.  But when she looked over at William, she saw a defeated look on his face.  He clearly took the comments to heart, and it killed her to see his excitement die down over a stupid comment.

“Does he always give you backhanded compliments?” she asked quietly, looking at him.  

William noticed her looking, and gave her one of those tight-lipped smiles as he shrugged his shoulders.  “Don’t worry about it.  I’m used to it.”

Aberdeen didn’t like that answer.  

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, (20)77: Caught Up in the Moment

Table of Contents. Third Instar, Chapter 8. Go to Previous. Go to Next. TWs: Food/meat, implied digestive trouble, unapologetic medical fetishization, brief grievous memory association, smoking. Seventy-seven is a sentimental number for me.

“...[C]lothes do not merely make the man, the clothes are the man; that without them he is a cipher, a vacancy, a nobody, a nothing.” -- Mark Twain’s “Czar’s Soliloquy”

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_________________

‘Choly and Angel walked next door to rejoin Sticks in the junk vendor’s stall. He found it peculiar, that trash did not comprise a majority of the dealer’s wares, despite the store’s categorization as a junk vendor. Much of it had been restored or repaired in some capacity, if not marginally more presentable polished or cleaned up some. A distant, crooked smile tugged at him, delighted by his ability to identify the most mundane of ancient things which had not graced his sight in some time. Ceramic figurine egg timer. Cake breaker. Dusting bellows. Pewter powder box. No, perhaps the entire mall could be called a large scale antiques dealer of sorts--with a healthy mix of contemporary crafts for sale as well, of course.

While ‘Choly had taken Liam’s suggestion to try some local fashion choices for something more compatible with the cervical collar, Sticks had decided to test his suggestion this type of merchant might yield their hunt better results. Sticks hadn’t wanted to wait around while ‘Choly clothing shopped, no matter how brief the errand with their appointment at the Gate City Clinic at eleven. When he found him, Sticks had just given up digging in a bin of various sacks.

The ghoul eyed him with pleasant surprise, hands stiff in his pockets.

“Didn’t expect you to be done first. Take it from your good spirits you found stuff you’re happy with.” He squinted at the new garments ‘Choly wore. “...I know you wear it well, but Ant lace? I thought we were pinching caps here.”

‘Choly smiled. First the cervical collar and a genuine direction to procuring the rest, and now brand new clothing. He now wore a collarless mesh chemisette, over his corset but tucked under the edge of the cervical collar, with a ribbon tie in the back and to either side. The corset still peeked out under the cropped hem. Atop this he’d put his cardigan back on. Draped around his neck was the article with which Sticks had exception: a long Irish lace shawl, with its tails drawn into a loose knot in the front. Several hundred dollars lighter for it, his heart felt even lighter still. In his day went the phrase, the clothes make the man, but it persisted even now that new clothes could do wonders.

“Up until now,” he finally replied, “all my clothes have either been prewar salvage or military issue. But now, I own some clothes handmade this year. I need to stop feeling like the relic I am. To stop feeling like I’m still stuck in 2077. I’d imagine it’s well enough time to finally celebrate something.”

“I figured last night was a to-do, but I guess you’ve earned something fancy. Appearances sure matter a lot to you.”

“Have to make up for my personality somehow, don’t I?” He shrugged off his own glib self-deprecation. “Before we get going, did you want to try something new, too? The apparel clerk was incredibly helpful.”

Sticks’s attention fell elsewhere as they walked out of the junk vendor’s stall.

“Mm, no offense, but I prefer the way duds used to be made.”

“That’s fair. The display windows of the boutiques that specialize in prewar fashion have caught my attention every time we pass them. Right now, though, I feel more like trying to blend in a bit. To feel present.”

Something about yesterday’s conversation with Liam had ‘Choly’s mind abuzz with a confusion he nearly welcomed. His interaction with the apparel clerk repeated in his mind. With the utter unisex nature of garments, he couldn’t not ask her, with some trepidation, And how might a man go about wearing this one? And this? She’d let him into the fitting room stall so she could show him, making adjustments once he reemerged with the new clothes on his person. He smiled into himself as he mounted Angel.

“The clerk showed me how Laners wear things. I thought I could tell at a glance that wealth and status were demonstrated with wearing as many individual garments as possible, with wearing as much of a given fabric as possible, with the greatest intricacy to a fabric possible. But it’s more complicated than that? Really, it shocks me that you wouldn’t take a shine to this kind of place. She lamented that my orthotic corset has no detail work, and is made from such an uninteresting fabric. All function, with none of the form, she says. Clothing here is designed to show off the undergarments! Socks included, for example--hence all the golf trousers.” His eyes wilded, focused on nothing, as he reared up on his grip on Angel’s car-door handles. “I can’t imagine literally airing my unmentionables to the whole neighborhood, no matter what I paid for them.”

“...What’s that supposed to mean? Me not taking a shine to Ant.”

“Your... interest in corsets,” fumbled from him.

“Tch! Believe it or not, I don’t blow my top every time I see one.” He twisted taking exception to it into flirtation, and smirked up at ‘Choly. “Depends a lot on who’s wearing it.”

‘Choly crinkled his nose to hide his flustering.

“--Well! Hopefully we’ll find more to outfit me with. I know you didn’t find anything at the one merchant, but there’s dozens of vendors here with junk for sale. Which, speaking of leather scraps... You know, I’ve been noticing lots of leather and fur here, too. I know the Clark sisters dress the Laners’ kills, but I haven’t noticed anyplace that’s been permitted leather tools. It’s been driving my curiosity wild. Everyplace with clothes has had sturdy fur-lined leather overcoats for sale.” He waved a declaration through the air one-handed, before returning to an even grip. “A must-have for any body with business out-doors. Sufficient winterized rad-resistant gear and all that.”

“You really must be feeling better, to be so chatty. God bless that neck thing.” Sticks chuckled, warmed. “By curiosity, I’m assuming you’re asking where they get it all. You’re right, if you think the Furriers had anything to do with it. Well, had. No idea how Ant will react to the Unfolded. They used to caravan up here every so often, with the Riverhawk. They’d trade leather, fur, salvaged prewar fabric bolts, dressed meat. The Laners never much liked them, but the commerce was too good to turn ‘em shy. I traveled with them up here a few times, but even the times I’ve come up here on my own I’ve never really taken a shine to living here.”

“Fuck-me-in-the-mouth, I hope they don’t show up here.”

The last thing any of them needed was a continuation of what had transpired in Lowell. Surely, they hadn’t been followed.

“Gen’s got all their hands too full to bother with trade route upkeep, I imagine.”

“...You don’t suppose my coat lining came from here, do you?”

It took some time to grasp what ‘Choly was on about.

“That Franken-monster of a thing Bones gave you? I guess so, maybe. Both cities had a lot of textiles. There’s no telling where she got it.”

They entered the Gate City Clinic and sat in the mostly empty waiting area. One of the other medics noticed them and approached.

“Do you need help with something?”

“We’re waiting for Liam,” ‘Choly said.

“He’s about to take his lunch soon. You’ll be waiting at least an hour, if you’re intent to see him and not one of the other staff. What brings you in?”

“Just on time.” Sticks winked. “We’re waiting for his lunch hour. We’re here on business. Not doctor stuff.”

The medic shrugged and walked off to a desk to contend with some papers.

Liam walked up shortly after, this time in a velvet-trimmed sheer mesh shirt, and golf pants again. His deep eyes brightened in an otherwise indifferent face.

“You’re awfully stuffed up. You know that right?” His cigarette bobbed limply as he spoke. “But this, it’s an improvement. Really, I don’t get the preoccupation with salvaged prewar clothes. Most of it’s garbage these days. Deteriorating, stained, doesn’t breathe...”

“It only wears out if not properly cared for,” Angel said.

They couldn’t tell if Liam’s silence came more on account of his consideration of the Mister Handy’s comment, or more of their speechlessness that it had sassed a prospective business partner they’d only met the night before.

“Anyway.” Liam lipped at his smoke, then walked away. He wagged his head for them to follow him to the back. “I’m taking lunch now. Allow me to give you a tour of the place.”

The Gate City Clinic, the best ‘Choly could tell, utilized the original shop’s two offices for an office and storage space. He presumed the stock room at one end of the hall made up Liam and Orqueida’s living quarters, though Liam didn’t show them. He took them finally to the kitchen at the opposite end of the hall, once a break room. The makings of a rudimentary chemistry setup occupied a small kitchen hutch.

“Neither of us cooks,” Liam said, “but we also prefer to eat in privacy. Orqueida got us food before she headed to the Inn for the day. Have you eaten?”

“We haven’t!” Sticks eyed the sizable sack on the table. “You shouldn’t have. Thank you.”

“Orqueida insisted. You’re welcome, though.”

‘Choly’s mouth watered at the lingering aroma of hot pickled meat. He swallowed and did his best not to frown.

“...I appreciate it, but no thanks.”

“Oh,” Angel worried, “breakfast must be disagreeing with you already.”

“You’re out of your smoothies.” Sticks gave him an assertive glare. “Eat with us.”

Sooner than argue, ‘Choly took it upon himself to scrutinize the hot plate and various glassware Liam had collected.

Liam smushed his cigarette in the ashtray on the kitchen table, then produced from the oiled canvas sack beside it a series of lidded tins, ranging from bread box to tea tin, but mostly an average of them. Much like the sewing kits of yesteryear, ‘Choly knew better than to think Liam intended to serve them two hundred year old butter cookies.

“I thought the food court didn’t include the dishes,” ‘Choly said.

“They charge you for not having your own. But we can sell back the tins.” Liam shrugged. He opened the tin in his hand then, to demonstrate some shredded juicy pale stuff, only to glance down with a disappointed frown and replace the lid. “Ugh, sauerkraut. ...Breaks even if we clean it before returning it. You have tins, you find tins, you sell them to the food court.”

Sticks helped him remove the lids to reveal shaved corned brahmin, toasted bread slices, sauerkraut, thin fragments of a rindy cheese, a pepper tin of some sort of sauce, and what resembled pickled garlic cloves or mozzarella balls. The not-gold lighting blanched any visual appeal the foods may have had, but the savory piquant aromas more than made up for it. Liam produced utensils from a counter drawer and set them down on a clean dishrag.

“At least she didn’t forget the morsels.” Liam sighed as he popped one of the globules in his mouth, then one more. He held the tin out to the two of them. Sticks took two. ‘Choly picked up a fork to take just the one, almost uncertain they could be stabbed without breaking. “Digestive issues? Really, we should make time to sit and discuss all this. Maybe I could help.”

‘Choly watched the two men cobbling together sandwiches to either side of the table. He stuck the morsel in his mouth. Coated in a tart oil, its flesh had a firm bite but still a tenderness. Chewing on it for some time, it dawned on him these were some sort of mushroom.

“What would help... is more... Stimpaks.” As ‘Choly said it, his voice garbled into a self-conscious hush. “I’ve got everything else.”

Liam sat to dig in, his befuddlement on his sunken brow.

“I don’t figure you’ll be able to get started today. We’re just talking things over. Knowing the equipment you’ve got at your disposal should help draft what to send your ‘acquisition expert’ on errands for.” He unfolded a piece of paper from his shirt pocket one-handed and gave it to Sticks, who was much more nettled by the whole thing than he let on. “I’ve got a few things I’ll pay you for as well. Provided it wasn’t some fancy way of saying you’re a scavver, it should be a cakewalk.”

“The hell do you need so much-- You know what. Don’t worry about it, and I won’t, either.”

“You deal with him, so I don’t have to. I pay very well for it.”

Stress snagged up in ‘Choly’s throat.

“You mentioned last night that you’re looking for first aid basics. You traded a cervical brace for my handful of Addictol and Med-X.” His voice cracked. “What-- about Stimpaks?”

Liam sat up, and set down his hand on the table, still holding his sandwich in it. He scowled at his food instead of his guests.

“Stimpaks aren’t the end all for first aid. I really don’t have much use for them. A medic once had to know how to work without them, in the chance they ran out on the battlefield. I got my training in similar circumstances. I do rarely have them, but as far as I know, making them is a lost prewar science--”

“--But why not use advanced tools, where available?” ‘Choly reeled back the accidental sarcastic shock, clasping his chin. “Do you not see many severe injuries here?”

“We’re a cautious bunch. Most of what I oversee is illness, not injury. While I can handle injuries when they happen, I’m definitely grateful it’s not my job. It means the Lane’s safe.”

‘Choly steadied himself a bit by beginning to craft his own serving.

“What... if I told you that I knew how to make them?”

“I’d tell you not to bother.”

The chemist’s ears rang. He dropped it for now.

Over the next few days, ‘Choly got to work on chems, Sticks went on Liam and ‘Choly’s errands, and Angel assisted Liam in the clinic where he’d permit. He disliked that a majority of his trouble amounted to isolating the alkaloid salts from pounds of dried Hubflower petals, but he reminded himself that he was synthesizing Med-X with it. At least it came easily for him. He even got plucky and decided he’d throw something together with his stash of dried melon blossoms, to test his theory its compounds could steady one’s alertness. For the time being, he stifled the compulsion to up the level of difficulty and complexity, and did not propose anything off Liam’s work order more grandiose than an herbal remedy. They all had to prove their reliability to Liam, and sprawling out his efforts when his lab equipment was one step above kitchenware was the opposite of a sound idea. Besides, the man had requested medicine and nothing more.

One afternoon, Sticks burst into the kitchen. He flung down a mess of something in the tile floor with a semi-muffled clatter, only to dash back out with a huge grin. ‘Choly eyed the pile breathlessly from where he sat at work. Recognizing the same canvas and leather he had around his neck, he did his best to make sure the soaking pale purple-blue petals didn’t over-process.

Sticks stomped back in some time later, dragging along an exhausted Liam.

“These are the legs right?” He had the catalogue open, pointing at it eagerly. “Right???”

“It appears so. But I can’t tell from this jumbled mess, if it’s complete.”

“Then let’s see! ‘Choly! Stop messing with that smelly junk and let us at your legs.”

“You’re lucky the start you gave me didn’t make me break something. I was handling acid. ...I don’t have to remove my pants, do I?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Amending the snark, Liam added, “We can see how they fit over the trousers first.”

Sticks chuckled, wringing his hands.

With some effort, Liam pieced together the components, eyeing the catalogue for reference. Each segment was reinforced with metal boning and fastened shut on the outer parts with busks and fan lacing for ease. Sticks had the luck that the waistband which secured each hip hinge had come attached to one of the legs. Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have known the piece was necessary.

“Aren’t you glad you turned me loose to go hunting on my own?” the ghoul delighted. “It’s funny. I remember fewer merchants being okay with anything less than cold hard cash. I’ve been getting run ragged obtaining the right stuff for the right people. But it’s all a drop in the bucket for you, Mindy.”

“Two pieces in one week. Three, if you count each separate leg. In tact. Yes, of course I’m amazed.“

Having followed Liam and Sticks back in, Angel entered to supervise.

Liam lowered himself into the floor and chewed at his cigarette filter while he worked at getting one of ‘Choly’s legs slipped into the thing. ‘Choly did his best to balance, and let out an anxious laugh when Sticks all to eagerly joined Liam in the floor to mirror the effort with ‘Choly’s other leg.

“Gotta practice,” Sticks insisted with a crooked grin, despite meeting no protest.

The two helped ‘Choly stand, so he could fasten the waistband. Liam gestured where the circular hinges needed to align, and the two steadied the leg pieces at the height needed to achieve this, so that the padded belt could be adjusted accordingly. Once they got him into the device, he took a few testing steps. His heart fluttered. Unsurprisingly, they gave a great deal of protest with each step.

“I brought a tool kit with me,” Sticks offered. “We can adjust how tight the hinges are, to stop all that squeaking and creaking. I’m sure I can find some oil, too.”

“Forget how they sound.” Liam put out his cigarette. “Do they help?”

‘Choly kept testing them out, pacing slowly and deliberately from one end of the kitchen to the other. He couldn’t help but snivel and smile with awe.

“I feel like a toy soldier... but that isn’t necessarily a negative. My hips are lined up to where I don’t have to think so hard about the steps I take. I do think they could stand a little tightening up, but the alignment’s still good despite being as old and beat up as I am.”

“The oldest thing in this room is probably the ghoul--” Liam elbowed Sticks beside him, “--but the braces come in a close second.”

‘Choly turned, deadpan.

“I’m older than he is.”

“By seven years or so, if memory serves,” Angel said. “Twenty-eighth of November, 2034.”

Liam’s humor didn’t falter, though he stood with a vague discerning squint. ‘Choly ambled over to the table to sit with a grunt.

“If I can bum a smoke and sit back down, I’ll explain why I might be one of your weirder patients.”

He himself sat backward in the metal diner chair wordlessly. He produced his pack of Clipper Ships from his rolled sleeve, tapped out two cigarettes to place in his lips, and lit them. And he offered one across the kitchen table between genteel thumb and forefinger, his eyes bright with eager skepticism.

____________

Fun facts: Russian dressing (often substituted with Thousand Island) is credited to have been created in Nashua, NH, by one James E. Colburn.

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[winifredsandersonsbitch]

“Wallow”

Spike x Summers!Reader, BTVS

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of sex, S6 SPOILERS!!!

Description: Out of the five stages of grief, anger is the one that appeals most to the reader. Spike gets the brunt of it during training.

writing fanfics doesn’t feel so appropriate atm, but I wanted to take a break from signing petitions/writing letters (which I encourage you to do as well) and do something creative for a minute. Posting in case anyone else is in a similar situation

Training started up again the day after Buffy’s funeral.

It was important to keep moving, now more than ever. Spike didn’t think it was a good idea, but you shut him down every time he tried to bring it up. What you needed was not time or space or love. You needed to be prepared. You were not going to lose another sister. No one else was going to die. The universe had taken more than its due.

“Again,” you panted, and Spike lunged at you. He couldn’t go in with the intent to hurt you or his head would fill with white hot pain, so you were always uncomfortably aware of how much he was holding back, how easily he could take you if he wasn’t. Most times, he still beat you, although he always offered to fix you up after. All in all, he was a patient teacher, better than you deserved. But even he had his limits.

Spike tackled you to the ground, knocking the breath from your lungs, but you recovered quickly and aimed a punch at his face before he could pin down your arms.

Wheeling backwards, he stretched a hand out to his aching jaw, running it over the bruising skin. “Listen, sweetheart, I know my stamina is legendary, but we’ve got to give it a rest.”

“Again.”

This was all there was for you now. Practice and duty and anger. You wondered if this was how it had been for Buffy, near the end.

You woke up every morning with your skin a mottling greenish purple, darkening with time. Everywhere ached. You covered it up with makeup as best as you could for your shifts at the diner, but your coworkers were starting to notice.

No doubt they blamed it on the blond who sometimes came in to sit at the corner booth during your shifts.

Today hurt more than most. Spike had hurt your back the last time he slammed you against the alley wall, complaining that you fought like a rabid animal instead of a person when you tried to bite him to get away.

“Use anything that you have at your disposal.” You spat blood into the gravel. “That was your first rule. Come at me again.”

That was when he threw you across the alley.

It wasn’t the first time you had been tossed around in a fight. But for some reason, this time you couldn’t get up. You hit a pile of crates and struck your abdomen before rolling over onto your back.

You had practiced being thrown before, falling, all of it, but this was different. Today your anger had gotten the best of you. You had only been focusing on hurting him, not on protecting yourself. And now you couldn’t move.

Spike appeared above you, a bone-white face in a field of black night. You wheezed, trying to take in air that wouldn’t come.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to throw you so hard. Can you sit up?”

“Something cracked,” you said, and Spike reached out for you, then yanked his hand back like he was afraid he’d hurt you more by touching you. Then he covered the side of your waist with either hand, trying to relocate the pressure that would come with hauling you up to his body instead of yours.

“Here, I’m going to help you up, we’re going to take you to the hospital. I’ll call the others. We’ll— What the hell are you— Stay down, woman!”

You put your hand flat on the crate nearest to you and hauled yourself to your feet. Then you put your fists up, your knuckles bloody from where the scabs had split.

“We—don’t—stop,” you puffed, each word more difficult to get out than the last. “A real fight doesn’t— stop— for anything.”

“This isn’t a real fight,” he reminded you. He reached out and you ducked under his arm, a lightning strike of pain shooting up your side where the bone had fractured. But you came out on the other side, planting your feet.

“It’s real. You’re a vampire.” You needed him to be as worked up as you were, so you pushed this button deliberately. “I’m the new Slayer.”

“You’re not—”

“I am.” You were taking shallow breaths now, trying to stay steady. “She’s gone and I’m here. Someone has to take over.”

“There’s already a new Slayer out there, you don’t have to—”

“I promised my mom I would take care of her. And if I couldn’t do that, then I’ll make damn sure I take care of Sunnydale. Now fight me.”

With one swift move, he had your wrists pinned behind your back, making your ribs groan.

Jesus Christ.

“You can handle it,” Spike said, reading your mind. “Don’t think I’m going easy on you. Not when you seem to like the pain so well.”

You weren’t strong enough to shake him off. Months of this, of trying to train your body to do better, and you still didn’t possess a fraction of what Buffy had.

“Why don’t you tell me what this is about, love?”

He bent his neck over your shoulder like he was playing the part of the loving boyfriend getting ready to place a kiss on your cheek, maybe hold you from behind like he was helping you to line up a shot in golf.

“I need to get better.”

“You’re killing yourself.”

“No.” You almost broke your wrists pulling out of his grip and he had to steady you before you fell back. He placed a hand on middle of your ribcage where the skin was beginning to swell, wincing. “I wouldn’t do that to Dawn. To any of them. I’m only trying to make it right. Willow will look me over when we’re done.”

Spike shook his head. “I know this is how you deal with grief from your mum, but this is ridiculous.”

“This is nothing like that.”

“No?”

You picked your jacket up off the ground, shaking it out. You got hot during training, but you were freezing now.

“No.”

He followed you out of the alley doggedly, his thunderous footsteps right behind your own. Across the street, down the sidewalk, and into your car. He climbed in before you could lock the doors. Sitting down made the pain in your ribs flare, but you filed that away under Things to Deal with Later.

“Tell me.”

“It’s just different.” He continued to watch you steadily. Stealthily. Hungrily. You reached to start the car, but he stilled your hand. You slapped his away.

“Why do you care? Do you really have so few other friends that you have to follow me around like a lost puppy? Get out, Spike.”

“You know why.”

You did. He told you before, before Buffy took the high dive, but you had ignored him. Even when he offered to kill Drusilla for you, even when he almost got himself killed by Glory to save Dawn. You believed he felt something. Lust, a proximity to danger. Something to make his immortal life more interesting. But as you had told him before, that wasn’t the same as love.

“Get out.”

“I care about you,” he said through clenched teeth. “For the last year, I’ve only tried to do right by you. You say that you don’t want to play the part of the broken girl, but here you are. I should nominate you for a bloody Oscar.”

“Just because I don’t want to fuck you doesn’t mean that—”

Spike almost broke off the handle as he slammed open the car door, his jaw tight.

“Don’t come crying to me when no one else is willing to stomach your bullshit.”

You stewed in the car for all of two minutes, smacking the horn and screaming at the top of your lungs, before you calmed down enough to think things over.

You were miserable.

Mostly because of Buffy’s death, but also because you were tired of trying to fill her shoes. You couldn’t come up with that many puns in combat or put slaying ahead of everything else. You couldn’t lock down your feelings in order to get the job done. You couldn’t even be honest with the people you loved about how you felt.

You fully considered letting Spike walk out of your life and never come back. You probably would have, too. If he hadn’t been right. If he hadn’t found a way to get you the money you needed after your mother’s death. If he hadn’t volunteered to watch Dawn, to do extra research, even to make dinner one night when you were feeling especially out of it. He almost burned the house down, but he had tried.

You had lashed out at him more times than you could count, and he always took it with a steadiness that kept you grounded when it counted. And now, when he finally bit back, it was because you had suggested that all he wanted from you was sex.

You rolled out of your seat, locked up the car, and tucked the keys in your pocket, swiveling blindly. Where had he gone? Back to the crypt? To the alley? You saw a flicker of black disappear around the corner and followed.

You caught a glimpse of Spike ducking into a decrepit all-night bar. Tugged your jacket tighter around yourself. Prayed that no one would recognize you. Stepped inside.

It was the seedy kind of monster venue that only he could like. Demons leered at you from behind tables marked with blood and vampires ordered drinks at the scuffed bar top. Spike was ordering a Bloody Mary when you sat down next to him. The stool creaked beneath your weight, but he didn’t so much as look at you. The bartender glared at you disapprovingly but let you be. To soften him up, you ordered your own drink, although you didn’t know if you’d be able to take a single sip. The place didn’t look very sanitary.

“I know when I’m wrong,” you said to the glasses behind the bar. “I’m not trying to put up walls. But I don’t want anyone taking care of me. I don’t like to be treated like I’m fragile.”

That wasn’t true. You remembered that one night after your shift when all you had wanted was to be babied. To have someone else take the load for you. But that was before and this was now.

Spike stayed silent. You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to dangle anything in front of you. When I suggested we train together, I wasn’t leading you on. Or I didn’t mean to be leading you on. It’s just different being around you than the others.”

You could practically hear crickets chirp in here. The bartender dropped off your drinks and Spike took a long sip. Like you didn’t even exist.

“I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

You were conscious of sounding like every annoying movie protagonist ever.

“Not that we have anything, only—we’re friends, aren’t we? I don’t want the only reason for you hanging out with me to be that you’re waiting for the day you can get in my pants. So I ignore it, like it’ll make it go away,” you babbled. Demons were giving you disgusted glances now, but you rushed on. “And I meant what I said, about how this isn’t like when my mom died. I always knew that any one of us could meet something we couldn’t come back from. I had a plan then. I saved and I learned how to do taxes and I made sure Dawn got to school. But now when the money’s almost run out and we’ve been through two funerals, I can’t—I can’t do this. Any of it. And if you’re only in this for the chase and I give in, that means I have one less person on my side, and I used to have friends, people I trusted, but then life started revolving around Buffy like she was the sun and now— Now she’s gone. And I don’t want anyone to love me ever again, I only want to know that I can take care of myself in the absence of love. I only want to know that I can take care of who’s left.”

He still wasn’t looking at you. And whose fault was that? You had burned your last bridge to the one person left in your life who had known you and cared about you more than Buffy. Who was more concerned with your life than her death. Wasn’t that awful of you? To have ever wanted that?

“I’m sorry,” you said again. You left the money for your drink and stood up. “I thought you should know.”

God, your ribs fucking hurt. You applied pressure to the swelling like you were holding in your internal organs as you dragged your feet to the front door. Then you heard one of the barstools squeal as Spike spun in a full rotation, casual as the devil.

He finished his drink and stood, meeting your eyes for the first time and prying the keys from your hand.

“Come on then. I’ll drive you home.”

[what-a-messsss]

1x9 rewatch

Yeeeee, this has Jacob and Mathias.  Good good.  ...It bothers me faaaar more than it should (which is to say, at all) that the episode title “Dogs, Horses and Indians” doesn’t have an Oxford comma.  Like, a lot.  o.o

Aaaaaahahaha, and here is Mathias being sneaky, sending Walt and Vic off to the northeast quadrant!  And I am once again confronted with my own double standard.  Because Mathias doing this has me kind of proud of him, but if Walt did it, I would be loading the solar catapult.  Hm.

Henry gives Walt so much leeway.  Mathias’ little dig at Henry about living on the Rez his whole life makes more sense to me now.  After all, Henry and Walt worked on oil rigs up in Alaska for at least part of their 20s according to later info.  That and him living above the Red Pony now, in Durant, make sense that there might be some added friction.

Wooooow.  Vic repeatedly said how weird it was that Mathias was being agreeable, so she just takes it upon herself to be even more of a jerk to balance things out?  Which... the heavy irony being that her “Maybe they didn’t want you running the investigation” crack is right, but also super wrong.  

Haa, the campaign advisor running “joke.” And Henry’s smiiiiile.

Oof.  Walt does not know the meaning of “tread lightly,” but again, he’s not wrong about this one.  Mathias did massively mess with the crime scene and muddle the investigation to a spectacular degree.  But Mathias is wily, and far more savvy about politics than Walt ever chooses to be.  And he’s right that he’s in an incredibly tight spot, and it’s not like he could have just asked for help.  Even if Walt had been inclined to help (haa), doing so would have totally undermined his credibility with the force and the tribe.

“Come on, Sheriff.  Can you look me in the eye and tell me you’ve never broke the law for the right reason?”  Matty, that’s his whooooole modus operandi.  As I think you well know.

I do wonder how long it’s been since Cady got her own place.  No judgement on her credit card statements still going there; one of my bills still ends up going to my mom’s despite attempts to change that, and it’s been over 5 years since I’ve lived with her.  But I do wonder.  

GOLF.  Baaahahaha, golf.  Of course the Connallys golf.  Barlow is suuuuuuuch a piece of shiiiiiit.  And of course he’s already leveraging favours and keeping track.  Oooo, but they do make it delightfully easy to hate him, and very satisfying, too.

NO, Walt, somebody being your deputy does not make their personal life your business.  Even when it involves your daughter.  Until either of them make it your business, it sure fucking isn’t.  And then the look on Branch’s face when Walt goes, “You... that’s a different story.”  Aaaah, back when Branch was vaguely sympathetic sometimes.  Ish.

Why... why does Walt charge in with no backup so often?  I guess just general self-destructive tendencies and all, but ffs.  He takes on a biker gang in their home territory with no back up.  On purpose.  He has no idea that the deputies have figured out where he is and are coming.  He just goes charging in and does some impressive damage, but if they hadn’t showed up when they did he’d be in traction or just flat out dead.  Exhausting.

I cannot for the life of me remember the actor’s name, but he’s in my head as Gabriel from the bit of time I did watch Supernatural.  He’s so squeaky new!  He’s such a rube.

I wonder how many ‘excessive force’ charges have been filed against Walt.  Probably not one in 20 times they could have been.  Ruby is not impressed.  And Vic is, as ever, an enabler.  Oooooo, Ruby just called him Walter.  She means business. Too bad he doesn’t give a shit about anything but what he wants.  ...I think I just figured out part of why Walt pisses me off so much.  That entitlement to do whatever the hell he wants and bother the rest rings really familiar from my dad.  Womp womp.  That can go on the list of things to talk about with the therapist.

Awwwww, Cady’s graduation photo on Henry’s desk!  He’s such a good second dad.  

I hadn’t thought about it the first time around, but @cminerva said something in one of our musings (that I think went into our joint fic) about Walt making Mathias come to him for things.  And here we are in the Red Pony, with Walt having had the Tribal Council brought to him, all 10 or so of them, rather than to go to them.  Which... that’s some fucked up power dynamic bullshit right there.  And they’re all sitting in a semi-circle, with Walt and Vic standing.  This is... so uncomfortable.  Crusty old white man scolds Tribal Council, literally standing there with his hands on his hips.  WITH HIS HAND ON HIS GUN--I fricking swear to gods, Walt, what the flaming hell.

Yeeeeeee, Jacob.  He’s so fluffy.  The sides of his hair are so long.  This is a delight.  Ok, but can I just take a moment with the fact that Jacob bought Eaglestar’s debt?  From a cynical point of view, it could be to make sure that he had the president of the tribal council effectively in his pocket, and there was probably an element of that.  But I do genuinely believe that as much of a pragmatist as he is, Jacob is a thwarted optimist.  When he says, “Because I bought his debt.  ...I wanted to make sure no one could influence his decisions, no one could force him to act against his own judgment,” that he’s telling the truth.  “He may have had demons, but he was his own man.”  I think that he probably hopes the same for himself.

Cady’s faaaace when Walt gets back and is ignoring the excessive force charge.  Officially one of my favourite moments of the whole show now.  Yus.  The sheer lack of respect that Walt has for his daughter. Blatant lack of respect for her and her expertice.  Yeet him into the sun, I’m telling you.

Who she sleeps with is not about you, you jackass.  This is such a good scene for her as an actor.  And such a bad scene for him as a dad.  He’s such a bad father.  Which makes me about 400x more grateful that she basically has Henry as her Other Dad.  Who does not suck as much.  Damn.

Mmmmm, Henry’s glasses make a return.

Vic’s “don’t shit where you eat” is pretty rich, considering her multi-year boner for her boss, and then actually getting together with him.  

I’m pretty ridiculously gone on Jacob.  He walks back in at the end the ep and my sad little heart just goes pitter patter.  I’d sort of forgotten that he doesn’t meet the blood-quantum requirements.

“Not cynical.  Just suspicious.”  No, no, suspicious aaand cynical.  You’re mighty good at multitasking on the shitty stuff, Walt.  The accusations he levels at Jacob are so utterly circumstantial, so completely without any shred of proof to back them up, but we’re still in the early days of the show, where we’ve seen him spin these “here’s what happened” things had seen them pan out, that the audience is inclined to believe him.  Walt also has a tendency to complicate things.

If Jacob was setting up dominoes behind the scenes, the convoluted mess that Walt postulates still doesn’t really make sense.  It would make more sense for Jacob to buy Malcolm’s debt in the hopes that he would possibly feel indebted or otherwise favourable towards him to not pass the blood-quantum resolution in the first place.  Arranging a convoluted murder to get himself a place on the council when there are clearly election anyway is just... not clean, not smart, and too liable to go wrong.  Jacob is careful and while he prefers delegating, a total wild card like Mika would be a huge risk for something that could blow up in his face so spectacularly.  Walt, you make no sense.  Como siempre.

This scene at the end with Branch and Cady reinforces my theory that Branch desperately wanted anything positive from Walt.  “He’ll get over it.”  “Yeah, with you.  You’re his daughter.  But me?”  And that’s kind of gutting for him.  So he squares up and off he goes.

“And I’m no quitter.”  No, you’re a drama llama.  Sheesh.

[purplesurveys]

1221

Are you mad at your best friend right now? I have absolutely no reason to be angry with Angela now and certainly not since our last petty childhood fight in like, 2009.

Do you know anybody with a pet snake? I used to know somebody, but she’s since gone off the radar and idek if her pet snake would still be alive at this point.

Do you buy your underwear in a pack or seperately? I can go either way.

Have you ever made fun of anybody and later became their friend? OMG yesss this was the entire background of my friendship with Sofie. Though I wouldn’t say I made fun of her...I just found her really annoying at first, and quite ditzy, too. Then something just clicked and worked out along the way and we ended up being best friends for quite some time until we went our separate ways shortly after college life started.

Is the lamp on in the room you're in? Yes; it’s one of my favorite pieces in my room.

Do you have a pair of shoes that you can only wear with one or two outfits? Nah, not really. I mostly own sneakers, which can go with most things casual.

Is there any drink that you absolutely MUST drink cold? Most drinks, honestly; but mainly, I like my coffee and water cold.

Did you sleep in past noon today? I don’t think I’ve ever done that. The latest I’ve woken up is probably a little over 10.

Did your grandma ever tell you about her love life? Neither of them have.

Have you ever painted anybody's nails aside from your own? Possibly, but I no longer recall it.

Anything exciting happening in the month of September? I don’t think so. There are couple of birthdays in the family, but we don’t have plans for those days yet.

Who is your last missed call from? Some media or blogger I ignored because I don’t take calls.

When was the last time you ate Frosted Flakes? I can’t remember...I don’t really eat cereal.

Did you ever NOT want a substitute in a certain class? Yeah, for classes I hated, like math.

Do you ever donate to the less fortunate? Not regularly. When a homeless person or street child knocks on my car while waiting in traffic I do try to give them some money and/or snack, if I have one in my bag.

Did you buy an American flag after 9/11 to put on your car/house/ whatever? I was barely conscious in 2001. I am also not American.

Do you know any songs that are older than you are? ...Many?

Are there framed pictures of you anywhere in your house? Yeah we have some framed photos going up the staircase. I also have my Prep graduation portrait up in my room.

Compared to other people of your age would you be considered 'NORMAL'? Ugh.

Honestly, do you have any Hilary Duff on your MP3 player? I don’t have an MP3 player but I don’t think I ever had Hilary Duff on any of my music players.

Who is worst in your family about calling people back? Probably Nina as she hates making calls to begin with.

Do you like peanut M&M's? Nah, I hate nuts in my chocolate.

When was the last time you had an ice cream sandwich? Safe to say well over a year ago. It’s not my snack of choice haha I never understood why I had to bite into my ice cream.

When was the last time you ate jelly beans? August 2019.

When was the last time you had hot chocolate? Around a month ago, I’d say? My mom fixes me a mug of hot choco every once in a while.

Have you ever caught a friend cheating on their bf/gf? I haven’t.

What was the last song stuck in your head? I think it had been Rain by BTS.

Do you enjoy doing math? If I know how the math works and have the formulas memorized, I can definitely find it fun. Math had actually been pretty manageable for me in school, at least right until we reached trig and calc which were just bleck.

Do you think your mom has secrets she’s never told you? Oh without a doubt. I’m 200% sure everyone in the family has secrets we never share; we’re not open with each other.

Do you own anything you don’t want your parents to know about? Yes.

Do you pose in your pictures or just smile? I will pose if I’m comfortable but most of the time I just smile.

Are there any colors you will NOT wear? I avoid orange as much as possible.

Do you use scented soap in the shower? Nah, just a normal-scented one.

Did you ever want to be a fashion designer? That was never part of my plans, no. 

Who was the last person you danced with? Enjoyable? Angela and Hans. I was drunk, so yes I had fun lol.

Do you like convertibles? I don’t really care for them, or for cars in general.

Have you ever yelled at the television? So many times, usually when a favorite singer or band is performing OR when I’m watching a really intense sports game - usually basketball or wrestling.

How many songs on your MP3 player are about sex? -

Do you like water parks? I think they are nasty for the most part.

Dark or light colored jeans? Light.

Can you take apart a computer and name all the parts? Nope.

Can you take apart a car and name all the parts? Even more so no.

Would your friends describe you as nerdy? I don’t think they would.

How many different colors are you wearing right now? Five.

Have you ever purchased a lotto ticket? Nope.

--

Are you double-jointed anywhere? I am not.

What is the longest amount of time you've spent playing Monopoly? You know, I’ve never even understood the rules of Monopoly...I’ve never bothered to play a round of it. Board games are usually too complicated for me lol.

Have you ever witnessed a tornado first-hand? Not a tornado, no. But I’ve experienced countless hurricanes and floods.

Did you play in the sand box as a kid? It was my favorite part of the playground and I was always exclusively found in a sandbox. I liked the texture (still do) + no one was ever there, so as a shy kid it worked out perfectly for me.

How about on the monkey bars? I tried it every now and then but I wasn’t a very active kid, so my arms would feel strained fairly quickly. It was never the first thing I’d run to whenever I got to go to the playground.

Have you ever made an alarm go off? I don’t think so.

Have you ever colored your eyebrows? Nope.

Did you ever own a pop-up book? Many of them, as a kid.

Have you ever honked at a biker? Yes but only whenever they swerve a little bit and are about to hit my car.

Have you ever taken another person's prescribed medication? No?

Have you ever played golf (not miniature golf)? No, I’ve played neither version. The sport doesn’t interest me.

Do you use gel in your hair? Only for formal events where I can’t afford to show up with my hair all frizzy.

Do you own a garden gnome? We don’t.

Are any of the rooms in your house painted blue? Nope, they’re all white. My parents’ room used to be green (came with the house), but it looked gross so it didn’t take long before they hired someone to paint the walls white.

Do you kick off your shoes as soon as you walk in the door? Yes. Actually, since the start of COVID, we’ve taken to removing our shoes even before we enter. We have a mat right by the front door where we can properly take off our shoes and head inside already barefoot.

Have you ever judged a book by its cover? Sometimes, but I don’t let it linger.

What is the most effective device at the gym? I don’t go to the gym.

Can you drive a stick shift? Hahahaha no, and I’m not so sure I’m ever willing to learn.

Have you ever picked on a substitute teacher? That’s mean and no, I haven’t.

How good are you at giving directions? Terrible. As much as possible I don’t do it and just refer the person asking to my nearest friend/companion.

When was the last time you looked out the window nearest you? Just a few minutes ago, actually. I put an arm out to check if it’s chilly outside since it rained all day today.

Have you ever got dressed with the windows open? Never. I make sure to pull down my blinds every time.

Have you ever given a foot massage? No.

Do public restrooms freak you out? They don’t freak me out per se but like I rarely go into them and use them, even before Covid. The idea of sharing a toilet with strangers is super gross lol and many of them don’t even put away their trash properly.

Have you ever taken a shower outside? I may have, but nothing sticks out.

Have you ever been to a junkyard? I don’t think so.

What do you think of Brad Pitt? I don’t really have an opinion...I loved his episode on Friends, but that’s it.

Have you ever watched the History Channel willingly? Yes, a few times.

Have you ever used pennies to pay for something that cost over 50 cents? I don’t speak US currency, but yeah there’ve been around 1-2 times I had to pay for something worth P50 with just coins. It’s always been embarrassing lol so I try to avoid it and be prepared with paper bills as much as I can.

If a place makes you pay for delivery - do you still tip the driver? Yes.

Without the aid of a cell phone - do you know your parents numbers by heart? Just my mom’s. Since my dad is always in and out of the country (at least until the pandemic), I’ve never gotten to memorize his number.

Can you name 10 former presidents? Arroyo, Macapagal, Aquino, another Aquino, Estrada, Ramos, Magsaysay, Quirino, Quezon, Roxas.

But if we’re talking about US presidents...Obama, Trump, Clinton, Roosevelt, another Roosevelt I believe, Nixon, Reagan, Carter, Lincoln, Washington. I hope I got them right hahaha.

Have you ever bought a gift for a teacher? Just as a kid.

Is your bedroom carpeted? Nope.

Right now, what color is your tongue? Pink.

When was the last time you had a Tootsie Pop? Years ago. I don’t have it a lot.

If you could get the cell phone of your choice - what would it be? iPhone 12 Pro Max.

Who is your favorite super hero? I don’t have any.

How about your favorite villain? I don’t really have any, either.

Do you know anybody who works at a bank? Possibly, but I can’t place a name right now.

What do you usually order from your favorite fast food place? That would be KFC, and I usually order either their Zinger or Twister. FUCK now I want to get KFC :((

Do you hand out candy to kids on Halloween? No, because none of them ever reach this part of the village. We never have to prepare any candy lol.

What perfume/cologne do you wear the most? Heat Rush.

Can you name all 7 dwarfs? I always miss out on one or two.

Does the early bird really catch the worm? Idk what this expression is.

[naireides]

Bellarke + forehead kisses sfw pls

it’s been 10 months and i’m sorry so pls enjoy this 5k fluff fest as i grovel for forgiveness.

5 times bellamy kisses clarke’s forehead + 1 time he doesn’t

read on ao3

(i) 

Earth, he’s beginning to realise, is a bitch of a planet.

Everything on it tries to kill them. Sure, they were taught that the earth is a sometimes dangerous place back in Earth Skills on the Ark, but there’s a difference between reading about unfavourable weather conditions and getting nailed in the head by a golf ball sized piece of hail. Or trying to avoid being eaten by animals. And plants. Because apparently even the goddamn plants have evolved to crave the taste of human flesh on this hellscape. Bellamy hates it. All of it.

“I think if we ration our tubers and limit meat to twice a week, we should be able to make it through the winter,” Clarke says, nibbling absentmindedly on a hangnail as she looks over their inventory list. “Assuming winter is fourteen weeks at most.”

“I wouldn’t want to assume anything if I were you,” Bellamy says darkly, thinking off all the ways the earth could once again screw them over.

They’re in his tent, looking over supply numbers as they try to hash out just what they might need to stay alive for this winter, their very first one on earth. They’ve been at it for hours, the sun long having set, and they’re forced to work by candlelight. Bellamy finds himself squinting at Clarke’s carefully made lists and calculations.

She sighs, rubbing at her neck. “I hate all of this uncertainty. All of our books on climate and weather patterns are from over a hundred years ago, and that’s before a nuclear armageddon happened.”

Clarke looks defeated for the first time since they’ve started all this and Bellamy, despite himself, feels sorry for her. They’re not friends, not really, but they are co leaders and he depends on her like no other. So to see her like this, head hung long and purple bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep, worries him.

She’s worn herself thin trying to take care of all their people, him too, but Bellamy is a bit more adept at hiding it than she is. Sure, he’s exhausted and anyone who cares to study his face for two seconds might see a hint of it shining through, but Clarke looks like someone has wrung her dry.

“How many hunting trips do you have scheduled between now and when you think we should close the gates?” he asks.

“three a week. Why?”

“If we bump it up to every other day we should be able to collect some more meat. Maybe start laying some more traps a bit further out,” he tells her, looking over their weathered map that’s spread across his table. “Also maybe go back to the bunk and check out its surroundings when we’re not high.”

She worries her lip, glancing back down at their notes. “Maybe. But then we’d have to rework the hunting groups so no one gets too burnt out.”

“I think they’ll be fine upping from once a week to twice a week, princess,” he says and she rolls her eyes at him.

“I’m just saying. If they’re tired, they’ll make more mistakes. And if they make more mistakes then that’s more work for me.”

“A little work won’t kill you, princess,” he teases and she kicks him, biting back a smile.

“You’re such a dick,” she says, but there’s no heat behind it and it’s quickly followed by a yawn that she tries and fails to muffle.

“Go get some rest Clarke,” he says, pressing his shoulder into hers. “I can handle remaking the groups by myself. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she promises, even after she tries to smother another yawn. “I don’t want to leave you to do all the work on your own.”

Bellamy just rolls his eyes and let’s her stay because he’s long learnt that Clarke Griffin is stubborn. Sometimes he has to pick his battles and fighting with her about going to bed when they’re both tired is a battle he’d gladly let her win.

Of course, he’s ultimately proven right when, just half an hour later, she’s asleep, head pillowed on her bicep and mouth open a little bit as she snores softly.

It doesn’t take long to redo the groups and he was looking forward to collapsing in bed when all of this was over, but now he has Clarke to deal with. He could wake her up and send her off to her own tent, but he saw the bags under her eyes, he knows just how tired she is and he can’t find it in himself to wake her up, not when she’s looking all peaceful like that.

So instead Bellamy sighs and scoops her up in his arms and deposits her in his own bed because despite everything, he’s a good guy and chivalry’s not dead, not yet anyway.

It’s a testament to how exhausted she is that she doesn’t even grumble when he lifts her up. He pulls off her shoes and hesitates for a second before taking off her outer jacket, and then tucks her into his bed, brushing a quick kiss against her forehead as he goes.

He doesn’t realise what he did until he’s turned away, halfway through with getting undressed himself, when he freezes.

Back on the Ark, Octavia used to have a habit of falling asleep everywhere and Bellamy would be the one to pick her up and tuck her into his bed, always pressing a kiss to the centre of her forehead in goodnight. It was just a habit.

He glances over his shoulder at Clarke, who was still fast asleep and it makes him relax, just a little.

It’s late and he’s tired and he chalks it up to muscle memory. It doesn’t mean anything.

He keeps telling himself this as he settles on the hard packed dirt floor with nothing but a single blanket while Clarke hogs the bed up top.

It doesn’t mean anything.

-

(ii) 

The day that the last of the snow thaws, they decide to have a party.

Or rather, it’s Monty and Jasper’s idea to have a party. He doesn’t know how, but they managed to brew an entirely new vat of moonshine during the winter and they were more than excited to introduce it to the crowds tonight. The prospect of new booze alone was enough to get almost the entire camp to agree with them and Bellamy and Clarke found themselves outnumbered.

“It’s a goddamn mutiny,” he grumbles as he watches them set up, hacking at firewood and making several trips to the river to get enough drinking water. There was even talk of a foraging group heading out to find whatever nuts and berries they could scrounge up and Clarke put a stop to that quickly, reminding them that all groups to leave the camp walls had to be approved by either her or Bellamy.

“I don’t know, maybe it might be fun,” she says, standing next to him at the door to the Dropship. “Everyone’s been cooped up indoors for months on end, this could be a little community boosting morale.”

He sniffs, not quite agreeing with her. “I hope you remember that when you have to deal with those drunk bastards injuring themselves later tonight.”

Of course, it would be just his luck that a few hours after saying that, he turns out to be one of those drunk bastards himself.

Bellamy’s not really a huge drinker.

He’d had a drink ever so often of course, because really, sometimes in order to survive this bitch of an earth you need a fucking drink, but he’s always considered himself a social drinker. Most of the time he’s sat with Clarke, nursing a cup of moonshine as they work out schedules or just talk about their days while she cleans the medbay or he checks all the guns. He’d even consider them to be friends now because of that if he was being honest.

Still, whether it was him and Clarke, or just shooting the shit with the boys around the fire, Bellamy usually limits himself to one, maybe two cups of Monty’s special brew and makes sure that he doesn’t have anything more than a slight buzz.

Today of course is another story.

He blames Monty’s moonshine for this.

The winter batch had tasted good. Too good. It was leagues better than all of the previous batches, smoother, and tasted vaguely like berries, and Bellamy found himself playing goddamn drinking games with the thing. Before he knew it he was at least five cups in and when he went to grab his knife to cut something in two, it slipped out of his grasp and he caught it by wrapping his fist around the blade, realising belatedly that that probably wasn’t the best idea.

“I cannot believe you sliced your palm open with your hunting knife,” Clarke huffs, bending over his palm to clean it.

“‘S an accident,” he mumbles, glaring at a spot on the wall, trying not to wince as she douses it with antiseptic.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“How come you’re not out there? Having fun?” he asks, squinting at her. All the alcohol is making his brain weird and his eyes go crisscross, the harsh fluorescent lighting of the dropship suddenly surrounding her like a halo.

Not a princess, his drunk addled brain thinks as he looks at her, an angel.

Bellamy’s too caught up with his thoughts that he realises that she’s remaining remarkably quiet as tends to his wound.

“Clarke?” he prompts, and she jumps, a flush appearing high on her cheeks.

“Oh! Uh, sorry, I zoned out for a sec there,” she says, not meeting his eye. “I don’t know… I guess I just wasn’t feeling up to it.”

Bellamy might be drunk, but he still knows how to spot a lie.

“Really.”

“Mhmm.”

“You sure you don’t wanna try that again? Make it a little more believable this time?”

Clarke sighs, grabbing the bandages from a nearby shelf. “Look, Bellamy, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

He’s not sure he wants to drop it, not when something is very clearly bothering her, but then she looks up at him with those large pleading eyes and all his resolve just crumbles away, and he finds himself bending to her will.

“Fine,” he sighs, holding his palm steady so she could wrap the bandages around it. “But you know that you can talk to me, right? About anything?”

It gets a small smile out of her. “Yeah, Bell, I know,” she says, tying off the end. “There. Good to go.”

He jumps off the stool, landing toe to toe with her, wobbling a bit as he goes. He doesn’t pay attention to the way her breath catches when he suddenly invades her space, too busy frowning at the way his limbs don’t seem to want to cooperate.

When his arms finally start back listening to him, Bellamy cups the back of her head and drops a sloppy kiss to her forehead.

“Thanks, princess,” he says when he pulls back, leaving her shell shocked and standing in the middle of the med bay.

By the time his brain realises what has just happened, he’s already halfway across the campground, almost near to the large bonfire that they have going. He glances back in the direction of the dropship and he sees her standing at the entrance, looking out at the crowd, and if Bellamy squints, he could just make out the pretty blush that stains her cheeks, the one that’s not caused by the cold.

-

(iii) 

Two years on the ground and death never gets easier.

He gets the news from Monty who hears it from Harper and he drops everything to go over to Clarke’s tent and check up on her.

It’s dark inside and he almost misses her, nothing but a shapeless lump underneath all the blankets, but then she sniffles and his heartbreaks.

“Hey princess,” he says sadly as he toes off his boots, crawling into bed with her. Clarke rolls into him almost immediately, a choked sob escaping past her lips as she buries her face in the crook of his neck and he drops a kiss on her temple. “I had what happened with Jack and Elise. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Jack and Elise weren’t the first couple to get pregnant on the ground, but they were the first complicated pregnancy that Clarke had to deal with, everything from preeclampsia to placental abruption.

“I couldn’t do anything,” she sniffs, curling closer to him. “The baby… she was too early. Her lungs weren’t fully developed and she couldn’t breath and I–”

Bellamy just holds her as she starts to cry again, his face pressed to the crown of her head as he whispered unheard platitudes.

It’s times like this he feels so helpless with Clarke, because nothing that he could say or do would reverse the trauma she had to go through. And it hurts that all he’s able to do for her is this, just holding her while she breaks down, but he wouldn’t be anywhere else.

“Jack begged me to keep going,” she says after some time, when she calms down a little. “He told me to keep going but there wasn’t anything that I could do. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to look at them after this.”

“Clarke,” he murmurs, wiping away the tears from her cheeks. “It’s not your fault. You can’t save everyone.”

“I know,” she sighs, his t-shirt clutched in her clenched fist. “It just– It sucks you know? To be useless like that.”

“You’re not useless.”

“I feel useless.”

“Clarke Griffin, you are one of the bravest, smartest, most compassionate people I know,” he tells her. “You helped me run a camp full of teenagers, hell, you still help me try and build us a fucking society out of nothing except some sticks and mud. You run a medbay despite having almost no formal training and yet almost all of us are still alive.”

She sniffs again and he looks her directly in the eye as he says, “You’re an amazing woman, Clarke Griffin, and don’t you forget it.”

Even in the dark he can see the way her skin pinks at the compliment and she drops her gaze even as she cuddles closer to him.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Anytime.”

The hand curled around his t-shirt on his chest tightens a little and she says, “Will you stay with me?”

He drops a quick kiss to her forehead. “For as long as you want me.”

-

(iv) 

Bellamy’s not sure when the forehead kisses become a normal thing between them, but he’s not questioning it.

It’s comforting he thinks, to have someone like that in your life.Bellamy kisses her forehead when she does things like bring him lunch to share in the guard quarters or get him a new book whenever they find a new bunker.

She’s started kissing his cheek too, whenever she feels like it. When he comes back from a two day long hunting trip, when he finds those daisies she likes growing by the river bank so he brings her back a cluster, when it’s late and they’re working on the layout of their little community.

The third winter they spend on the ground brings a snowstorm, damaging some tents, including Clarke’s, so she moves in with Bellamy.

It’s only logical really.

They spend most of their free time together anyway, and Clarke doesn’t even ask, just brings a box of her stuff over to his tent and tells him that she’s staying here now.

They’ve always taken care of each other but now, living together like this, it takes on a new layer of intimacy.

They share his bed so he makes sure that there are hot stones underneath it at night to keep them warm. Clarke does his laundry with hers and makes sure to always bring back a clean bucket of river water for them to sponge off with. He darns all the holes in her socks and she makes sure to bring his dinner to the tent if he has a late shift.

Bellamy gets to wake up with Clarke in the morning and go to bed with her at night. She gets to see his body, to catalogue all of his scars– most of which she stitched up– and he’s the one she gives her first ever tattoo to when they’re both a little drunk and giggly one night.

He presses a kiss to her forehead every morning before she leaves and if he’s there when she comes home, she greets him with a peck on the cheek.

Bellamy doesn’t really know when he fell in love with Clarke Griffin. It wasn’t immediate or some sort of life changing experience, instead it was a gentle and slow descent over early morning tea and late night disputes over scheduling. It was the slow building of a puzzle, pieces falling into place at their own speed and when it was done, it left a masterpiece behind.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he knows that it was when they started living together that he realised. That the sudden surge of warmth and affection in his chest whenever he saw her was because of that.

Clarke loves him too, he thinks. He can tell she does by the way she traces his freckles in the mornings, outlining a new picture everyday. She loves him when she steals extra strawberries from the kitchens because she knows those are his favourite fruit. She loves him when she packs his hunting bag, slipping in an extra packet of rations and a first aid kit because he always forgets to look out for himself.

He loves Clarke and Clarke loves him, and even though they haven’t said it, actions speak louder than words, and they’re more than content to keep living just like that.

And then, one morning when he leans in to give her her customary forehead kiss for the day, she lifts her head at the exact same time and he ends up kissing her on the mouth.

It’s brief and chaste and dry, and they both freeze when they realise what’s happened, but Bellamy isn’t scared and neither is Clarke.

Instead, she smiles at him, big and toothy, and loops an arm around his neck to kiss him properly and Bellamy lets her, one hand cupping her jaw and the other on her waist.

He lets her kiss him and lets himself kiss back because, after years of fighting on the ground, all the pain and sorrow and hurt that came with it, they’ve earned this one right to be selfish, to do something that makes them happy without worrying about anyone else.

And Clarke Griffin makes him pretty damn happy.

-

(v) 

Clarke has been acting weird lately.

Bellamy doesn’t notice it right away, but it steadily creeps up on him, the way she seems so tired lately, not eating much and shying away from his touch.

They’ve been together for just over a year now and he was building them a cabin, finally. They were still one of the few who were living in tents which, honestly he didn’t mind. At first other things needed building, like a proper medbay and kitchen area, and as a group of kids who weren’t skilled in construction, it took them almost a year to get that done. Once they figured it out they started building cabins and little cottages, each one taking somewhere between a month to two months to complete, depending on the weather and the availability of resources.

Bellamy’s never really been in a rush to get a cabin. In his mind there were other people who deserved it more, like those with kids and babies. But, after being on the ground for about four years now and most of their population settled quietly, he figures it’s time to build his own.

Clarke was ecstatic of course, drawing out several blueprints and floor plans for him to follow and he couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm to help build a place to call their own.

Now though she seems more like a ghost than anything else, offering up no comments or suggestions about where to put the windows and how big she wants the kitchen.

“You okay?” Bellamy asks one day while he’s working on the roof. She’s supposed to be passing him nails but more than once already he’s had to call her name several times just to get her attention. “You seem off.”

“Huh? Oh no, I’m fine,” she waves him off with a careful smile. “Just feeling a little bit under the weather. Probably something I ate.”

Bellamy bites his tongue to keep from reminding her that they share almost all their meals together and if something affected her, it would have probably affected him too.

But he lets her keep her secrets, knowing the more he pushed, the more she would clam up, leading to an argument between them.

So instead he just shrugs and says, “Hand me that pair of pliers,” dropping the subject.

Of course, he ends up picking it back up again merely a week later when he shows up for lunch at the medbay and Harper tells him that Clarke was sent home early because she threw up.

“Clarke what the fuck,” he announces as he stomps into their tent just five minutes later.

She’s sitting cross legged on their bed eating some fruit and she winces when he comes in.

“Hey Bellamy,” she sighs, sounding resigned.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I must have just eaten–”

“Bullshit,” he snaps, cutting her off.

She lifts an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I said that’s bullshit.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at her. To anyone else he would look intimidating but Clarke just rolls her eyes at his antics. “You and I eat the same thing all the time and I’m fine so you can cut the crap about ‘oh I probably ate something.’ You’ve been like this for weeks.”

“Look it’s nothing okay, I’m dealing with it.”

“Are you saying there’s something to deal with?” he asks, leveling her with a hard glare. “Are you sick, princess?”

“No, I’m not sick,” she says in a small voice struggling to meet his eye and he takes a few steps forward, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Then what’s going on, babe? Something’s clearly wrong and I wish you’d just talk to me about it,” he says softly, rubbing little circles into the tight muscles he finds there. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Clarke leans into his touch, shuddering a little as she takes a deep breath.

“I haven’t gotten my period in two months,” she blurts out, “At first I didn’t really take it on because my cycles never really been regular on the ground, but then I started feeling really tired all the time and nauseous no matter what I ate and my boobs hurt and I– I think I might be pregnant?”

She phrases it as a question, biting down on her lip as she looks up at him and well, Bellamy–

“Pregnant?” he says, voice coming out all choked up.

“I haven’t done a test as yet but. Probably?” 

He collapses onto the bed next to her and scrubs a hand down his face. All of this doesn’t feel entirely real to him, it can’t be real, he can’t be so lucky to fall in love with someone as perfect as Clarke Griffin, to start a family with her. It all just feels like a dream that he’s going to wake up from at any given moment.

Of course, all of that comes to a grinding halt when he realises that this is his dream, and Clarke has been remarkably quiet since she told him all of this.

He swallows.

“Do you, um, do you want to keep the baby?” he asks, looking over at her.

Her brow furrows. “Do you want me to keep the baby?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want, princess,” he says with a rueful smile, “You’re the one who’ll have to grow a whole new human and give birth to it in nine months.”

She’s quiet for a good while.

Bellamy tries to keep his face completely blank as she thinks it over, trying not to show just how nervous he felt, just how fast his heart is beating as she silently debates with herself. It’s a big decision to make and although he knows which outcome he wants, he also knows that at the end of the day, Clarke is what he wants first and foremost.

“Maybe seven actually,” she says quietly after a while, playing with the torn hem of her shirt. “Since I missed two periods already then it could be seven months left.”

Seven months.

In just over half a year they could have a baby, a small little thing that maybe has his hair and her eyes if they’re lucky, a small little thing that’s just theirs.

He has to try very hard to keep from smiling.

“Do you think it’s too soon?” she asks, finally looking back at him with glassy eyes. “I mean, we’ve only been together for a year. Do you really want to have a baby with me?”

“Clarke Griffin,” he says, quiet, solemn, as he gently thumbs her bottom lip from where she was anxiously biting down on it, “I want to have all the babies with you, if you’d let me.”

It gets a giggle out of her and he grins back, both of their eyes suddenly watery, and she laughs again, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Bell, we’re having a baby,” she says giddily, hugging him tight. He can feel the wetness from her tears leaking through his t-shirt but he can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s also crying a little bit too.

He presses a sloppy kiss to her forehead, a little off centre, but still enough to make her laugh even more, even as she sniffles a bit.

“Yeah, Clarke, we’re having a baby.”

-

(+i) 

Bellamy doesn’t think he’s ever been as scared in his life as the day Clarke goes into labour.

It’s winter time, one of the coldest days yet, and her water bursts early in the morning, sending them both scrambling.

She’s in labour for thirty fucking hours, first making him walk with her at least fifty times around their little community to get the contractions going, and then crushing all the bones in his hand when it’s finally time to push.

It’s simultaneously the scariest and most awe-inspiring thing he’s ever seen, and god, he knows that Clarke is tough as shit, but this is next level, and he’s fairly certain that he’s never been more in love with her than in this moment.

She gives one last push and collapses against him all sweaty and tired with tear tracks down her cheeks, but all of that doesn’t matter, not when Harper is holding a slimy red shrieking thing and then Clarke starts to cry too.

“Bell, Bell look,” she blubbers as she holds their baby to her chest, acting as though he’s been doing anything but looking ever since she entered the world. “Look at her. Look at our baby.”

“I see her, princess,” he manages to choke out, still staring in awe at their daughter. His hand is shaking as he reaches over to run a finger down her cheek. She’s stopped crying, just snuffling lightly against Clarke’s chest and he can’t believe that this is real, that she is real. “She’s perfect.”

Clarke somehow finds the energy to flash a weary smirk at him, “Of course she’s perfect. She’s ours.”

He can’t help but laugh and lean across to kiss her, hard and bit messy and perhaps a bit too intense for the delivery room of their little medbay, but Bellamy doesn’t care, not when Clarke, his gorgeous, strong, amazing Clarke, just gave birth to their baby.

“I love you,” he tells her, their foreheads pressed together, “So much.”

“I love you too,” she replies, flashing him that soft smile, the one that’s reserved just for him and now their daughter, and she cups his cheek.

Later, when all of their guests and wellwishers have finally left, and Clarke is asleep, getting some well deserved rest, Bellamy is left holding their baby.

He held her earlier of course, but it still doesn’t feel quite real as yet, standing by the window in their bedroom and looking out at the night sky with his daughter safely in his arms.

They named her Julia, after something Clarke read in a book once. Bellamy just thought the name was pretty.

Julia is awake, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes. She has his colouring, all dark hair and dark eyes and tanned skin, but her face is undeniably Clarke’s. It’s like she’s a perfect mix of the two of them.

“When you get a little bit older, I’ll tell you about the stories that were written into the stars,” he whispers to her, “The greek ones and the romans ones and of course, the ones about your mom.” He glances over to where Clarke is sleeping, mouth agape and drooling slightly on his pillow, and he smiles. “She’s a pretty badass woman.”

Julia gurgles in response and he takes that as her agreement.

He stands there a while longer, gently bouncing her while humming an old song from the Ark under his breath until she falls asleep.

Just like her mother, Julia sleeps with her little mouth open, and it draws another smile from him.

Ever so gently, he brushes back the little patch of dark, downy hair that covers her head and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, taking care not to wake her before placing her in the cot. It’s right next to their bed, next to Clarke, and for a moment he just stares at them, his two girls, his chest feeling tight with emotion.

He never thought he’d get something like this, a family of his own, but he does and now, lying next to the woman he loves while their daughter sleeps only a few feet away, well, he doesn’t think much more could top that.

[nctzendreamz]

Crazy, Rich, and They Hate Me :: Part Five

Jaehyun x Reader ft NCT

Angst/Fluff

It was officially bachelorette party time, and as much as you didn’t want to be invited, here you were. You were pretty silent as you and Jaehyun sat on a golf cart; you nervous that you were about to be alone with strangers, and him nervous for you. Let’s not forget the elephant in the room that was his mother, who clearly didn’t like you.

Your eyes rested on the beautiful scenery of the ocean, allowing it to calm your nerves. You were able to blank out and just listen to the sound of the waves with your eyes closed. Suddenly, you felt a hand slowly grab yours, rubbing your knuckles. You snapped out of your trance slightly, looking at your boyfriend. He also seemed to be in a trance, but not at the scenery. At you.

[[MORE]]

“You okay?” You whispered, knowing you weren’t mad at him. If anything you were mad at yourself. Clearly you weren’t good enough or his mother would’ve been pleased.

He didn’t speak, but instead pecked your cheek gently, and then pecked your lips. “I’m always okay when I’m with you.”

“I’m nervous.” You avowed. “It’s going to be weird without you.”

“Don’t be. Just show them how amazing you are. Plus, Rosé will be there for you.”

“It’s her bachelorette party, Jae.” You giggled while pinching his cheek. “She’s going to be focused on her friends.”

“I’m so sorr-

You kissed him quickly to calm his concerns. “Baby, I’m just being dramatic. I will be okay, I promise. Just focus on making this Johnny’s best day and have fun. Not too much fun though.” You connected your lips again.

His laugh echoed and made your lips vibrate as the cart slowed, indicating you had arrived at your destination. “You know I’ll always be a good boy for you.” He whispered, peppering kisses all over your face.

“Okay lovebirds.” Johnny’s loud voice yelled, interrupting your flirting. “I promise I’ll bring him back safely.” His pearly whites blinded you.

“Thank you Johnny~” You smiled back brightly.

Jaehyun pressed his forehead to yours in childish annoyance before kissing you once more and allowing Johnny to drag him out. He winked at you, letting it tell you he loved you before he dissapeared around the corner.

Now it was just you, and your brain didn’t know what to do. Should you try to talk to someone? Were you even capable of that? You grabbed the beach bag that sat on the back of the golf cart, placing it on your shoulder.

“That is such a cute bag.” A light voice said, carressing it gently.

When you looked up, you were met with an extremely beautiful girl. Her skin glowing even though the sunlight was not currently shining in the area. Her smile was perfect, and her hair was long. “Thank you.” You were just happy that someone was talking to you. That was more than you thought you would get. “You are absolutely goregeous.”

“Well, I can say the same for you.” There was a short silence before she spoke again. “Yuna.” She smirked, placing her hand out to shake. “And you’re the famous Y/N? Right?”

“That’s me.” You said in an awkward tone. “Am I really the talk of the town these days?” You sighed.

“Don’t look at it as a bad thing, darling.” She tapped your chin. “Enjoy the spotlight.”

All you could do was laugh, following her lead to the rest of the girls. You didn’t know what you were doing today, but you were sure it would be lavish considering your boyfriend was on his way to a yacht party.

..................

Music was blasting, girls were everywhere, and Jaehyun was currently watching his cousins take multiple shots.

“You guys sure are drinking a lot.” He commented slyly as he watched the groom to be take a shot as well.

“Oh don’t get all uppity on us now, Jung Jaehyun.” Lucas slurred. “Let’s not pretend you didn’t get drunk basically every night and hook up with any girl you saw when you were at university.”

Jaehyun gasped in fake offense.

“I can confirm being drunk every night was true, but Jaehyun could never hook up with any girls.” Johnny laughed.

“So he’s been a nerd all his life.” Haechan snorted, causing everyone to burst out into laughter.

Yuta fought to catch his breath. “First of all, nerds get pussy, not Jaehyun, but you know.”

“It wasn’t because of that.” Johnny corrected. “It was just because Jaehyun is all romantic and stuff. He was trying to love them, not take their innocence.”

Everyone pouted in a plastic manner minus Taeyong, laughing once again.

Haechan placed a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “How cute. Speaking of, Y/N is really cute.”

“Hell yeah.” Lucas raved. “How did you end up getting to hit that? Is it good?”

“Hey.” Jaehyun spoke up, eyeing the younger one deeply. “Watch your mouth.”

“Yeah Lucas, maybe you’ve reached your limit.” Johnny defended, taking his drink and finishing it for him.

“What?”

“Clearly Y/N isn’t a random hookup, dumbass.” Taeyong spoke.

“I didn’t say she was, I just asked what we all wanted to know.”

“While we do want an answer to that question, I think the real question is how does your mom feel about her?”

“Why would my mom feel any way about her?”

“Uh, everyone has looked Y/N up and you know what comes up? Nothing.” Haechan said.

“And?”

“And, you already know how this family works. I mean I brought home the daughter of the richest hotel owner in South Korea; he owns a share if not full of literally every single one minus like ten, and my parents were barely impressed. What does Y/N do?”

“She’s a hairstylist.” Jaehyun trailed off.

Lucas spit out his drink. “A what?”

“He didn’t stutter.” Taeyong said.

“What is your problem, Taeyong?”

“My problem is the fact that all this family does is judge other people instead of worrying about themselves.”

“You’re only saying that because your family doesn’t approve of you making video games.”

“Fuck you.”

“Look, Taeyong literally sits in cash, so let’s not hate on him.” Yuta interrupted before things got serious. “But I’m serious, Jaehyun. I don’t believe this girl is using you for money or anything, but how are you going to run your dads company while she sits at home and barely makes enough to provide?”

“I can provide for her. Why are you acting like we’re not the richest family in this country?”

“It’s not about that and you know it. Our mother’s hate a woman who isn’t swimming in cash and you know that. And if she just doesn’t work? Phew.”

Johnny could see his cousins frustration, and knew he had enough of this conversation. “Guys, let’s not forget that it’s one of my last days as a free man. Plus, I like Y/N. She’s a lot cooler than any of the girls you’ve brought home.”

“Yeah whatever.” Lucas sighed. “With that body, I would be struggling to leave her too.”

Jaehyun was up as soon as the words left his mouth, and Johnny struggled to hold him back. “Alright, that’s enough let’s go!”

“No! Let me go.”

“It’s not worth it, Jae.” Johnny whispered. Suddenly he realized he needed to calm down and leave. The two of them went to another area.

“Fucking idiot.” Taeyong scoffed at Lucas, getting up to go back to the bar.

.........................

The big surprise was a free shopping spree and a full spa day, curtesy of Johnny’s mom. By the time you got to the rack, a lot of the good things were gone, but you still picked up a nice dress. After you placed your dress on your temporary bed, you prepared yourself for a massage. You spotted Yuna and her friends already getting theirs, so you figured you could take the table beside hers.

There was a weird silence when you showed up, but you figured it was your brain playing tricks on you. As you laid down for your massage, you wanted to try and be more social. “So, did you get anything good off the rack?”

“That rack is incomparable to my suitcase, girl.” She laughed, turning her head to look at you.

“Well I can’t relate.” You laughed with her, already feeling the ice break.

“It’s okay. Not everyone can be a fashionista. You have your own style and it’s cool.”

“Thank you.” You said sincerely. “I never asked you, who are you related to? Jaehyun or Rosé?”

She laughed again, this time differently. “I’m not related to either one of them. I’ve known Rosé since I was a little girl, but I’m actually more close to Jaehyun’s family as I am his ex girlfriend and all. God, that boy stole my heart. His parent even wanted us to get married.”

You froze in place, not knowing how to feel or what to say. Why did everyday get worse and worse? “Ex girlfriend?” Was all you could manage.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Really?”

“Not a lick.”

“Guess your relationship isn’t as good as ours was. He used to tell me everything. Literally even the smallest things.” She giggled as well as the rest of her friends before getting up and walking away.

You thought Jaehyun told you everything, but now you realized you were wrong. Now you had to deal with his wannabe meangirl for an ex girlfriend, and on top of that you were back to square one with nobody to talk to. How could you let her play you like that? Usually you could see a snake from a mile away. Damnit, all you wanted to do was call Jaehyun and vent to him, even though it was him you were mad at.

You decided it would be a good idea to lay down, try to calm down before the bonfire tonight since you couldn’t leave. You walked in your room with your eyes closed, horrified when you saw the bed covered in fake blood, with “broke bitch!” spray painted in red on the headboard to put the icing on the cake. Suddenly you heard the door opening, and Yuna, as well as her other bullies were laughing at you.

“Did you really think I wanted to be friends with you? A poor girl from Los Angeles that thinks she can keep Jung Jaehyun? Worse, thinks Jung Jaehyun will actually keep her? Biggest joke I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Get out.” You said taking deep breaths.

“Gladly.” Was all she said before leaving.

You closed your eyes, trying to remember every technique possible to not cry. Unfortunately tears rolled down your eyes, but you refused to let your chest cave. You wouldn’t let her get to you, nor would you leave. You were raised to be stronger than this.

You stayed in your room until it was time for the bonfire.

........................

The yacht party had ended, leaving everyone to go their separate ways minus Johnny and Jaehyun. The two of them sat on a wooden log bed that sat in the ocean as they watched the sunset together. It always felt better like this, and it was a bittersweet feeling as they both knew it would be the last time in a while. The orange and yellow made their skin shine, personifying the happiness they felt. Well Johnny felt. Jaehyun wanted to be happy, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to you.

“Remember when we used to do this all the time as kids?” Johnny questioned.

“Yeah.” Jaehyun chuckled. “We used to think we were pirates keeping watch of our country.”

“We were so cool.”

“The coolest.”

The two continued to overlook the wildlife, and Jaehyun took a swig of his beer.

“You’re not okay, are you?”

Jaehyun looked down at his toes, trying to find a good distraction from his thoughts. “I don’t think I am.”

“What’s bothering you?”

“We can’t do this, man.”

“Do what?”

“Talk about me. None of this is about me.”

“Seeing you this upset isn’t making me happy though, bro. If anything, knowing you talked to someone will make me feel a lot better. I know the guys said a lot of dumb things today.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, have you told her about the business yet? How are you going to work here, while she goes back to LA? Have you thought about it?”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I should just do what my parents want.” Jaehyun said, not even believing his mouth right now. He knew they weren’t right. He knew he couldn’t lose you.

“You don’t mean that.” Johnny corrected. “You’re just angry. You’re angry that they can’t accept her. You’re angry because you didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“Am I wrong for that though? Was it foolish of me? You can say I’m blinded by my love for her, but in reality what has she done? She’s been trying so hard to make everyone happy and come out of her shell just to be treated like less than by my own mother? The one person who’s approval matters the most to her?”

“I know.”

“She was so excited to come here with me Johnny. So excited. She couldn’t wait to meet you, and Rosé, and experience this country with me and I can’t even stand up to my own mother for her? What type of man am I?”

“You’re a man who loves his mother. Who doesn’t know who’s side to choose because on one hand, you have the woman that raised you, and two the woman you love. I know I can’t relate because Rosé was excepted into my family pretty easily, but I understand having to choose. It’s hard.”

“That’s the thing, Johnny. It’s not hard at all. I choose Y/N. I can’t imagine a life without her. I love her so much.” He whispered, touching his wrist until he found the beaded bracelet you made for him a while ago. It always helped him calm down.

“Enough to marry her?”

Jaehyun dug in his pocket, pulling out a velvet box and opening it, revealing the engagement ring he had purchased the first night you two arrived here.

“More than enough.”

The two of them stared at eachother before embracing one another in a tight hug.

“Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life. Ever.”

“I’m so happy for you. So happy.”

.....................

You sat on the beach, watching everyone enjoy themselves while you couldn’t wait to go back home. It was almost time, you could survive.

“You okay?” You heard Rosé say, her Aussie accent thick with concern.

“Perfect.” You whispered, your chin resting on your knees.

“I heard about what happened today in your room. I’m so sorry for that. I feel horrible.”

“Not your fault. I figured you didn’t know all fifty of us on a personal level.” You joked, getting a laugh out of her.

“Honestly, I’m pretty sure you’re my only friend here.” She confessed, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Well I won’t deny that I’m your friend.” You smiled. “But what makes you think that? I’m sure you have at least five people that truly love you. You’re so sweet.”

“Yeah, but what if I wasn’t me?” Her eyes were locked on the body of water. “You know? What if I was just a normal girl, no rich parents, not about to marry Johnny Suh, none of that.”

“You’re a normal girl even with those things. Anybody who tries to hold you to a higher expectation just because you come from a wealthy family doesn’t deserve to have you. It’s nothing wrong with being a normal person and doing normal people things like staying in bed all day, watching Netflix until you fall asleep, stuffing your face. And if you want to shop until you drop, wear expensive clothes, it doesn’t matter. Just be yourself. Don’t let anyone put you in a box and you damn sure better not let any of these girls make you feel like if you’re not bragging about your wealth, you’re not worth it. You’re better than that.” You rubbed her knee affectionately. “Plus, Johnny doesn’t love you for your status. I can see if in the way he looks at you.”

“Wow.” She sniffed, wiping a tear from her eye. “I see why Jaehyun is so in love with you.”

“I hope he is.”

“You think he isn’t?”

“I think he is, but I also think he isn’t thinking at all. He’s just living in the moment and I’m waiting for the day he drops me like the bad habit I am. I mean, if his own mother doesn’t like me, how is this going to work?”

“I think we’ve both had enough of this party.” She sighed, placing a head on your shoulder.

“Agreed.”

“You know Y/N, when all of this is said and done, I would love for us to still talk. I don’t want you to leave and I never see you again. It would also suck to lose such a good friend.”

“I promise if you will.” You stuck your pinkie out, and she latched on.

“You have my word.”

....................

You sat on the couch inside of the building where you were originally dropped off at, waiting for Jaehyun to come pick you up. Yesterday had been a long day, and all you wanted to do was sleep until it was time for the wedding. That was a lot of sleep, but you needed it. You tossed and turned all night. You felt something cold on your neck, and turned around to find the familiar face of your boyfriend looking at you with those beautiful eyes of his.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.” You whispered, wanting a kiss from him, but remembering you’re mad. You could see he noticed this, but still kissed you anyway, feeling your lips didn’t move.

He moved to sit on the couch with you. “What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Yuna?”

His eyebrows scrunched up, as they always did when he was nervous.

“I just...I don’t know. Was she there yesterday? Damnit.” He whispered to himself.

“She wasn’t just there.” You huffed. You took the smoothie, taking a long sip of it. Of course it was your favorite. He always knew what to do even when he didn’t know you were mad at him. “She made me feel so stupid, and to put the icing on the cake, she trashed my room. She put fake blood on the bed and called me a broke bitch.” You sighed resting your head on his shoulder.

“Are you serious?” You could hear the anger in his voice.

“I wish I wasn’t. Why am I not good enough, huh? What is it? I know I’m not rich, and I know I’m not up to the standards of anyone here but I love you. Shit.”

He couldn’t speak, trying to process everything he just heard. “I’m sorry.” He finally said. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Yuna. And I’m sorry about not telling you I was rich. And I’m sorry that you’ve hated every second of being here. This is not what I wanted at all. And you damn sure are the standard. I hate myself for doing this.”

“Hey.” Your voice was soft as you talked to him. “I know you didn’t mean it in a malicious way. I understand.”

“I just...” he rubbed the nape of your neck softly, encouraging you to drink some more of your smoothie. “Do you regret coming here with me? Do you regret being with me?”

“No, Jae.” Your eyes locked with his. “Mama didn’t raise no weak bitch.” That got a small smile out of him, but he was clearly upset. “Is it hard that your family sees me as the poor girl? Yes. Did it hurt to get treated how I was treated today? Absolutely. But I’d do it all over again if it meant I still had you at the end of the day.”

“Why are you so perfect?”

“Well, I’m with the closest definition of perfect pretty much everyday. Plus, that Yuna girl is jealous of me anyway. She’s a sad woman.”

“That doesn’t make it right. I promise I will handle her.” He kissed you again, this time you kissed him back. “What can I do to make it up to you, huh? I’ll do anything, you know that. A movie night? Fries with extra ketchup? Tell me and I’ll give it.

“You can tell me about you two. According to her, your parents wanted you two to get married.”

He rolled his eyes, bringing you closer to him. “I dated her when I was 21 years old. She was mean to everyone so I dumped her. Yes, my parents wanted me to marry her, but only because she’s rich. That’s all they care about.”

“So they don’t want you to marry me then I assume?”

“I don’t care what they think.”

“Did you just admit you want to marry me?”

Jaehyun stayed quiet, allowing his ears to shine red. “Guess you’ll have to stay and find out, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.” You kissed his neck. “Now back to what I actually want...is you. I just want to be with you as always. What do you want to do?” In reality you were so sleepy, but you could sacrifice.

“I actually have somewhere we can go.” He answered, rubbing your thigh gently.

“And where is that?”

“To go make dumplings with my grandma.”

You sighed in defeat, knowing you wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to socialize no matter how much you wanted to. You had to prove to everyone you loved Jaehyun, and if allowing his family to look at you like they despised you was what needed to be done, so be it.

“Lets go make some dumplings, baby.”

[ofravensandgenesis]

Meme Tag Games!

Thank you for all the lovely tags!! :D <3 This is quite belated but between some health happenings, the weather deciding to turn the thermostat way up (and the house AC went out), and other stuff, I got swamped for a while there. Here we are now though! :D Tagging anyone who wants to jump in on any of these, namely FC5 GFH tag game; OC Fighting Style; and WIP Day. Continued below the cut because this got long:

FC5 Guns For Hire Meme Game

Tagged by @chyrstis​ and @amistrio​ for the FC5 GFH meme, thank you for the tag!! :D <3 We have full length responses with some banter with the human GFH in particular here. I was kind of stumped with how to answer this for Joshua in what he might say as a GFH since his verse is very tailored for him being the Deputy and all the psychic shenanigans. Eventually I got over that and this is basically an AU where there’s another (unnamed here) Deputy who IS slated to be The Deputy that Joshua is trying to help (and convince to do less murder) to explain how he fits into a verse as a Gun For Hire. Psychic shenanigans still happen in this AU of an AU ofc, just it’s perhaps less prominent. We’re skipping over possible musings of relevant sidequests for Joshua relating to the Seeds in this for the sake of time, though I acknowledge that it’s something to explore, likely would impact the endgame with the Heralds, cult, and Joseph depending on the Deputy’s choices of doing a Kill or No-kill run. This verse also assumes that Joshua, the Deputy, Whitehorse, Pratt, and Hudson all got away or were not present for the helicopter crash. Other characters minor and otherwise who are alive in Joshua’s main fic verse ACABH are the same as in that story thus far, such as Rae-Rae and Ryan being alive. We’ll also presume the Seeds are all still alive at the time of these dialogue lines.

Deputy Joshua Raguel Rook

(All images used were public domain and/or labeled free for reuse under creative commons license. Above image was sourced from [here.]) With Fangs for Hire

Boomer: “Hey there boy, how’re you feeling today? Got some venison strips saved for you, you eating enough with all this running around?” [cue more small talk and praise for Boomer about how Boomer’s doing such a good job and Joshua feeding Boomer bits of cooked meat. Will likely sing snatches of cheery dog-themed songs he’s heard when in the party with Boomer and there’s no enemies nearby.]

Peaches: “...I hope that’s not people-meat in your teeth, Peaches, you know how Miss Mable feels about that, it’s bad for your health. I’m also not quite brave enough to want to brush your teeth—though maybe Dr. Lindsey or Wade can offer advice on that. We’ll get you some nice fish instead, that’s a good kitty.” [He’s a bit more shy around Peaches than Boomer bc cougar, but an effort at friendliness will be made.]

Cheeseburger: “...that is one big bear. He’s a sweetheart though. Just...hoping he doesn’t make a mistake of who he’s barreling into. It’s not like we’re wearing team colors or anything.” [Cheeseburger is a sweetie and Joshua likes him, but also: bear. Joshua’s a bit wary around him, but will still feed Cheeseburger salmon when able. May crack a joke paralleling Cheeseburger going “Only You Can Prevent Cult Gun Fire.” Will not crack this joke after any Jacob-region events though.]

With Other Guns for Hire:

Sharky

Sharky: So amibro, I was thinking, you know how those Angels are all dead in the head and stuff? How are they still shuffling around, is the Bliss like a zombie plant or something? Joshua: ...no, that’s more in line with the aliens that Larry keeps going on about I’m sure. Something about brainmelting and bendy straws, I got lost when he started mentioning Navier-Stokes equations for how the...resulting brain juice would be redirected. [Shuddery noise of disgust.] I’m not sure if he’s serious or just fucking with me and referencing Guy’s zombie movie series at this point. Could be either or. The Bliss is more like...like...uh. Like if you lost the keys to your car, but the car’s your body. You get me? Sharky: Damn, remind me never to OD on the stuff, I lose the keys to my car all the time. Sometimes I can’t be bothered to find em and just jiggle the lock so I can hop on in to hotwire the car because I’m in a hurry, you know? Ladies love a man who’s good with his hands, and who’s good with time and can improvise. You think that’d work on the Bliss car keys? Joshua: Maybe? Not everyone seems to be as readily lost to the Bliss at the same amounts. Personally I’d wager you’d be able to find your way back to your body no matter where you were in the bliss if we stood you near a signal fire. Sharky: This is why we’re friends man! Ride or die! ...also can you help me find my keys with that trick of yours, I lost ‘em again. Joshua: Yeah, though did you check under your bed? Also, maybe hang your regular set and a spare set of keys on a hook by the door so you can always find them, just in case you’re in a hurry.

Hurk

Joshua: Hurk. [Said in a Mild, Judgmental Voice of Impending Doom From A Friend kind of tone.] Hurk: Hey man I didn’t do nothin’ to deserve that tone of voice now don’t you start on me. Joshua: How can you say that when you and Sharky went and invented zipline grenade-golf without me last night? And blew up part of the mini-YES-sign. Hurk: Oh man you were talking up Lindsey and with the way the two of you were smiling and laughing, we figured you might be getting lucky so like the proper supportive wingmen me and Sharky were, we left you gentlemen some of our finest booze and sticky green. You did find it didn’t you, I’d hate to waste the gifts of the beneficent Monkey God from above as He Who Likes To Par-tay Above And Here Below On This Earth did command me never to waste beer or the good kush and to always help a brother out who’s trying to hook it up with their fine persons of choice. Joshua: Hurk I’m not— [sighs in accepting and fond exasperation.] It’s not like that with me and Charles— Hurk: Ooooooooooooo, you’re on a first name basis already! I knew you had it in you! Get it man, get it good! I’m not into that, you know I like the ladies strictly, but I will support your endeavors no matter the sex of your fellow party-goer as leader of Hurk Gate and the Bro-iest of Bros. Joshua: Hurk oh my god, I’m not trying to sleep with or romance him. I’m—he’s not looking for that, at least not with me certainly, and I—...just, thanks. I still have most of the beer and weed leftover if you and Sharky are up for graffiting one of John’s billboard signs though. You in? Hurk: Hell yeah man, and oo, you did get some then, Josh you sly dog! Joshua: I DID NOT! [Meta-clarification: Joshua indeed did not, for reasons to be revealed at a later time in the main fic.]

Sharky, Hurk, and Joshua, if one bends the mechanics so they are all in the party together at the same time:

Sharky: Pfhahahahaha oh man did you see the look on those Peggies’s faces when we came just crashing down the mountainside in that burning car? It was priceless!

Joshua: What better way to set fire to mass amounts of Bliss fields than with a moving fireball? Sharky: I know man it was great! We didn’t get too singed or nothin’! We gotta try that burning trash-ball idea next time though, like building a snowman but with fire! A fireman! Ha! That was the easiest fifty bucks of my life, cuz. Joshua: Hold up a tick now, what. Hurk: Sharky man that’s against the betting code! You’re not supposed to tell! Joshua: Oh, you cheeky bastards were betting on if Sharky could convince me to drive the car down the hill, weren’t you. Hurk: Man it’s always a crap shoot with you, specially around cars. That’s what makes it fun, sometimes you get all “guys that’s not safe,” [said with a poor imitation of Joshua’s voice complete with a very terrible southern, Georgian-style accent before Hurk switches to his normal speaking voice to continue,] —and other times it’s just “hold my beer.” You’re not going to go all prim and proper on us now are ya? Joshua: I can’t believe you two. Gambling in Hope County, I’m shocked, shocked. Sharky you owe me half, I’ll buy you a beer first round. Sharky: Hell yeah man! Hurk: Wait a second did you two just con me? I’ve been robbed! Police! Joshua: Hurk I *am* the police, one of them present at least. Hurk: Oh shit son, you right. Help I’m being oppressed by the system!

Nick Rye

[This conversation happens after Seed Ranch has been taken, along with the AU detail of capturing John’s plane Affirmation at the same time, preferably early on, while John is still alive.] Nick: Hey Joshua I was talking to Sharky— Joshua: Oh no. Nick: And he had an idea that wasn’t half bad. Not a good one, and you’d be liable to get killed or captured, but I got stuck thinking on it and wanted to ask: What d’you think would happen if you dressed up like the Father and just pulled a whole Mission: Impossible face-a-roo switch? You can do that imitation of how he speaks and everything, I’ve heard you do it before. And with how high the Peggies are most of the time, they’re so far out of their gourds they wouldn’t notice the differences. Joshua: You mean aside from his brothers and sister noticing he’s suddenly an inch shorter, twenty years younger and the wrong brand of crazy? Nick: Just go off about there being an edit to God’s Plan or something, and you could get makeup or something going on with that age thing. People do all kinds of wizardry with foundation and stuff, though you’d have to ask someone else on that. Maybe Addie or someone she knows? I don’t know if they have aging-up tricks compared to aging-down though. It could work! Might be a quick way to end the fighting if we can just stuff Joseph into a car trunk and then stash him in a bunker somewhere while you’re pretending you’re him. Joshua: Nick my tattoos are different and I’m not going to convince people I’m Joseph if I have to do one of his shirtless walkarounds, NOR am I having sins and Bible verses carved into my hide to complete the look. I don’t think we have any special effects or make up artists in the county who specialize in convincingly fake scars made out of latex or something. Nick: I don’t know, that Guy Marvel might have someone. Or, had someone. He has to be able to afford all those special effects somehow. Joshua: I’m not going anywhere near that guy with a ten foot pole man, he weirds me out. Also consider: I’d have to talk to Jacob, John and Faith as Joseph. I don’t want that kind of responsibility of herding that conversation at the family dinner. Nick: Hoo, good point. So...how is that family bullshit coming along then? Joshua: I have no idea, I’m just winging it, like you are. Nick: [who’s currently flying a plane, thus the slight pun] Heh. Good luck with that then, and let me know if you want me to paint something special on John’s precious little Affirmation next time you take it out for a spin to spite him. Joshua: I’m sure I can think of a thing or two.

Adelaide

Adelaide: Honey you need to take a breather one of these days and just take a load off, if you keep up the way you’re going you’re going to end up looking more like your dad sooner rather than later. You should swing by the Marina sometime and have a yoga session with Xander, really helps get the blood pumping and limber you up if you know what I’m saying. Joshua: [Snorts in amusement.] Is Xander trying to convince you to eat more kale chips instead of potato chips again? Adelaide: Rook sweetie, I love Xander but there are some things a woman won’t put in her mouth, and kale chips are one of them. Joshua: I’ll swing by sometime to help out with the kale chips then, and maybe get in a yoga session at the same time. It’s been a while since I chatted Xander up what with the county going pearshaped. Adelaide: I’ll never understand how you two can eat those things. Ugh. Gives me the willies. Joshua: *I* eat them dipped in homemade spicy nacho cheese sauce. I have no idea how Xander eats them straight and still claims to have working tastebuds.

Grace

[For context: This conversation is based on the AU’s detail that Grace’s father has survived the previous attempt on his life prior to the start of the Reaping.]

Joshua: Did you crack open the extra care packages we dropped off yet Grace, or did your dad get to ‘em first? Grace: You referring to the chocolate bars you stashed in there? I got my share of them out in time. Joshua: Good, I was a little worried when you told me they were missing last time. Thought they might’ve been lifted without me knowing beforehand. Grace: He’s a sly one when sweets are up for grabs. Now if you can do something about the shortage of decent coffee… Joshua: What’s that? A reason to piss John off today and raid his personal stash? Say no more!

Jess

Jess: So. Joshua: So. Jess: Just like old times but with more fucked up cultist family bullshit than before, huh. Joshua: [Sighs.] Yeah. Jess: That’s rough, buddy. Joshua: Least I can steal shit en masse from the cultists and no one else minds right now. For the life of me though I can’t figure out where all of the snacks from Lorna’s went when the Peggies hit her place. I think they ate ‘em all. Jess: [Noise of disgust.] Those two-faced fuckers going on and on about how bad commercially produced food is and how everyone should get back to basics, but there they go snatching up all the frosted cakes and maple bars like it's baby’s first shoplifting spree. Joshua: I know right? Even if they do believe the end of the world’s coming, that’s still rude to clean the store out on the first go around—leave some snacks for the next bunch of looters, god damn.

In Combat

[Note: due to Joshua’s verse details, this comes with the assumption that were one to play in a version of his universe, the Deputy would have a kill/spare mechanic and thus also an option of doing a No Kill run and variations on that spectrum, which Joshua’s mechanics would support more so. This would likely also mean some additional options for the other guns-for-hire and creative use of their canonical loadouts and abilities. Joshua’s setup would overlap with Boomer and Jess’s via the Spotter and Concealment abilities, and he’d be equipped with a bliss dart gun and a scoped hunting rifle. Also melee options and such.] Seeing/tagging an enemy: “Hey look, another whack-a-mole.” / ”Fashionably challenged mountain-man zealot sighted.” / “Enemy sighted.” Seeing/tagging multiple enemies at once: “duck, duck, cultists.”/ “The Rapture called, they don’t want these Peggies back.” / “multiple hostiles in the area.” Bliss darting/knocking out a Peggie at range: “Nap time.” / “Another one bites the dust.” / “Down they go!” / “A little dirt nap never hurt any Peggie. Won’t hurt their outfits any either, a little dirt brown looks better than all of that mayonnaise-white so many of them wear anyway.” Knocking out a Peggie with a non-lethal stealth takedown: “Lights out.” / “Rang this one’s chimes hard enough he’ll think it’s time for morning service on a sunday when he wakes up.” / “Sleep tight.” / “She’s/he’s down.” Sneaking: “Feels like a tuesday.”  / “...” / “Five bucks says I can pickpocket the guards and they’d never even know till later.” / “Moving position.” / “Good to go.” Upon witnessing the Deputy killing an enemy: “Was that really necessary?!” / “...shit.” / “Maybe we should disengage and drop back out of sight instead of this.” / “What the fuck!” Reviving an ally/The Deputy: “Don’t you go dying on me! Stay alive, you’ve got so much to live for!” / “Come on, let’s get you patched up, you’re gonna be okay!” / “No no no! Don’t you dare die! Not today!” Hurt: “MOTHERFUCKER!” / “Ow!” / “God damn it, I just patched this shirt! And myself!” / “This is NOT my fucking element, fuck!” / “Why are we even in a situation where we’d get shot at?!” Downed: “Could use a little help over here!” / “Bleeding out, help!” / “...mom?”

Driving

When asked to drive: “...you sure? I really think someone else driving would be a better idea under current circumstances, but okay. Just don’t go making a habit out of this. Please. For everyone’s sake.” / “No.” [This is followed by outright refusal to sit in the driver’s seat.] / [Optionally if Sharky and/or Hurk are around] “Ugh. Just...gotta pretend this is driving through a Clutch Nixon. With live gun fire, instead of just fire-fire.”

When the Deputy/someone else is driving recklessly: “Iwantoffthisride” / “I’m going to have to pick upholstery out from under my nails later.” / “JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL.” / [Recites a Hail Mary.] / “Having a good time! NOT.” / [If it’s Sharky or Hurk driving] “This is the kind of reckless driving I can get behind. Through regular past exposure therapy.” Changing radio stations: [If it’s being changed to Eden’s Gate stations] “Can we not? I’ve heard this music so many times it’s old as hell, however catchy.” / “They did do a good job on the music, I gotta say. More ominous meaning to the lyrics right now in particular though.” / [If it’s being changed to Resistance Radio stations] “Road trip time! Watch out for moose in the road.” / “Hell yeah, crank those tunes!” / “I’m glad we have regular music to listen to still, it’d be such a drag to have to go without it.”

Idle

- [General] “What’s up? Everything going alright with you?” - [General] “I heard of a good fishing spot where the rainbow trout [or other game fish depending on situation/mechanics] are really biting today if you want to take a breather and just do a bit of fishing.” [this dialogue only triggers if the Deputy hasn’t filled out the map yet for fishing spots, and adds one to the map with a notification.] - [General] “Hey, there’s a prepper stash over yonder, if you want to try your hand at getting at it. [This dialogue only triggers at random if the Deputy hasn’t polished off all the nearby Prepper stashes already. Marks a nearby prepper stash on the map and gives a notification.]

- [General] “You know what surprises me? That the Project didn’t try to shut off the power plant to at least portions of the county. Sure lots of people are preppers or woodsmen and such, but electricity makes everything easier for us. Weird, ain’t it? They have the technicians for it I’m sure. Guess we should thank our lucky stars they either didn’t think of that or decided it wasn’t worth it. We’d be straight out of ice cold beer then, Whitehorse would hate that.” - [If the Deputy is taking the no-kill route] “Hey I just want to say...I appreciate you trying not to kill people, even if some of these cultists are absolute motherfuckers who deserve it. We might be able to stop all their prophecy crap dead in its tracks if you keep this up. And...you know. Thanks for not killing my crazy relatives? I think. They’ve done a lot of bad shit and they need to answer for that, but...the right way, not backwoods murder. We’re better than that, I hope.” - [If the Deputy is taking the killing route] “I get wanting to kill the Seeds and the cult...but this isn’t going to end well, even after we’re done. I wish you wouldn’t, but I can’t stop you if this is the choice you’ve made. ...I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you. I...hope you’ll be alright, in the end. But I don’t think you will be.” [Recall that Joshua Knows What Will Happen To The Deputy if they take the canonically-based killing route. He leaves before the final confrontation, and curiously Whitehorse, Pratt, and Hudson don’t show up in the final scene either—ie, whichever route the Deputy chooses, they survive elsewhere (coughcough Joshua’s secret bunker cough.) The scene with Joseph still happens more or less the same, only the Deputy leaves alone if they choose Walk Away, and ends up alone with Joseph if they choose Resist. Also interestingly enough: Dutch isn’t present on the radio, nor in his bunker. His fish have been taken too. Joshua didn’t have the time to grab everyone, so he tried to grab the ones he knew for sure would die, and warned the others that he foresaw not surviving the Collapse or aftermath, like Mary May and Jess Black, or who suffered serious injuries like Grace. His buds Sharky and Hurk he bribes with beer and weed to hide out in their bunker or hang out in his while this goes down. Boomer, Cheeseburger, and Peaches are all herded to safety (yes there are mechanics for that in the standard AU verse, we shan’t delve into them here though bc spoilers tho.) The others he tries to warn, but whether he managed to get to them and some of the other latter people mentioned above in time or not is uncertain.] - [If the Deputy switched from a killing route to a no-kill route and all of the Seeds are still alive, Joshua sounds relieved] “Hey, I know it’s...it’s hard to hold off pulling the trigger when someone who’s hurt so many people is in your gunsights, but...I do think bringing them in for actual processing through the legal system—a proper trial without bullshit—is the better way. For all of us. Thank you.” - [If the Deputy switched from a no-kill route to a killing route, sounds slightly devastated] “...Why?” - [If the Deputy is doing a “neutral” run of killing significant numbers of cultists, but is sparing the Seeds as they go] “...I appreciate you not killing the murdery head-cult-family members, but…you think we could maybe lighten up on killing the rank and file? They don’t have the big names and they aren’t the leaders, but those are still people. They are responsible for their own actions, not saying they aren’t, but many of them are redeemable. Not all of them, but...maybe we can just lay them out in the infirmary for a good long while instead? Nothing permanent. The bad ones though can fall off a cliff.”

- [If the Deputy is doing a “selective killing” run of not killing rank and file cultists, but is in the process of killing all the Seed Heralds. Joshua sounds conflicted.] “I appreciate you not killing the followers, though some of them are definitely bastards who shouldn’t be allowed to walk free for the shit they’ve done, but...you think we could...maybe not kill the Seeds either? The Seeds are the primary responsible parties, not contesting that, but maybe we can just kick their asses and arrest them instead? It might help dampen the chaos somewhat, maybe we can use ‘em for leverage. We certainly could hide them somewhere secure that the Peggies wouldn’t be able to find ‘em. It’d be easier to talk Joseph down too, using his siblings as leverage.” [See above for killing route ending details.] Also? We’re driving in separate cars. Don’t turn on the radio, stay away from the others. You’re still brainwashed, and dangerous.” [Joshua is disappointed in the Deputy for not having stuck to some manner of universal moral principle.] - [If friendly, and the Deputy is on either a no-kill playthrough or has switched to a no-kill route,] “Hey, you wanna play a game of checkers, or chess? Take five for a bit, if you got the time?” - [If friendly, and the Deputy is on either a no-kill playthrough or has switched to a no-kill route,] “Hey, not to be mushy or anything, but...thank you. For being you. It’s inspiring to see someone’s able to take the higher path when everything’s falling to pieces all around us. Makes me have a little bit more faith in humanity, too.” - [If friendly, and the Deputy is on either a no-kill playthrough or has switched to a no-kill route, and has been on said no-kill route for a decent amount of time,] “Hey, we grabbed some really good produce this time around and sent it on over to Casey. Told him I’d tell you to swing by, and asked him to save some for you in case you were interested. They’ve got some fresh beef for burgers and sandwiches, pumpkin pie, apple pie, loaded baked potatoes, and all kinds of other tasty stuff for a cookout. The Ryes are coming round to help pitch in and organize it all as a little morale boost party. Wanna come? You deserve to put up your feet and relax, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who’d appreciate your company if you felt like joining in. If you’d rather not, I can sneak food to you if you want quiet time to yourself. It’s all good, just tell me what you want and where you want it.”

Location Specific:

- Near where the police station was, if it’s been burned down: [Sighs.] “While I’m not missing the paperwork that got torched, there was a nice feel of history to the old place. Wish they hadn’t burned it down, fuckers. But, well...the Project and the Seeds have good reason to have no love for police and authority figures among others, even before all this horribleness and the leadup stuff came down. So I can’t say I’m surprised they did.”

- Upon entering the Spread Eagle, if friendly: “Finally, a place where everybody knows our names instead of yelling “Deputies!” at us all day! Wanna hit up the arcade? I’ll buy the first round if you get the higher score.”

- Seed Ranch, outside if it hasn’t been liberated, inside if it has been liberated: “Never going to understand why some folks want real airy houses with so much dead space as their main living quarters. Feels more like a knickknack museum you’re supposed to look at, not a home you’re supposed to live in. He’s got all this Eden’s Gate paraphernalia in those glass display cases, and I don’t doubt John’s fervent in his beliefs, but it feels more like a rich boy’s hunting and vacation lodge cobbled together with a vague idea of home. You saw the doghouse out back, right? What’s the point of having a dog live outside if you’ve got ALL this space, it’s all finished wood floors, and you’ve made sure to train ‘em and raise ‘em properly so they know not to chew on the furniture? It’s lonely, that’s what this is. Joseph chides John and all that about learning to love, but it’s a case of the blind leading the blind there.” - Outside St. Francis Veterans Center: [Before the Veterans Center is liberated, if Jacob has captured the Deputy at least once, so the song “Only You” is played around the Center, and the melody starts to be audible in the distance as the group approaches.] “Yeah hey, I’m going to go the other way now and wait for you over here where I can’t hear the song of madness, ‘kay? Maybe you should avoid it too.” [This is followed by Joshua refusing to go too close to the Center, sans possible AU story missions.] - Anywhere near Joseph’s Island: [The first time the party gets near Joseph’s Island,] “Uh. No. I’m not going near that place twice any sooner than we need to.” [Watch Joshua be willing to jump out even into deep water and swim away if the Deputy tries to approach the island with him in tow on a boat.]

OC Fighting Style

Tagged by @chyrstis​ !! Thank you for the tag!! :D <3 This was another fun one to fill out (and shorter than the above but you know what we’re stapling all of these bad boys into one post bc Why Not.) Have an aesthetic picture of a Jacob sheep skull upon a sheep skin for the fun implications of what that says about Joshua’s fighting style. xD Ram skull image after some searching was sourced from [here], with a creative commons license for free-to-reuse, with some limitations.

Rules: bold = often (or always), italics = sometimes, default = rarely, strike = never

fight honorably / fight dirty / prefer close-quarters / prefer range / chat during / go silent / low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance / attack in bursts / attack steadily / go for the kill / aim to disarm / fight defensively / bait an opponent’s first strike / strike first / provoked easily / provoke their opponent / tease / get visibly frustrated / shout while attacking / use strategy / focus on their battle / experience conflicting thoughts during battle / rush in recklessly / try to read their opponent before fighting / fight wildly / fight calmly, apathetically / fight with anger / fight with excitement / fight because they have to / fight because they want to / fight without regard to wounds / run away when wounded / hide wounds / take a blow to protect another / prefer a blade / prefer a gun (non lethal rounds/tranquilizer darts) / prefer a bow / prefer a shield /  prefer a spear naginata / prefer a personalized weapon / prefer psychic abilities / prefer brawling / their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional / transform for battle / fight as they appear / rely on strength / rely on speed / use everything they have / hide their full potential / exhaust quickly /  high stamina / doubt their strength / proceed with caution / behave arrogantly / brag after landing a hit / belittle their abilities / use psychological tactics / use brute strength / avoid civilians / strike down civilians / damage surroundings / avoid damaging surroundings / signature fighting style / making it up as they go / mastered skillset / learning their skillset / fancy footwork / sloppy footwork / messy fighter / elegant fighter / accept defeat / refuse defeat / beg for mercy / compliment their opponent / insult their opponent / use unnecessary movements / move efficiently / barely move / prefer to dodge / prefer to block / defend their blindside / has no blindside / use all available advantages / strictly use one main method / play around / hold back / fight ruthlessly / show mercy / wait for opponent to be ready / strike when opponent isn’t ready / fear death  / fear pain / fear killing / has PTSD / avoid fighting / has lost a fight / has won a fight / has killed / refuses to kill / want to die standing / would succumb slowly

WIP Day

Tagged by @chyrstis and @hawkfurze !! Thank you for the tags!! :D <3

An excerpt from the current WIP chapter for ACABH: ————————— Weak. He was so weak, barely able to move right now, and he didn’t even know why. There was pain, a lot of pain, a feeling like his bones were on fire and about to crumble under pressure at any moment—but he’d been through worse. In this instance, he could recall that he’d fallen through the sky for a brief tumultuous time before gravity had stepped in, leading to him landing hard upon the road, as if making up for the lack of physics earlier. —————————

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 030 [Scavenger Hunt]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,494

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〈“So we’ll keep on starting the fire, thinking we’ll smoke out the liars. We don’t give up when we’re tired, that isn’t the way that I’m wired. Someday, we’re gonna rule the world.” Zayde Wolf, “Rule the World (Generdyn Remix)”〉

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“Hey, kid!” Shimatsu grinned as I approached. “You were awesome in the cavalry battle!”

“Thanks,” I smiled softly. “Can I get three?”

“Coming right up!”

I glanced around at the spectators, chatting excitedly about the first two events of the sports fest. Several pro heroes were stationed around the stadium, keeping an eye out on the off chance some villain was dumb enough to try attacking. I spotted the chick from earlier, making a face at one of the food stall guys to get free food while the Woodsman scolded her for doing so.

Heroes… what does that word even mean, really? From what I remember from the TV shows and movies back home, the definition of a hero is someone that saves or helps others without ulterior motives and without personal gain. But in this world, being a hero is a job, one that young people across the globe aspire to have. People want to go pro for the fame, the fortune, and the power… If you have the title of hero, you can basically do whatever you want if Endeavor is anything to go by.

I wonder… why did my mother become a hero? Surely she got paid a lot more being a villain, so it couldn’t have been about money. She was already famous as an assassin, too. Was it the power she wanted? That doesn’t make sense, either. The world of villains makes it ten times easier to gain power because there are no rules or laws. What was her reasoning for changing her life? Did she have a dream? A goal she could only accomplish as a hero? I wish… I wish I could ask her.

“Kid?”

I snapped my attention back to the old man.

He wasn’t smiling, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

I took the box from his hand, staring down at the individually wrapped tacos. “Nah, I don’t think I am. But… I will be. So don’t worry.” I grinned at him. “Thanks for the food, Ojin.”

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“Get those foam fingers in the air, it’s almost time for the last round! But before that, good news for everyone that didn’t make the finals – since this is a sports festival, we’ve prepared some super fun side games everyone can participate in! We even brought in cheerleaders from America to get your blood pumping! Hold up…”

“What are they doing…”

“Looks like class 1-A is going full-on fanservice!!”

The fuck is that cockatiel going on about now? I glanced around, my eyes landing on my female classmates. Uhh, why the fuck are they cosplaying as cheerleaders? Ain’t our class getting enough attention already? Sparky and Mineta look awfully happy about this… I swear if they are responsible.

“What?! You tricked us?!” Momo cried, glaring at the two boys. “You’re gonna regret this!!” Fucking called it. I sighed, approaching Momo as she sunk to her knees. “Why is that I always end up falling for that little pervert’s stupid schemes? I even used my quirk to make these outfits…”

I scratched my cheek. “Haven’t you learned not to believe anything those two dopes say? You’re too naive, Momo, and they keep exploiting that.”

“Ugh!” Punk threw her pom-poms down, face completely red. “I hate those guys!”

“Well, we go have a little time before the finals start and I kinda like these uniforms, so~” Invisigirl started frantically waving her pom-poms and I could hear the smile in her voice. “How about we just roll with it?!”

“Are you crazy?!”

“Wow, Toru, you’ve got skills.”

Momo glanced up at me with a defeated expression. “I tried looking for you to let you know. I was worried that you might get into trouble for not participating, but now I’m glad I wasn’t able to…”

“I would’ve happily gotten in trouble,” I deadpanned. “I would die before wearing that shit.”

“R-Right…”

I smiled, patting her on the head. “Thanks for lookin’ out, though, Momo.”

She smiled back, nodding her head.

I turned toward the two boys, who were too busy watching Toru as she jumped around to notice my advancing toward them. I grabbed both of them by the back of the neck and slammed their faces together. They cried out in pain, wiggling in my grasp, but my hands started to heat up and they stilled, not wanting to get burnt. I smiled brightly, my voice low. “The next time you fuckers mess with the girls, I’ll give you a taste of pure hell, mkay?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am!” They cried as I threw them to the side, scurrying away with their tails between their legs. Fuckin’ idiots. I felt a tug on the back of my shirt and I turned around, raising a brow at Punk.

She shifted, her face still red in embarrassment. “Thanks for that.”

I hummed. “No problem. Sorry about that day in the locker room, I was kind of a dick to you.”

She smiled, “It’s no big deal. Water under the bridge.”

I scratched my cheek, a bead of sweat rolling down my cheek. “So, uh, what’s your name again?”

She sweatdropped. “You’re just like Bakugo, jeez. Kyoka Jirou.”

We shook hands, exchanging a grin. Huh, maybe this socializing shit ain’t as bad as I thought it was.

“Have fun competing in these side games, everyone! After they’re over, the twenty students from the top five teams will be duking it out one-on-one in a tournament-style fighting competition! I promise you’re not going to want to miss these match-ups!”

You’ve got to be kidding me. First, we gotta run around like chickens with our heads cut off, then we gotta work together and socialize, now we gotta beat the shit out of each other? Maybe I shouldn’t have dissed the idea of playing a game of golf…

“Ah, yeah! Finally getting a chance to show what we’re made of!” Kiri grinned brightly. “I watch these finals every year and now I’m actually in them!”

“So wait, is it always a tournament?” Alien asked curiously, bringing her finger to her chin.

“The final’s always a one-on-one competition, but they switch it up every time.” Flex Tape answered. “Last year, it was a foam sword-fighting match.”

I started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Kiri asked in confusion.

“I just… I pictured hitting Bakugo with a foam sword on the head…”

He paused, lifting his head as he imagined it. Then he started to laugh with me.

“Come closer and draw lots to see who you’re up again!” Midnight announced. “And then enjoy the pleasure of the recreation games before we start. The twenty finalists have the option of participating in these activities or sitting out to prepare for battle. I’m sure you all want to conserve your stamina. I’ll start with the first-place team.”

“Um, excuse me…” Tail raised his hand in the air, looking sad. “Sorry, but I’m withdrawing.”

“Ojirou, no way…”

“But this is a rare chance for you to get scouted!”

“It just wouldn’t be right,” he responded. “I barely remember anything from the cavalry battle until the very end of it. I… think it was that guy’s quirk.”

I scratched my cheek thoughtfully, closing my eyes. Who was he partners with again? I don’t even remember seeing him once during the battle.

“I know this is a great opportunity,” he continued. “I wish I could take advantage of it but my conscious won’t let me.”

“Just think about this,” Izuku spoke softly.

“I have, okay?!” Ojirou’s brow furrowed as he held up his fist. “Everyone gave their all in round two, but I was just someone’s puppet. No way. I don’t want to advance if I don’t even know how I got here. It wouldn’t fair.”

“You’re making way too much of this!” Toru said cheerfully. “Just kill it in the finals and prove you should be here!”

“Yeah, what she said!” Alien added. “I didn’t do much in the battle, either.”

“That’s not it!” He covered his face with his hand. “I’m talking about my pride here. I refuse to give that up!”

Ah, men and their pride.

“Also… why are all the girls except for Winchester dressed like cheerleaders?”

“Because Mineta and Sparky are perverted dipshits,” I answered.

“Right…”

“Nirengeki Shoda from class 1-B,” A short boy with soft blue hair stepped forward. “I think I should withdraw for the exact same reason. Regardless of how strong I am, this isn’t how I wanted to get here! It would go against the values of the festival to advance without earning my spot!”

“Listen to these guys, they’re so manly!” Kirishima cried, making me sweatdrop and pat his back.

“Well now, here’s another weird turn of events.”

“We’ll have to see what Midnight has to say about all this, she’s the one in charge.”

Because letting the R-Rated hero be in charge sounds like a banger of a plan. What could possibly go wrong.

“This sort of talk is incredibly naive, my dear boys. That turns me on!”

“What the fuck, man.” I groaned, smacking my forehead. Thinking of Midnight being turned on is the last fucking thing I want burned into my skull.

“Shoda! Ojirou! You’re both withdrawn! Now, let’s see… We’ll move four students from the sixth place cavalry team so we have enough contestants.”

The orange-haired girl from class B spoke up. “We were frozen most of the time. Honestly, we barely did anything in the cavalry battle. Isn’t that right, girls?” She looked at the three standing on either side of her, who nodded in agreement. “You should choose from the group that kept fighting the whole time – team Tetsutetsu.”

“Kendo!” The silverette spoke up, surprise lacing his voice.

She smiled. “I’m not doing this as a favor. It’s just fair.”

“Seriously, you guys… thank you!!”

“And so, Tetsutetsu, Shiozaki, Honenuki, and Reggian have advanced to the finals. Take a look at the bracket, my dears! These are your opponents!”

Let’s see, I’m fighting some bitch named Regina Reggian? The fuck kinda name is that, fam? That’s almost as bad as Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu…

“Hey, you’re Winchester, right?”

I glanced over my shoulder to see the black-haired guy with the air chain. “Depends on who’s askin’.”

“I’m your opponent,” he grinned. “The names Regina Reggian, but you can just call me Red.”

“Isn’t Regina a chick’s name?”

He sweatdropped, rubbing the back of his head. “Ah, well, my creator thought it would be funny. Pretty sure they hate me.”

“Right…” This bitch is definitely nuts.

“Listen up!” He pointed his finger in my face, pink eyes flashing as he grinned. “I’m gonna beat your ass like Jotarou beat Dio!”

“I don’t know who either of those people are, bro.”

“Whack.”

“Okay! Let’s press pause for a momentary interlude! Before the battles begin, it’s time for some pulse-pounding side games! First, how about a scavenger hunt?!”

Cards were handed out to those wanting to participate.

I flipped mine over and my eye twitched. Where the fuck am I supposed to find this shit? I glanced around the field, eyes stopping on Bakugo who was leaning against the wall looking pissed off at the world. Oh… Well, then.

I grinned as I approached him. “Oi, Bakuhoe. I need you for somethin’.”

“Huh? What for – What the fuck are you doing, bitch?!”

I ignored his protests as I threw my arm around his upper thighs and hoisted him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Fuck, you’re heavier than I thought. Go on a diet.”

���Fuck you!” He smacked the back of my head. “Put me down or I’ll kill you!”

“Quit squirming, you fuck.” I scowled, coming to a stop in front of Midnight and dropping him onto his ass, holding out my card that read ‘犬 Dog’.

“I’m not a fucking dog!!” Bakugo screamed.

I scoffed. “You sure fucking yap like one, chihuahua.”

“Die!!”

Midnight smacked the top of my head with her whip. “Denied!”

“Che, that ain’t fair, Midnight!” I scowled. “Where the fuck am I supposed to find a dog, huh? Am I fucking game to you?” I pointed at Bakugo’s face. “This is the closest fucking thing to a dog in this stadium! I demand a different card.”

“Denied!”

“Son of a -”

Bakugo shoved his hands in his pockets, glaring at the side of my head. “Instead of doing this stupid shit, you should be getting ready for your match! I won’t fucking forgive you if you lose to anyone but me!”

“Yeah, yeah, whateva.” I sighed, deeply, turning and walking away from them. I was a few feet away when I heard a high-pitched voice.

“Hey! Miss!”

I glanced up at the stands, seeing a young boy about nine or ten leaning over the railing and waving frantically. “Uhh…”

“Catch me, ‘kay?”

“Wait, what, OI -!” He jumped over the railing, making the nearby spectators cry out and try to grab him. His aim was pretty on point, not gonna lie. His body slammed against mine and I lost my balance, falling back onto my ass with him in my lap. “What the fuck were you thinkin’, huh? You coulda got seriously hurt, kid!”

He grinned brightly, showing off a gap where he was missing a top tooth. “I had faith that you’d catch me, big sis!”

Sis? What, is he a fan of James Charles or somethin’? “You shouldn’t be down here, your parents are gonna be mad.”

“Mom’s at work and dad left us when I was three.”

I sweatdropped. “Who brought you here, then?”

“My big brother! But he’s too busy getting rejected by Mt. Lady!” He giggled.

“For fuck’s sake,” I slapped my forehead. He giggled again and I narrowed my eyes. “Do not repeat anything I say. Clear?”

“Kay~” He grinned. “You need a dog for the scavenger hunt, right?”

“Yeah.”

His body started to shift in my arms, getting a bit smaller as his skin and clothes were replaced by fur. The boy was now a dog, his legs and belly white while the rest of him was a soft orange. Now, I’m not a dog person at all, but he’s pretty fucking adorable. What is that, a corgi?

He licked my cheek, making my eye twitch in annoyance. “Sorry, I can only talk to people I’ve licked!”

“…alrighty then.” I returned to Midnight, holding the kid up like I was holding Simba.

She raised a brow but didn’t question where I had gotten him from. “Approved!”

“Dope.” I brought him back to my chest. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Riku Reigen!”

“Alright, Riku. Let’s find that idiot brother of yours.”

He tilted his doggy head to the side, ears flicking. “But what about the other events, big sis? You’re gonna miss them!”

I shrugged. “I was only doing it because it was easy and I had nothing else to do. Plus, I’m in the finals so I don’t have to participate.”

“Okay, if you’re sure!” He barked happily. “Let’s go~!”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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