#it shouldn't come as a shock that two employees who work different days would be surprised and one would go home when they see that

[vagueconfusion]

apparently the weird overlapping shifts with my coworker were intentional for some weird reason that I can't fathom, and I talked to the manager who apparently approved my being off on Wednesday night even though it still hasn't been updated either online or on the wall schedule yet

I'm getting really annoyed that my schedule and department stuff keeps getting messed around with without telling me or leaving a paper trail

[elidoesntbreathwee]

-Steddie Coffee Shop AU-

Eddie walked into a coffee shop, after getting about, no sleep the night before. He usually made his own coffee but the coffee machine was broken at the trailer and neither he, nor Wayne had gotten around to fixing it. He also was way too tired to make coffee, let alone breakfast so he decided to come here instead.

It was a small coffee shop, even for Hawkins, but it was Eddie's favorite, maybe because it had the least amount of people. He walked through the door and the small bell rung above him. The lady at the counter greeted him as he walked toward her.

"Hey, what can I get you?" She said as she leaned on the counter.

"Robin Buckley?" Eddie questioned, he'd seen her in band at school.

"That's my name." She smiled and pointed to her name tag. She was about to ask something, most likely what Eddie had wanted to order, but before she could, she was called from the back.

"Just a minute!" She called back

"No," Her boss came out from the back and said "right now. I'll have Steve serve this guy."

"Sorry," She smiled, falsely "Steve will be here to take your order in just a moment, but I have to go take care of something." She turned and followed her boss, sighing dramatically.

Eddie waited there, wondering why this had to happen the morning he was so sleep deprived, for about a minute or two (2), until another employee came out. Eddie's jaw dropped

"Steve Harrington!" Eddie wasn't entirely sure why he was shocked, maybe because that was a super rich guy working in a bit of a dump, or just because that was Steve Harrington.

"Can I get you something or would you rather gawk?" Steve said irritably, clearly not having it that day either.

"Yeah sorry, just a black coffee, please."

"Mk, a dollar forty-five ($1.45)"

Eddie handed him a dollar, a quarter, two (2) dimes, and a nickel and when he put it in Steve's hand he looked up at Eddie, looked him right in the eyes.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes?" Eddie was confused, he gave Steve the exact amount, what had he done wrong

"Oh my god," Steve muttered under his breath "Whatever."

Eddie got his coffee and went to one of the tables next to a window, near the counter. Steve stood there, messing with the register, waiting for more customers to come in, but Eddie couldn't stop looking at him. Steve had changed since second semester of his senior year, Eddie knew that, but he seemed different, Eddie could feel it.

"You really like staring, huh?"

"Huh?"

"You like staring." Steve, who had walked up to the table Eddie was sitting at, said to him.

"Oh my god! I- I'm sorry, I guess I was blanking out and I was staring, I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have blanked out, I-" Eddie panicked, and probably would've gone on forever if Steve hadn't interrupted

"It's fine. I don't really care."

"What? Wait... really?" Eddie was genuinely confused

"Yeah, it's whatever. You we're blanking out anyways so who cares." Steve said tiredly, and just then he closed his eyes and fell forward, toward Eddie, who caught him before Steve could hurt himself on the table or anything else.

"Steve? Steve you ok? Steeve?" Eddie shook Steve slightly.

Robin come out form the back to tell Steve that she could take the register again, when she saw him collapsed onto Eddie, who was still trying to wake Steve up. She ran over to them

"What happened?!"

"I- I don't know, he just came over here and then he, i dont know? Fell asleep?" Eddie looked up at Robin, brows furrowed.

"He needs to go home." Robin thought for a moment "Do you mind taking him? I dont get off for lunch for until 3, since it's summer." Robin explained

"Sure, you sure he wont freak out or something though?"

"Why would he?"

"Falling asleep at work and the next thing you know you're in your house with Eddie Munson? I'd freak out if i where him." Eddie brought up a good point so why was he on his way to the Harrington's house with Steve, asleep in his van.

When they got to Steve's house, Eddie shook him awake to get him out. Steve, half asleep, walked towards his front door, leaning on Eddie for support. They got to the door and Steve sleepily handed Eddie his house key, which he reluctantly took, and unlocked the door.

Steve pointed to the couch and Eddie helped him to get over to it to lay down. Steve was situated on the couch, so Eddie left the key on the coffee table and started toward the door.

"Don't go."

"What?"

Eddie turned around to see Steve sitting up, trying to get off the couch, though he was having a lot of trouble due to how tried he was. Eddie walked quickly over to the couch and sat Steve back down.

"Hey, you gotta get sleep, alright."

"Stay." Steve held Eddie's wrist

"What do you mean, Stevie?" Eddie's face softened

"Stay with me. Please."

Eddie smiled. "I'm here."

-The End-

AN: here's a ficlet since my Chrissy and Eddie is taking way longer than i thought it'd take :P but i need it to be perfect becuz theyre besties and stuff and i love them :> ALSO im very aware that this kinda steers away from the coffee shop idea lmao, but i hope u like it anyways :)

[wanderinginksplot]

Rex + Engineer!Reader

This is the prequel to the Rex + Blanket Fort + Kisses one-shot found here on my masterlist. As this is a prequel to that story, you don't need to have read it for this to make sense. And as you could probably tell from the picture, this takes place during the Onderon arc.

Rex x gn!reader: intended to be early romance, but could be read as platonic.

Word Count: a bit more than 3,400

Warnings: canon-typical violence, including spoilers for the Onderon arc (S 5, E 2-5) of Star Wars: The Clone Wars

---

"And Captain Rex will train everyone in the encampment on basic combat skills and maneuvers," General Skywalker announced.

You didn't pay overly much attention to that. The general was younger than you had anticipated, but he was clearly used to combat and had the kind of authority usually honed through commanding large groups of soldiers. Still, you knew his order didn't apply to you and moved to slip away from the area. Your schematics needed a lot more work before the rebels could attack without bringing buildings down.

"And where are you running off to?" a muscular man with light hair asked, stepping into your path.

You gave a tight smile. "Classified, sorry."

The man nodded toward the general. "General Skywalker says everyone needs combat training."

"Oh, not me," you reassured him. "I'm a contracted engineer, not one of the Rebels. I'm just here to make sure they destroy as little of the infrastructure as possible while they take back control."

"And do you live in the encampment?" he asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling sure this was a trap. Eventually, you gave a short nod.

"Then you'll be training with me," he said firmly. "Captain Rex, 501st Legion."

You reluctantly shook the hand he offered and introduced yourself, finishing with, "-but I'm strictly an engineer."

"We're worried that this isn't likely to end without one or several attacks on this encampment," the captain told you. "A few hours of training could save your life."

"And a few hours of work on the city's schematics could save the lives of countless civilians," you argued. Sending that he would continue trying to convince you, you shook your head. "The Gerrera siblings are the ones who hired me. I'll let them make the final choice."

"And I'll leave it to the Generals," Captain Rex agreed.

Clearly not taking chances, he marched off toward where Steela Gerrera and Lux Bonteri were talking with Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, as well as a Togrutan female you vaguely remembered as being a commander.

"Generals, Commander," Captain Rex greeted with a crisp salute. You rolled your eyes. Soldiers. "We were hoping you could settle a difference of opinion."

"A difference of opinion?" General Kenobi repeated with a frown.

"What opinion would that be, Rex?" General Skywalker asked.

The captain explained the situation while you stood in silence. Steela met your gaze at several points during the conversation, looking concerned each time.

"We're only here to train the rebels," General Skywalker said after Captain Rex had finished talking. "Not anyone else."

"All of us are rebels," Steela argued, ignoring your signals that you didn't want training at all. "Just by being here in opposition to the Separatist forces, we are all considered a threat to their power."

"A contracted employee is different than someone who joined your cause because they believe in it," the commander countered, wrinkling her nose. "We aren't offering training to mercenaries."

"We're talking about an engineer, not someone hired to perform assassinations," Lux contributed. "What could it hurt?"

"Generals, Commander," Rex said, his quiet voice somehow drawing their attention. "I think every member of the rebel group needs to be trained. I think it's important."

"Rex…" General Kenobi sighed, but Skywalker interrupted before he could expand on his thoughts.

"I trust Rex's instincts," he told the older general. "If he thinks everyone needs to be trained, we'll make it happen."

You made a frustrated noise before you could stop yourself. "I don't need training. I'm an engineer. I don't work in combat situations."

"That's the thing about combat," Skywalker said with a shrug. "You don't always have to look for it. Sometimes, it comes to you. Especially in wartime."

The group split up immediately afterward, seemingly having come to an agreement. You followed Steela, determined to make your case and get back to your schematics.

"Steela, you know I'm not here for fighting," you said, jogging to catch up to the young woman who had hired you. "It isn't part of my contract."

"It isn't, you're right," she agreed. "But I would think carefully before I turned down a chance to learn such a valuable skill considering how dangerous the galaxy is right now. Surely this could be helpful as a freelancer traveling the universe alone?"

You didn't have an immediate answer to that. Steela clearly noticed, nodding solemnly at you before turning away. "The choice is yours to make."

You gritted your teeth, but your feet refused to move from the spot. To your left was the strategic tent and your unfinished set of schematics. To the right, the Jedi were helping the rebels set up some kind of training ring.

"Well?" a voice prompted. You already recognized it as belonging to Rex.

You stood still for a beat longer before giving a loud and heartfelt groan as you turned toward the freshly constructed training ring.

---

You were bad at fighting.

It wasn't really a shock to you. You had never been particularly graceful or good on your feet. That was why engineering had been such a draw - all mental work, almost no physical.

Rex, to his credit, turned out to be a surprisingly good teacher. He had kept everyone basically together as they learned new skills and practiced as a group. Still, he was determined that you would learn to defend yourself and here you were, fighting to shoot targets in the dying light, long after everyone else had scattered.

"I'm sorry," you apologized yet again as you missed. You were half an hour into intensive shooting lessons with Rex and you had yet to hit a single target.

"You don't need to apologize," he assured. "We'll just keep working until you get it down."

"I don't know if I can," you admitted, lowering the heavily modified blaster pistol until it was resting on the table in front of you. "We're losing the light and it's a bad idea to illuminate any more of the jungle than we have to."

"That's true," Rex agreed, rubbing at his neck while he studied the unharmed target. After a moment, he took the blaster pistol from your hands and holstered it at his side, then removed the holster belt as well.

You nodded sympathetically, hoping you could call it a night and put in a few hours of work on your schematics so the day wouldn't be a total waste.

Rex sighed, removing the subtly armored jacket he had been wearing during that day's training. "I guess we'll… we'll just have to switch to something less impacted by visibility."

"Wait, what?" you had time to ask before the stoic captain flat-out tackled you.

You were aware enough to know that Captain Rex had twisted to take part of the impact himself, but you still hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. In that moment of hollow gasping, Rex had pushed you onto your stomach and pinned your hands behind your back.

"The first rule of unarmed conflict is that you can't let anyone surprise you." Rex paused for a moment. "Actually, that's the first rule of any kind of conflict."

"Is the second rule that you shouldn't suffocate your sparring partner?" you croaked out, turning your head slightly so your face wasn't actively being pressed into the dirt anymore.

Rex laughed. It was the first time you had heard anything other than firm orders from him and you paused. It was a nice laugh. You were forced to gather your thoughts a moment later as he released you and helped you to your feet.

"You probably won't see a lot of hand-to-hand fighting with droids, but the armies aren't capable of anything beyond following orders. The armies are commanded by sentients, and those sentients are often closer to the armies than you would think."

"I have no intention of going after Grievous without a weapon," you joked. "Preferably more than one."

"You should stay away from Grievous no matter how many weapons you have," Rex advised. "But this is good to know, anyway."

"Actually, I agree with that," you said, surprising you both. "I'm a freelancer. Anything that helps me defend myself in a potentially hostile situation is a good thing."

"Okay, let's work on your hits, then," Rex suggested.

What followed was two full hours of unarmed combat practice. Rex was always the target, letting you throw punches and kicks against his open palms. When he realized that you were pulling your strikes because you were afraid to hurt him, he found a padded guard among the assortment of equipment the Republic had sent along.

Eventually, though, you were panting and bone-tired. Rex seemed to realize that without you saying anything.

"One last set of strikes and you're done for the night," Rex told you. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to you.

But as you punched, Rex moved the guard you had been aiming for. You shot him a look, but he only held the guard up, wiggling it slightly. You set up again, but Rex pulled away at the last second, dodging your fist to bop you on the shoulder with the guard.

"What are you doing?" you asked, exasperated. "You said this was the last set."

"It is. Or, it will be as soon as you actually manage to make contact."

You grimaced at him. This time, when he twisted the guard away, you turned with it. You were focused on keeping your footwork correct and your hit strong. You never even saw him move his foot between your ankles, but with a light tug, you were on the ground again.

"Seriously?" you asked from your spot in the dirt.

Rex laughed again, and this time, you didn't enjoy the sound at all. "Do you think your opponents are going to stand there and let you hit them? They're going to fight dirty - they always do. You just need to-"

As it happens, you never did learn what you needed to do. Rex had stepped too close, and your engineering experience told you that his ankles were at an angle that made him vulnerable to a hit. You kicked his ankle lightly, barely making contact, but it was enough to send one of his feet careening against the other. Rex stumbled, failed to regain his balance, and fell.

All of this was done on instinct and you felt as surprised as Rex looked when he landed on his butt in the dirt next to you.

"Good job," he said, breathless but sincere.

"Thanks," you accepted with a grin. "Does that mean I surprised you?"

"Not a bit," he denied, deflating your ego a bit. "I knew you were capable of it. You're an engineer. Engineers like angles and math. That's all combat is, adjusted for whatever you think the other side is going to do."

"Wait, that's… that's a really good point," you mused slowly. "Can I see your pistol again?"

Rex didn't move. "If you shoot me, you'll surprise me in the wrong way."

You snorted. "I'm not planning on shooting you, Captain. I just want to test how the application of math might help me."

After eyeing you for a moment, Rex stood in an enviably graceful motion and hauled you to your feet as well. Wordlessly, he handed you one of his blaster pistols. He had warned you before you began shooting that he had made numerous alterations to them, but you were still surprised by the weight of the weapon in your hand.

This time, instead of relying on instinct - point, aim, shoot - you worked to apply some logic. When you were sure about your angle, you squeezed the hyper-sensitive trigger and watched the resulting beam of weaponized light hit the target.

It wasn't a perfect shot, of course. Math couldn't fix everything. Still, you had hit the target and you cheered aloud, echoed by Rex's congratulations behind you. You had the presence of mind to set the pistol down before you turned, then Rex was grasping your forearm in the odd way warriors shook hands.

"Great job!" he told you warmly. "You're getting better."

"Thanks," you accepted, trying to vocalize your gratitude. You probably could have been offended by the tone of surprise in his voice, but you chose to overlook it.

"Now we just have to dial in your aim and get you comfortable with firing at moving targets, especially during chaotic situations."

Despite your best efforts, you felt your expression fall at that. Rex laughed again. When had he gotten so cheerful? "I'm kidding. That can be done tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" you repeated doubtfully.

Rex folded his arms across his chest and stared at you steadily. "In one session, you've gone from unable to shoot a gun or throw a punch to knocking me down and hitting a target. If you can keep that pace of improvement, you'll be a force to be reckoned with."

"Or at least be able to stop clients who try to cop a feel," you added.

Despite his darkening expression, Rex's tone was unconcerned. "I'm sure you could break the hand of any di'kut dumb enough to try it now. With some training, you'd be able to tear that hand off completely."

And so you continued to train with Rex after everyone else had finished learning to disable tanks and other intense activities. During the day, you finalized schematics, studying holoimages of Onderon’s capital city of Iziz. Your goal was to record your best guesses for the most and least structurally-sound sections of the city.

The dedication the rebels showed for the safety of the Onderonian people was a big reason you had agreed to take this job. Despite what the Jedi seemed to think, you weren't actually a mercenary. You chose your jobs very carefully, and if something didn't match your morals, you would respectfully decline.

Between schematic work in the day and training at night, your time with the rebels flew past. Captain Rex continued to be patient and helpful as you worked to master the combat moves he taught you - ones decidedly more focused on self-defense than the moves he taught the rebels. The first day you had beaten him in a grappling situation, he had beamed up at you with dirt on his face and told you how far you had progressed. The squeezing of your heart at the praise warned that it was probably good that the captain and both Jedi generals were withdrawing from Onderon shortly, leaving Commander Tano to assist with the remaining rebel efforts.

Despite your determination to stay out of the conflict, you had eventually been forced into it when the Separatist armies had attacked the rebel base. One of the rebels you had known by appearance if not by name had been hit by blaster fire before he could use the rocket launcher held in his hands. He had held it up to you, begging with his eyes that you take out the ship that had fired on him before it could do more damage.

You had accepted, and the ship was a roiling ball of flame before you could make yourself nervous about shooting anything other than Rex’s now-familiar blasters. You tossed aside the rocket launcher and found a discarded blaster. From that point until the combat had ended, thoughts of schematics or building solidity were gone from your head. You were as much a part of the rebel group as anyone else, and you watched with the same horror as Steela Gerrera fell to her death, despite the best efforts of Commander Tano.

The funeral was lovely. Onderonians didn’t believe in mourning for their dead. Instead, they truly celebrated all that the departed had done to create a better society… and Steela had done a great deal.

When things had ended, you were sitting on a raised set of stairs overlooking the ceremonial area. The dais holding Steela’s cloth-draped casket was filled with people far too important for you to bother. You were glad to see Saw speaking with King Dendup. After he had handed you the agreed-upon payment for your services - despite your many attempts to refuse the credits - Saw had left, ignoring the sympathy you tried to offer. He needed to speak with someone, and if that someone was the man he and Steela had worked so hard to save, so much the better.

“Nice ceremony, huh?” someone asked from behind you, and you twisted a bit to find General Skywalker standing there with Captain Rex beside him.

You nodded, but you could feel that it was a half-hearted motion. “Steela was so young. She had a lot of promise.”

“She died fulfilling the mission she set out to finish,” Captain Rex countered. “She knew the risks and thought Dendup was worth it. Her choices were her own. All we can do is respect them.”

With a joyless smile, you said, “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“It never does,” General Skywalker admitted, sitting next to you. Rex’s comlink chimed and he stepped a respectful distance away before answering it.

Skywalker sat beside you in silence for a while. Normally, you would speak first just for sake of politeness, but you weren’t feeling that generous. You let the silence linger while you watched the activity on the dais.

“Have you ever thought about using your talents for the Republic?” the general asked eventually.

“I thought I was a soulless mercenary?” you asked before you could think better of it.

“And I thought you didn’t work in combat situations,” Skywalker countered. “But I’ve seen the battlefield recordings. You handled yourself well.”

You glanced over at him in surprise. “Are you trying to contract me on as a soldier?”

“Force, no,” he denied quickly. “As an engineer. I sent samples of your work to a friend of mine who works as an engineer in the private sector and they were impressed. The GAR is struggling to find good engineers comfortable working in combat. The pay is a bit lower than you’re used to, but it’s steady work.”

Ah, he had cut straight to the heart of your problem with freelancing. The fight to survive between jobs meant that anything extra you were making was eaten up by the time you were hired on again. And your morals meant that jobs weren’t nearly as frequent as you would like them to be. But being in constant combat… Yes, you had survived this time, but that didn’t mean you were rushing to repeat the experience.

You grimaced. “I appreciate the offer, really, but I don’t know if it’s for me. Combat engineering isn’t really my specialty.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short,” General Skywalker told you seriously. “I’ve seen samples of your past work, and a lot of it is on worlds that have a lot of fighting. I’m sure you know that none of your structures have sustained extreme damage, no matter how much combat was happening around them. That’s an impressive record.”

“You researched me?” you asked, feeling a little stunned.

“Well, the Republic likes to know who they’re hiring. But honestly, I’m not the one who did the research,” Skywalker said, looking past you. You followed his gaze to Rex, who was suddenly very intently looking at his comlink. With a mischievous grin, the general added, “I think my captain has taken a liking to you.”

You fought back a grin, turning away from the captain, and your eyes fell on Steela’s casket once more. Suddenly, keeping a straight face wasn’t as much of a struggle. “If I said yes, what would my official job duties be?”

“You would oversee a group of construction experts - both civilian and enlisted - using maps and satellite footage to find the best possible choices for locations to build bases, bridges, or other structures to help us complete campaigns,” he answered easily. “Preferably, to win campaigns, but that’s more on us than you.”

“And would I work with your group?”

“The 501st?” Skywalker asked, sounding surprised. “I’m not sure, but probably. We’re a planetary landing battalion, so we always need someone who has the knowledge of places to build. You might have to stay behind on some planets to supervise base construction, but you could always catch back up with us. Is that something you would want?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “If I did agree to that-”

“I’m no good at negotiations,” he interrupted with a self-deprecating smile. “You speak clearly about what you want and I’ll do what I can.”

“I’ll work for the Republic,” you said, feeling the nerves twist in your belly. “If you can make sure I’m permanently attached to the 501st.”

“Deal,” General Skywalker accepted immediately, holding his hand out for you to shake. “Welcome to the 501st.”

---

A/N - I assure you that there is no timeline of any sort happening in my writing, so don't think too hard about where this should fit into the narrative. It won't end well.

Thanks for reading!

Next | Masterlist

Taglist: @imabeautifulbutterfly

(If anyone else wants added to any taglist, just leave a comment or send a message!)

[elusive---ivory]

The Woman In Velvet pt. 5

Aaaaa, this is a lot one. This one is just all fluffy and fun.

WARNINGS: None, just fluff

PAIRING: Arthur x Oc.

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Three little girls were in the dining room, setting the table for their dinner.

"Ha, Seriously Sandy? You still don't have a date for Friday?" The girl with dimples giggled.

The girl with black hair shook her head and shrugged. "Looks like I won't be joining you for your triple date."

The girl without dimples gave her a shocked look and gasped. "Sandy! Don't be such a debbie downer. I'll set you up with someone."

The girl with dimples scoffed. "Really? Because, the last time you played matchmaker, you set up Dollar Dave with his sister."

The two sisters bickered until a large man appeared in the entrance of the dining room.

"Girls." The man spoke. His voice was raspy. He had a thick, black, cigar hanging out of his mouth. He looked over at the girl with black hair. The man took a seat at the newly set table.

"Deliah, Destiny, if your cousin doesn't wish to attend your ridiculous triple date, then don't force her."

The girl with black hair turned away from the man and muttered a small "Thank you" under her breath. She sat next to him, but scooted away a few inches. The two other girls rolled their eyes and sat down with them.

"Besides, I think Sandy and I would have lots of fun without the two of you, ain't that right, doll?" His eyes were glued on the girl next to him. She gulped hard. She stared hard at her cousins.

They both stared back with menacing looks. Neither of them bothered to help.

Sandy woke up to a dreaded alarm clock going off.

'Funny,' she thought. Her alarm didn't work at all. She had planned on getting a new one, but it was her same alarm clock. As she opened her eyes a little bit, she took in her surroundings. She was in her bed, and in her usual nightie. What was different about today?

"Oh fuck." She said, aloud. Sandy looked around. She threw the bed sheets off her body and quickly ran into her living room.

Arthur was standing there in the kitchen, shirtless. Sandy approached him carefully, still not fully understanding what was going on. The early morning sun was slowly creeping outside the window. The small apartment was dark, beside the light of in the kitchen.

"Hey." Sandy said, quietly.

Arthur looked around him, slightly startled. He didn't expect her to be up yet.

Arthur smiled at her gently. "Good morning."

Sandy looked down, bashfully. "Yeah, what are you doing up?" She stepped into the florescent lighting of the kitchen.

Arthur shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

"Really? Did you fix my clock?" Sandy smiled, giggling slightly.

"Yeah, you talk in your sleep. You kept mumbling about the alarm, so I fixed it." Arthur answered, sheepishly.

"Also, we were on the couch when," Sandy cleared her throat, "we, ya know."

Arthur smiled. "You also sleepwalk."

Sandy giggled and gently punched his shoulder. "You got all of that from just spending the night with me. Color me impressed, Detective."

Arthur flinched at her sudden roughhousing, but chuckled at her joke. "Yeah, you know. I do stand up comedy."

Sandy raised her eyebrow. "Really?" She said, brewing her coffee.

Arthur nodded, shyly. "Yeah. Tomorrow night will be my very first gig."

"Huh." Sandy stirred her coffee. "Save me a seat in the front." She winked, booping his nose.

Sandy walked out of the kitchen. Arthur's eyes followed her dreamily.

Sandy finally got into her routine according, putting on a seemingly different work uniform. Instead of matted and ripped purple violet blouse, it was a red and black velvet with a black satin skirt. It wasn't at all comfortable, but she had to make do. She put on black heels matching the overall theme of the outfit. When she was done, she found her cheap frame glasses, and gently placed them on her face.

Sandy walked back into the kitchen to give Arthur a small peck on his cheek.

"I'm heading out. Here's the spare key, just incase you want to lounge around here for today." Sandy placed a small key in his hand. "Try not to burn down the apartment." She giggled stepping out of the door.

Arthur's eyes never left her figure once. She looked so elegant when she walked. His hand gently touched the cheek where she kissed him. It left him breathless.

The gloomy office building seemed to be even more dull and dreary than usual. Sandy sighed sitting there in her small cubicle.

"Hey, did you hear about those subway killings?"

Sandy overheard two coworkers talking. Often times when she eavesdropped she would mostly hear some stupid gossip like she fucked or he fucked her etc, but this seemed serious.

"Yeah, I did. I hear they were employees of ours."

This caught Sandy's attention. 'Employees?' She thought. She continued listening intently.

"Wayne Enterprises?"

"Yeah, I hear one of them was Dennis Cullen."

Sandy's eyes widened. 'Dennis is dead?' Half of her celebrated the death of that bastard, but it just seemed wrong. She snapped out of her thoughts when a coworker knocked on Sandy's cubicle.

"Sandy, the boss wants you."

She took a long sigh. She got out of her chair and walked down to the boss's office.

"Needed me, Mr. Don?" Sandy asked, being as polite as she could be.

A large man looked up at Sandy from his paperwork.

"Yes, please take a seat." Mr. Don gestured to the two chairs in front of him.

"Why were you not here yesterday?" His voice sounded frustrated.

"Well, sir, I was really sick, yesterday and-"

Mr. Don cut her off with a glare.

"Look, I'm too bent on excuses. Now, as you may know, Dennis, your associate, has recently passed away. It's a shame, I know, but he had lots of clients. Since he's gone, you have to take after his clients." Mr. Don looked back down at his paperwork.

Sandy stood there dumbfounded.

"Wait. Shouldn't the person getting his position get his clients?" Sandy crossed her arms.

Mr. Don looked at her begrudgingly. "Well, yes, but there's still so many clients he had. Most are pretty upset by the current circumstances. Could you please do these few clients?" Mr. Don held a sudden desperation in his gruff voice.

Sandy gave a defeated sigh. "Alright. I'll see what I can do about the clients."

Dennis would always brag about his clients and how high maintenance they were. How he was so lucky to always have meetings with the one and only, Thomas Wayne. His position was completely up for grabs.

Sandy didn't want Dennis's stupid position. Not like she could ever get get it. She was a woman working 45 hours a week, yet being paid so little.

'Why the fuck did people get so angry over some dudes getting killed on a subway?' Sandy growled in her thoughts, as she walked out of the office building.

All day clients were yelling and screaming about how they furious they were for not getting their fucking products. It gave her such a headache.

Her heels tapped the wet pavement. The lights of bars and restaurants colored the numerous puddles on the ground.

As she was walking down the street, she felt a pair of eyes on her.

Crack.

She turned around. Her eyes monitored the alleyway next to her. She strutted ahead, continuing her path, while being on high alert.

Crack.

She heard it again. She started walking fast. As she did so, Sandy glanced behind her. It was a silhouette of a man walking fast. Her heart stopped. She kept walking faster, until she was gently jogging in her heels. She was almost to the subway.

The man had finally caught up to her, and gently tapped her shoulder.

Sandy froze. She turned around to face her stalker.

Arthur smiled gently, taking off the yellow hood of his hoodie.

She sighed in relief. "Oh, thank god. Arthur, it's just you." Sandy smiled at her supposed stalker. "I thought you were the subway killer."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, so I've heard."

"How could you not? It's everywhere. Who cares about some assholes dying?" Sandy tapped around her coat. "Damn it." She hissed under her breath.

"Hey, Art." Sandy said, getting his attention.

Arthur tilted his head. "Hmm?"

"Do you think I can bum a cig?" Sandy asked, desperately.

"Uh, yeah sure." Arthur handed her a fresh cigarette.

Sandy lit the cancer stick, inhaling the dangerous smoke, then exhaling it out of her lungs.

"Thanks, Artie." Sandy smiled. "Say, you never told me why you were out here following me anyway?" She said, with the cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

Arthur looked down, almost like a guilty puppy.

"I, uh, was worried." Arthur said, twiddling his thumbs.

Sandy smirked. "Worried? Aww, Artie. You don't need to worry about me, sweets." Sandy pressed a small kiss on his cheek.

Arthur started fidgeting with the bottom of his hoodie. "Uhh, well, of course, I do, Sandy. It's dangerous."

Sandy giggled. "Ok, I guess you can walk me back to my apartment." She put out the cigarette, and linked arms with Arthur.

The subway was deserted. The florescent lights flickered on and off as the loud railings of the subway train moved by.

Sandy was seated by Arthur's side, leaning on him a bit. For Sandy, Arthur was like a breath of fresh air. He was so comforting and sweet. He listened to Sandy's problems, no matter how stupid they were to her.

"So, you're a party clown?" Sandy said, holding Arthur's hand in hers.

"Yeah, at least I was. I'm focusing more on my comedy career. I've got lots of jokes." Arthur put emphasis on the word lots.

"You said that this morning. Let me hear some of your jokes." Sandy said, interested.

Arthur eyes lit up.

"Oh? Let me get my joke book." Arthur reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn down journal. Arthur gently handed the journal to Sandy.

Sandy flipped through a few pages of the journal.

"Well, what do you think?" Arthur asked, impatient. He looked pretty anxious.

Sandy laughed a little.

"How come poor people are so confused? They don't make sense." Sandy read, still laughing. "That's a stupid joke."

Arthur frowned. "Oh."

Sandy immediately corrected herself. "No, no, no. It's great, Arthur. You're gonna be great. I know it."

Arthur's frowned disappeared, and turned into a smirk. "You think so?"

"I know so, babe." Sandy kissed his nose.

"Could I look through your book more?"

Arthur nodded.

Sandy looked through each page, but there's one page that caught her eye. It had a polaroid picture of her with twisted writings all over the page.

Mrz. Sandy Fleck

Mrz. Sandera Fleck

MY dEaR, Sandy

Sandy's eyes read the page over and over again. Arthur began to look anxious.

The subway came to a stop.

"This is our stop." Sandy handed his journal back to him. "And, by the way, it's spelled S-A-N-D-R-A." She said, stepping out of the subway doors. Arthur followed behind her.