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kaitycole · 4 years

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chapter one: does she know?

Summary: Two little friends have always desired one thing: to end up as siblings. So when the chance presented itself after a finalized divorce, who were they to decline such an opportunity to finally bring their parents together?

Pairings: Bokuto Kōtarō x f!Reader

Word Count: 2572

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Mentions of divorce, cheating, cussing

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this series. Part of the @babythotshq Dearest Daddy Collab

Tags: open (send me an ask to be added!)

February 2025

“DADDY!”

Frowns fill the faces of those who look at the small girl yelling as she works her way through the sea of people to the court. Where are her parents? Riddle the faces of those around, but she pays no mind, she’s on a mission and there’s nothing that’s going to get in her way.

She screams out again, but this time stops halfway when she sees who she’s been looking for. A large smile spreads across her lips as she starts sprinting across the wooden court.

“Daddy!” She cries out once more and this time he hears her.

His round, golden eyes find her matching ones and he immediately stops whatever conversation he’s having, dropping into a squat with his arm extended outwards, just in time to catch her as she throws herself into his arms.

She wraps her arms tightly around his neck, barely allowing him room to pull her backwards just long enough for him to place a kiss on her forehead. She quickly realizes the mistake she’s made before pushing against him, telling him that he needs to shower. With a loud, hearty laugh, he puts her feet back onto the court before ruffling her hair.

“I am so sorry, Bo.” You start to apologize, “She took off and there are so many people.”

He waves you off before looking down at his daughter, who already knows what he’s going to say. “Seiko, you know better. What do you need to tell Y/N?”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Seiko puts on her best apologetic face, poking out her bottom lip to added effect.

You laugh, shaking your head looking at the golden eyed little girl whose hair matches her mother’s brunette hair instead of Bokuto’s wild mix of colors. “Thank you, Seiko.”

Bzzzt Bzzzt Bzzzt

You slip the phone out of your back pocket before rolling your eyes at the name on your screen before pressing the side button twice; sending the caller straight to voicemail. Bokuto cocks his head to the side, having watched the whole ordeal, but before he can question your actions your son grabs his attention.

“Uncle Bo you looked so awesome!” Your son Haruki exclaims as he eagerly jumps up to give the volleyball player a high-five.

“I did, didn’t I?” Bokuto throws his head up victoriously while you and Seiko just roll your eyes.

* * “Careful, careful. Hold on to each other!” You call out to Haruki and Seiko as they run down the sidewalk and into a small café near the stadium. It had become somewhat of a tradition to eat there after a game or at least the games you and Haruki could attend. Seiko and Haruki are still talking a mile a minute as Bo opens the door for everyone.

Sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if they were best friends because they were born just a few months apart and raised almost like siblings or if it had anything to do with you and Bo being best friends. You had met by complete accident; you had gone to your locker to get a textbook when you saw a boy with crazy colored spiky hair trying to open it.

When you questioned what he was doing trying to open your locker, he looked completely puzzled before stating it was his. You debated it for a few moments before he handed you the paper with his locker number and combination. You pointed out his locker was in fact the one next to yours, causing him to laugh. After that every day you were greeted with a very enthusiastic ‘hey hey hey’ and were attached at the hip. That had been 16 years ago.

The four of you pile into the same booth as always with you sitting across from Seiko and Haruki across from Bokuto. Your son absolutely adores the wing spiker and has been begging you to let him start playing volleyball too, but your husband doesn’t think he should.

Bzzzt Bzzzt Bzzzt

You quickly click the button on the right side of your phone, this time just silencing it instead of sending it to voicemail.

“Are you getting excited to see your mom, Seiko?” You ask after the waitress takes everyone’s usual orders.

She beams, “Yes! She said we can go No Very Farms!”

You look between her and Bo confusingly before he corrects her ‘No Very Farm’ to ‘Knott’s Berry Farm’ and explaining that it’s an amusement park in California. It still surprised you to this day that Bokuto ended up having a kid with an American journalist. Mostly because there was so much mystery as to why they didn’t end up together.

You’ve seen them interact on several occasions and they always seemed to get along really well. You understand that some people just don’t work together, but Bo and Jess were great. They even had an adorable how we met story, but alas they didn’t end up together.

“And Mommy said we can take lots of pictures to mail to Daddy since he’s gonna miss me.” She giggles.

Bzzzt Bzzzt Bzzzt

“Aren’t you gonna miss me?” Bo looks at his daughter who is still giggling as she shakes her head no. He places his hand on his chest and gasps before turning away from her, pretending to cry.

“I’ll miss you daddy, please don’t cry!” Seiko tries to throw her arms around his broad shoulders but her arms just aren’t long enough to wrap around his muscular form. She whispers repeatedly that she was just joking before he turns around, wrapping her into a hug.

This will be only the second time since finding out he would be a dad that he’d be apart from Seiko for more than a few days. Being a professional athlete meant that he spent a lot of time traveling, but those trips never lasted longer than five days. The first time was when she was two and he was gone for two weeks, this time she’d be gone for two months and he’d miss her fifth birthday. Jess has already promised to live stream her party and Bo had already mailed Seiko’s gift to Jess so she’ll be able to open it on her actual birthday, but it still feels like the end of the world.

Bzzzt Bzzzt Bzzzt

“You can answer that if you want.” Bo offers, “If you need to step outside, Haruki won’t mind sitting here with us.”

Haruki smiles up at you, “Yeah Mom. Your phone has been going off since we left home.”

You shoot your son a look, the ‘you shouldn’t have said that’ look which causes him to sink down in his seat. Truth be told you don’t want to answer the phone, you have nothing really to say to the person on the other end, but you didn’t want to ruin your outing with Bo and Seiko either.

“It’s fine. I can just get it later.”

Bo drops the subject as Seiko and Haruki begin talking about Seiko’s trip some more which includes promises of souvenirs, handwritten letters, and daily video chats.

You look at your phone: 6 missed calls, 3 voicemails, and 18 missed text messages. All from Nakajima Youta, your husband. As you sit there, staring at the excessive amount of notifications, your mind begins to wonder.

* * It was an early autumn day, the kind where it wasn’t too chilly but the overbearing heat of the summer was long gone. You sat in a room, surrounded by your mother, friends and future mother-in-law as they all chatted away about how beautiful everything looks. You fiddled with your engagement ring as your mother pinned your hair up, pressing her cheek to yours as she smiled at you through the mirror.

There was a knock at the door and your mother was shocked to see it was Youta who had his hand over his eyes.

“Youta? What are you doing?”

“It’s bad luck to see the bride, but I just need her for four seconds.”

A smile twitched on your lips as you walked over to him, “What’s going on?”

He removed his hand from his eyes, but they are tightly squeezed shut as he awkwardly moved his arms around before finding your face. He stepped closer before he pressed a chaste kiss on your lips, his thumb gently stroked your cheek.

“What was that for?” “This will sound lame, but I’m kinda nervous and I figured you were too. Thought it couldn’t hurt.”

You saw him smile before turning around so you could shut the door before he opened his eyes. Your mother and his began to talk about how sweet that exchange was. Followed by them wondering how you were remaining so calm when they had been complete messes before their wedding. Then it hit you that you were extremely calm, not once had you thought of bolting or canceling the wedding which to you was strange. You get nervous about a lot of things, you second-guessed a ton of things, and here you were with nerves of steel.

Two weeks later

“Mommy!” Seiko bounces up and down, glancing up at Bo with a huge smile on her face. Jess flew in so that she could attend a volleyball game with Seiko before heading to California. The original plan was for Bo to fly out with Seiko, but a last-minute change to the MSBY game schedule disrupted the plan.

“Hey baby girl!” She scoops the little girl up in her arms, spinning her around. She peppers her face with kisses as Seiko squeals, wrapping her arms around Jess’ neck. “Hey Bo.”

“Jess!” Bo wraps Jess and Seiko in a hug before placing a quick kiss on her temple. He grabs her bags as Seiko refuses to be put down; claiming she was too tired to walk. The family of three walk through the airport and make their way to the parking lot.

The ride back to Bo’s apartment is filled with Seiko asking her mom all about California, the same thing she’s asked her every night since she learned she was going. It doesn’t matter to Seiko that her mom has already told her the same thing, it’s different because this time her mom is sitting next to her instead of telling her through a screen.

* * “Can we watch a movie?” Seiko asks as Bo and Jess finish cleaning up the kitchen from dinner.

“Of course.”

“YAY!” Seiko screams before running up to hug Bo and Jess then takes off to find the movie she wants to watch.

“She gets that from you.” Jess says.

“Her adorableness? I know.” Bo sticks his tongue out and Jess throws the towel in her hands at him. The kitchen fills with laughter as Seiko comes running back down the hallway, DVD case in hand.

“I want to watch this one!” Seiko holds up Coco; it was her favorite movie lately which Bo was thankful for, he was tired of watching The Lion King 2.

It wasn’t even 45 minutes into the movie and Seiko was asleep on Bo’s lap, his shirt tightly gripped in her little fist while Jess’s head is rested on his shoulder.

“Jess?” Bo whispers, not wanting to wake their daughter.

“Mm.” She hums, half asleep.

“She’s asleep. Want to tuck her in with me?”

She nods against his shoulder before sitting up, stretching the best she could; her body heavy with sleep. Bo cradles their daughter in his arms as they walk into the four-year old’s room; it’s decorated in fairy lights, purples and grays with owls everywhere. She has books on the floor, she said she had been doing research for her and Haruki’s next adventure and crayons littered her desks with drawings she had done to take to California.

Jess pulls the blanket over Seiko, pressing a kiss to her forehead before the little girl turns over to get comfortable. Bo turns off the light after making sure her nightlight is plugged in.

“You’re really good at that.” Jess says as she curls back up on the couch, Bo getting himself a glass of water.

“Turning off lights?” He laughs when she rolls her eyes.

“At being a dad.” She smiles, “I never really did thank you for how great you were with all of this.”

He just shrugs, “I couldn’t imagine having a kid with anyone else.”

A wide grin spreads across her face, “Really? No one? Not even someone with a son? A son who is best friends with Seiko. No one else? Huh.”

Blush faintly covers his cheeks as he clears his throat, “She’s married Jess. Plus, we already talked about that, remember? When we met?”

* * October 2018

“That’s all we have time for today. A special thank you again to Bokuto Kōtarō and congratulations on the win.”

The cameraman signaled that they aren’t live anymore before the brunette let out a sigh.

“Are you okay?” Bokuto asked.

“Oh.” She started to fiddle with the microphone cord, “This was my first interview, I’m new to Japan.”

“Well you did great!” He exclaimed, holding up a hand for a high-five. The woman looked at him like he’s crazy but complied.

“Thanks. Ah, so did you.”

Bo smiled, “Jess, right?” She nodded. “I can show you around if you want.”

She shook her head, “Oh no, I couldn’t impose like that.” Bo waved her off, “I really don’t mind. I think it’ll be fun.”

“Only if you’re sure. I have a guidebook I don’t mind using.”

Bo scrunched his face up, “Those don’t show you half of the best places.” He asked for her phone and put his number in. “Just let me know when you’re free and we’ll work it out.”

She smiled, going to speak before you ran up to Bo whose expression had changed; it was no longer just a polite look but one of adoration. His eyes appeared softer and the way his face lit would melt anyone’s heart.

“You did so great out there!” You throw your arms around him.

“Thank you.” His cheeks turned red which didn’t go unnoticed by Jess, “Y/N, this is Andrews Jess, she conducted the postgame interview.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Nakajima Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Jess said, feeling a tad bit awkward and blurted out the first thing she could think of, “You two make a lovely couple.”

“Oh no. No no no.” You shook your head, “We’re best friends. I’ve known Bo here forever.”

There was a slight shift in Bo’s demeanor but a shift nevertheless when a wave of sadness washes over his expression. He almost seems to have stiffened at the word ‘friend’ and somehow his hair seemed to have deflated. Jess tried not to think too much into it, she doesn’t know him or them at all.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Hinata waved from across the court.

“Hinata!” You waved back before heading over to meet Hinata.

“Did you see my spikes!?” He jumped up and down, “They were all swoosh bam!”

Jess looked back to Bo, “This is probably way out of line, but does she know?”

Bokuto frowned as his attention went back to Jess, “Does she know what?”

“That you have feelings for her?”

“I don’t…” He stopped when he saw the same look in her eyes that he’s seen in his, “No. She just got married.”

Previous/ Masterlist /Next

#bokuto kotaro #bokuto x reader #dearest daddy series #bbthots collab #scheming monsters

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nagitoandkokichioneshots · 3 years

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OKAY HELLO OMG I HOPE YOU ARE TAKING REQUESTS !! i really like the way you write its super cool and i want you to keep going lolz anyways can i request a scenario where nagito, reader and hana are spending an afternoon together, the reader came home early from work which means that they can hang out, i think that would sound fun. i would love to see hana interact with her mom !!! okay so good luck

-Mod Mikan: Hello sweet nonnie! First of all, thank you for your kind words! I’m not very confident in my writing skills, but I still enjoy making X reader fanfics with my fictional crushes, so your feedback and praise means a lot to me, it really does! And this idea is SO CUTE! I had so much fun writing this, I truly love domestic life au’s, so thank you for your request!

“C’mon Mama! You have to show me around the beach!” Hana squealed, pulling her mother by the arm. The (H/C) female chuckled, as she power walked with her three year old daughter to the wide body of white sand. (Y/N) felt the rush of the grainy sand flood between her and the (F/C) flip flops she put on today. It was days like this where the ultimate (Y/T) had the day off. It was rare, but that’s what made her days off even more enjoyable. A day with the whole family was precious and the Komeada’s enjoyed every second of it

“Hey, wait for me!” Nagito ran towards the two beautiful rays of hope, slinging a black duffle bag across her shoulder. Hana giggled, holding onto her mother’s hand as they stopped at an unoccupied portion of the beach

“Sorry Papa. You’re too slow~” She giggled, earning herself a light scold from (Y/N), who was lying a Minnie Mouse beach towel for her daughter

“Hana, you know your Papa needs a little more time when it comes to our races. We have to encourage him, like we do with you all the time!” She explained, pulling the platinum blond up in an upsie. She peppered her face with kisses, making the toddler squeal in her mother’s arms. Cute giggles were muffled out by more baritone, deep laughs coming from her father

“Thank you, my angel. But don’t worry about me. The important thing is that we all made it, and now we can finally relax,” He said, running a lanky hand thorugh Hana’s neatly done braid. It was usually Nagito who does Hana’s hair in the morning, and 99% of the time, it’s a messy, but cute braid. (Y/N) has managed to braid her daughter’s hair this morning into a much neater and elegant design, even adorning it with tiny white flowers to match her two piece bathing suit

“You’re right, Papa. But can we explore? I want to build a sandcastle, go swimming, play volleyball, get ice cream, collect seashells, a--” Hana’s ramble was interrupted by her mother setting her down on the beach towel along with her pink barbie backpack

“Well maybe we can take it easy for a little while and start with that sandcastle, okay? Mama can help you out if you want,” (Y/N) flashed a sweet smile to her, already kneeling down. Nagito couldn’t help but let out a grin himself. It warmed his heart to see his angel and flower of hope playing together. As said before, (Y/N)’s days off were scarce, so saying Nagito lived for these moments would be an understatement--he considered them a blessing, even after all this time

“And Papa can go get some ice cream for us. Hana, cookie dough like always?” He waved his daughter’s favorite ice cream flavor in his question, making her (E/C) eyes light up. She nodded, whipping her braid back and forth as she did

“Yes, Papa, Yes!” She cheered, producing another series of cheerful laughs from Nagito. He then turned to his wife, asking her a similar question

“And you, my angel? (F/F), I assume?” He asked, earning a nod from the older female

“Thank you, Nagito,” She smiled. Nagito kissed both their heads before running off to a concession stand. (Y/N) turned her attention back to the three year old, as she started to shovel out some sand into her yellow plastic spade

“I want a big castle! Like the ones the princesses live in in the fairytales Papa tells me before bedtime. So we have to get A LOT of sand, Mama!” Hana exclaimed, dropping her bucket only for a split second, allowing her to motion the immense amount of ‘sand’ with her hands. (Y/N) chortled yet again at her daughter, but Hana’s cheerful smile faded into a neutral one, scooping sand into her bucket

“You....You’ll be able to read to me for bed tonight...right Mama?” The pale skinned three year old asked her mother. (Y/N) felt her heart ache at her daughter’s slightly gloomy smile, not wanting to disappoint her. After all, was she even going to say no?

“Sweetheart, I’d be more than happy to read to you any story you want for bedtime,” Her mother offered, making Hana look up from her filled bucket placed upside down in the sand. Her goofy grin was plastered back on her face, as she crawled onto her mother’s lap, kissing her cheek

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mama!” She hugged her tightly, (Y/N) nuzzling her cheek with hers. She felt some sticky lipgloss on her cheek, but she didn’t care. The hug was broken, only for (Y/N) to remove the bucket, revealing a mound of sand in the shape of the castle’s base

“No need to thank me, darling. Come on, let’s go surprise Papa with this palace fit for a princess!” She booped Hana’s nose, making her blush. Both girls worked hard for the next few minutes, molding sand into pillars, poking windows into the castle, and digging a moat around it. The sound of light footsteps shoveling through the sandy landscape signaled the return of Nagito, holding three ice cram cones in his hand

“Rocky road for my flower,” He flashed a bright smile towards Hana, handing her the waffle cone, making her gleam with the hope that Nagito adored. “(F/F) for my angel,” He gentle transferred the second cone from his hand to his wife’s. “And plain vanilla for someone like me,” Just like Hana’s, his joyous smile faded into an indifferent one, as he sat down on the beach chair. (Y/N) mentally shook her head at her husband. They’ve been married for three years and had Hana just a few weeks after their wedding. It would be safe to say that Nagito’s self confidence have been raised more than he could ever imagine and he certainly does feel more value and worth within himself, especially being near his angel’s side. But old habits that lasted since childhood are extremely difficult to break

Well...it’s progress from “worthless trash” (Y/N) thought to herself, a mature smile creeping back onto her face, as Hana licked her cone, still sitting on her mother’s lap. Hana turned to her father, surprisingly keeping her face clean from her sweet frozen treat as she continued to indulge in it

“Papa, what do you think of our castle? Me and Mama made it together,” She motioned her head towards the mountain of sand sculpted into an elegant design that resembled an ancient citadel. The white haired male simpered, admiring the work of the ultimate ballerina and the ultimate (Y/T)

“It certainly beautiful, my darling. But I can’t say I’m surprised. Symbols of hope like you two can only create the best!” He planted a kiss onto Hana’s forehead, making a faded pink blush dust upon her cheeks once again. Nagito moved to perform the same action onto his wife, but she just smirked, stopping him with pressing her index finger to his lips

“Oh? And is my dear marshmallow trying to steal a kiss from me?” She winked cheekily at him, making Nagito form a surprised expression on his face

“Huh? (Y/N) is teasing me today?” He questioned her, his licked getting slower as his vanilla soft serve shrunk in size. As for the (H/C) female, she quickly chomped the last of her cone, tossing the napkin into a nearby trash can

“Oh love, don’t think of it as teasing. Think of it asssss~” Just then, (Y/N) stood up, tightly holding Hana, her tiny legs wrapped around her mother’s bare waist. She ran off with her daughter into the ocean, creating a huge splash as they cannonballed into the lukewarm waters. The toddler shrieked from the sudden surprise and the water hitting her bare skin. However, she laughed joyously after her body became accustomed to the new temperature, still clinging onto her mother to support her tiny body in the large body of salt water

“Join the fun, Nagito! Hana is right, you are pretty slow~” She chaffed at her husband, lightly splashing water onto the toddler’s rounded face, making her yelp in a mix of shock and cheekiness

“H-Hey! (Y/N), weren’t you the one who told Hana to give me a break from running?!” He pouted, making his way into the ocean as fast as the sickly man could. He tossed his shirt onto the beach chair and kicked off his shoes before entering the vast ocean. He searched for his family, before spotting the two girls half swimming-half walking towards them

“Now that wasn’t funny, (Y/N)! Not only did you tease me, but you stole my flower away! This was supposed to be a family day,” He sulked, making (Y/N) place one of her hands on Nagito’s cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb

“Aw, poor baby. I’m sorry, Naggie. Can you forgive me??? Please???” She singsonged to him, pulling Hana up so their heads were at level with each other. Hana also made the same puppy dogged eyes with her mother, asking for his forgiveness

“Pwease, Papa???” She asked him too. Who was Nagito kidding? He couldn’t say no to his two favorite girls

“Well...just this once. After all, this is Mama’s day off,” His glower was replaced with his usual merry expression, making both girls shout in happiness

“Yayyy! Come on, Papa! I wanna swim!” Hana grabbed her father’s arm in her free hand, along with her mother’s in the other one. Half swimming and half walking, she treaded along the water’s surface before creating a tiny splash as her white skinned body flopped into the deeper waters, still holding onto her parents’ hands for support

“Hana, not too far, darling. We don’t want you getting kidnapped by pirates out in far waters,” Her mother joked, warning her to stay close. Nagito reached for his wife’s free hand with his, smiling at her before they joined their daughter in the salty ocean

****************************************************************************************************

“That was the best, Mama!” Hana exclaimed, tightening her little legs that were circling around her mother’s waist. (Y/N) flashed a smile, this time, a semi-tired one mixed in with her usual bright one

“I’m so glad you had fun, my flower. We should definetly do this again when I get another day off. And don’t forget, Mama still promised you a bedtime story when we get back home~” She nuzzled her nose with Hana’s, as Nagito let out a giggle

“Well that’s just the cutest sight ever. The angel of hope and the flower of hope cuddling!” He got inside the driver’s seat of the car, setting a small baggie down in the cupholders. (Y/N) blushed at Nagito’s statement, setting the toddler down into the warm cushions of her carseat. Hana squirmed a bit as (Y/N) secured the seatbelts across her little lap, as if she was trying to see what was in the contents of the baggie

“Papa, can I see my seashells? I collected a lot!” She asked her father, earning a side grin from the male. He reached his hand towards the mini drawstring, making it land on the toddler’s lap with a gentle toss

“There you go, my love. Now it’s time for my other love to join me in the front,” He winked at (Y/N), patting the passenger’s seat in the front. The (H/C) female kept her faint blush on her cheeks, crawling beside Nagito in the front of the car. As Hana poked a slightly chubby finger inside the cinch sack, thrilled to see the collection of shells she picked up, (Y/N) turned to Nagito, a relaxed sigh fell from her pink lips

“This was a much needed break. I missed this, Naggie...” She admitted to her husband, making Nagito form his usual, carefree smile on his face. He pulled out of the parking lot of the beach, turning onto the street

“Me too. It was so nice for your boss to let you have a day off when you’ve been working so hard, my angel. Hana really missed you,” He responded, keeping his keys on the road. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other one creeping to touch his wife’s. He stroked his thumb upon her knuckles, keeping her at ease. She looked down for a split second before turning to him, another smirk forming on her face

“You know, Hana loves her Papa as much as she missed her Mama. Would he care to join us for a bedtime story???” The female questioned him, every word of her sentences laced with a flavor of sweetness. Nagito’s smile crept wider, seeing his daughter admiring the elegantly spotted scallop shell between her fingers from his mirror

“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind someone like me intruding your mother-daughter time?” He asked his wife for reassurance, earning an eye-roll from her. However, this only lasted for a split second, as the thumb that was stroking her knuckles was yanked into a hand-holding position, each finger interlocked with each other

“We would be offended if you didn’t!”

#nagito komaeda #nagito komeada kin #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #danganronpa x y/n #nagito x reader #nagito headcanons #nagito oneshots #danganronpa nagito #nagito x you #danganronpa oneshot #danganronpa goodbye despair

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

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Written In The Stars CXX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m learning to drive and the anxiety it gives me should be illegal why can’t we just apparate -Danny

Words: 2,883

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Already Gone’ -by Sleeping At Last

Chapter Eighteen: Inside His Mind.

"Not that I'm complaining," She heard Fred's voice from where she was, her arms tightly wrapped around his middle. "But I thought you wanted to be discrete?"

"This is just a hug," Mel murmured. "I'm sad."

"I see that," Fred was reading through the list of materials for his new products. "You shouldn't be sad though, you got a place in the team, didn't you? We're hoping you'll make us proud, Ginny as well."

"Thank you," She said. "But that's not what worries me right now. I just heard that Flint's Grandad... he's gone."

Fred stopped reading.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he'd been ill for a while... Erick looked terrible."

"Well, that's how you look after you lose someone."

"I acted like an idiot," She groaned. "I just stood there..."

"For the best, if I'm honest," He continued. "Some people don't react well to hugs when they're in shock. What if someone had walked in on you hugging a Slytherin? That's bad for everyone involved."

"I'm her friend, to hell with the gossip..."

"I wasn't talking about the gossip," The boy replied. "He's been helping us a great deal by keeping the prefects of his house away from the D.A. I'm really sorry about his Grandad, he helped us to get a great deal for a little flat on Diagon Alley, but we have to be careful; if someone sees him acting too friendly with any of us that wouldn't help him, would it?"

"I guess not," Mel propped herself up and away from his chest. "I still think I could've done more."

Fred gave her a serious look.

"Your schedule is full all the time, you barely have time to sit and sulk on me!"

"That sounds terrible," Mel blushed.

"Well it's true, you only come to your dear boy-friend," He smirked, knowing how flustered Mel got, "to complain about how hard life is. I don't mind being a shoulder to cry on, but maybe you could compensate afterwards?"

"How?"

His smile widened.

"Get out," Mel slipped away from his grip, crossing her arms. "Leave before I hex you."

"Oh, c'mon!" Fred laughed. "Not even a good night kiss?"

"Fred!"

He laughed louder, standing up and lifting his hands in surrender, his notebook under one arm.

"Fine," He sighed. "I'm just saying, you'll miss me during the next weeks, you'll be all alone in Grimmauld Place and I'll be at the burrow..."

"I've created a monster," Mel groaned, feeling her face burning.

Twenty minutes later she was finishing her History of Magic essay, her eyes slowly giving up in the dim firelight. Ron was laying across the rug and Hermione was next to her, writing the longest letter ever to Krum. Harry was nowhere to be seen, but she didn't worry about it, if he were in danger she'd be able to feel it.

He came back eventually and sat down quietly in front of the girls.

"What kept you?" Ron asked.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione glanced at him, noticing his silence.

He didn't answer, Mel lifted her gaze. Harry was pale.

"What's up?" Ron insisted, leaning on his elbow. "What's happened?"

Harry shook his head slightly, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He glanced at Mel nervously, and she was surprised when he immediately darted his eyes away, his hands closing into fists to avoid shaking.

"Is it Cho?" Hermione asked knowingly. "Did she corner you after the meeting?"

Mel had noticed the Ravenclaw staying behind, staring at Cedric's picture, but she didn't think much of it because her mind was already swirling, too busy to focus on the girl Harry had a crush on.

Ron let out a silly giggle.

"So — er — what did she want?" The boy asked.

"She —" Harry started, but when his eyes found Mel's again his voice faltered and he had to stop to clear his throat. "She — er —"

"Did you kiss?" asked Hermione bluntly, trying to finish with it as fast as possible for the sake of her friends' sanity.

Ron sat up and accidentally pushed his ink making a mess on the rug. None of them moved to fix it.

"Well?"

Those ten seconds felt like a lifetime. Harry stared at Ron, then at Hermione. When he gathered the courage to look at her, he frowned slightly, a short and silent nod making its way out.

"HA!"

Three second-years that were sitting near them jumped. Ron's laughter filled the room and for the first time in her life, Mel didn't follow. Harry was waiting for her reaction, which was weird considering she'd hidden away when Harry found out she'd kissed Fred. Didn't he know it was awful to ask for her opinion?

They had spent months in blissful secrecy, escaping to secluded places and holding hands, he couldn't lie to himself saying he'd never felt something for her. Yet he was, and she was doing the same thing. This whole thing felt like a joke, but she had to be fair and give him the same freedom he'd given her, no dirty looks, no insults.

Harry had every right to be with someone when they hadn't worked out. Even if she was bitter, at the end of the day she wasn't planning on giving up whatever she had with Fred, and who knew? Maybe Cho would be a better match for Harry.

"Glad to see she finally worked up the courage," Mel said lowly. "You should've seen the way she would stare at you during every meeting..."

Harry was too transparent when it came to his emotions, and at that moment, a little smile crept up his face as he looked down, clearly pleased.

"Well? How was it?" Ron's laughing fit finally stopped, and now he was looking at his best friend with eager eyes.

Harry's smile faltered and he frowned.

"Wet," He replied shortly.

Ron made a noise between a snort and a groan, Mel looked at Harry with mild confusion. Surely he had a better way to describe a kiss than just 'wet'?

"Because she was crying," Harry explained further.

"Oh," Ron said, then his face filled with pity. "Are you that bad at kissing?"

"Dunno," His expression changed, panicking. "Maybe I am..."

"No, you're not!" Mel blurted out.

"How do you know?" Ron asked her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Because Cho spends half her time crying these days," said Hermione, saving her without noticing. "She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place."

"You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up," Ron joked.

"Ron," Hermione straightened in her place and took a deep breath, "you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

Mel snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean? What sort of person cries while someone's kissing them?" Ron argued.

"Yeah," said Harry, still worried. "Who does?"

Hermione looked at the boys with a sad little expression; then she looked at Mel waiting for her to say something. Mel merely shrugged.

"Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?" Hermione asked softly.

"No," said the boys.

Mel rolled her eyes. Hermione, who couldn't help herself, started to explain everything.

"Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings toward Harry are anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly."

"I can relate to that," Mel sighed. "Minus the flying, I mean, I managed to get in the team after all—" Hermione hushed her.

"How can you relate to that?" Ron asked in disbelief. "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode!"

"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," said Hermione sharply.

"That explains why you haven't been kissed, Ronnie," Mel teased.

"You've kissed my brother once, you can't talk!"

Mel had to bite her tongue so she wouldn't say she'd kissed someone else apart from Fred Weasley.

"She was the one who started it!" Harry exclaimed over their bickering. "I wouldn't've — she just sort of came at me — and next thing she's crying all over me — I didn't know what to do —"

"Don't blame you, mate," said Ron, shivers running up his spine.

"You just had to be nice to her," said Hermione, then she stopped writing once more and looked up. "You were, weren't you?"

"Well... I sort of — patted her on the back a bit."

"Dear Merlin..." Mel ran a hand over her face in embarrassment. "Why are you like this?"

"Well, I suppose it could have been worse," Hermione said with contained annoyance. "Are you going to see her again?"

"I'll have to, won't I? We've got D.A. meetings, haven't we?"

"You know what I mean."

Harry's face was a bunch of mixed emotions, she wondered if Ron was seeing what she was seeing, then maybe he'd be able to believe one could possibly feel many things at once.

"Oh well," said Hermione simply, "you'll have plenty of opportunities to ask her..."

"What if he doesn't want to ask her?" Ron said bravely.

"Don't be silly! Harry likes her, don't you, Harry?"

The boy glanced at Mel again and she pretended to be busy putting all her stuff inside her bag.

"Who're you writing the novel to anyway?" Ron asked, saving Harry the trouble of admitting something that could damage their thin bond even further.

"Viktor."

"Krum?"

"How many other Viktors do we know?"

Mel sat there in silence, a mix of second-hand embarrassment for Harry and something like a sharp, little sting in her chest that she was sure had to do with him as well. She thought about Erick and wondered if it was a good idea to plan a meeting for the next day so they could talk about all the things that were happening in such a short amount of time.

"Well, 'night," said Hermione as she finally finished her letter to Krum. "You're coming, Mel?"

"Yeah," She stood up.

Harry got up abruptly as well, Mel froze in place and stared at him.

"What?" She asked.

In the end, he picked up his own bag and nudged Ron's leg.

"Nothing— We're going too, right Ron?"

"Yup!" Ron stood up, his bag already on his shoulder.

"Okay..." Mel said, still feeling slightly uneasy about his behaviour. "See you..."

When it was just the two girls in the room, Hermione sneaked her way into her bed and sat down.

"I think it was nice of you to be kind to Harry, he was quite upset."

"It's not really my place to be rude, is it? I'm with Fred now... sort of."

"Yes, you are," Hermione said in a tone that sounded like she could tell Mel was having doubts. "And you're happy with him. There's no need to overthink it now."

"No," Mel sighed. "I feel bad for him though, their kiss wasn't ideal."

"Well, your first kiss wasn't perfect either," Hermione shrugged. "You simply threw yourself at Fred in front of everyone while he was in a temper..."

Mel's cheeks felt warm. She wanted to reply with 'That wasn't my first kiss.' But that would only provide a context Hermione did not need to know.

The girl laid on her bed and against her own will, thought about the very first night Harry had kissed her. Back then he looked like he knew what he was doing, but she couldn't blame him. Mel wasn't crying when they'd kissed. She was beaming with joy. For only a second, she felt happy that Harry could count that as his first.

Then a bitter voice that would come to her more often than not came to interrupt her thoughts.

'Well, he could've had more of those if only he hadn't tried to play the hero with you. He deserved that! He can't take you back whenever he pleases...'

No, he can't, Mel agreed.

At some point after falling asleep, Mel started to have a very strange dream. She felt her body on the bed, but the setting was slightly different, the light was coming from the wrong side of the room and she was wearing a different set of pyjamas.

A sharp pain shot up her forearm and cracked open her skull, or at least, that's how it felt. She let out a sharp cry, sitting up abruptly. When she opened her eyes she realized she was back on her bed, not only that, but she finally knew why the one in her dream had looked slightly different. It was the boys' room.

She got up, sweating profusely and feeling nausea. Luckily for her, her scream hadn't woken up her roommates, and she could leave the room without them noticing. When she reached the stairs she ran into Neville, who was looking really pale.

"Mel!" His eyes widened in relief. "You heard him? He's really ill..."

"What happened?"

"He–He woke up screaming and threw up..."

"Go get McGonagall," She urged him. "I'll take care in the meantime, go!"

Neville nodded and left, she walked into the room and the boys turned to look at her. Dean moved away so she could get to Harry.

"Harry, mate," Ron was saying, "you... you were just dreaming..."

"No!" He cleaned his face hastily, there was vomit on the floor, next to his bed. "It wasn't a dream... not an ordinary dream... I was there, I saw it... I did it..."

"He's talking nonsense since he woke up," Seamus told her. "He's saying Ron's dad was attacked."

Mel felt something cold run down her back. Harry gawked again and Ron jumped.

"Harry, you're not well," He said. "Neville's gone for help..."

"I'm fine!" Harry coughed, shaking uncontrollably. "There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about — we need to find out where he is — he's bleeding like mad — I was — it was a huge snake..."

"Move over," Mel said in a determined voice.

Ron hadn't noticed her until she spoke, he seemed relieved to have her there.

"Harry," She supported one leg on the mattress, trying not to step on the vomit. "What happened?"

"You have to believe me," He said hoarsely. "I swear it wasn't a dream— We have to—"

"I believe you," She said. "I can feel it, remember?"

Harry blinked, a worried expression on his face.

"Yes... I remember..."

"Good," She held his face firmly and stared into his eyes. "Now, show me what you saw."

"What?"

"Think about your dream," She explained. "I'll see it."

She wasn't an expert at Legilimancy yet, but now was the perfect time to make use of her hours studying the subject. Wouldn't hurt to try...

Harry nodded and stared back at her, his frown deepening as he tried to recall every little detail.

It was the strangest sensation, getting pulled into someone else's thoughts. She saw the dark hall, Mr Weasley's body covered in blood in a place that looked slightly familiar. The weirdest part of all was that Harry had seen it from the creature's point of view— What did he say it was? A snake..?

Mel blinked, stumbling away from Harry and feeling Dean and Seamus holding her so she wouldn't fall.

"Merlin, that was hard..."

"What did you do?"

"I saw... I read his mind," She said dryly.

"You what?"

"Don't go around telling this to other people!" She warned them. "I mean it, this is a secret!"

"Fine!" Ron exclaimed. "But what did you see?"

Before she could reply, Neville and McGonagall entered the room.

"What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?"

"It's Ron's dad," Harry sat up again. "He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen. Mel saw it!"

"What do you mean, you saw it happen?" Professor McGonagall frowned. "What do you mean Mel saw it?"

"I don't know... I was asleep and then I was there..."

"You mean you dreamed this?"

"No! I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid... and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it, Mr Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is..."

"It's true," Mel added hurriedly. "It woke me up— You... you know what that means, right?"

"I'm not lying, and I'm not mad!" Harry insisted. "I tell you, I saw it happen! Mel did something a second ago, she saw my thoughts!"

"I believe you, children," said Professor McGonagall. "Put on your dressing-gown, both of you. We're going to see the headmaster."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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cocastyle · 4 years

Text

Change - Ch. 2 | F I V E

Pairing - Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 6,390

A/N - sorry for the wait but I’m going to be starting college soon so I’ve been busy with family, friends, and buying stuff for my dorm. I’m hoping to start writing updates again so here’s the first one many! let me know what you think especially with Greyson in the mix because I just love him so much! also, let me know if you like me including the flashbacks because I kind of loved it and was thinking about including more than what is just in the movie!

if you would like to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

C H A N G E

Change Series Masterlist

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F I V E - Remember

* - * - * - * - * - * - * - *

Y/N stared up at the Derry Townhouse in front of her, a sick feeling in her stomach as she realized that she had to go in there and convince her friends to stay. If there was any shot of them defeating It, it had to be with all of them there. That's how they defeated It last time and that was the only way they would be able to defeat It this time.

She knew her friends would think she was crazy. She was well aware of the fact. Y/N just wasn't sure what she was going to say or if she was even ready to face them after what they had all just found out. She wasn't ready for the looks of pity or the reminders of Stan especially since her heart was already so fragile that one more blow might actually kill her.

The woman found herself spiraling down a whirlpool of her own thoughts and she would've only gotten worse if it weren't for Greyson gently grabbing ahold of her hand and giving it a squeeze. Y/N glanced at the boy, his red eyes matching hers despite the small reassuring smile on his face.

Y/N really didn't deserve Greyson as a son. It was almost too good to be true.

"Together," Greyson whispered, reminding her once again that she wasn't alone no matter how much she felt like she was without Stan. Y/N gave a short nod and squeezed Greyson's hand once before the two began walking up the steps of the townhouse.

They were inside within seconds and were instantly met with Richie yelling at Ben and Beverly with his bag hanging from his shoulder, "Whatever you guys are talking about, let's make it happen fast, alright? We got to go." He turned towards the stairs and yelled up, "Edwardo, andele! Let's go!"

Richie then seemed to notice the presence of Y/N and Greyson and let out a small sigh of relief. "I don't know where the fuck you've been, but go grab your shit. We're getting out of here pronto," Richie announced as he walked over to behind the girl and began lightly shoving her towards the steps. "Come on, Uris. Move it."

"Rich, I can't," Y/N managed to say, her words causing the man to freeze before letting out a loud laugh.

"Real funny, Y/N. Now come on. I'm not leaving here until I know you're safe and on your way home," Richie insisted as he tried to move her again.

"Richie," Y/N sighed, but the man was barely listening to her as he caught wind of Beverly and Ben's conversation in which Y/N and Greyson couldn't help but listen to either.

"There's something you're not telling us. You knew how Stanley died. You knew," Ben said, his words making the three wide eyed while Beverly just remained silent.

"Wait, what?" Richie questioned as he let go of Y/N and walked into the small parlor the pair was in. Y/N quickly followed after, coming to a stop beside Richie while Greyson came up behind them.

"You. . .knew?" Y/N whispered, a flicker of hurt flashing through her eyes while Beverly lowered her gaze to the floor.

"I can't do this," Beverly muttered before brushing past the four and attempting to walk away into a different room.

"She knew how Stanley was going to die? Is that what she just said?" Richie asked, but Ben and Y/N were already following after the red head. Richie glanced to Greyson who merely shrugged. The man noticed his red eyes and sighed before placing a hand on the kid's shoulder in comfort as they walked after the three.

"You can't just walk away from this," Ben insisted while Beverly rapidly rang the bell at the front desk. "How did you know where he killed himself? Bev."

The red head ignored them and moved around the counter. "Talk to me. Just talk to me like we used to!" Ben exclaimed, but when his attempts still didn't work, Y/N stepped in and was quick to stand in front of the girl to stop her from moving.

Beverly was quiet as she stared at Y/N, the later staring at the red head in a mixture of pain and sadness as she reached out to grab onto Beverly's hand. "Bev, please," Y/N whispered, her eyes flickering over the girl's face as she desperately squeezed her hand.

If Beverly had known that Stan was going to die, Y/N needed to know how and why. It just didn't make sense. None of this did. And Y/N really just wanted the whole picture. She deserved that much.

Beverly let out a shaky breath, tears beginning to fill her eyes as she whispered, "Because I saw it. I've seen all of us die, even—" She trailed off as her eyes flickered over to Greyson. Y/N's breath caught in her throat and she glanced back at her son who stared back wide eyed while Richie tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder.

A heavy silence fell among the group as Beverly's words began to sink in. No one even bothered glancing at Eddie who was noisily making his way down the stairs with his two bags that kept banging against the wooden railing and wall.

"Okay. I just got to grab my toiletry bag and then we can go," Eddie announced as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He set his bags down and looked up at the group, pausing almost instantly at the looks on their faces while Y/N finally glanced over at him. The look she gave him made his blood run cold.

"What'd I miss?"

- - -

"Okay, so what do you mean that you've seen us all die?" Eddie questioned, not being able to fathom what Beverly meant. Y/N just put her head in her hands, the regret of deciding to stay coursing through her body while Greyson just sat silent by her side at the mini bar in the room they were in.

"Yeah, cause I got to be honest. That's a fucked up thing to just drop on somebody," Richie muttered.

"Every night since Derry I've been. . .having these nightmares," Beverly explained. "People in pain. People dying. People—" She fell short as a look of horror and pain flashed across her face.

"So you have nightmares?" Eddie questioned as he stopped next to Y/N's chair and leaned against the back. "I have nightmares. People, they have nightmares. But that doesn't mean that your visions are true."

He nudged Y/N and the woman glanced back at him to find Eddie giving her a look as if to ask her to back him up, but for once she couldn't. Y/N just looked away and Eddie swallowed thickly, dread washing over him as he looked to Beverly.

"I've watched every single one of us this week," Beverly whispered, her words making Y/N lean further into her hands as she shook her head.

"You've seen every single one of us what?" a new voice questioned. Y/N sat up almost instantly, her head turning around so quickly she could've gotten whiplash. Her eyes locked on Bill who was already staring back at her from where he stood beside Mike, a small look of surprise and relief on his face at seeing her sitting there.

Y/N didn't know why she had the sudden urge to cross the room and fall into the man's arms, but she did and somehow she was able to keep herself in her seat. Bill's eyes flashed with an unreadable expression as he stared at her, but then he seemed to remember what he had been saying and blinked before looking back down at Beverly.

"To the place where Stanley wound up. That's how we end," Beverly said, her eyes flickering over to Y/N who immediately avoided eye contact and stared down at her hands. A hand was placed on top of her own and Y/N glanced to her side where Greyson was giving her a soft reassuring smile as he squeezed her hand. Y/N squeezed his hand back, her heart warming at just how amazing her son was.

"Okay, how come the rest of us aren't seeing that shit? What—what makes her so different?" Richie asked.

"The dead lights," Y/N muttered, her whole body feeling as if it had suddenly been dunked under cold water. She distantly saw Beverly floating in the air, her eyes glazed over as she floated above them trapped in some sort of prison that Pennywise was able to conjure.

Everyone's eyes flickered over to her and Y/N sighed before taking her free hand and running it through her hair while the other one held on tightly to her son. "It's the only thing that makes sense. No one else's got trapped in the dead lights, only Bev," she explained.

"She was the only one of us that got caught in the dead lights that day," Bill muttered as the memory came back to him and the others.

The man shook his head and crossed the room to sit in the seat beside Y/N, plopping down in disbelief while Greyson watched his mother gently reach out and place a hand on Bill's shoulder. Bill's hand flew up instantly, settling on top of her own and holding onto it tightly before the two exchanged a small look.

"We were all touched by it. Changed. Deep down like an infection or a virus. A virus! You understand! Slowly—" Mike tried to say as he reached out for Eddie, but the man quickly slid past him and began pacing around the room. "That virus, it's been growing for twenty seven years. This whole time metastasizing. It just got to Stan first because—"

"He's the weakest," Richie said and before anyone could even blink, Y/N had slammed her hand on the counter in order to push her up off her seat. She was in front of Richie in a matter of seconds, her finger pointed at his chest while a look of pure fury dawned her face.

Tears pooled in her eyes as she darkly said, "Stanley was not weak. He. . .he was brave and kind and. . .and—" Y/N had to pause in order to stop the sob that had begun to cross her lips. "And a better man than you will ever be!"

Richie's face softened as he looked down at his friend and for a moment it was like he saw the same thirteen year old that had been his best friend all of those years ago, the same girl who rarely left her cousin's side and loved him with all of her heart. Fuck, he was an asshole, wasn't he?

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to hurt you," Richie whispered as he carefully reached out and wrapped his arms around the girl, pulling her closer to his body for a hug. She fell against him with no fighting, her body limp against his own while her hands balled into fists on his jacket.

A soft sob escaped her lips and she weakly shook the man as she said again, "Stanley's not weak. He's not. . .he's not weak."

Richie just held her tighter, his eyes flickering up to the others who were all glaring at him. He gave them all an apologetic smile and most of them shook their heads and looked away, but Bill and Greyson continued to glare at Richie from where they sat next to each other at the counter.

"What Beverly sees, it will come to pass," Mike said after a moment of silence where Y/N finally managed to calm herself down enough to look back at the others while Richie continued to hold her comfortingly which no one bothered pointing out. He had always had a soft spot for the girl since they were younger and now was no exception, especially considering the fact that he had been the one to make her upset. "It's what'll happen to all of us eventually unless we stop it."

"How the hell are we supposed to do that?" Eddie questioned, glancing over at Y/N to see if she was alright and smiling softly as he watched her pull away from Richie and return the soft smile that Richie was giving her as he brushed her hair out of her face and whispered another apology.

"The ritual of Chüd," Mike told them.

Y/N scrunched up her nose, wiping at her eyes to get rid of the last of her tears as she pushed her emotions aside and tried to be the brave girl she had been twenty seven years ago when she first fought the clown. "The ritual of what now?" she questioned, her and Richie sharing a look of disgust and confusion.

"Chüd," Mike said again. "The Shokapiwah, the first ones who fought it, they have a saying. All living things must abide by the laws of the shape they inhabit."

"Tribal ritual? Are you fucking kidding me, man?" Richie questioned while Y/N just shook her head and walked over to the line of alcohol bottles on the wall. She was quick to grab a bottle and pour herself a shot before downing it in a matter of seconds. She could feel eyes on her and glanced over at her son who had an eyebrow raised. Sighing, Y/N poured herself one last shot and set the bottle down before walking over to the counter and leaning opposite of Greyson.

"There's gotta be another way," Y/N insisted, downing her last shot and setting the glass down while Bill sneaked a worried look in her direction.

"Y/N's right. This thing comes back what? Every twenty seven years? Let's kick the can down the road and do it then," Richie suggested.

"We'll be seventy years old, asshole," Eddie pointed out.

Y/N winced. "Yeah, I'd like to think I'll be up and kicking at seventy, but I'll have one foot in the grave before I can even think about fighting some fucking clown at that age," she muttered.

"It doesn't work that way," Beverly assured her. "None of us make it another twenty years, not even Greyson, and the way it happens—"

Beverly trailed off again and Y/N glanced at Greyson before clenching her jaw. "You trailing off every time you're about to say something horrible does not make this any less terrifying," Y/N said, her eyes locking on Bill who had his concerned gaze on Greyson as if he couldn't imagine the kid dying a horrible death this early in his life because of Pennywise.

"So if we don't beat It this cycle then we die," Ben concluded.

"Horrible," Eddie added.

"Yeah, I don't need the horrible part," Richie assured the man.

"I didn't say it, she said it. Not me," Eddie muttered.

"Wow, such great options we have. Either give up and die, lose and die, or somehow pull a win out of asses and actually get to live the rest of our lives. I'm loving this whole reunion thing so far," Y/N grumbled, earning a small glare from Greyson as the boy silently told her to play nice.

"Alright guys, look," Bill said as he pushed himself up off his seat, patting Greyson's shoulder once before glancing around at his friends. "I've seen w-w-what he's talking about and it's. . .it's all true." Bill's eyes stopped on Y/N and she lightly shook her head at him, but he only gave her a small look as he whispered, "It's the only way."

Y/N bit her lip at that, staring silently at Bill as she tried to decide if she actually had to do this. But then she was reminded of Stanley and how she wanted to make him proud. She was reminded of Greyson who had a future she needed to protect. She was reminded of the Losers', her friends who she made a pact with long ago at the age of thirteen to return and defeat this clown once and for all.

And then there was Bill. Bill Denbrough, the boy who she hadn't remembered until Mike spoke to her over the phone but the boy who she knew had meant so much to her back in the day. This was the boy who had willingly offered to sacrifice himself to Pennywise in order for them to escape and the same boy who had comforted her after her parents' divorce.

There is no way I'm leaving you behind. And there is absolutely no fucking way I'm going to be able to live a happy life without you in it.

You make me happy, Bill Denbrough.

"Fuck," Y/N whispered as she ran a hand through her hair in frustration. She let out a sigh of exasperation and looked at Bill a moment longer, the man giving her a shy smile for he knew she was breaking. She was quick to look away and instead turned her attention to Mike. "If you want this ritual to work—" she trailed off, ignoring the small sighs coming from Eddie and Richie as they both hung their head because they knew if Y/N stayed that meant they would be staying as well.

"We have to remember," Mike told her, his words making the group hesitate while Greyson began to smile excitedly.

"Remember what?"

- - -

"No fucking way," Y/N breathed out as her eyes flickered around the scenery that surrounded her. "The Barrens." Subconsciously, Y/N glanced over to her side, a small smile on her face as she expected a certain curly haired boy to be standing with her.

She was met with nothing but empty space.

Her smile instantly vanished as she was once again reminded that her cousin was gone, but she didn't have long to think about it before a hand gently grabbed ahold of her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. Y/N turned, relaxing a bit at the sight of Bill standing there but also feeling her stomach erupt with butterflies almost instantly.

She momentarily saw Greyson glance back at her and Bill from where he stood beside Richie and Eddie who were also looking back. The three all gave her different looks, Greyson smiling with a thumbs up while Richie smirked and Eddie gave her a knowing look. Y/N quickly ignored them and instead looked back at Bill who was watching her expectantly.

Realizing she had missed his question, Bill chuckled before saying, "I asked how you are doing."

"Oh, uh. . .fine. Fine. Fine," she said, wincing slightly at her own words while Bill raised an eyebrow at her. Y/N let out a soft sigh, "We can talk about this later, okay? Right now is really not the time."

"Right, of course," Bill nodded, letting his hand fall back down to his side. "I just. . .I'm here, okay? You're not alone in this."

Y/N hesitated at that, her eyes flickering up to lock with Bill's before she smiled her first genuine smile since the news of Stan's death. Bill almost swooned at the sight and he swore his heart leapt out of his chest for a moment when Y/N brushed her hand against his before grabbing onto it and intertwining their fingers together.

"I know," she whispered, chuckling softly at the sight of Bill's red cheeks while he gripped onto her hand just as tight.

"This is where we came," Ben spoke up, his voice snapping the two out of their trance. They glanced over at Ben before looking around at the part of the forest they were in which looked really familiar. "After the rock fight."

"Ah, the rock fight," Y/N sighed. "Henry Bowers didn't know what hit him. You remember us telling him off, Rich?"

"How could I forget? That was the day I learned you had such a potty mouth, sweetheart," Richie teased, glancing back at the girl and tossing a wink in her direction.

"You're telling me Mom didn't come out of the womb telling everyone off?" Greyson asked, quickly holding his hands up in surrender when Y/N playfully glared in his direction.

Richie suddenly let out a small gasp, his eyes widening as he said, "The Clubhouse."

"Holy shit," Y/N laughed, squeezing Bill's hand as she glanced at the man. "We use to sneak out here all the time." Richie immediately wiggled his eyebrows at the two and Y/N frowned before letting go of Bill's hand in order to walk over to her friend and whack the back of his head. "Not in that way, dumbass. I started coming out here by myself when everything going on with my parents just became too much and Bill often joined me."

"Did you and Bill have a thing?" Greyson suddenly questioned, trying to hide his smug grin behind a curious expression that Y/N saw right through.

However, she wasn't able to handle the situation very well because the suddenness of the question made her face instantly turn bright red and Bill wasn't much better.

"Oh, they totally had the hots for each other," Richie assured the kid. "In fact, they even—"

"Okay! That's enough!" Y/N exclaimed. "We're getting off subject. We were talking about the Clubhouse, remember? Ben, you built that for us if I am remembering correctly, didn't you?"

"Yeah, the hatch has got to be around here someplace," Eddie agreed, sending a small look in Y/N's direction before grabbing ahold of Greyson's shoulder and beginning to push him forwards. "Come on, Grey. You're gonna want to see this."

The two walked off in search of the hatch along with the others leaving Bill and Y/N to awkwardly stand there before the woman abruptly turned around. "I'm sorry about Greyson. He doesn't exactly know when it's appropriate to ask personal questions like that," Y/N said.

Bill just smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets before saying, "No, it's fine. He's a curious boy is all. Just like his mother."

"At least he's not walking into sewers looking for missing children," Y/N joked, her words making both of them halt. The woman blinked and furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm sorry. That kind of just slipped out. I. . .I don't even—"

"Remember that much?" Bill finished, an understanding look crossing his face. "Me too. Although, I do remember some things." His eyes flickered over her face for a moment as if he were trying to find some hidden answer. "What. . .what do you r-r-remember?"

"Just some of the basics like spending the summer with Stanley because of my parents. Meeting everyone and that fucking house It resides in. And I remember some of the fighting, but not that much other than that," Y/N explained.

"Any—anything else?" Bill asked, his eyes still scanning her face and making Y/N's cheeks heat up a bit.

Was there something she was forgetting? She only remembered what she had told Bill and then the fact that she had a huge crush on him back then and that it seemed like he had liked her too.

"No," Y/N hesitantly said, a sinking feeling growing in her stomach once she saw the smile wipe off Bill's face. "Is there something you remember that I don't?"

Bill lowered his gaze to the floor and quickly shook his head. "No, no. Nothing important anyways. Don't worry about it," he assured her, although the tone of his voice told Y/N a different story.

"Bill—" Y/N began, but she was cut off by Ben's voice suddenly calling out to them. Bill was quick to brush past her as he walked over to the others, an action that made Y/N frown and stare after him.

So she was definitely not remembering something, but what?

"You know, I actually think the door was more like around—" Ben started to say, but he fell short when the ground beneath him suddenly gave way and he fell tumbling into what was below.

Y/N's hand flew over her mouth in an attempt to stop her laughter and the others had to stifle their laughter as well while Greyson walked over to the edge of the hole and looked down with a cheeky grin. "You okay there, buddy?" Greyson asked, earning a small groan in response.

"Found it," Ben's muffled voice could be heard calling out. "I'm okay! Come down!"

Everyone hesitantly stared at the hole while Greyson glanced at his mother as if to ask her what their next move was. For a moment, Y/N was met with a memory that she hadn't thought of in quite some time. A small smile appeared on her face as she walked over to the hole, glancing back at the others and giving them a mock salute that made some of them blink in surprise at the familiarity of the scene. In fact, it was like they could see a thirteen year old version of Y/N doing the exact same thing.

Y/N stared down at the hole before letting out a shaky breath. "Welcome back to the Clubhouse, Y/N," she whispered. And with that, she began to make her descent back into the clubhouse of her past.

- - -

1989

"What do you think it is?" Y/N questioned as she rested her head against her hand and looked up at the sky. "A new jump off spot at the Quarry? Some secret passage that will take us to Narnia?"

"Y/N, I don't think it's any of those things," Stan chuckled, glancing over at his cousin as a wide smile appeared on his face.

"Why not? Ben said he had something to show us. It could literally be anything in the world!" Y/N exclaimed happily, throwing her hands up in the air for exaggeration and making Richie groan.

"I hope it's a back brace because I'm going to need it if you keep moving around like that," Richie grumbled below Y/N who he was currently carrying on his back through the woods.

"And whose fault is that?" Y/N inquired, a smirk on her face as she glanced down at the boy. Richie frowned and Y/N chuckled before reaching out and pushing his glasses back up his nose which in turn received a thankful glance from the boy.

"You were the one who bet Y/N couldn't do a round off back handspring followed by four flips in the air before hitting the water at the Quarry," Eddie pointed out, earning a small glare from Richie.

"How was I supposed to know she did gymnastics for seven fucking years? She didn't disclose that information to me. This isn't fair," Richie complained.

"Quit complaining, Rich," Mike laughed, pushing a tree branch out of the way in order for Richie to walk under it successfully without Y/N being hit. "It could be worse. She could've made you do literally anything else, but all she's doing is making you give her a piggyback ride."

"Yeah, through the fucking forest," Richie grumbled. "I really think you just love to torture me, sweetheart."

"It's my job," Y/N replied with a smug look on her face.

"I can't!" Richie exclaimed suddenly placing the girl on the ground and putting his arms up in the air in order to stretch. "I think my back is about to spaz out or something."

"Rich—" Y/N began, a bit of concern flashing through her eyes as she looked at the boy.

"It's fine, Richie. I'll carry her for you so that you don't have to worry about it anymore," Bill spoke up, his words making Y/N's eyes widen as she quickly spun around to look at the boy.

He stood there with his hands in his pocket, a shy grin on his face as he let his eyes flicker over to her. "As long as that is okay, of course," Bill whispered.

"Thank you!" Richie exclaimed before beginning to shove Y/N over to the boy. "I know I practically carry the whole group with my dazzling personality, but I didn't think I'd literally have to carry one of you. Please, just take her."

If Y/N had wanted to protest, she had no chance for Richie had shoved her forward one last time and she was suddenly face to face with Bill. Her mouth hung open a bit, her face beginning to heat up while her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

"You sure you're okay with this?" Y/N questioned, hesitantly watching Bill who just gave her a warm smile and nodded his head before turning around in order for her to climb onto his back.

Y/N let out a shaky breath and placed her hands on Bill's shoulders before jumping up, the boy catching her legs while she desperately wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her face into the crook of his neck in order not to fall off. Once she was sure she was okay, Y/N peeled her eyes open and let out a small sigh of relief as Bill began to walk once again, this time with her gently holding onto him for a piggyback ride.

Y/N glanced over in Richie's direction to check and see how he was doing before her eyes widened at the sight of him smirking at her. It didn't take much for her to realize Richie had planned this, had been hoping this is how it would play out. She sent a small glare in his direction and didn't even think twice in leaning her head against Bill's while the boy tried to hide his growing blush.

The group walked for a while longer, some of them mumbling their own conversations to one another while Bill and Y/N remained silent and enjoyed the small walk.

"Now that we finally managed to get Richie to stop complaining, I've got to say I'm just as curious as Y/N," Beverly spoke up, glancing between her friends before stopping on Ben. "What is it, Ben?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but it's nothing like what Y/N suggested. However, I think it might be a bit better," Ben said, a small smile growing on his face as he suddenly stopped in a small clearing in the center of the woods.

The group came to a stop and Y/N sat up a bit and leaned an arm against Bill's shoulder which she used to prop up her head. "What are we looking at here, Hanscom?" Y/N questioned.

"Oh, right," Ben said as he snapped out of his daze and hurried over to a small spot in the ground. Y/N couldn't quite understand what he was doing and Bill glanced back at her, the two both sharing a look before realizing how close their faces were and quickly looking away.

Before they knew what was happening, Ben had grabbed ahold of something and pulled it up to reveal some sort of hatch with a hole in the ground. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she watched Ben glance at them before he began to climb into the hole.

"Uhh, whatcha doin' there, Ben?" Stan questioned, walking over to Bill and Y/N in order to help the girl get down.

"Come down!" Ben called out. Everyone left above shared a look before hesitantly staring at the hole. Finally, Y/N let out a small laugh of excitement and broke everyone out of their trance as she skipped over to the hole. She gave them a mock salute before beginning to climb down, the others shaking their heads at her in amusement before following after.

Y/N made it only halfway down the ladder before she managed to piece together what she was walking into. A look of shock appeared on her face as her feet managed to touch the ground. She stepped away from the ladder allowing the others to get down as well while she tried to take in her surroundings which looked to be some sort of clubhouse under ground.

"What the dick is this?" Richie asked as he jumped off the last part of the ladder and onto his feet. He adjusted his glasses and began to walk around while Y/N shook her head at the boy. "How'd you build it?"

"When did you build it?" Bill questioned, scaring Y/N as she realized the boy was standing right beside her. She couldn't stop herself from jumping in surprise and Bill quickly looked at her, a startled and guilty look on his face while Y/N nervously laughed and looked away with red cheeks.

"Here and there, I guess," Ben said with a small shrug as if it were no big deal.

"Ben, this is so cool!" Y/N exclaimed as she hurried over to the boy and gave him a big hug. "It's like our own little Narnia."

"Minus the creepy witch trying to kill us and the talking animals and—" Richie began to list off, but one glare from Y/N had him putting his hands up in surrender.

"It was already dug out from something," Ben said while Y/N let him go. "So I just had to reinforce the walls and get some wood for the uhh. . .for the roof door and that's pretty much it. Pretty good for my first time, huh?" He leaned a hand against one of the wood beams and a piece of the ceiling suddenly broke off and fell to the ground.

Y/N had to jump out of the way and she stumbled into Stan who was quick to catch his cousin and help her stand up right. She sent him a grateful look and wiped the dust off of her shirt before linking her arm with Stan like always.

"Now that's a cool feature," Richie mused. "What happens when you put your hand on the other pillar, Professor?"

"Okay, you see, this is exactly why there are safety codes, why we have permits!" Eddie exclaimed, slapping his hand on top of the palm of his other one for emphasis. "This place is a death trap, you understand that?"

"Right. Well, it's a work in progress, okay, Eddie?" Ben said, his shoulders slumping a bit.

Y/N frowned and gave Stan's arm a small squeeze before moving over to Eddie. "Come on, Eds," she said as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down a bit, okay? We're fine. Ben was just trying to do something nice for us and he did all of this by himself. Be a kid for a minute and realize how fucking cool this is."

Eddie glanced at the girl and despite his frown, managed to relax a bit before giving her a small smile. Y/N grinned and wrapped an arm around Eddie's shoulders in order to give him a side hug while the boy weakly tried to push her away while hiding his smile.

"Just know if I get hurt, you are liable," Eddie said as he pointed at Ben. "Also, what is this?" He pulled away from Y/N in order to whack a small metal box. "The switch of the Iron Maiden?"

"That's. . .that's a flashlight," Ben replied.

"And what is that? A horse hitch?" Eddie questioned while Y/N put a hand to her forehead and lightly shook her head. She loved Eddie, but he could be a bit high strung at times. "When do you have horses down—oh, this is cool."

He got distracted from his ranting and picked up a paddle ball. "That was like three dollars so be careful with that please," Ben muttered.

"I have one of these," Eddie said before beginning to play with the object. He bounced the ball as far away as he could and looked to Stan with a smile. "Hey, Stan. You see this?"

"Yeah, okay. Can. . .maybe. . .you not?" Stan asked as he flinched back, the others all watching the two in slight amusement and annoyance.

"Maybe not what?" Eddie questioned as he bounced the ball faster. "Yeah, yeah. Hold on. Maybe I'll not what? Maybe I'll not what? Be awesome and have fun and celebrate the magic of the power of the paddle ball?"

Y/N raised her eyebrows in amusement and was just about to tell Eddie to cut it out when he dropped the paddle to the ground, the ball falling off of the string and rolling across the ground and between some wooden skates in the ground.

Everyone was silent before Y/N let out a loud laugh that had Eddie glaring at her while she stumbled over to them and leaned against Stan for support. "That was on you!" Y/N exclaimed while Eddie pouted.

"Uhh, no. It was Stanley. Good going, fucknut. You broke his thing," Eddie said causing Stan to blink his eyes in surprise band before looking at his friend.

"I broke it?" Stan questioned.

"Yeah, you broke it with your face. Y/N saw," Eddie said as he pointed at the girl who held up her hands in surrender.

"I saw nothing," Y/N insisted earning a smug look from Eddie and a look from Stan that practically screamed 'seriously?'

"I'm not putting my fucking hand down there," Eddie insisted before him and Stan began to argue.

Y/N watched the two in amusement before leaning her arm against Stan's shoulder and turning to look at the others. "Oh, this is going to be fun," she said, a grin appearing on her face while the others began to smile.

Her and the Losers would end up spending half of their summer in there and Y/N would be the one to give the place a name one evening when the group was all joking around and eating the candy Y/N had managed to sneak out of the house with Stan. And that very name would stick for years to come.

The Clubhouse.

* * *

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years

Text

The Sabotage of Simkung House - Part 1

[Stray Kids Multi Fic - 5K Words/20Min. Read - Lee Know x Female Reader - Non-Idol!au, Variety!au - NSFW/Smut, Plot - Reverse Harems, Variety Shows, Secret Hook-Ups]

This was your weirdest casting call yet. The assistant was taking the longest time looking back and forth from your headshot to your CV, and it was making you anxious. You could be doing better things on a Thursday night than get scrutinized more than usual. Finally, after an agonizing fifteen minutes of near silence on your end, the assistant motioned for the casting director to come over. This new person looked from the CV, to the headshot, to you, in a repeated loop until they ultimately asked you to stand up, turn in a circle, and walk around the room. You felt like a show dog, but relief finally came as the casting director motioned for you to follow, not leave. Was this your weirdest casting call ever? Probably. Would you pass up an opportunity to sign? Of course not.

Yet another eager assistant trotted up to intercept you as casting led you down the hall. “I got this,” he explained, politely shooing away the casting director and redirecting you into a new office.

“Hi,” he greeted as he sat you in a chair, “so we’re glad you're here. I’m Felix,” he introduced himself, offering you a hand to shake before he sat you in a chair in front of the big desk in the room. He remained standing as he animatedly explained himself. “I’m the assistant for our executive producer. We know this has been a little unorthodox.”

“That's fine! I know some AV producers have really high standards,” you shrugged with a polite smile. You hadn't been shooting adult videos long, but in the time since you started you’d definitely had some weird auditions. None as weird as this, still, but weird nonetheless.

“Right,” Felix nodded, “we were impressed with your materials. I'm already familiar with your work--” he blurted out before cranking back, biting into his lip as he blushed. You modestly nodded for him to continue. “--but I never realized you had such credentials otherwise. You have a very nice acting resume.”

“I've never needed both before,” you explained apologetically, “so I just left everything on there.”

“No no! It’s better than I could've dreamed of. I had no clue you went to school. And you’re bilingual? I thought I recalled you using English once or twice in streams, but I never realized--” Felix paused again, realizing his continued admission. You nodded for him to get going once again.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you kindly encouraged, “I’m glad you’re familiar with my work.”

“I am,” he eagerly nodded as he pulled some materials out from a folder sitting on the desk , “And we want you. So can I explain?” He waited for your approval once more before he launched in. We’re casting a new variety show. It’s called Noesengnam House.” The first piece of material he slid across the desk was a logo: a cheesy, bubbly text in front of a silhouette of a chiseled man with a graduation cap on. You raised an eyebrow. However, being enthusiastic was key to landing any gig, so despite any doubts you put on a smile.

“Alright. So we’re focusing on smart, sexy guys?”

“We’re making smart, sexy guys,” Felix clarifies, and he’s so proud as he passes five headshots across the desk. You’ve always been puzzled by these overenthusiastic assistants, like they have a stake in every good idea so they have to be good. “This is like charm school, but for guys. The catch is they have to get equal marks in all their subjects by the end of the season in order for all of them to win their prizes.”

You got the smallest bit distracted looking over the faces of these five men, wondering how charm school worked as a concept with porn actors. “So the subjects are…?”

“What,” Felix suddenly halted, “not interested in the prizes?”

“I assume it’s money,” you flippantly shrugged, “so what are they supposed to be getting high marks in? I assume I'm working with them, so I'm interested in what they’re doing.”

It was Felix’s turn to shrug. Somehow, he apparently hadn’t predicted this. “The usual: manners, fitness, home economics, academics. They’re all secretly cast to have a specialty, so they have to work together to figure out each other's strengths and weaknesses.”

You finally held up your hands to formally stop him. “I'm sorry,” you politely apologized, “but I think I'm missing something. Where do I fit in?”

“Ah, that's the fun part. We cast them for variety, not for adult content. This will be their first venture.”

“For all of them?” You dubiously marveled, starkly curious how this would affect their performances. Almost no one was ever proud of their first time for more than sentimental reasons.

“Yes, all of them,” Felix proudly nodded, “in our counterpart series, Simkung House.” He slid a new logo across the desk, the first crossed out and a bubbly pink text replacing it, with the silhouette of a -- no, really -- french maid tickling her duster under the chin of the man in the original design. The cartoon male even had blush added. You raised a sharp eyebrow at Felix.

“Simkung? Who's the heartthrob, me or them?”

He jokingly waved you off, as if you could dare be so modest. “You, of course. They’re the stars of the daytime show, and you're the star of the nighttime show. Every good dormitory needs a housekeeper.”

“Daytime show?” You asked, backtracking. Your head was starting to swim with details.

“Yes. We actually have a daytime slot for Noesengnam House.”

“And so this--” you tapped on the gaudy pink logo in front of you, “is airing? On television?”

Felix slowed down a second. “Not quite,” he admitted, “it’s an online subscription for a well-negotiated price. Our clientele are loyal, and word of mouth has been our biggest asset.”

“So I just sleep with everyone.”

“Of course not,” Felix grinned, wagging a cheeky finger at you. “You’re working for a prize as well.” He slid a new graphic across the desk, this one a table of information. One row had a heart, the one below had a broken heart, and the one on the bottom simply had a question mark. The zeroes populating the prize side of the infographic made your pulse race. “Our five budding bachelors are all yours for the taking, but they can’t find out about each other. They each have to think they’re the one you chose. If you bed one of them, that’s 50 million won.”

Felix’s grin grew more wicked as your eyes widened.

“If one of them finds out about the others, you’ll lose 60 million won each. So control of information is key.”

“And what’s this?” You asked suspiciously, pointing at the ominous question mark.

“That,” he explained, “is for added drama being incited. You’ll find out later.”

“So what if I get all five?” You asked, feeling a bit foolish for getting excited.

“Then you get the prize,” Felix said seriously, “There's 500 million won at hand here, but you don't get to earn any of your penalties back for anyone finding out.”

You felt a little nauseous. That much money could get you a modest house, and maybe a car, and maybe all sorts of things.

“Where’s the contract?” You cautiously asked, not wanting to sound too eager.

“Of course,” Felix nodded as he pulled out two packets from under his pile of promotional material, one for each show, “I figured you’ll want copies for your manager--”

“I manage myself,” you firmly replied to Felix’s surprise, taking the copies from him and grabbing a pen from your bag. You flipped through, immediately crossing out any transfer of representation and exclusivity clauses. You had to be able to work after this, and you had to be able to keep up your own streams on the side during production if the schedule allowed. Your pen paused as you hit something interesting.

“What’s this about accommodations?”

“We’ve leased a house for production instead of making a studio more habitable for the cast. You’ll need to be accessible at all times given our schedule.”

“So my stream…?”

“Sadly, you’ll need to take a hiatus,” Felix pouted a little in sympathy, “but we’re confident you’ll find new fans. Now, are you going to use that pen to sign? Or do you want time?”

A miniature war broke out in your head over the prospects, but you quickly tried to decipher why -- the contract practically led in with the fact you’d get five million up front. That would help pay the bills in advance and settle some debt that had sat while money was tight. If you said no, someone else would say yes. You would meet new guys and network, and possibly come out with more money than you had going in.

You signed.

---

Felix wasn’t around on your first day on set, but you had his card in case you needed him. You wheeled your one suitcase to the front door of the handsome house, and an assistant immediately herded you to your room, further away from the chaos currently happening in the main living space. The bottom floor of the house mostly contained the impressive home gym, but appeared to also be where the laundry room and your room were located. You noted cameras tucked into all sorts of corners and crevices, some more obvious than others.

Your room was modest, with a small bathroom attached and its own fair share of cameras around. It was cutely decorated, a little feminine with warm string lights and soft textiles, but not very personal. It could've been any girl's room, but for now, it was yours. Felix had assured you that the cameras in here would only ever be on at night, and always with a signal of one of the bulbs on your string lights blinking. You opened your closet to get a feel of the space and where you could put your things when you saw your uniforms set out for you. A number of soft blouses with coordinating skirts hung on padded hangers, ready for you to mix and match. When you opened the drawers beside them, you found pairs of sensible tights and delicate pantyhose, some patterned and some not. Thankfully, the costumes were pretty sensible. You didn't want to be parading around in a french maid costume, swishing petticoats in boys’ faces or bending at the waist to show off some frilly panties. If the show wanted you to actually seduce these men and do it with some romance and dignity, the modestly cute uniforms would work just fine. You did also bring some of your own clothes, something Felix so graciously insisted upon, so you had options should you grow tired of the same look.

You unpacked and changed into a pale pink blouse with a black pencil skirt and some grey tights before heading upstairs where you were immediately intercepted by another assistant.

“Noona,” the younger man politely greeted, “you must be our housekeeper.” You nodded with a smile in return, popping the first button on your blouse when the assistant held up a lavalier mic to clip on. He quickly averted his eyes as you threaded the cord down and around to your back, endearing you, but just a little.

“What's your name?” You asked, watching for some sound tech to signal that you were fine or needed adjustments.

“I’m Seungmin, noona. You can let me know if you need anything. For now, we'll get you to a stylist and get you today's pages.” Seungmin showed you upstairs to the attic of the grand house, a de facto control center just above the main floor. A stylist swept you up and sat you in a chair while Seungmin fetched your pages. As the first episode, you would really only get a short introduction with the other staff: a cook, and a valet. For some reason, these cast members didn’t also reside in the house, but you didn’t need to question the producers at the moment and cause trouble. The main cast appeared to be downstairs already getting set for their first takes, their voices muffled through the thick rugs placed on the floor on this level. A text beeped through your phone that you had stashed in the pocket of your apron, and you opened it.

>How's my star? Ready for your first day? Can I get a picture? I have the big boss here.

You rolled your eyes at Felix’s antics, but took a reluctantly cute selfie anyhow, even winking for the camera.

>Perfect. It's like your first day of school and I'm so proud lmao. Big boss says to tone down the sass. Clients are more into Hidden Charm.

A heavy sigh fell from your chest. You were already nervous for your first real variety debut, let alone with the show tonight lurking ahead. Seungmin appeared right next to you, ready to lead you downstairs as the stylist set your hair one last time.

The lights in the living room were a bit irritating and took a second to adjust to, but the room itself was great. The home was impeccably decorated, modern and smart and just cozy enough to not feel sterile. You were sat next to your other Staff cast members while the main cast finished up in the dining room, your introductions awkward and brief. An errant bead of sweat traveled from the nape of your neck down your back when the rest of the cast were led into the living room, tempting you to shiver until the crew was done setting up.

You watched, distracted in the middle of rising from your seat when the cast filed in from the dining room down the hall, stretching and chatting as they took a quick break. The boys all had on some coordinating iteration of the same uniform, capitalizing on the ‘college boys in their dorm’ concept the show was toying with. First was Minho, a perfectly pressed crease undisturbed on his slacks despite filming all morning, and his sleeves bundled up over his hands as he nonchalantly entered the room and immediately took a seat on the couch. Next came Jisung, glasses gradually sliding too low and one end of his necktie a little too short. Changbin followed, looking down his long nose at a loose thread on his sweater vest, with Hyunjin right behind stopping him to fuss over it himself. He stooped down to see better and brazenly reached under the material to pull the loose thread back through before being prodded along by Chan pulling up the rear. Hyunjin straightened up, smoothing out his blazer and adjusting his beret before joining the rest of the boys on the long sofa, Minho now having scooted off to sit on a tufted ottoman. Chan casually rerolled his shirt sleeves and brushed a hand through his ashy blonde hair, opting to stand until the crew was ready. The assistant director stepping in to run down the scene finally pulled you out of your reverie. Clearly, your co-stars’ headshots didn't do them justice, but did they think the same of yours?

The scene was simple: following the round-table of introductions in the previous scene, the cast meets the staff before picking roommates. That was it, that was your big debut, and for some reason it was nerve-wracking. You and the staff all nodded greetings before filming even began, before you took your marks off camera. The boys were all polite, but none of them treated you with any familiarity. You would have to remember to ask Felix if they actually had seen your headshot before coming to set.

Finally, cameras rolled. As the Seniors of the group, Minho and Chan led the discussion, but Chan was clearly filling his role as the show’s host. He spoke well, and with plenty of charm, but something definitely struck you as odd about him. You just couldn’t pinpoint what. Your cue snapped you out of your train of thought and you suddenly remembered you were nervous, just as you walked on set and into the irritating lights. The valet introduced himself first, and then the cook, and, to your horror… You forgot your cheesy intro line.

What was it?

Amazing. Your first shot would require a reshoot, and it would be because of a flub.

You momentarily floundered, opting instead to roll with it and improvise.

“Hello, boys,” you beamed as you greeted them, “I’m your housekeeper. Keep a good home while you're here, since I'll be the one cleaning it. I hope you have nothing to hide.” You topped it off with a wink, and the boys all shared a momentary air of surprise. You didn't blame them -- it was awkward, cringy, and too ‘sassy.’ The Big Boss probably hated it.

But the boys laughed. Actually laughed. The take finished without any more problems, and the stylist ran up to reset your hair between takes.

“Was it bad?” You whispered as she touched up your makeup.

“No, I liked it!” She smiled, reassuring you a little. In fact, the AD asked you to run it again the way you had, surprised you could improvise at all. The retake went more smoothly, and you finally allowed yourself a sigh of relief as the scene cut for transition.

As the boys finally wrapped up, you set about your other duties. When the cameras weren't formally set and manned, the planted cameras caught plenty of action from the boys. The valet had it easy; he was come-and-go as the plot necessitated, but you and the cook actually worked. Your contract outlined that while the boys were usually “on” from eight o'clock to eight o'clock, that you were an actual part-timer during the day and working at night. You could “work” your show during the day, but you couldn't interfere with the daytime activities. If you were needed as a housekeeper during the day, then that was priority, and these bookshelves apparently came with dust on them. You set about dusting as the boys transitioned from their scripted work to more casual filming. They each gave you a look as they filed back out of the living room to get set up in their rooms. Some expressions were cryptic, Hyunjin and Chan especially, but some were clear, like Minho’s small grin as he subtly looked you up and down as you reached for a tall shelf. Not wanting to shy away from an opportunity, you smiled back.

The rest of your day was pretty simple, all things considered. You dusted and swept and tidied up a little, but since all five men had just started living in the house, there wasn’t much else at the moment. The house calmed down considerably as the huge crew dispersed for the day, now resembling just a mostly normal home. You hung out and snacked in your room as you heard everyone eating upstairs, only emerging once you heard their chairs scooting free of the dinner table. At that moment, one of the bulbs on your string lights blinked three times and then turned off.

You immediately straightened up where you sat in bed and cheerily waved at the camera. Felix had outlined that you would never have to do much talking if you didn’t feel like it. You rose from your bed, turning to fix the bow in your apron before heading out of your room, giving the camera an extra wave. As you turned to ascend the stairs, a figure landed right on the bottom step in front of you, making you jump with a startled laugh.

“Chan--!” You gasped into a giggle. “I'm so sorry, you surprised me.”

“I’m sorry, noona, I’ll be more careful,” he nodded cordially as he briskly moved to step around you. You quickly took note of the basket in his hands.

“Wait!” You jumped back in front of him. “You don’t have to do your own laundry, you know. Besides, you already have some on night one?” You held your hands open for him to set the basket into and he hesitated before reluctantly giving it up to you.

“It’ll take some getting used to, noona, thank you. I just wanted to take care of my uniform and my street clothes from before I got to set.”

“Fair enough,” you smiled warmly despite his stiff demeanor, turning heel back towards the laundry room as Chan hesitated again before heading back up the stairs. Working quickly, you set about separating the meager pile of laundry and getting them started on washing before you returned to your original plan and headed upstairs yourself.

Through the living room was the dining room, and beyond that was the kitchen down the hall. You peered in, spying a sink full of dishes from dinner. You pulled on some gloves and got to washing when your ears perked up at the sound of the kitchen door swinging open. Just like that, your assumption was right: someone had to be a late-night snacker in the cast. And, of course, it was Minho.

“I'm sure you could’ve eaten with us if you wanted,” Minho slyly grinned as he pulled open a cabinet and peered inside. His uniform was swapped out for a much comfier number, a simple henley shirt and pajama pants. The thin layers hugged the subtle outlines of his figure and suggested that despite his casual nature, he still put in effort for his looks. He came away from the cabinet with a box of cookies and offered it to you. You smiled and silently declined.

“I appreciate that, Minho, but I'm just the help.”

“Yeah, but you’re pretty,” he said bluntly, quietly picking the box open, “and I feel like we could be friends.”

You watched, quietly impressed with how cool Minho could be. He silently, nonchalantly took a bite of a cookie and offered you a bite of the same. Could you really say no to an advance like that?

Sure you could. Where was the fun in making it easy? You spied a camera in the corner of the kitchen, tucked under the hanging cabinets. Stepping aside, Minho instinctively circled with you, opening your conversation up for the camera.

“It’s only the first night, Minho,” you teasingly scolded as you leaned forward and took a bite of the proffered cookie, “you shouldn't be so eager.”

Minho surprised you again, his thumb instantly at your lip and cleaning off a crumb you hadn't even felt.

“Are you sure you're just the help?” He laughed quietly. “You don't act like it.”

“I can act however you want me to,” you teased back, enjoying the way his eyes lit up at your little repartee. You locked gazes as you let his thumb caress your bottom lip, watching for his reaction when dipped your chin to take the digit between your lips for just a moment. You took a step back, leaning back against the counter. His turn now. Minho set the box of cookies down, a devilish grin tugging at his lip as he stepped closer.

When the door swung open once again. You both rapidly turned away from each other, your hands plunging back into the sink and Minho turning back to the cabinets. Changbin blinked at the two of you.

“‘Sup,” Minho cheerily greeted, “I'm making myself something to eat. Want anything?”

“Nah,” Changbin shook his head as his eyes darted between the two of you before settling on the box of cookies on the counter. He stiffly reached between you both and grabbed it. “I'll be just fine with this. Unless you wanted--?”

“No, thanks, that's fine, like I said, making myself something,” Minho enthusiastically prattled on, making himself look busy as he started facetiously searching for pans in the bottom cabinets under the counter. Changbin raised an eyebrow before shrugging, popping open the box of cookies and digging in as he left the kitchen.

A beat passed in the silence as you both waited for Changbin’s footsteps to disappear, but you didn’t get a chance to say anything before you felt Minho press up behind you where you stood at the sink. You let yourself have a small smile as he reached his arms around you, grabbing a kitchen towel and pulling your hands out of the sink to dry them. His head leaned down over your shoulder, his breath tickling your neck as he took his time before you grew impatient. You leaned back against his chest, opening up your neck for him. Minho breathed you in and brushed your hair back, the impression of his smirk pressed into you as his lips brushed against the delicate skin.

You turned in his arms, playfully pushing him back a couple inches by the hips, and he instantly stepped closer, getting on with it already and driving his lips against yours. His flannel pajama pants did next to nothing to hide his growing erection he was currently grinding into your thigh. You kissed him deep, readily spreading your legs for him as his hands searched you and played with the hem of your skirt.

“Right here?” You asked coyly.

“As if we weren't pushing for that this whole time already,” Minho chuckled as he kissed you up and back against the counter. He spun you back around, pressing your hips against the sink as he kissed and nibbled at your neck. “Say it,” he implored.

“Fuck me,” you replied breathlessly, gasping as Minho immediately pulled your skirt up around your hips and bent you over the sink, his fingers dipping below the waist of your tights and tugging them down. His fingertips probed your dripping entrance from behind and you gave an encouraging moan for him to continue. “What,” you grinned back over your shoulder, “chickening out?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting this,” he teased, “you sure you want it? You did say it's the first night.”

“Give it to me,” you said adamantly. Minho smiled back as he pulled out his hard length. One hand gripped your hip as he guided himself in, groaning as your depths took him deep. You squeaked out a surprised moan when he bottomed out before both his hands were on your hips now and pulling you deeper around him.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from getting too loud as Minho fucked you over the sink, his hips bucking hard against you as his length filled you up. Once he set a reliable rhythm, one hand crept lower, between your legs to caress your clit as he fucked you.

“I want to make you cum,” Minho gritted behind you, “tell me how and I'll do it.”

“Keep doing what you’re doing and you will,” you taunted.

Minho seemed pleased with your answer, his fingers still rubbing firm circles on your clit as his cock drove in and out of you even faster. You pushed your hips back against his, gripping the counter hard as the refined angle helped hit your spot more consistently. Minho let out a deep groan at the sound of your quickening whimpers, the sound of you approaching your orgasm making it difficult for him to keep up his own pace.

“Minho,” you gasped, “I’m gonna--!”

You threw your head back as you cried out, quickly muffled when Minho pressed his own hand over your mouth. He kept it there, his other hand still holding firm onto your hip as he fucked you through your orgasm and on his way to his own. You whined and moaned into his palm, the way his own desperate groans combined with his stuttering grip on you making you lightheaded. He came hard, suddenly, emptying himself inside you as he gritted out hushed curses and panted breaths.

You both stayed there, connected at the hips before Minho pulled out and brought you back up from the ledge of the sink. It was sweet, the way he helped put you back together and kissed your cheek.

“Thanks,” he panted with a grin, still catching his breath, “hope this won’t make anything weird.”

“Of course not,” you smiled back as you brushed your fingers through your hair, “we can even do it again some time if you’d like.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What’re friends for?” You winked, and Minho’s laugh was almost bashful as he playfully nudged your shoulder. His hand lingered on yours before he gave a cute wave and finally walked out of the kitchen.

You waited a beat for Minho’s footsteps to disappear before you found the closest camera in the corner of the kitchen and gave it a wave and a smile. You finished the dishes and left them to dry and exited the kitchen, nearly screaming in surprise as you ran right into someone.

Another assistant, blinking in surprised relief and taking a deep breath.

“Well done, noona,” the assistant laughed quietly.

“Who are--”

“Jeongin, noona, sorry.”

“Where have you been hiding?” You asked, bewildered.

“Upstairs in the control room. I come in when the day crew leaves to help supervise in case you need anything.” He handed you a bottle of water and you nodded your gratitude, uncapping and taking a sip as you looked him over. He was an actual infant. He must've gotten roped into the industry right out of school. “Any other plans tonight?”

“Don’t think so,” you chuckled. “The show won’t be much fun if I get everything done in one week.”

“Sounds good, noona. You’ll be getting some rest then?”

“Sure will.” You waved goodbye to the assistant as he crept back up the stairs and you headed down towards your room, making a quick stop to make a change over in Chan’s laundry for him.

You stripped down in the comfort of your room, waving as the camera blinked on and you pulled on your pajamas. The sheets were welcoming as you crawled into bed, blowing a kiss to your viewers before the camera blinked back off. Your phone buzzed with a text from Felix as your eyelids grew heavy.

>Good show tonight. Great start. The big boss loved it. Can you wear the dark blue blouse tomorrow? I want to see if it looks better than the pink. And don't make tonight a habit. We gotta keep things interesting. ;)

You sighed, now suddenly curious how you would “keep things interesting” between all five boys and wondering who would be next.

#skzsmutnet #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #lee know smut #lee know #lee minho #stray kids minho #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines

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spnfanficpond · 4 years

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March Angel Fish Awards

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle @mrswhozeewhatsis or Mana @manawhaat to check and make sure we got your submission.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE MARCH’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nominated by @wingedcatninja

Static (series) by @peridottea91

peridottea91 is going to single-handedly convert me to like series. I just re-read this gem and had to share it. In another life, she could have been a writer on the show, she’s so good at getting the characterization right for our boys. This OC, too, is an intiguing, layered personality that adds an extra dimension of mystery. And the whole story is perfectly woven in with canon. Two thumbs up. A must read.

Wish (oneshot) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

It’s just a drabble, but it made me feel so many things in so few words. I don’t even know what to say about it, other than it’s brilliant and if you love Dean Winchester, you have to read it.

Bad Medicine (oneshot) by @deanwandamons

This was lovely, and hot, and it made me giggle.

Nominated by @risingphoenix761

Because You’re Worth It (oneshot) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

I love a good crack fic, and I love some good Samwena content, so this is right up my alley. And a great mix of funny and fluffy!

Kings Don’t Kneel (oneshot) by @slytherkins

Few things in fic give me as much joy as Tara writing Crowley, and she hits all my favorite spots in under a thousand words. Struggling with emotion is hard enough for an unfeeling demon, but grief and loss–and the pain of knowing those emotions are unacknowledged–are enough to bring anyone to their knees. Beautiful and succinct, and all the angst!

Nominated by @peridottea91

Heaven (oneshot) by @evansrogerskitten

This fic is so beautifully written and just really captures Dean’s personality while still smacking you in the face with the most amazing “and then I saw her” moment!! Best still my heart!!! And the whole SamxEileen subplot!! The whole fic is just *chef’s kiss*

Nominated by @impala-dreamer

The Sun (oneshot) by @crashdevlin

It’s just amazingly beautiful. Short, sweet, and full of wonderful emotion. I loved every single word.

Nominated by anonymous

Dive In With Me (oneshot) by @sp-oops

This was a gorgeous, genuine account of the reader and Sam finally, FINALLY crossing that hurtle.

Coming Home (oneshot) by @there-must-be-a-lock

Lou builds us a story with such detail and precise ache that we forget to breathe. She teaches Dean, repeatedly, that he deserves to be happy.

Shackled (series) by @itmighthavebeenintentional

Val started her Demon!Dean x OFC series like a building storm. Miriam Bard is a fellow hunter, another older sibling with more internal demons than she cares to name. Sam calls her in on an old favor. Before long she doesn’t know if anything is real or who she can trust. Dark fic, so good!

Shattered Breaths (oneshot) by @dontshootmespence

Nicole dove deep for this kink bingo fill, and it is well worth every word. See how the Omega reader learns to trust the Winchesters and just what it takes for them to give up protecting themselves and lean into possibility.

Nominated by @the-girl-who-runs-with-winchesters

Devil May Care (oneshot) by @becs-bunker

This was such an interesting plot idea and amazing storytelling. Not that I had expected anything less from this talented author, of course.

Rough Ride (oneshot) by @luci-in-trenchcoats

A fun quick and very heated oneshot that made me smile at the end :)

All About Lovin’ You (oneshot) by @deanwanddamons

You know me, I can never let a month pass without diving into some angst, nor can I resist praising a fellow guppy for their amazing work. And this one’s got both! I got sucked in right from the start. It goes from heartbreaking to heartwarming, and from hot right back to sweet.

It’s About Time (oneshot) by @sorenmarie87

I randomly came across this one and it made me smile so much. Probably one of the most inventive ways to play matchmaker that I’ve heard so far.

Nominated by @dontshootmespence

For Better or For Worst (series) by @stusbunker

She does intrigue like no one else and doesn’t get the love she deserves!

Marked (series) by @there-must-be-a-lock

This is so fucking vivid it's ridiculous. There's smut, there's angst, there's sweetness and it's all maddeningly good.

Nominated by @negans-lucille-tblr

Desire (onsehot) by @princessmisery666

This fic is the very definition of smangst and I loved every second of it. The fact Stacey claims she can’t write smut baffles me when I read this fic 😍

Dirty Little Secret (series) by @pink1031

Whenever I’m asked what my all time favourite fic is it’s this one. I didn’t read rpf before this but it pulled me in and I’m so glad it did! It was just incredible and gave me my obsession with the idea of dating J2.

Nominated by @lovetusk

Me Likey & We are real (oneshots) by @impala-dreamer

They were both fantastic and on point. Drunk Dean is a rare and beautiful sight, and there’s nothing I love more than comforting a down and out Sammy. Well done.

Nominated by @impalaimagining

Currently Thinking About Jensen... (oneshot) by @negans-lucille-tblr

This is such a short and effective little piece of smut. The way it teeters on the edge of absolutely and filthily inappropriate puts it on a whole new level of dirty. I am a huge fan of last-line punches to the face no matter what the genre is, and that’s exactly what this is. It leaves you begging for more in the most desperate way. It’s a quick read but it gets the job done.

Midnight Confessions (oneshot) by @katymacsupernatural

I love the way this fic has the reader second guessing herself even though she has no recollection of doing anything to upset the guys. I’m always here for an appearance from Sam to push his stubborn brother and their bunkmate in the right direction. Admittedly, I am a sleep-talker, and I’ve said my fair share of embarrassing things (including yelling at my husband about wanting a grilled cheese at 3am), but if I could just once have something I said in my sleep get me a kiss from Dean Winchester? Hell yes.

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

Coming Home (oneshot) by @there-must-be-a-lock

This is a beautiful heart wrenching story showcasing Dean’s desire for love and need affection and how few times he actually receives it. Denying himself of what he needs, until he doesn’t.

Unspoken (oneshot) by @deanscherrypie

A wonderful little drabble about how Dean lets you know he loves you without saying anything at all. Such a beautiful line… “All his broken pieces matched yours with mosaic complexity, and somehow you found a new kind of home within each other.”

Don’t Need An Excuse (oneshot) by @amanda-teaches

A beautifully crafted story from Dean’s POV about his girl and the tender loving moments in time that couples share. And, damn that ending, my poor heart.

Nominated by @there-must-be-a-lock

Anything And Everything (oneshot) by @rockhoochie

This fic honestly just took my breath away. You can feel the longing and wistfulness, and the writing is superb. There’s so much depth and detail here, it feels real and vibrant and lived-in, in a way that very few fics do. AND I love she writes Dean’s POV.

He Is, Therefore I am (oneshot) by @stusbunker

All I can say about this one is BROTHERS BEING BROTHERS. It's totally stream-of-consciousness, and it really does feel like you're in their heads.

Leaving Heaven (series) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Such a badass, snarky narrator with a distinctive voice, and her Demon Dean is dark and awful and sexy as hell, and there's so much depth and nuance in their interactions.

Golden Hour (oneshot) by @fangirlxwritesx67

It's straight-up wish fulfillment, fluffy comforting goodness, and I think everybody needs a little bit of that in their lives right now.

Nominated by @princessmisery666

The Question (oneshot) by @girl-next-door-writes

Death by fluff and it was so worth it !! This was perfect, of course Sam has some grand plan to propose and of course it doesn’t go to plan but ended up perfect anyway!! Was fun and sweet, loved it!!

Carry On (oneshot) by @kittenofdoomage

I love Rhi. I swear everything she writes, even AU’s, could be canon!! Characterizations are always on point, stories are engaging and make me feel something every time. This one is no exception. If I could I would send it to the writers to show them this is how the show should end!!

Kings Don’t Kneel (oneshot) by @slytherkins

A small drabble from Tara and as always it gave me all the feels. It could be canon, if anyone asks me I will tell them this is exactly how Crowley felt. This made me sad and I totally wanted to hug Crowley and tell him it would all be okay.

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Cocky (oneshot) by @stusbunker

Sexy, fun, and real. I love your Dean, Stuie!

Golden Hour (oneshot) by @fangirlxwritesx67

Comforting and cozy and swoony!

Nominated by @littlehotmess26

Until The Day I Die Again (oneshot) by @fictionalabyss

Mel writes Dean x Benny amazingly and this fic is one of my favorites.

Happy Birthday, Baby (oneshot) by @fictionalabyss

This was a birthday gift to me and it was soo good. Mel did a great job.

This Isn’t One Of Mine (oneshot) by @sorenmarie87

Dawn stepped out of her comfort zone for this one and it turned out phenomenal.

Goodbye, Sweetheart (oneshot) by @sorenmarie87

This fic is heartbreaking and I absolutely love it.

Nominated by @kate-huntington

While You Sleep (oneshot) by @foreverwayward

A heartwarming little fic about Dean living the domesticated life we all wish for him. The writer has a very clever way of storytelling and the end might come as a surprise, only adding to the emotion it already brought along.

Findings (seires) by @kathaswings

This is one of my favorite series out there and I revisited it recently. The overall story arc is a mystery I just had to unravel and I couldn’t put it down if I wanted to. The bond between Dean and Mackenzie is so precious. Writing a child isn’t easy. I’ve read plenty of books and seen plenty of films in which the maturity that was added wasn’t natural, but this author handles the Mac’s dialogue amazingly well. What’s also interesting is the jumps from point of view between Dean and Y/N, giving very personal perspectives on the gripping story.

Heartbeats (oneshot) by @there-must-be-a-lock

I’ll start by saying that I don’t ship Dean and Cas together, but I do appreciate the people who do. What this little piece of art does is incredible, however, because while I was reading, I found myself rooting for them. The writer does a great job by using the literal human heart as a backbone of this story. Intriguing and very well executed.

Everything That’s Yet To Come (oneshot) by @fictionalabyss

The author took me by the hand through this moving little one shot, which feels like a collection of greatest hits and wishes come true. It offers peace and closure not only for the older Winchester brother, but for the reader as well. Beautiful piece of writing.

Take A Drunk Girl Home (oneshot) by @amanda-teaches

Dean taking care of others; it’s his nature and shows what a kind soul he truly is. The situation sketched here is no exception, and it’s softer than one can imagine. The pace is steady and the balance between fluff and comedy is just right. A lovely read.

The Demon Inside Of You (oneshot) by @foreverwayward

Curing Dean from the demon that he has become proves to be difficult when he’s so hard to resist. What else is hard to resist, is this beautiful pitch black one shot. I don’t read Demon!Dean fiction often, because it still feels foreign to see the character that I love so much turn into something so evil. This however, is so gripping and well written, that the darkness swallows up the beholder. Rough, hot, sad, narcissistic, all these ingredients packed up in one hell of a story.

Curves And Edges (oneshot) by @kittenofdoomage

This equally sweet, sexy, funny and sad story is a big shout out to all women who think they don’t meet the beauty standards and feel like they will never be good enough to get noticed. It is one thing to replace a name with Y/N and call it a reader’s insert; it’s a gift to make every person reading this feel like they are the character in this story. The author handles every woman’s insecurities with grace, making her words both relatable and soothing. Her spot on version of Dean reminds us that we are beautiful, desired and unique.

Watch Your Fcking Mouth (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer

Dean falls under a frustrating curse, and it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I was wheezing, couldn’t breathe and died laughing. It’s astonishing how the writer can juggle comedy and sex without the two ruling each other out. An uplifting read.

Life For Rent (series) by @winchest09

Conspiracies, deceit, crime. A strong family bond, blossoming love, oh, not to mention the sex. This series is intriguing beyond imagination and certainly not just another mobster fanfiction. The writing is smart and I could tell from the first paragraph that it’s loaded with hints and foreshadowing, but I couldn’t pick them out. This triggers a curiosity like an itch I can’t quite scratch away until I finish reading this story. And so I wait eagerly and drop everything the second a new chapter comes out. An absolute must read!

When You Least Expect It (series) by @coffee-obsessed-writer

Talking about an epic love story, but it’s so much more than that. The music that plays such an important factor, the setting that is Seaside. The fabulous supporting characters Bri, Rob, Jason and Jared, the wardrobe, not to mention the wonderful little gems and details that this author weaved into the story, showing how much love she has put into it. This is without a shadow of a doubt my favorite RPF I’ve come across.

Nominated by @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish

The Unexpected (oneshot) by @impalaimagining

The desperation and neediness between characters is just…I can almost feel through the screen. And the gif at the top of the post is the closest thing to porn Tumblr allows now is HOT.

Criminal Love (series) by @kalesrebellion

This mob fic has a lot of things going for it: mob!Dean, big brother Benny (which I didn’t know I needed in my life, but apparently I do), mystery, and a unique way of incorporating a lot of familiar faces from the SPN world. It’s 6 chapters in and I am DYING to see what happens next because the last chapter left me shook!

Unplanned Parenthood (oneshot) by @erins-culinary-service

This fic makes me long for more canon dad!Dean because he’s just so good at it and it feels like it would fit in so well. The author nailed the family vibes and I love that she found a way to make it canon plausible (something I just can’t seem to grasp in my own writing); well done, doll.

Changes (series) by @katehuntington

This fic is super unique as it is like a series rewrite, but rather than using “Pilot, Wendigo, Dead in the Water” etc., Kate is writing her own episodes! Episode 1 just wrapped up, with my personal favorite being part 10 because the characterization of both Winchester brothers felt so spot on to me. Zoe, the amazing OFC and star of this fic, might be the coolest person ever and I wish she was my best friend. Heads up though, this is not your CW Supernatural; it’s darker, dirtier, and probably a lot closer to what the Winchesters’ lives are actually like.

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

The Man on the Side of the Road (seires) by @supernatural-jackles

This is a seriously awesome Dean AU fic! Both Dean and the reader have so much baggage, but they’re working together to fix each other and it’s just BEAUTIFUL. It’s a series, and I can’t wait to see how it ends!!!

Nominated by @emoryhemsworth

Never Alone Again (oneshot) by @dissect-me

This author was kind enough to take the time to write about a recent trauma I discovered happened to me as a child and how Dean would react/comfort me. It’s powerful and really helped me. ❤️

Nominated by @fangirlxwritesx67

Laissez Les Bons Temp Rouler (oneshot) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

M is the kind of author that is the reason you have the “four recs per author” rule because otherwise I would just be submitting her entire masterlist every month. For a talent like MJ, all it takes is a photo to spark an entire story. This photo of Jensen was particularly inspiring, and MJ did it justice. Hot, drunk, sexy, just UGH.

Where Is My Shiny Gun (oneshot) by thoughtslikeaminefield

Do you love Dean? Do you love Donna? Do you love Sam? Does your mouth water and your knees go weak just a little thinking about all 3 of them together? Do you need some generous, consensual, sunshiney, smutty love? Then check this out.

Leaving Heaven (series) by thoughtslikeaminefield

Demon Dean meets his match in the most compelling OFC I’ve ever read, bounty hunter Tazi. Where to start with this series? MJ works some of her best magic yet, seamlessly weaving the story into the show we know so well. Her Dean is brilliant, as always, every supporting character spot on. The action is tight, the murder wrenching, the sex smoking. And as good as it is, as perfect as Dean and Sam are, as impatient I am for every chapter .. I would read it all just for Tazi. Tazi is an OFC worthy of novelization: tough, sarcastic, sexy, and fully realized. She’s so beautiful and broken that you can’t help falling in love with her as you read. If I could ask everyone to read just one SPN FF ever, it would be this one.

Three Bad Ideas (series) by @there-must-be-a-lock

She’s just getting started on her Everything prequels but, by every indicator they will be JUST as filthy as the original, with even more emotional depth and character development. Frankly it’s HOT and heartbreaking and her voice for Jared is so, so good, and so is Jensen, and I’m just all over this love story. I screamed at her when she published, that if I didn’t know what came next, I would be HEARATBROKENED (that’s how excited I got, that I forgot how to speak.)

Ocean Eyes (oneshot) by @there-must-be-a-lock

The ocean is my Happy Place and I’m a sucker for Sam so this fic just hit all my sweet spots. A lot of us are looking for comfort fics right now and this is uniquely heartwarming.

Shackled (series) by @itmighthavebeenintentional

I KNOW this was nominated last month but there are more chapters and it just keeps getting better! For every question that the story answers, it asks two more. Also, it’s started getting smutty and whoooooooo boy.

Anything And Everything (oneshot) by @rockhoochie

I don’t even remember why this lovely lady was asking for prompts but I sent one that I think was, listening to records, first kiss. I had long since forgotten when she dropped this 8K word MASTERPIECE on all of us.

It’s such a sweet in-character Dean, but a relaxed side of Dean that he deserves and we don’t really get to see. It’s soft and sensual and just… you can feel it while you read.

Nominated by @manawhaat

Sex Ed (oneshot) by @cleighwrites

This is a type of wincest I’m not sure I’ve experienced before, but I can say without a doubt that I fucking love it! It’s your classic little brother Sammy looking up to Dean. It’s the show. It’s their relationship to a T, but with that little bit of helplessness that makes Sam feel like such a fucking kid! I don’t even know if my normal wincest loving self would call this actual Wincest, but wherever it falls on the radar, it’s wonderful!

Passion (oneshot) by @bohowitch

This is poetry in motion, just like Sam is. This is a beautiful, firery, perfect ode to all that is Sam Winchester!

Neptune Rising (oneshot) by @atc74

This is such a clever and refreshing AU! I don’t think I’ve ever read one like this and both characters are nuanced in such believable ways. It’s not too long, so you should definitely take a sec to check it out!

Shackled (series) by @itmighthavebeenintentional

What can I say about this series other than HOLY FUCK!! It’s got twists and turns and secrets and guilt and worry and drama and excitement and passion and fucking everything you want in a good, juicy, keep you on the edge of your seat kind of story!

There’s a feral brutality to the way she portrays Demon!Dean in this that is actually scary and makes me nervous in real life. I find myself looking around the room when I read this, pulling my feet in from off the side of the couch as if this version of Deanmon is gonna snatch me up if I’m not careful. It’s intense and SO. DAMN. COMPELLING. And it’s not even a fucking reader insert. I find myself worrying about Miriam (the ofc) at random parts of the day long after I’ve finished reading the latest chapters...

This series is a fucking MUST READ!

Celibacy, Interrupted (oneshot) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Any fic with Jody x a Winchester is my jam, but this one is like, no bullshit, just fantastic interaction and sultry, perfect ‘smut’. Goddamn. This leaves me in a pile of goo not even for myself, but FOR JODY!

Let Go (oneshot) by @luci-in-trenchcoats

So bdsm seems to have been a theme in my life for the past month and I don’t know why, but this fucking fits the bill. I recently dodged a bullet with a ‘dom’ (read: a bossy guy who wanted nudes who ignored care and consent) and this fic is like, the complete opposite of what I experienced. I’ve read and done research and talked to enough people to know what real bdsm looks like and that saved me, and this fic only reinforces that proper bdsm lifestyle.

It’s gentle yet firm, and it forces you to let go of control even when you feel like you HAVE to hold onto it. That force caught me off guard when I read it, but it makes so much sense, and every aspect of this really, truly is well thought out and spot on, good, caring bdsm. If you’re interested in it, this is a great place to start your reading and research!

When 2 Is Better Than 1 (oneshot) by @wi-deangirl77

Not only is the smut fucking glorious in this, but Ketch’s gentle nature is 100% what makes this for me! I’m not used to reading him as gentle or caring and having him work with Dean in this to help the reader, not to fill his own needs, but truly coming at it from a place of care and worry, melts me into a pile of gooey feels.

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

These are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

#afa masterlist #angel fish awards #spnfanficpond #spn fanfiction #spn fic rec

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

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A Family of Five- Part 3: Sick Day

Calum and Harlowe’s marriage hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been filled with love. This is a collaborative experience with In Sorrow and In Joy. Dad!Calum. Black OC.

CW: Over the course of this series, there are mentions of pregnancy, therapy, and postpartum depression. There is also 18+ Content (Smut)

Enjoy my masterlist | Series Masterlist

Support me on kofi

No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well

_____________________

The house is finally silent. Koha’s no longer shouting about needing his lunchbox, Harlowe’s not clicking against the tile floor with her heels, Pepper, Sissy and Jack their three dogs have been taken out, sprawled out across their favorite spots in the living room Jack and Sissy are the latest additions. Jack a german shepherd mix and Sissy is a Cocker Spaniel Corgi mix. They were a two for one deal, only in the sense that the pound warned them that the two had become extremely attached to each other. So much so that they could not go to separate foster homes.

Calum can only blame himself for the dog additions. Koha had Pepper and they grew up together. So of course, Calum wanted Esha to grow up with a dog. So they went looking at the same local shelter from where they got Pepper from. That’s how they ran across Jack and Sissy. Esha was stoked to have a dog she could cuddle with. This of course meant that him and Harlowe were outnumbered, though the dogs did help when one of the kids is hurt in another room. They could run and get the attention of Calum or Harlowe to come to the rescue. Of course, the crying also indicated that. But the dogs loved the kids and they best was naptime when they Pepper lays down first, Koha and Esha curled up near each other and Jack and Sissy outlining them. Calum has too many photos of the same scene from multiple different times they curled up together.

Esha whines a little from the couch; Calum walks over, running his palm over her forehead. Normally, she would be off to daycare. However, she had a fever last night and it hadn’t broken yet either. Calum usually drops Esha off, every morning at the same time, with the same kisses, pressed into both cheeks and a big hug. Harlowe’s job and Koha’s private school are in the same direction. Esha’s daycare is a bit of an offshoot, which Harlowe could easily do. However, Esha prefers Calum to drive her. Calum loves it too, her dancing in her carseat, her singing along to the radio. His little baby girl always excited to show him something new that she learned. It’s time for just them.

Though the house wasn’t too chaotic, Calum did feel like he was constantly running around. He was constantly moving, more things added to this To-Do List and never enough time just to enjoy the moment. The moments he has with Esha though on the fifteen minute drive are what keeps him going some days. He loves Harlowe, Koha, and the dogs. But there’s nothing quite like seeing Esha smile, even as he’s dropping her off in front of her preschool There’s the way her tiny hand takes his, and the way she grins, waving at all her friends still close to his side that makes all that chaos still; Calum feels at peace.

Right now though, his little slice of heaven is sick. Esha stirs from her half sleeping state at the feel of a hand on her face, groaning a little. “How you feeling, baby?” Cal asks softly.

She shrugs. “Still hurt a little.”

He nods. “Okay, give it some more time before the meds kick in.” Her cup is empty thankfully. She drank all of her water.

“Okay.”

He tucks the blanket higher up around her, stroking softly over her cheek and bonnet. “I’m sorry you’re sick, baby girl,” he whispers, watching her eyes flutter close. Jack walks over, jumps up onto the couch and settles down at her feet. Pepper keeps watch from the floor with Sissy. Calum scratches over their heads, happy to see them being gentle with her in her present state.

Calum washes the dishes from breakfast, squeezes in a quick work out and after his shower, wakes Esha again. She pushes up away from the pillow, a small ‘hmmph’ falling over her lips. She looks just like Harlowe waking up. The same squint and the matching satin bonnets. “I know, baby, I know. But I have to keep fluids in you.”

Esha takes the cup from her father’s hand, still blinking back sleep from her eyes. There’s no sass, no remark. God, he hates seeing his baby girl like this. Thankfully, she doesn’t get sick often. When she does, it’s like someone has pulled her plug. There’s no power, no life to her almost. She falls back into the cushion, sipping away at her cup. Calum stands, picking her up, before settling into the sofa with Esha in his lap. She snuggles into his chest, though he put her in light pj’s, he can feel the warmth seeping from her body.

He’s already adjusted the AC some to help her stay cool. “Can we watch Moana?” she mumbles against him.

“Of course sweetheart. We’ll start if after lunch, okay?”

Esha nods. “Love you, Daddy.”

“Love up too, baby girl.” When she’s fast asleep, yet again, Calum brings the blanket back around her body. He can wait to fix her soup just a tad bit, not wanting to disturb her sleep too much. Softly, he hums a few songs to her sleeping body.

Calum doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until the feelings of nails against his scalp stir him awake. Harlowe’s smiling down at him. “I came by just to see how see she’s holding up. And I’m come back to both of y’all passed out on the couch,” she chuckles.

Calum sighs. “Hadn’t intended to fall asleep.”

She kisses his forehead. “I’ll fix some soup and then be on my way.”

The sounds of Harlowe’s work around the kitchen sends a shiver down Calum’s spine. He rests his head into the cushions, listening to the soft sounds of metal pots and pans clinking against each other. Esha’s not so warm against him; he’s not sure if it’s just because he’s gotten used to her. Gingerly he places the back of his hand to her forehead. She’s not as warm. Readjusting her, he stands, holding his sick child to his chest.

They’ll be leaving soon. It’s, of course, going to be tricky with the dogs and the house still here in California. Calum’s tempted to just keep the house since it’s paid for as a vacation home. They can retire here during the school breaks. Maybe they can rent it out through an agency so it’s not just sitting unoccupied all the time. Harlowe’s got a couple uni’s that are interested in her already, which is a good sign because she was worried about finding work.

Calum watches Harlowe. She’s still in the heels from this morning. It’s a shock she makes this long anymore in the shoes. The heels are a good sign though. Today’s a good day so far. Bad days don’t see heels. Bad days don’t see skirts, or fancy blouses. Calum thinks part of her recovery and stability is linked to going back to work. She can’t help her students if she’s not thinking straight. She can’t enjoy the worlds they’re creating and she can’t help them shape those worlds if all she has is a fog on her shoulder.

It was hard, before on the maternity leave for Harlowe. It was the same old same old. Day in and day out it was just her bedroom, just the kitchen, and occasionally the outdoors. She didn’t really have a goal, just a muddled sameness marked up rising and fallings of the sun. There was Koha and Esha and Calum for sure. But part of her had taken them for granted, that of course they would be there. She was a mother, she was a wife. These people were in her life for good.

The thing is, life is fragile and it took realizing that her students wouldn’t be able to see her on campus to know that she couldn’t take anyone or anything for granted. Just because Calum was here now didn’t mean he would have to stick this out. Te Koha had already taken too much of her illness into his soul, she couldn’t crush her own child with her heaviness, with her burden.

“Don’t you have a class to be teaching?” Cal asks. He remembers now that her schedule shouldn’t allow her to be here. He blames the post nap fog.

“That was last semester, babe. I redid it so I start teaching at 9, go until 12. Break for lunch for an hour and some change. Then my last class ends goes from 2 to 3:30.”

“That’s right,” he hums, still trying to shake the sleep from him. Harlowe glances over her shoulder a smirk on her face. He knows what she’s thinking. “Don’t say it.”

She holds her hands up in defense. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“But you were thinking it. You’re always thinking it.”

“You just love her, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Her face says it all though how tightly Esha has Calum wrapped around her tiny finger. It doesn’t matter though. As long as his baby girl knows how much he loves her, it doesn’t matter what Harlowe or anyone else things, or says, or doesn’t say. He’d go through Hell for her, and come back, only to go through it again if he had too. Nothing would stop him from taking care of his daughter.

Pepper walks over, whining, pointing to the door. “I’ll take her,” Harlowe says, sliding out from in front of the stove.

As he stirs the soup, Esha starts to wake, groaning. He sets her onto the counter. Calum’s still impressed that he can hold her with one arm. Esha’s getting bigger with every passing second. It scares him a little when he won’t be able to hold her like this anymore. When she’ll be too big and want nothing more than to run through the streets, just as wild as she’s bound to be. She holds onto the blanket, asking, “Chicken noodle soup?”

“Of course. It’s your favorite.”

“Can I have some water?”

Calum hums with a nod, opening the fridge. The back door opens and Esha smiles at up at her mom. “Hi, Momma.”

“Hey, baby. How you feeling?”

“Why you not at school?”

“Came by to see how you’re doing.” Harlowe presses a quick kiss to her forehead. Calum watches them. This is the Harlowe he knew was buried under her fog. This is the Harlowe Koha knew. The new meds seem to be helping. The idea of moving is still scary, but necessary. This place has run its course. Besides, Calum’s worried. New meds always work and then she stops taking them. He can’t do this alone, taking care of two kids, three dogs and his wife. He needs an extra pair of hands to help him out, especially when Harlowe slips. She doesn’t listen to just anybody. Her family’s no help. But Momma Joy has always managed to slip through her guard and keeps her on the right take.

“Daddy can take care of me,” Esha retorts.

“You’re definitely feeling better,” Harlowe laughs. “I know Papa Bear can. Momma’s just a worrier, you know.”

“Love you,” she whispers as her mom wraps her up in a hug.

“Love you too. I’ve got a meeting, so I should probably get back soon.” Harlowe turns to Calum, sliding her hands around his waist. “Want me to pick something up for dinner?”

“I’ll cook. Don’t worry.”

With a nod, she slides away, but not before lightly patting his butt through the sweatpants. “Gross, Momma!” Esha huffs, noting the contact.

“Do you call Papa Bear out like this?” Harlowe teases, waving as she exits the house.

“Yes, I do!” the little girl calls to her mother’s back, laughing. These are his two girls, constantly teasing each other.

Soup finally warmed, Esha sits at the table, taking small spoonfuls to her mouth. Her little legs dangle high above the floor. She crosses her eyes, sucking on a noddle in response to Calum’s face. He laughs, eyes closing, the skin around them crinkling too. Esha beams at the sound; she puffs out her chest a little. The laughter is because of her doing.

“Do you want to take your hair down?” he asks, after calming from his laugh spell.

“No.”

Calum waits until she finishes all the bits of her soup, before they start racing to see who can drink the broth down the fastest. Esha winds up getting more on her pj’s than actually in her stomach. “Look at this mess,” Calum tsks, helping her down at of the chair. “Messy little one, aren’t you?”

“You were beating me. I had to win!”

He nods, waving her towards the stairs, a smile tugging on his lips. “Clearly winning involves dumping half the broth down your shirt.”

“Uh huh, it does.” He cleans her off, sliding her into clean pj’s. She climbs onto the sofa, while Calum cleans the dishes. She’s clutches the DVD cover for Moana, waiting. Calum’s not sure how she hasn’t grown sick of the movie yet. But she watches it with the same eager and awe as the first time she’s laid eyes on it. Calum pulls the plug on the drain, washing his hands off again.

Esha climbs into his lap right at the start of the movie, she holds a juice pack in her hands, eyes glued to the screen. “You gotta do the singing parts, Daddy,” she states.

“I know,” he nods, chuckling, “I know.” The singing parts also include the choreography too. During ‘You’re Welcome’, Esha joins her father, dancing around the living room. Both of them know it so well, they barely pay attention to the screen.

When Harlowe returns that afternoon with Koha, she can hear singing before she fully crosses the threshold. Her first guess is Moana, but the further they get into the house, it’s not. It’s Princess and the Frog. Calum’s dancing around during The Shadow Man’s man song. Koha drops his backpack in the foyer, running to join in. Normally, they would try to keep the kids separate if they’re sick. Clearly it is not going to work this time.

Everyone settles in to finish the rest of the movie before Calum stands to start dinner. Esha watches from the bar counter, also scribbling over copy paper. Koha chats about his day, going over his homework with Harlowe. The house slowly fills with a white noise of sizzling, laughter and paws clicking.

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood x black OC #dad!cal #dad!cal series #dad!calum #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #h writes

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living-dead-parker · 4 years

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Day 1: Decor and Cookies - P.P (12DOC)

Summary: It’s Christmas season again, it’s finally time to decorate!

Warning: Some cussing I think, fluff, Christmas stuff

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: This will be more like ten or eleven days of Xmas thing bc I couldn’t come up w more, so there will be a gap between some updates!! I hope you guys enjoy day 1!!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Giggles fill the halls of the Avengers HQ. Those unmistakable giggles that belong to the one, and only, Morgan Stark. The giggles that awake your slumber because they're so shriek-like. It's adorable any other time when you're not sleeping. Nonetheless, much as you expected, your bedroom door silently opens and any sound disappears as the tiny girl, who's not as tiny as before, creeps into the room. Her feet quietly pad against the hard floors and you can feel Peter's grip tighten on your abdomen. Almost as if he's bracing himself. As subtly as you can, you check the time, which reads 9:30 AM.

Then suddenly, you feel tiny cold hands press against any exposed skin, and you have to hold back from flinching. Before you know it, the not-so sneaky little girl yells right into your ear, "Wake up! Christmas is coming!"

Shooting right up in your spot, you groan at the sudden loudness. You were not expecting that, at all. In fact, neither was Peter, based on how quick he shot up and covered his ears. Morgan giggles as you playfully glare at her, but then you play your favorite card against her. Your glare turns into a frown and you make your lips quiver a bit and you lean into Peter as you begin to pretend to cry.

"Morg, why would you d-do that?" you ask sadly, feeling Peter wrap his arms around as he plays along. This kid is such a traitor, you think. Morgan notices, and because she still falls for it, her devious smile turns into a slight frown. "You scared me, Morgan, and now," you state as you push yourself closer to Peter. "I'm gonna cry."

Morgan jumps up and wraps her arms around you. "I'm sorry, N/N!" she exclaims rather guiltily. As much as you love dragging on jokes, you pull the girl into a tight hug, smiling and laughing as you let her know you were just joking. "But next time, maybe don't scream in people's ears?" you ask. Morgan nods, grabbing your hand excitedly and attempting to get you to stand up.

"Daddy said we're decorating today!" Morgan chatters excitedly. The tiny girl running out of the room, her feet still loudly padding against the hard floors. Suddenly, another door slams open and you can hear Morgan yell Harley's name from the door. "Y/N said not to yell in people's ears, so I'm yelling from the door!"

A laugh rips through your lips, shooting straight from your belly in amusement over the girl's ingenuity. Peter's laughter mixes with yours as the two of you finally get up from your bed and head to the closet to grab some clothes. "Iron Man boxers?" you ask, finally looking over at Peter as he reaches for some of his clothes. At this point, he might as well just live with you. Almost all of his clothes are here in your closet. Peter's cheeks turn a bright red as you giggle.

"They were a gift from your dad," Peter says slightly flustered, as he turns around and grabs a long sleeve shirt, some black jeans, and other articles of clothing. You, on the other hand, can't help but stare at him. Taking in every inch of him, stopping to admire his arms and his butt for a few seconds longer. You bite your lip, not able to look away. "I can feel you staring," he states as he bends down to grab something. He sticks his butt out some more, doing it on purpose.

"Damn, Peter," you exclaim. "I think you got more ass than me-"

"Definitely not something I wanted to hear this morning," your father says as he enters your room and stands at the door of your closet. "Nice underoos, underoos," Tony says, nodding at Peter before turning to look at you. "This family runs on the idea of having a great ass, we will not let webs over here ruin that," he continues. "But I just came to say that all your new decorations came in and we're all getting so antsy to put them up."

"Oh sweet," you exclaim. "Give us like ten minutes and we'll be down," you say as you begin looking for some clothes of your own. Tony agrees, walking away and shutting your bedroom door. When you turn around, you see Peter staring at you this time.

"You might be right," Peter says as he stands in front of the mirror in your closet. Going between checking you and himself out. "I think I might just have more ass than you."

After 15 minutes, you and Peter head to the common room, where almost everyone is sitting around. Pepper and Morgan sit in their pajamas still, watching Elf on the large TV. Harley sits on the love seat with Rhodey. Happy and Tony walk in from the kitchen with a mug each and sit on the large couch with Pepper and Morgan. "Good morning," both you and Peter greet everyone, earning some greetings back. "Where's everyone else?"

"May and Wanda are in the kitchen making hot chocolate. Steve, Nat, Sam, and Buck are all bringing in the trees and other decorations that were in storage."

As the words leave your father's mouth, you walk over to the packages that sit stacked against the elevator wall. A total of 12 boxes. A smile makes its way across your lips as you walk over to the boxes, opening the smallest one at the top. Inside sits a medium-sized Tiffany-blue box. A few seconds later, you put the box back and join the others in watching Elf until the others return with the tree for the common room of the compound. There was also a second one, which Tony revealed was for the penthouse. You all spend half the time there, the other half in the common room.

"Let's get to it!" Tony exclaims, making everyone stand up. The movie was promptly changed to Christmas music instead. The first thing you all decided to do was put up the Christmas tree and work around it. Steve, Tony, and Pepper all worked to fluff it out. Meanwhile, Peter, Harley, and Sam worked to untangle all the lights. Bucky worked on untangling the tinsel. Morgan, Nat and yourself all worked on getting the hanging decorations to look nice or by putting the hooks on them. Rhodey and Happy were busy documenting the moment by recording on the camera Tony had just bought a couple days ago for just this.

Everyone made a game of it. Stand around the tree and everyone passes the tinsel or the lights around to wrap it around the tree. It was unnecessary, but it was fun, so why not? Finally, once the tinsel and the lights were done, the hanging decorations were up next. Everyone grabbed their favorites and just any random plain ones they could and started putting them all up on the tree. At some point, May and Wanda came out with trays of hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream and trays of cookies. They decided to join in on the decorating before everyone decided to take a break for some chocolate and cookies.

"Wow, these are so good, May," Pepper states as she takes a big bite of her tree-shaped cookie. May shrugs, thanking her as she takes a bite of her own cookies. "It was a recipe that Peter and I used to make, but then times got hard. But nonetheless, it's nice to make them again," May explains, earning a smile from Peter.

"Chocolate is really good too, Wanda," you exclaim. Wanda smiles. "Trick is to use actual chopped chocolate rather than the powder. Tastes better that way."

After the short break, everyone got back to decorating. However, now that the Christmas tree was done, that meant it was time for the rest of the room to be decorated. Lights went up around the whole room's ceiling. Gel clings were placed on the inside of the windows and stockings were hung on the walls. A wreath is placed above the elevator and the pillows on the couches are replaced with matching Christmas ones. Overall, the room looks more cozy and colorful.

After that room was done, the party moved upstairs to the penthouse. Everyone decided to go help out there. Sitting in the center of the living room was a large tree, much like the one in the common room. However, it's bare and needs some fluffing. So, Pepper, Tony, and Steve get to fluffing that one out as well. You all get to untangling lights and tinsel as well as adding hooks and strings to the hanging decorations.

As everyone gathered around the tree, you smile, knowing that this is your family. No matter how fucked up you all are, how dangerous your life may be, that crazy bunch of people who are helping decorate that tree are your family and you hope it stays that way forev-

"Peter, just because you can stuff ten cookies in your mouth doesn't mean you should."

Send in feedback, requests, asks, or just come talk to me!!

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years

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The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Ten

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

Light That Match

She turned their words over and over in her mind. Did she regret the things she had said? Yes... and no. She waited. Waited for someone to tell her Dutch wanted to see her. Waited to find out that they all knew who she was.

He’d given her his word but she’d said more than enough for him to break that, and she wouldn’t have blamed him.

Yet... nothing. It was business as usual. People came in and out of camp, there were chores to be done and animals to hunt.

Two days passed and she didn’t see him once. From what she heard around the camp fire, some of the men were exploring new ‘business’ opportunities in town, seeing what they could dig up to gain money.

Since their own foray into town, she and Sadie hadn’t returned to it. Ada wanted to, though. There was more space here, more land to roam, but she still ended up back at the house, wherever she went. The swamp land to the east was too dangerous to wander through and the west brought its own dangers; the possibility of coming across any of the Braithwaite’s who still lingered on their destroyed land. No one was allowed to wander far, anyway. Dutch’s orders.

She thought of Saint Denis and all the opportunities it could bring her. Passage to a new place, maybe acquiring a position in a store, being a new version of herself. She couldn’t help but reminisce on what had struck her about when Sean had taken her into Rhodes; the reinvention of one’s self.

Or maybe she just liked the idea of it.

But she couldn’t stay with them any longer. It was a complex situation growing more and more twisted every day. And at the centre of it... Arthur. The other night had been... wonderful, yes, but nothing. An outburst. An amalgamation of elation and joy at Jack’s return, the feeling anything was possible, and the attraction that had been simmering for both of them, apparently. That she could and would freely admit. You could be attracted to someone, anyone at all, and also not like them. She didn’t know how attraction worked but it was damn uncontrollable, they very much proved that. And Mary explained so much; the lost love that haunted him. It was almost right out of one of her books. He still evidently held a candle for her, too. They’d spoken about running away together hours after he had shared a kiss with her. Not any kiss, a heated, passionate one, but... It seemed it had really, truly meant nothing. And that was fine. That made things easier for her, actually, clearer. She would go into town soon, tomorrow, maybe, and enquire about positions. Or passage. Either would suit.

Around noon on the third day of living in simmering anxiety that she was to be ousted at any moment, camp activity slowed down, the heat becoming a little too much. Ada returned to her band stand after helping Pearson start to prepare dinner to read the new book she’d bought when she and Sadie had been in town.

She was only halfway down the fourth page when cantering hooves coming down the main path made her head lift.

Arthur pulled Ophelia to a halt, dust covering his boots, trousers and face. She hated that her heart stopped for a moment at finally seeing him. Dismounting, his gaze immediately began searching, darting between people.

Dutch wasn’t in camp but Hosea was around somewhere so—

Arthur’s eyes landed on her, and he strode towards her.

Frowning, her heart now began to beat faster as she pushed herself up, closing her book. Was this finally the moment?

His mouth was set in a thin line and he didn’t look away, neither did she.

“There’s a problem.”

She didn’t allow herself to relax just yet as he carried on past the bandstand, gesturing for her to follow, his features tight.

What the hell?

Tossing the book on to her pillow, she moved over the sandbags and down the stairs, following after him. He didn’t slow, heading to the fishing shed, secluding them. Picking up her skirt slightly to avoid tripping over it, she kept her gaze fixed on him, specifically his hands.

She slowed as they moved onto the jetty, the shed obscuring them from the rest of the house. Releasing her skirt, she kept her hands by her sides, her breathing steady.

“What’s the problem?”

Turning to her, he reached inside his jacket, making her stiffen, and pulled out a folded newspaper. Unfolding it, he held it out to her, showing her the front page.

“This is the problem.”

Her brow dipping, taking the newspaper from him, her eyes dropped a moment after to scan the articles.

“What am I—”

She saw the headline first.

MAYOR OF STRAWBERRY’S NIECE MISSING

She started to read immediately.

‘Nicholas Timmins’s niece, Adaline Timmins, has been missing for nearly two months now after the gang known as the O’Driscolls attacked the beautiful, peaceful little town of Strawberry in West Elizabeth. Mr Timmins believes the O’Driscolls have kidnapped his beloved niece, though the reason is unknown. The gang has not yet made contact with the Mayor about his niece, who is described as having red, curly hair, blue eyes, a straight, slightly turned up nose, average height for a woman, slightly larger than the average woman, ...’

Ada exhaled a long breath as her gaze drifted across the rest of the paragraph. No photograph. A saving grace, hopefully. There was only one, fairly recent photograph of her, anyway, that had been taken when she was 18, her mother having been sat beside her, smiling proudly. It had hung in their living room. God knew where it was now. If people paid any attention, though, the description alone could be enough to make the connection...

“Oh, Christ...” she murmured, rubbing her forehead with her fingers.

“Yeah, we could have a real fuckin’ problem on our hands...” he muttered, his hands on his hips.

“Where did you get this?” She glanced up at him, gripping the newspaper.

“In Saint Denis. I bought one just wantin’ to see if there was anythin’ about us in there.” Moving closer, he looked over her shoulder at the article, his lips pressed together. “Why does it say Adaline Timmins?”

That was the least of their concerns, but...

“We took on my mother’s maiden name when my uncle took us into his care. O’Driscoll wouldn’t exactly look good. For him, especially, and his image.”

“I thought you said he didn’t care about you?”

“He doesn’t.” She blew out a breath, lowering the newspaper. “This is... Why the hell is it in the Saint Denis newspaper? How has it reached all the way down here?”

He took the newspaper from her as she stepped away, folding her arms. “That’s what I was thinkin’.”

“Shit...” She turned to him suddenly. “Has anyone else seen it?”

Tucking the newspaper back into his jacket, he shook his head. “No, no, I went into town alone. Nobody round here bothers to read ‘em most of the time, hardly anyone of ‘em can read, but...”

She pressed her lips together. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

He sighed, his hands returning to his hips. “Dutch is lookin’ for you. He’s gonna ask you to come to this party Angelo Bronte’s invited us to that the Mayor of Saint Denis’ holdin’.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, watching him. “You’re not happy about that.”

“No, I’m not.” His jaw moved. “It ain’t right to get you mixed up in that business... and your uncle’s gonna be there, too.”

Her arms fell to her sides as her heart dropped. “What?!”

“Yeah, Angelo was name droppin’ and he said the mayor of some small town, Strawberry, had half-begged the Mayor to let him come, spoke of some business he wanted to discuss.”

“Oh, Christ...” Grazing her teeth over her lower lip, Ada shook her head slightly. “What am I going to do?”

Arthur’s hands lowered. “I don’t know. It’s your decision, though. You can say no, he ain’t gonna think anythin’ of it, he ain’t got a reason to.” Raising his chin at the sound of voices from the house, he sighed. “Come on, I said I’d find you and start to explain, he’s on his way back.”

Ada followed after him wordlessly, her gaze fixed to his back. Her mind raced as they walked, trying to get some form of an answer straight.

Despite his words, declining would arouse suspicion; she’d already expressed a desire to help out more, and she probably hadn’t been able to hide her restlessness. And who would turn down the chance to go to a party and possibly rob rich people, as they were most likely to do there. Yet if she were to go... she’d see him. How could she spend the whole night avoiding him?

It was an impossible, hopeless situation.

Rounding the house, Arthur raised his hand, gaining Dutch’s attention from where he’d dismounted and been joined by Hosea and Bill.

A wide smile stretched across Dutch’s features as they walked towards them, his thumbs tucked into his waistcoat pockets.

“Ah, there she is.” They neared each other, coming to a stop near the unused fountain. “Annie, do your secret talents besides sharp shootin’ include acting?”

Ada smiled amiably, her shoulders lifting a little. “I don’t know, Dutch, possibly.”

“Well, how’d you like to come to a little party?”

She felt Arthur’s eyes on her, his words echoing in her mind, but she knew she had no choice. Why the hell did he want her to come to this, though?

“Guess I’m going to need a new gown, aren’t I?”

Dutch laughed as he clapped his hands together. “That’s my girl. Arthur, take the lady out and get her something pretty. See what else you can both find out, too.”

Arthur sighed and straightened. “All right.”

Dutch grinned, stepping around them. “Some enthusiasm, please, we’re going to a ball, Cinderella. Why don’t you get yourself somethin, too?”

Dutch’s chuckle lingered with them as they looked at one another, neither happy about the orders they had been given.

Faithful stayed close to Ophelia as they rode to Saint Denis, skirting the boundaries of Caliga Hall.

Her leg would brush against Arthur’s, making her back stiffen and his lips press together.

It was on both their minds, their heated words and the somewhat unspoken threat. Neither wanted to return to it, yet how could they strike up a normal conversation, bitterness and unsaid pleas weighing heavy on their tongues?

Still... There was a job to be done.

She was pleased, at least, that they were out of the camp. Their friendship had sparked teasing comments from some members of the camp, so the fact they hadn’t spoken for nigh on three days had started to be noticed. She was dreading the questions, of what excuse she could give, if one was called for.

As he coughed, she suddenly felt a different sort of irritation prickling at her, her gaze flicking to him. Oh, for God’s sake, they’d have to talk sometime. Prolonging the inevitable would just prolong the incredible awkwardness.

“I was thinking we should start down by the train station.”

His gaze flicked over to her. If he was surprised she’d been the one to initiate conversation he didn’t show it.

“People might be coming in to town for the party. If not, station attendants seem to know everything. At least the one in Strawberry seemed to.”

Arthur nodded, directing his gaze ahead. “All righ’.”

She thought he might leave it at those two words when he said no more, then, after a few moments, he cleared his throat.

“The party ain’t until tomorrow, we got plenty of time. We’ll see what we can find out, then buy some clothes.”

They were words, few and to the point, but words nonetheless.

“All right.”

Straightening, Ada clicked her tongue as the bridge came into view, urging Faithful into a gentle trot. Ophelia followed suit, Arthur’s eyes on the red-headed woman.

—

The station attendant was very helpful to the distraught young lady who’d lost her purse, particularly when she mentioned she was to attend the Mayor’s ball.

Arthur watched her from his corner of the room, his shoulder leaning against the wall. He hid his smile with his cigarette. She was good at this, both acting and getting information. Her daddy must have taught her.

Michael O’Driscoll.

He still couldn’t fucking believe it. From what he’d heard about him from Dutch and Hosea, years and years ago, he’d been decent, more savvy than his brother and more interested in getting scores rather than settling them.

As she smiled and placed her hand over the attendant’s in thanks, he pushed away from the wall and headed outside. Raising his eyes to the sky, he found it grey, dark clouds that had been forming in the distance earlier overhead now. Dropping his finished cigarette to the ground, he felt someone at his side.

“Come on.”

Ada moved past him, her hands clasped in front of her. He followed, his hands on his belt. His lips pressed together slightly as he watched her once more. They should’ve got a scarf or something to cover her hair,... then again they’d passed three women with red hair and blue eyes on the way in. People believed what they read, and if people were being told that a missing woman was with a gang, then, well, she was with a gang, not walking the streets of Saint Denis freely. That’s what he hoped they’d believe, anyway.

“What did your new friend tell you?”

“A lot and not much at all.” She led them towards the market, brushing hair from her face as a wind picked up. “It’s heavily guarded, local police and hired men. So I should ‘feel safe’.” She glanced at him as she echoed the attendant’s words, catching his mouth move slightly.

Was that a smile?

“He mainly talked about what I could expect, the music and dancing and food. Fireworks, too. I asked him how he knew so much and he said a friend of his works at the house, an Albert Fraser, so I could use that.”

“That you could." He moved behind her as someone passed them, the pathways through the market narrow. “So, you’re wantin’ to do this?”

Her gaze returned to him as he resumed his position at her side. “Well, I’ve already said yes, haven’t I? Not that I had much of a choice.”

“That’s true,” he murmured, meeting her gaze. “Well, I think you’ll be fine. You were good back there, a natural.”

She snorted as they headed out of the market, moving towards their horses. “I used to make-believe all the time when I was younger, it isn’t so dissimilar.”

“Ah, I forgot you were a strange kid.”

Ada laughed as she lay her hand on Faithful’s neck, stroking lightly.

It felt good to make her laugh again.

“I had to entertain myself somehow. You’ve seen how small Strawberry is.”

“I would say I don’t know how you didn’t go crazy, but it seems like you did...” Arthur trailed off slowly as he felt a drop of water on his hand, another swiftly following as he looked up to the sky once more. “Shit, looks like it’s gonna come down hard.”

“Yes, it does.” Pulling a face, Ada lifted her shawl over her head, covering her hair, though it wouldn’t do much good with the decorative holes in it. “Should we wait somewhere until it passes?”

Arthur grunted, lowering his head to shield his face. “Yeah, I know a place. Come on.”

“What about the horses?” she asked as he began to move away, her hand falling from Faithful.

“They’ll find their own shelter.” He glanced over his shoulder at her, the beginnings of a smile forming. “Don’t you remember, from the church?”

Her breath caught slightly.

What she remembered most of all from that time was his arm around her and her body against his.

Following behind him, her shoulders hunched as the rain started to come thick and fast, she lifted her skirts, the hastening cold distracting her from thoughts of desire.

Soaked, she soon found herself stepping into a saloon, her lips parting with a quiet gasp as she was suddenly engulfed in warmth.

‘Bastille Saloon’ an engraving on a large mirror above the bar read.

The occupants barely looked up from their cards or drinks, probably accustomed to people bursting in due to the rainfall.

“Come on, there’s a fire upstairs.”

The shawl slipped from her head as Arthur placed his hand on her back, guiding her towards the stairs. She recognised two of the three women they passed from when she and Sadie had gone about finding their own answers. They nodded at her and she smiled.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Arthur led her over to the fireplace, dragging two seats over to it. Sitting, they stretched their hands and legs out to the warmth.

“This should do us until it passes... which shouldn’t be too long,” Arthur murmured, pulling his hat from his head and dropping it to the ground to let it dry.

Ada settled back in her chair, quite grateful for a potential half an hour or so to just sit and be warmed.

—

Three hours later, the rain heavier and sky darker, the occasional lightning bolt illuminating it, Ada pushed her plate away and leaned her forearms on the table.

“Arthur?”

“Mmh?” Looking over his glass to her, Arthur raised his eyebrows slightly.

Her lips twitched. “I don’t think it’s going to pass.”

He grunted and drained the last of his whisky. “Not in the next year it seems.”

Pouring some whisky into her own empty glass, only a little because it still didn’t go down smoothly but it did warm her, Ada glanced around the saloon. It had filled greatly in the time they’d been there, some taking refuge from the rain, others coming for their nightly drink and card game. Sometime in the last few hours, they’d moved from the fireplace upstairs to a table on the ground floor, ordered a bottle of whiskey and some food, and watched those around them.

Returning her gaze to him, she took a small sip. “I think we should stay the night.”

“Here?”

“Unless you want to go out there.”

“I’m not afraid of a little rain, Ada.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Oh, so we’re sat here for me, are we?”

“Can’t imagine you want to be soaked again.”

“I don’t mind the rain either. I just don’t think it’s sensible for us to catch our death. At least we can warm ourselves here, I don’t think we could at the camp.”

"We’ll see in an hour or two,” he murmured before taking a sip.

Pressing her lips together, Ada sat back. She was tired, more than she’d like to admit and... perhaps a night away from the camp would do them both some good.

Pushing her chair back, she closed the short distance to the bar and smiled at the bartender.

He returned her smile; they’d actually bought something while they’d been here. “Good evening, ma’am. Can I get you another drink?”

“No, thank you, not right now. My husband and I would like to rent a room for the night.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Arthur stiffen, his glass pausing before his lips.

The bartender’s smile widened. “Of course, ma’am. That rain stoppin’ you from carryin’ on?”

She tilted her head a little, the picture of amiably put-out. “Yes, unfortunately.”

Her easy smile didn’t falter in the slightest as Arthur suddenly appeared at her side, his hands on the bar. He couldn’t say a word, though, they both knew that they didn’t need to draw the kind of attention that a single man and woman together would, and there was no way they could pass for siblings, or she a working woman. If he asked, those would be her reasons, anyway.

“It’s a dollar a night,” the bartender said, directing his gaze to Arthur.

“Yeah...” Arthur answered with a sigh, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing two coins. After placing them on the bar, the bartender then nodded at him and the coins quickly disappeared into his apron.

Handing over a key, he inclined his head towards the stairs. “Just up there and through the archway, first door on the right. If you’d like anything else at all, just let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Smiling, Ada swiftly took the key and turned. Heading towards the stairs, she grabbed the half empty bottle from their table on the way. Ascending once more, she didn’t check to see if Arthur was following.

After finding the room, as she slid the key into the lock, she then sensed him behind her. Opening the door, the sight of the room nearly made her pause.

Christ...

Withdrawing the key and entering, her gaze drifted over the room as a tension she hadn’t noticed before left her body.

A room. A proper room with four walls and a door that could lock. She’d once taken that for granted. Looking down at the bed, she placed the key and bottle on the nightstand before brushing her fingers against the covers. A proper bed.

“You could have said if you wanted to stay.”

Arthur’s voice and the sound of the door closing made her turn after a moment, her eyebrows raised slightly. He was leaning back against the door, his arms folded, that indiscernible look upon his features.

“I did,” she countered, moving away from him to inspect the washbasin on a nearby stand.

“You suggested.”

“Somebody had to make the decision.” She ran her fingers around the basin.

“Well, maybe it’s a good thing that you did. I’m tired as hell.” Straightening up, he rounded the bed and moved to the couch on the far wall, his gaze running across it.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, we’ll—”

She scoffed as she turned, lowering her arms. “Don’t be silly, Arthur, it’ll be freezing, we can both have the bed.”

Arthur turned to her, arching an eyebrow. “Nah, I’ll take the couch.”

Should I be offended?

“Arthur, for Christ’s sake, it will be freezing and that hardly looks comfortable.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Arthur—”

“Nah, it ain’t... it ain’t appropriate.”

She actually almost laughed. Appropriate? From the man who had kissed her with such a passion that she’d wrapped her legs around him and he’d gladly pressed against her?

Her hands went to her waist. “Since when did you care about what’s appropriate, Arthur Morgan? No one will know. And if it makes you feel better, one of us can sleep on top of the covers with a blanket.”

She could see his next argument brewing as his jaw moved.

“I won’t take no for an answer and I don’t think you quite know just how stubborn I am yet,” she quickly added.

Sighing, he lifted his hands and shook his head. “Fine, fine, I’m too tired for this shit...”

Smiling triumphantly, she turned and, after checking the French doors to the balcony were locked, drew the curtains.

I’m going to sleep in a proper bed tonight.

She heard the couch make a quiet sound behind her as he sat on it. Returning to the basin, she washed her hands in the cool water.

She used to have a ritual before she’d get into her bed. Wait until Mama and Annie went to their rooms, have a cup of tea and read a chapter of her book, check the locks on the doors, check them again, check the Repeater was by the door, having one in her room would have only alarmed Mama, maybe check the locks again depending on how she felt, then head to her room. Only after washing her face, changing into her nightclothes and looking out of the window to survey the land would she get into bed, sometimes tying her hair back.

Now, though, her routine was to sometimes wash her face, sleep and wake a few hours later to take a watch.

She’d missed having a few minutes to herself in the day to do something that was just purely for her. Perhaps she should have requested a bath.

Instead, she took the small bar of soap beside the basin and washed her face. The towel she dried her skin with was surprisingly soft, and she carefully folded it, returning it to its place.

She had to resist the urge to caress her now smooth cheeks as she turned to the bed, heading for the side farthest from Arthur, facing the door. Locking it, she placed the key on the bedside table, then moved her hands to her belt. Unbuckling it, she let it drop to the floor. The sound of it colliding with the wood caught Arthur’s attention, his gaze rising.

He watched Ada as she stared down at her clothes, her lips pressed together. He smiled faintly. Her clothes were still slightly damp, particularly her skirt, the material thicker than what she was used to wearing, particularly this far down south, but she’d said she’d hope it would stave off the impending cold. Neither of them had taken rain into account. Why did it always seem to rain when they were out? A sign from God? He nearly snorted. Then her hands were pulling her blouse out of her skirt.

Christ...

Ada didn’t mind the rain, truly she didn’t, but damp clothes were not exactly delightful to feel. Her skirt had kept the bottom of her blouse damp so she pulled it free, shaking out the material. Moving her hands to the small of her back, she unbuttoned the six small buttons that kept the skirt up, her hands now only holding it up.

Hold on.

She glanced up at Arthur, and caught him quickly averting his gaze to the floor. How long had he been watching her? Was she truly just about to undress in a room with a man present?

Oh, come on, you’ve undressed around men for over a month now...

But this was... intimate. This man she’d kissed and had wanted to undress her. The memory was distant but the feelings very close. Even if those feelings were quickly followed by a coldness.

For Christ’s sake, pull yourself together, you fool, you’re both adults, and he’s not interested anymore. Do you want to catch a cold?

He didn’t say a word as she lifted her blouse over her head and dropped her skirt to the floor. Her flimsy corset undid easily. Those she all folded neatly, too, placing them on the chest at the foot of the bed.

Her long shift was only damp at the shoulders but she would certainly have to keep that on.

After blowing a candle out on the nightstand, plunging the room into semi-darkness, and locking the door, she lifted the covers and climbed into the bed. Lying back, she closed her eyes with a gentle sigh.

It was... soft. Perhaps a little too soft.

How wonderful... my body now prefers hard and uneven surfaces.

Turning onto her side, her back to Arthur, she faced the door, tucking her fist under her chin. It was wonderful to be in a room, however. She could hear the rain coming down outside, unrelenting. It was oddly soothing. Closing her eyes, she hoped for the first peaceful sleep in weeks.

She began to doze, after how long she didn’t know, when she heard the couch sound again and Arthur blow out the only other, dwindling candle in the room. Her eyes opened a little.

She heard him remove his boots and his gunbelt, metal scraping against metal. Then, the bed dipped behind her as he lay on it, a quiet sigh leaving him.

Did he miss a real bed, too?

There was a slight jostling as he reached down to catch the blanket at the end of the bed and most likely draped it over himself before he finally settled down. She was too tired to look over her shoulder and check.

Grazing her teeth over her lower lip, she adjusted her position a little before closing her eyes again.

This should have been bizarre, the forever awake voice in her mind told her. But it wasn’t. It was neither bizarre nor wonderful, it just... was.

“Goodnight, Arthur,” she murmured.

He just grunted quietly, maybe halfway to sleep himself.

—

Her arms wrapped around her pillow, she awoke slowly, as if her body knew she had no reason to get up, no watch to take, no hunt to carry out, her environment danger-free. Exhaling a long breath, she blinked her eyes open. A gentle light illuminated the room.

Lifting her head to find the source, a stream of sunlight blinded her for a few moments. It was quite the change from the previous night and most welcome.

Raising her hand to shield her eyes, she saw Arthur out on the balcony, leaning against the railing, a cigarette between his fingers, his back to her. He’d awoken before her, naturally.

Turning onto her back, she stretched her arms and legs out, arching her back a little, a contented moan leaving her. Oh, she could allow herself a few moments to indulge in the space and the warmth of the bed. Reality could spare a minute.

—

He’d slept some, he only needed a few hours at a time, and he’d spent the rest of the time lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to Ada’s slow, rhythmic breathing.

Occasionally he could hear people in the street or in the saloon below, quiet, muffled laughter rising. He didn’t think about much, instead just taking the opportunity to listen and rest, the mattress too soft for more than one night but good enough for now that his bones had refused to let him get up.

When morning came, though, he’d needed to stretch and have a cigarette. Thoughts of the evening ahead and what it might hold crept into his mind. Rising silently, he’d slipped his boots on and secured his gunbelt back around his hips, his gaze lingering on her for signs he might have awoken her. She didn’t move a muscle, curled up tightly, deep in her sleep. He stopped himself from foolishly brushing her hair away from her face.

Quietly unlocking and opening one of the French doors, he’d slipped out into the crisp air of the morning, closing the door behind himself. Lighting a cigarette, he moved to the railing, watching the city awaken, people wandering the quiet streets.

Blowing out a stream of smoke, he leaned against the railing, bowing his head. There was a slight chill to the air, the storm from the night before lingering.

It had been warm on the bed.

He hadn’t scolded himself for lying beside her because technically they weren’t, not with the barrier of the covers between them. And it hadn’t felt wrong, either, as much as he’d called it ‘inappropriate’.

Shit, he’d nearly made himself laugh.

When had he cared about appropriate, indeed. Nah, it was more about what thoughts would enter his mind at having her so close again. He wouldn’t kiss her again unless it was wanted but sometimes he got carried away in watching her and imagining, as he had as she’d readied for bed. But... it was dangerous, the thought of doing anything more than imagining and wishing what they could do. Days ago she’d quietly threatened to kill the man he owed his life to and loved more than anyone; he didn’t need to complicate his or her life anymore than they already were.

So he’d decided, that was to be it, imagining and wishing and nothing more... but what would it be like to watch her every night? That was the most dangerous thought of all.

Lifting his head, he focused on the street once more, watching people beginning their day. His own work would come soon enough.

—

After finally making herself rise, she’d dressed and gone out onto the balcony, bidding him a good morning. There was still that... disconnect between them, that barrier that hadn’t been there before. Still, she smiled as she suggested they go down to see what could be had for breakfast and he accepted.

Over porridge, they’d agreed to ask around town a little more about the party before purchasing some clothes. The weather held up, warming slowly throughout the day as they went from store to store, asking careful questions and not pressing too hard. They learned nothing new, however, people too afraid or too clueless to offer anything more than praise and excitement that they were to attend the party. He was anxious about her appearance again, but nobody said a thing or even squinted at her.

Crossing the road, Ada glanced up at Arthur as they headed to the tailor’s.

“I take it from Dutch’s comment, you don’t have anything appropriate to wear either.”

“Nothin’ fancy, no,” he half-grumbled, not looking forward to this part of their day at all.

“Mind your manners in here.”

He huffed. “I can be polite.”

“Be my kind of polite.”

“Christ, woman, give me somethin’ attainable...” he muttered, making her lips twitch as she stepped through the door.

“Good afternoon,” she called brightly to the man at the counter, smiling widely.

Looking up, the grey-haired man beamed. “Good afternoon, sir and lady, how may I help you?”

“My husband and I are in need of some clothes for a party we’re attending tonight.”

The man nearly gasped in delight. “Oh, that wouldn’t happen to be the Mayor’s gala?”

“Why, yes, it is.” Ada continued smiling, finding the man rather endearing in his excitement. “We’re sorely in need of the appropriate clothing, I’m just not happy with what we have at home.”

“Of course, my lady. If you will just head on into the next room there, Mrs Malcolm shall attend to you. Sir, if you would follow me?”

Glancing at Ada, Arthur pressed his lips together with a low sigh and followed after the man.

Ada couldn’t resist a small smirk. What she wouldn’t give to know what would go on in that room.

Stepping into the adjoining room, the decor decidedly more feminine, a buxom woman with greying blonde hair appeared from behind a screen.

“Oh, hello, dear,” she smiled broadly, her kind face instantly putting Ada at ease. “What are you looking for?”

“Hello. I’m attending a gala tonight and I just don’t think I have anything appropriate.”

“Oh, the Mayor’s gala?” The woman shared the man’s excitement. “Oh, aren’t you a lucky thing! So, we’re looking to impress?”

“Yes, I would very much like to.”

“Of course! Now let me see...” Mrs Malcolm stood back to inspect her, her eyes trailing up and down her form. “Yes, I think I have some ideas, ooh, this is going to be so exciting!” She took Ada’s hand gently and led her to a small box on which she was to stand. “... but first, a delicate question, dear, and I do hope I don’t offend, the question of money...?”

Ada smiled as she stepped onto the box, shaking her head slightly. “My husband is able to cover whatever the cost may be.”

That and probably more some.

Mrs Malcolm beamed, finding no reason to dispute the fact. Though she wasn’t dressed in particularly fine wear, she was grateful that her well-spoken accent gave cause for one to believe she was of some standing.

“Oh, wonderful! The man you came in with?”

Ada nodded as the older woman pulled a measuring tape from her pocket.

“Yes, that’s him.”

“What a fine man. What does he do?”

As Mrs Malcolm began to take her measurements, Ada looked to her reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, we’re ranchers. We breed animals...” She took advantage of her own slight fumbling for words and laughed sheepishly. “To be quite honest, I don’t know much of what he does really, apart from rear and sell animals.”

“I understand,” Mrs Malcolm glanced up at her, grinning. “Let the men take care of business while we get to enjoy ourselves, huh?”

“Yes, precisely.”

“As long as they come back to us at the end of the day, who gives a damn?”

Ada laughed politely, though the woman’s well-meaning, cheerful manner was infectious; she was perfect for her job.

“Indeed. And he does, every time.”

Mrs Malcolm sighed dreamily as she stood to measure her waist and arms. “A loyal, hard-working man, oh, how wonderful.”

“Yes, I’m very lucky,” Ada agreed, her eyes returning to her reflection.

Was that a hint of a blush on her cheeks?

Ridiculous.

“How did you two meet?”

“At a party, actually.”

“Oh, how lovely!” The tape whipped around her, Mrs Malcolm seemingly mentally keep track of her measurements. “Did your eyes meet across the room?”

“Something like that,” Ada smiled, recalling their first meeting.

How far we’ve come.

“Oh, do tell me more, and don’t spare the details, I bet it was romantic.”

“Well, I was standing on my own and I looked up and I found him looking at me. He came over and asked me to dance and we ended up talking all night.”

“Oh, lovely. Did he kiss you?”

“Well...” Oh, why not. “Yes, he did.”

Mrs Malcolm looked nearly beside herself with joy.

“Yes, it was lovely. Then he got all shy and said he was sorry and that it wasn’t appropriate and I told him not to worry, that I liked it and he kissed me again.”

“Oh...”

“It was beautiful, all the stars were out and it was a warm night and I knew right then that he was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

All right, ease up a little.

“Oh, goodness, that’s so wonderful!” Mrs Malcolm pushed the tape back into her pocket as she lay a hand over her heart. “That’s just simply perfect!”

Yes, it was a pretty fantasy she wove, one that might have actually been true if her life had been different.

Lowering her arms, Ada smiled politely, hoping to get the woman back on track. “Well, I’m hoping to impress him tonight, too, with what I wear.”

“Oh, yes, of course. And, you know...” Mrs Malcolm smiled, tapping a finger against her chin. “I think I have just the dress in store for you.”

—

Arthur drained his glass as he stretched a leg out, his gaze on the piano player though he was only half paying attention.

There was only so much one could prepare for a night like this. This was uncharted territory for them, they weren’t accustomed to fancy parties and fancy people, though that was perhaps why Dutch was so excited.

The starch collar of his new shirt was already starting to rub, though, as were his new dress shoes and that just added to his growing irritation. Not only would he have to achieve whatever Dutch wanted but he’d have to look out for Ada, too. They hadn’t spoken about it but it was a slim chance that she wouldn’t run into her uncle, it couldn’t be that big of a place. Keeping her out of sight without arousing anyone’s suspicion was going to be a task, though he’d find a way she could blend into the crowd.

A low whistle of approval pulled him from his thoughts. Lifting his gaze as someone else whistled, he paused as his eyes found her.

There was no way she would be able to blend into the crowd.

A royal blue, satin dress clung to her, falling in waves from her waist to the floor. It had capped sleeves with pearls dangling from them, and the neckline was cut a little lower than was probably acceptable, but an inch or so of black lace ran across it, though, to preserve some modesty. There was a hint of rouge on her cheeks and lips. Her curls were piled up and pinned back, a few framing her face, her beautiful face...

Ada pressed her lips together slightly at the whistles, an eyebrow arching. Two of the women who worked at the saloon grinned as they leaned over the banister, having helped her dress after she’d bathed and very appreciative of the reaction their work had garnered.

Arthur stood as she approached, pulling his waistcoat down. Her eyes swept over him swiftly, appraising him as much as he had her. He’d wanted to keep it simple, black trousers, shoes, jacket and bowtie with a white shirt and waistcoat, his hair brushed and swept back, beard clipped down to stubble.

She was going to shine like a sapphire beside coal next to him.

"Well, look at you...” he said, his even tone belying just exactly how strongly he wanted to compliment her... with his mouth and with his tongue and with his fingers—

“You don’t look so bad, either,” she answered, taking a seat and sweeping her skirt out as she sat rigidly, placing a purse that matched the dress onto the table and pouring whisky into his empty glass.

He sat as she took a long sip, grimacing slightly as she swallowed. Stretching his legs out, he laced his fingers together on his stomach.

“Lenny’s gonna come and pick us up with Bill, Hosea and Dutch.”

“All right.” She took another sip, her tongue darting out over her plump lips.

Tilting his head slightly, he lowered his voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She placed the glass on the table, one corner of her mouth then lifting. “A little nervous. And I can’t really breathe in this.”

“You’ll be all righ’,” he murmured, taking the glass from her and having a sip.

She shook her head slightly. “I still don’t understand why he wants me there...”

“Probably thinks you’re the most refined of all the ladies—”

She snorted quietly.

“— probably hopin’ you’ll get some information out of some drunk fools.”

Raising an eyebrow, she lifted her gaze to him. “How am I to do that?”

He shrugged, moving the glass around in his hand. “I don’t know. Flirt with ‘em, that’s what the other girls do.”

“I’m to be a seducer, am I?” She smiled faintly, amusement lacing her tone.

“No, you ain’t...” He frowned, suddenly very opposed to this idea. “... you ain’t gotta— you just gotta flirt a little, make ‘em think you’re interested in ‘em, that’s all.”

“So no kissing?”

His gaze darted to her and her eyebrows rose innocently.

“No, you don’t—”

“No physical touching of any kind?”

“Why would you—”

“What if a kiss means I get more information?”

“I don’t—”

“It’s important, though, isn’t it?” Her chin was in her palm, leaning a little closer. “That we get information. So what if a nice young man and I are talking alone and he leans over and—”

“You won’t be kissin’ anyone,” he cut in, pointing a finger at her.

“No one at all?” she countered, arching an eyebrow.

“That mouth, Miss Adaline—”

“Arthur, Annie...”

Their locked gazes lingered for a moment or two longer before Ada smiled widely and turned in her seat at the approaching man.

“Hey, Lenny. Don’t you look smart.”

“Hey, woah...” Grinning, he held his hands up slightly. “Annie, you look beautiful. You’re gonna break those rich bastards hearts for sure.”

Glancing at Arthur with a faint smirk, Ada stood, grabbing her purse and lifting her skirt a little. “Thank you, Lenny. Does my carriage await?”

“Yes, ma’am. Come on, Arthur, why’re you just sittin’ there?”

“Oh, you have to compliment him, too, otherwise he’ll get grumpy.”

Lenny glanced at Ada, their wide smiles matching, before he looked to Arthur, taking a slight step back and raising his eyebrows.

“Wow, Arthur, I just can’t seem to find the words—”

“Good, don’t. Come on.”

They laughed at his grumbling as they followed him out of the noisy saloon, the evening’s revelries beginning.

The air was cool but not uncomfortably so. Lenny had halted the carriage in the street, thankfully to no one’s inconvenience, and he held the door open for them as Ada stepped up first.

The sight of Hosea, Bill and Dutch greeted her, each of them smiling widely.

“Well, look here...”

“Damn, Annie...”

“You both cleaned up well,” Dutch laughed as Ada settled beside Hosea and Arthur took the seat opposite, next to Dutch.

“Yeah, not too bad, huh?” Arthur answered as Lenny closed the door and pulled himself up into the driving seat.

As the carriage began to move, Hosea offered Ada a glass of champagne, to which she raised an eyebrow, though accepted.

“Champagne?”

"Yes, ma’am. We’re goin’ to a party, ain’t we?” Hosea smiled.

“That we are!” Bill said, taking a swig from another bottle of champagne.

Taking a sip, Ada then took another, finding it surprisingly smooth. This must be the good stuff she’d heard about.

“Don’t you all look fine?” she said, appraising them all with a smile. Alcohol and humour would keep the evening light, surely. If she joined in, there wouldn’t be a reason for any sort of suspicion. “Regular gentlemen, I’d say.”

“Well, thank you kindly, Miss Sawyer,” Dutch answered, inclining his head. “We ain’t a bad bunch, all slicked up like this.”

“Yeah, it’s like we do this thing all the time,” Hosea added, still smiling. “Ain’t we seein’ the King of England for tea next week?”

“Yes, yes we are. Tea and cake with all the trimmings for these regular old gentlemen!” Dutch laughed, and they all joined in, the absurdity of the situation quite plain.

Perhaps they’d had quite some alcohol before they’d arrived, for Bill, Hosea and Dutch found it particularly funny, though so did Arthur. Ada couldn’t stop herself from laughing quietly, too, though, their delight infectious.

“We are ridiculous,” Dutch chuckled as they wiped their eyes.

“Utterly,” Hosea agreed as he coughed and wiped his cheeks.

“I ain’t never been to a ball in my life,” Arthur said, running a hand through his hair before he took a swig of Bill’s champagne.

“Nor have I, if I am being honest,” Dutch answered, pouring himself a drink.

“I used to quite often,” Hosea mused, “there could be fine pickings.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” Dutch chuckled, “No pick-pocketing. We are here to make real contacts.”

“What kind of contacts?” Arthur asked.

“Well, I don’t know, we’ll find what we can. All I know for sure is we are going to a party at the Mayor’s house,“ he began to chuckle again, “and the guest of honour is the worst crook in town.”

They all joined in with his laughter.

“I’m sure that we will find somethin’,” Dutch added over them.

Arthur raised the champagne bottle, grinning. “Okay, then.”

Their laughter continued as they clinked their glasses together and Ada drained her glass, the whisky and champagne easing some of her anxiety... until she realised the carriage had stopped and they were outside of the Mayor’s house.

They left their glasses and bottles on the floor of the carriage, Ada wishing they could have another round. Dutch was first out, then Hosea, then Bill, then Arthur. He helped her down, his gaze meeting hers. She hoped she didn’t look as unsettled as she felt. His fingers gently squeezing hers answered that she did.

You have to pull yourself together.

Steeling herself, she raised her chin and dropped her hand from his.

Understanding, he straightened and turned, walking beside her after the other men.

The doorman smiled politely as they approached. “Gentlemen, and lady. Luca...” he called for another man.

Dutch placed their invite in his hands, his wide smiling lingering.

Glancing at the invite then between them, the doorman also maintained his smile. “I’m afraid the Mayor does not allow guns at official functions, after last year’s incident.”

Wordlessly, the men pulled their guns from their belts and placed them on the table beside the doorman. No one inspected the lady or her bag. A good thing, too; she didn’t want to part from Sean’s knife, even for a short while. Once done, the man gestured to another behind him.

“Luca here will take you to Mr. Bronte. I believe he is expecting you.”

Luca smiled just as politely as the doorman, though he had a gentle Italian accent. “Follow me, gentlemen, and lady.”

Following after him, Dutch clapped the doorman on the shoulder, as did Hosea, and Bill, for some reason, too much champagne, probably. Arthur just nodded as him and Ada smiled courteously.

“This way please, gentlemen and lady,” Luca addressed them as they made their way up the steps to the front doors of the house, Ada having to lift her skirt to ascend. “Signor Bronte will be so pleased that you made it.”

“We are honoured to be here,” Dutch answered, sounding every bit delighted to be so.

“That’s wonderful, wonderful. Come, come, this way.”

Perhaps it was just his overly polite manner, but there was something about Luca that didn’t set her at ease.

“What a beautiful evening it shall be. Mr. Bronte is very good friends with the Mayor. Good evening, Pierre,” Luca said to a man as they passed through the doors.

Pierre inclined his head as he held the door open. “Signor Napoli.”

Luca continued. “As long as the Mayor behaves himself, you know? Mr. Bronte he has, uh, that thing you know? Respect.”

As Luca led them from the beautiful foyer through an archway, Dutch looked over his shoulder to them. “Hosea, Bill, you join the party. We’ll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte.”

Wait, what?

Ada’s eyes darted to Dutch.

Why was she going to meet Bronte?

“Come, come,” Luca said jovially as Hosea and Bill turned away from the group and out of the back doors that led out onto some sort of a balcony area and beyond it... groups of people laughed, drank and talked to one another as music floated softly over the proceedings. Her mother had often talked about the balls she had attended, how she would have loved for Ada to be able to attend one herself.

Well, Mama, here I am.

And, somewhere, within those groups of people enjoying their evenings, was her uncle.

Turning away, she followed behind Dutch and Luca as she heard Hosea murmur to Arthur, “We’ll meet you out on the balcony when you’re done.”

Luca led them up a staircase, walls either side of it, the carpet a rich red. Paintings of men, possibly former mayors, adorned the walls. Ada just stared at Dutch’s top hat. How ridiculous it suddenly seemed, him in his top hat, tails and white gloves, walking these halls, the real gentleman he’d always wanted to be.

Now she understood the joke.

At the top of the stairs, they passed doors and a large fireplace as Luca headed towards French doors. To their right, she could peer over and gaze down into the back foyer their party had split in. She kept her gaze on Dutch, though, as Luca opened the doors and masculine laughter suddenly came from the balcony outside.

Stepping onto it, she noticed the man with the Repeater first. He was dressed, almost comically, in finery, gloves and all, with a white bow tie. He nodded at Luca, and then they were welcomed by the sight of four men also dressed in their finest, standing together with drinks in their hands, chairs around them. One man, balding and shorter than them, turned to them, and smiled widely.

“Ah, the angry cowboys, you’ve arrived! And you’ve washed!” The men laughed, including Dutch, as the man said something to the others in Italian that made them laugh harder.

This was Angelo Bronte, then. He was slightly older than she had expected, and more jovial, which, like Luca, just left her unsettled. What about any of this evening settled her?

“This is quite a party you’ve invited us to,” Dutch said as he shook the man’s hand, beaming.

“Yes, quite something,” Bronte agreed as he shook Arthur’s hand, Dutch taking a moment to gaze over the railing, down at the party below. “Although I’m not quite sure what.”

Then, his gaze was on her.

“My, my, my, buonasera, signorina.”

“Ah, yes,” Dutch turned back to them as she stepped forward and offered her hand to Bronte, smiling warmly. “Angelo, allow me to introduce Miss Annie Sawyer.”

Bronte took her hand and bowed, his gaze locked on hers as he kissed the back of her hand. “Charmed, signorina.” Straightening, he kept ahold of her hand and she kept her smile lingering. “And may I say, Signorina Sawyer, you look...” His gaze travelled her. “... bellisimo.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, Mr. Bronte,” Ada answered, refusing to pull her hand away.

Bronte’s own smile widened for a moment, then he released her as Dutch turned back to the party.

“So, this is Saint Denis society?” he asked the Italian man as he joined him at his side.

Ada clasped her hands in front of herself once more, gripping them as she inclined her head at the three other men, now making her smile coquettish as she listened to Bronte.

“Yes, apparently so.”

“And all these people,” Dutch marvelled as another man appeared, offering him and Arthur a cigar, lighting them for them, “these are friends of yours, Signor Bronte?”

Bronte chuckled. “No, no, no, not quite, but they certainly are afraid of me.” He pointed down into the crowd at a man in a top hat with glasses and a grey beard. “Like that one. See that wretch? He’s the Mayor.” He chuckled again. “Henri Lemieux. He’ll do anything for a dollar, and I mean anything.”

“Politics is a foul business.”

“Yes. Oh, and that one, too, that is Alberto Fussar. He owns a sugar plantation out on the island of Guarma...”

As Bronte pointed out and mocked various people to Dutch and Arthur, Ada found herself sat on one of the couches between two of the men, a glass of champagne that tasted better than Hosea’s in her hand.

“Signorina,” the man with glasses to her right began, “you have the most beautiful hair I have ever seen. It is like the sun.”

Ada lowered her gaze demurely as she smiled, and the other man to her left quickly added. “Signorina, you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, they are like the ocean.”

They were tipsy, at least, which would make this decidedly easier. Sipping her drink, she looked to the man to her left. “Do you really think so?”

“Oh, yes, yes,” he enthused, leaning a little closer, “Like... like zaffiro.”

She didn’t understand what that meant but she smiled anyway, and felt the hand of the other man lightly on her knee.

“Signorina...” Turning to him, she could smell the brandy on his tongue. “You are the sun, yes, you are like the light of the world.”

Christ...

Even though they were drunk and in competition with one another, she could get used to these compliments. As the other man bartered for her attention, though, a slightly uneasy laugh from Dutch caught her attention.

“... we’re not paid killers, as such, not in cold blood anyway.”

Bronte’s head tilted slightly. “I did not know you were so particular that, uh, you wouldn’t help a friend.” His tone was gentle, but it would take an idiot to misunderstand him.

“Oh, I’m willing to help in any way I can, within reason,” Dutch chuckled amiably, trying to diffuse the situation.

Bronte didn’t smile. “I’m going to pretend to understand what that means.”

“I meant no offence, sir.”

“Oh, none taken,” Bronte waved his hand. “None taken!” he suddenly said louder, gaining the attentions of the two men with her who laughed as everyone else did.

Ada glanced at Arthur, perhaps the only one besides her not laughing.

“All these vulgar people,” continued Bronte as he looked down upon them, “they hate me.” Leaning over the railing a little, he then waved down at them, calling something in Italian that made the other men laugh.

She looked to Dutch. For the first time, he looked uncomfortable; he was out of his depth here. She hated that that worried her. If he, if Dutch van der Linde, couldn’t get them out of this then who could.

“Well, uh,” he said as the men continued laughing, “it has been wonderful conversing with you, but I can tell that you are very busy, and I won’t waste anymore of your time.”

Bronte turned to him, smiling broadly now. “Yes, yes, yes, go enjoy yourselves and mingle with these vulgar scum. It’ll make you long for the days when you could shoot each other and screw cows out on the open range.”

The men chuckled, and Dutch paused slightly before he smiled. “Those sure were the days.”

Catching Arthur’s gaze, Ada stood, smiling at the two men as she handed one of them her glass and stepped away from them and their protests.

“Good day, gentlemen,” Dutch added as they headed back to the doors, Ada joining him at his side.

“Good day to you. But before you go...” They stopped as Bronte continued, “what exactly are your plans here?”

“We’ve not made any,” Dutch answered, before tilting his head. “Well... we are going to need some money.”

Ada caught her frown before it appeared. It wasn’t like Dutch to be so... honest. Then again, she hadn’t known him that long, or exactly been out on an excursion with him like this.

“Money...” Bronte stepped closer, “... yes, of course. Well, there’s, there’s money at the trolley station. They keep a lot of cash there in the day.” He lowered his voice. “Now, I could not involve myself in such matters, but you, as a guest, yes! As my guest, do it.” He laughed. “Okay, good day, gentlemen.”

“Goodbye,” Dutch smiled, turning away as Arthur and Ada followed suit.

“And goodbye to you, Signorina Sawyer.”

Turning at Bronte’s voice, finding his eyes on her, Ada smiled warmly but didn’t say a word, deciding the demure female would be her act for the evening. As they headed through the doors, they heard Bronte say something in Italian, prompting the men, once more, to laugh uproariously.

Luca suddenly appeared again, quickly speaking over the noise. “I’ll show you to the party, gentlemen and lady. If you’ll kindly follow me.”

They went back down the stairs, laughter from the main party now taking over. Watching Dutch again, Ada wondered how he felt in this moment. Though they hadn’t been able to understand him, they all must have known Bronte was mocking them; how did that make him feel? He was so used to being a king amongst his people, at always having the upper hand; what was it like to have none of that?

Luca brought them back to the small foyer at the back of the house, the doors to the balcony open. He smiled widely as he turned to them. “Gentlemen and lady, enjoy your evening and welcome once again to Saint Denis! Ciao, ciao.”

Watching him leave, Dutch and Arthur then began to move towards the doors.

Ada didn’t move. She couldn’t go out there. The balcony was too exposed, Jesus, why had she come...

“Dutch?”

They turned at her voice, Dutch raising his eyebrows somewhat in surprise and Arthur... Well, he had that indiscernible look again.

“I’m going to see what I can find out in the house,” she murmured, her hand automatically going to where her ring should have been so she could play with it. Instead, she had to clasp her hands together over her purse when she remembered. “I’ll say I’m looking for the powder room if someone asks.”

Dutch nodded, a smile surprising her. “Good idea. Or take a leaf out of Karen’s book and say you’re drunk.”

She smiled, it coming easily. “I could have some fun with that.”

“Yes, you could. But be careful.”

She nodded as he turned away, moving out onto the balcony. Looking to Arthur, she quickly shook her head as he opened his mouth.

“Go out and join them,” she murmured.

Pressing his lips together, he leaned closer. “Be careful, Miss Light of the World.”

Trying and failing to hide a smirk, she watched him as he joined Dutch, Bill and Hosea. It was short lived, though, as she looked beyond them to the crowd. Taking a step back, she then turned and looked to the archway they had first come through.

Explore the front of the house or go back upstairs? Upstairs, if she was careful enough, seemed less guarded; there were servants moving back and forth across the main foyer, and she’d be noticed exploring one of those rooms or going up the main stairs. No, it would be back up the stairs they’d just come from and across the landing. If the men on the balcony were busy laughing and drinking then it would be just the armed guard to get by unnoticed.

Well, if it called for it, she’d often found if one walked with purpose then people had no reason to suspect you.

Glancing around to make sure she wasn’t being watched, she then quickly moved to the stairs. She kept close to the wall to her left, listening out for any movement at the top. Making it to the landing, she peered around the corner.

The men hadn’t moved from the balcony. Bottles of wine were now being passed around, each man grinning, their attention on Bronte. The armed guard was still there, too, his gaze darting from the party to the landing.

Pressing her lips together, Ada leaned back against the wall. Her gaze landed on a door opposite. Stepping towards it, she tried the handle.

Locked, as she’d expected.

It's been a while, but...

Dropping to her knees, she tucked her purse under her arm and pulled two hair pins from her hair, releasing a curl. Inserting them into the lock, she glanced to her left before carefully aligning the pins as she wanted them. After a few moments, the lock clicked. A smile pulled at her lips as she pushed the pins haphazardly into her hair and opened the door. A quick survey found no one inside and she crawled in, quietly closing the door behind herself.

Once on her feet, she smoothed her dress down as her gaze travelled the room. It seemed like some sort of office, shelves ceiling high full to the brim with books. A beautiful desk was to her left, a chair pulled out from it, with a couple of documents lying on them. Leaving them be, she headed instead for the door in the far corner. She could look over the papers later, she didn’t really want to return to Dutch empty handed, for a twisted sense of honour’s sake, but she could hide out in one of these rooms for maybe an hour or so. The door opened easily and she stepped through, not closing it entirely so she could hear if anyone else came into the office.

The second room was... Well, not a room at all, just a small space with another door. Probably a way for the Mayor to escape if needed as... Yes, passing through the door led her into a bedroom. It was dark, but cool, a window on the far side open perhaps an inch. The bed was large and made neatly, huge plush pillows reaching down to nearly the centre of it.

Why not.

She lay back on it, blowing out a breath. She was going to be here some time, why not be comfortable doing so? Her gaze wandered the room. It was smaller than she would have thought for a mayor but nice, warm. The walls were a deep red with paintings of countrysides here and there. There was a door opposite the bed that she could probably unlock quickly if needed. She could hear the party from the small gap in the window, voices from a small group below it also filling the room.

“... I just couldn’t believe it, how awful.”

“Completely. I couldn’t imagine going through something like that.”

“Yes, it was awful...”

Her heart stopped as her gaze snapped to the window.

“... truly awful, I can’t even begin to tell you...”

She was off the bed before she knew it and kneeling under the window, her eyes wide.

“... my only sister and niece taken from me by senseless violence,” Nicholas Timmins said, his tone full of sorrow, holding the attention of the small group. “But how many of our loved ones have? We haven’t found a body yet so we’re praying, the whole town and I, that she’s still out there, somewhere. Maybe the O’Driscolls took her. I think death might be a better fate than being with those barbarians, though...”

As the group murmured their sympathies, Ada raised herself up, peering over the edge. She could only see two members of her uncle’s audience, a man and a woman, the rest hidden by the roof of the veranda.

“... It is one of the reasons I’m so eager to talk with your esteemed Mayor. Officers walk your streets day and night, keeping you safe, and I believe my beautiful town would benefit from such actions, if I were to get funding of some kind...”

A sound came from the office.

Lifting her head, her breath caught.

“... locked it, I’m sure...”

Two people, possibly.

No longer thinking of her uncle, she grabbed her purse from the bed and scrambled across the floor to the door, pulling pins from her hair. She tried to keep her breathing steady as she pushed the pins into the lock, hearing people moving about in the office.

Shit, shit, shit...

‘I was looking for the powder room’ wouldn’t quite explain how and why she’d somehow unlocked the door to the Mayor of Saint Denis’s office and was now lounging in his bedroom, and neither would playing a drunken harlot.

The lock wasn’t moving. Gritting her teeth, she heard the door to the small room open.

Oh, for Christ’s sake...

The lock clicked. Pushing the door open, she grabbed the pins and rolled through the door just as she heard the other door open. Closing it behind herself, inhaling a sharp breath and knowing time was of the essence, Ada pushed herself up, gripping her purse and the pins tightly, and began to walk down the landing.

Shit, the guard... If there was ever a time to walk with purpose...

Ada kept her gaze ahead, striding towards the stairs. So close—

The door to the bedroom opened behind her.

Oh, Christ.

“Excuse me? Miss? Exc—”

“Signorina Sawyer.”

Halting abruptly, Ada turned at the two voices, her gaze darting from Bronte on the balcony to the man standing outside of the bedroom and back again.

Oh, shit.

Bronte smiled warmly and beckoned with fingers that held a cigar. “Come, I would like a word with you, signorina.”

She glanced to the stranger across the landing. He didn’t say a word, his mouth in a thin line. Then, he turned and disappeared back inside the bedroom, closing the door firmly.

With no possible way of refusing, Ada returned her gaze to Bronte. She matched his smile and clasped her hands together, moving out onto the balcony, holding his unyielding gaze.

Jesus Christ, what am I getting into now.

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (18/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/n: Thank you all for being so incredibly kind to me all of the time! You don’t have to do that, and I can’t thank you enough! We’re back from London in this chapter, and they’re having that “sleepover” that was talked about. In a totally not cheesy (or at least my tolerable amount of cheesy) way ❤️

Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for beta-ing, and @carpedzem, I think you might like this one!

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-/-

“I have four days off of work, and I feel like you.”

Emma sighs the words as she drops a bag in the entryway of Killian’s apartment, the black and white bag making a small thud against the hardwood. He’s got absolutely no idea what she has in there, but it sounds like every book she’s ever owned plus a brick or two that she somehow picked up on her subway ride over here.

Killian fakes a laugh, rolling his eyes a bit as Emma walks up to him and wraps her hands around the back of his neck, pressing up on her toes to gently brush her lips over his in greeting.

“You’re so funny,” he says sarcastically. “You know for a fact what I do on my days where I’m not pitching. I work a solid two hours a day on all of those days.”

Emma hums as her fingers curl into the back of his hair, and he can practically see the mischief dancing in her eyes. “You poor, hard-working man. I don’t know how you do that.”

“I put one pant leg on at a time like everyone else in the world.”

“You are basically a hero.”

“I definitely think I have a mark in a hero column.” Killian dips his head to run his lips over hers again in a better greeting than the one they just had. “I’m happy you have four days off. Whatever are you going to do with them?”

“Tonight, I was promised a sleepover with my boyfriend where he’s going to bake for me. Tomorrow, I think I’m going to go hang out with my nephew and take him outside to sweat it out in this insufferable July heat, and then for the next two days – who knows? I think I might just sleep while you spend your days exercising and suffering outside.”

“I am particularly interested in the activities you’re going to do on the first day.”

“I thought you would be. Can I take a shower first, though? I went to spin class with Ruby this morning, and I feel super gross.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything about the smell but – ”

Emma slaps his chest and laughs before baking away, a smile on her face. “Shut up, you ass. I’m finally going to go see what kind of shampoo it is that you use to make your hair soft and smell so good. You can learn a lot about a man from his shower.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to join you, love? It feels wrong that you’re seeing my bedroom and bathroom for the first time without me.”

“Oh no, it’s awesome. Like I said,” Emma sighs as she picks up her bag supposedly full of books and bricks, “I’m about to snoop. Be back in however much time it takes me to go through your stuff.”

“The hot water twists to the right,” he yells at her before picking up his mug of coffee and taking a sip, laughing under his breath at Emma.

Ridiculous woman who he loves.

So much.

Every part of him wants to tell her, wants to say the words out loud so that she knows just what she means to him, but he’s still biting his tongue. He thinks Emma might love him too, that she might be in the same place emotionally, but he doesn’t know. There have been moments in the past week where he thinks maybe just maybe she’s going to say something, but then she’ll change the subject or smile at him and he’ll know that the words aren’t coming.

Emma’s been burned so badly in her past, from her parents to her exes to the assholes she works with, and he’s still so amazed that their relationship is going so well. They very obviously had a rocky start, but the faith and trust that he has in her and that she has in him to share the depths of her heart astounds him.

This is – this is everything that he never thought he’d have again, and he keeps telling himself to calm down in his future thoughts because it’s still so soon.

When has his timing ever matched up with conventional standards?

But she makes him so incredibly happy, and even when they get into little arguments, he’s glad to be having those. Weirdly, he missed them. He missed having someone to debate dinner plans with and to have to schedule time to spend with and all of those other little things.

Emma was so good with his nieces in London last week too. He knew that she would be since she has so much experience with Leo, but it was refreshing to see how taken she was with Addy and Lucy. Or really, how taken Addy and Lucy were with her. Killian knew that asking her to come to Addison’s birthday party was a bit of a gamble that she likely wouldn’t take him up on, but he’s so glad that she did. Watching her walk around the room in that yellow dress effortlessly talking to his family was absolutely everything to him.

Logically, he knows that once they decide to share that they’re dating with those closest to them, Emma’s going to have to do some kind of reintroduction to the family, and he hopes that it goes well then too, that no one is mad at them for hiding such a big thing right under their noses.

That’s not going to happen. It simply won’t.

Elsa and the girls had nothing but nice things to say about Emma after that day, especially when the girls kept trying to sit next to her on the plane ride home, and all Liam did was tease him about asking her out and how she must be the most forgiving woman on the planet.

She must be.

Killian can hear the water run through the pipes to the shower in his bathroom, and since he heard no screaming, he assumes Emma figured out how the shower works well enough on her own. So, he opens his fridge and starts pulling out the ingredients he needs today. He had to go grocery shopping this morning, which was a bit of an ordeal since he had no idea what he was shopping for, and he feels like his fridge is stocked with food to make enough baked goods to stock one of those insane sales that Addy and Lucy have at their school every few months.

How much money can they really raise through selling baked goods? Donating money would likely be more effective, but he is very obviously not on a PTA board.

But he told Emma that he would bake for her one of these days, or really, that he would bake with her, and he’ll be damned if they don’t finally do that today. He swears that things keep getting more and more hectic lately in between traveling for work and then doing actual work, and they never get a moment to just breathe and be in each other’s company.

Or talk.

They have a hell of a lot to talk about as well, and there never seems to be time. Hence why they’ve been home from London for over a week and still haven’t been able to talk about telling their friends and family.

What is life going to look like during the off-season? He wants to imagine, but he can’t. Not quite yet. That’s getting ahead of himself once more.

As the water in the bathroom runs, he starts mixing the ingredients for the crust of the strawberry lemonade bars they’re going to make. He knows that Emma is a bigger fan of chocolate while he is not, and on another day, they’ll do something more up her alley. He’s got things for smores, mostly as a joke, and he imagines she wouldn’t mind simply eating the chocolate bars.

The water turns off in the bathroom, and yet twenty minutes later, Emma still hasn’t emerged from his bedroom. Curious, he puts the whisk he’s using down and wanders back down the hallway to his bedroom, his door open so that he can see Emma sitting on his bed with a brush in hand as she works at a tangle in her damp hair, gaze focused out of one of floor-to-ceiling windows to the city skyline below.

“Hey.”

Her head twists toward him, a soft smile curved on her lips.

“Hey,” she smiles, tugging at her brush, “you have a super nice shower, and I’m totally going to utilize that more often. Also, your bed is comfortable, and it is a shame we have never used it before. Like, I love your couch a lot and the times we have had on it, but I think the bed may win.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing in here this entire time? Thinking about my bed?”

“Yep. I wasn’t really going to snoop. That’s weird. I just wanted to make sure your bed was comfortable, and I was right.”

Killian chuckles under his breath as he steps further into the room and bends his knees to brush a kiss across her temple. “I wouldn’t have minded if you snooped. There’s nothing to hide in here.” She arches a brow. “Really? You don’t have some kind of super weird shrine of me hidden in your closet?”

“Hmmm, no. I have one of Erin Andrews though. She’s my favorite blonde sportscaster.”

“You’re the worst,” Emma groans even as a chuckle passes through her lips. She tosses her brush behind her, letting it bounce on the mattress, before falling back onto the mattress herself. It’s then that he notices she’s wearing a matching set of pajamas, pink and white striped shorts with a button down with the same pattern. “Your jokes are not homeruns today.”

“Yours aren’t either, darling,” he sighs before sitting down next to her and running his hands up her inner thigh before messing with the hem of her shorts. “Did you bring matching pajamas simply to mess with me?”

Her head pops up to look at him, golden hair darkened by the water and her face bare of makeup. “Yep. You said we were having a sleepover, and I am taking you to your word. If it makes you feel less like we’re teenagers, though, I do not have a bra on under this shirt.”

“Really now?” he growls, twisting on the bed and crawling toward her, his mouth hovering over hers as his hand snakes up underneath her shirt to feel the soft skin and the very obvious lack of a bra covering her breast as he flicks his fingers over her nipple. “Ah, you weren’t lying then.”

“I tend to like to tell the truth.”

“That’s good. Me too.”

His tongue slides into the warm heat of her mouth as Emma gasps beneath him, her hips arching up while her mouth explores his even though she’s most definitely already got it mapped out. It’s as intoxicating as ever to kiss Emma, to glide and nip and tease as arousal tricks down to the base of his spine and his groin. This is not at all what he came into his bedroom for, but intentions were very literally left at the door now that he’s teasing her breast and tangling his tongue with hers in a passionate slide.

It’s quick as he unbuttons the buttons on Emma’s shirt, quicker still as she pushes him onto his back and slides his joggers off of his legs so that she can bite at the skin at his hip, nibbling a bruise into his skin that he’s sure will be there for days. There’s no time to worry about that, though, because then Emma’s hand is settling at the base of his length while her mouth settles around the tip, and he nearly implodes right then and there.

Fucking glorious.

And he tells her so in a stuttered breath, one that he can barely catch from the way that she’s working him higher and higher. His hips arch up off the bed when she hums around him, and his head presses back into his pillow while his eyes shut. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t…and then the heat of Emma’s mouth is gone, and his eyes open as his heart wildly pounds in his chest. He’s just about to ask if she’s okay and then if she is, what the hell is she doing, but then he watches her slide a condom down his shaft before she settles over him and sinks down onto him so that he can feel the most glorious heat of all.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, reaching forward to grab onto her hips, holding on tightly enough that his fingerprints might as well be inked into her skin. “How many times do I have to tell you, love, that you’re going to be the death of me?”

Emma rocks above him, her still-damp hair falling down her back as she arches it. “A few more times, at least. Or until you die.”

“I love that you can be so morbid in a moment like this.”

“I, ah, I try.”

As much as Killian wants to thrust up into her, to control the movements and the pace, he lets Emma do just that as he watches her move above him in what is very well the most glorious sight he’s ever seen. He can turn his head to either the right and see a skyline of Manhattan that looks out onto Central Park, but nothing can compare to this. Not the view from his bedroom or the view of miles and miles of ocean stretching out ahead of him with the sun beating down on his back.

Not even the view of thousands of people cheering for him in the stands.

Nothing compares to Emma.

The muscles in her thighs flex as she continues to move, her hands curled into the hair of his chest and pulling at him, and he can see sweat beading at her forehead. He imagines that later she’ll complain about how she just showered, how she was already sore from going to spin class, but there are no complaints now as his orgasm rolls in on a slow motion that has him cursing Emma’s name instead of confessing his love for her.

That may very well be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but thankfully he could focus on his own falling apart and then Emma’s, her orgasm coming to her with her flushed cheeks and parted lips.

That’s another glorious sight right there. They seem to be never ending.

“Just for the record,” Emma sighs several minutes later when they’ve cleaned themselves up and changed back into clothes, “that was not my intention for this morning.”

Killian cocks a brow and moves to cross his arms behind his head from where he’s propped up in bed, a sated smile on his face. “Am I simply that irresistible to you?”

“You smelled really good, so obviously I just had to fuck you.”

“Oh, well, of course.”

Emma giggles against his shoulder before looking up at him and brushing her lips over the corner of his mouth. “And maybe. I feel like I can’t tell you that you’re irresistible because then I’ll inflate your ego too much.”

“Ah yes. That could be an issue.”

Emma opens her mouth to say something, and he feels his stomach twist in anticipation only for Emma’s stomach to audibly growl. “I feel like now would be a good time to get that baking done.”

“Oh shit,” he curses, gently moving Emma off of him so that he can get up from bed, “I left the ingredients out on the counter before I came in here. They’re not supposed to sit out that long.”

-/-

“You’ve got a little something on your cheek, love,” Killian teases as the two of them stand in his kitchen, his countertops covered in bowls and pans with cartons and bags left open. It’s far from the tidiness that he usually keeps, but no part of him minds this morning as he and Emma get more time together.

Emma scrunches up her nose in response, reaching her hand up to wipe at her face on both sides and only managing to get flyaway hairs from her still-damp braid stuck to her cheek.

“Did I get it?”

“No,” he lies, squinting his eyes so that he can focus in on her face just that little bit more. How is he so enamored with those freckles? “On your left cheek, Swan. Right in the middle.”

She huffs with a slight roll of her eyes before raising her hand and rubbing at her cheek while he reaches into the bowl of icing for their strawberry lemonade bars they’re (mostly him) making and swipes his finger through the cream before running his finger down Emma’s cheek as her lips part and her eyes quickly blink up at him.

“Did you just make up me having something on my cheek so that you could put icing there?”

“Yep.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re calling me that a lot today.”

“Yeah, well,” she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as the pout that’s on her face begins crack, the corner of her mouth ticking up the slightest bit on the right, “you are being one.”

“Hey, love?” he asks, knowing that he’s about to start truly pissing her off, “you have a little something on your cheek. You should probably get that.”

If her eyes could roll to the back of her head, they would, and while Emma says that he’s the one without a great poker face, she doesn’t have too great of one right now either. She uncrosses her arms, and she looks like she’s going to wipe at the stripe of icing that’s on her cheek, but at the last minute, she lunges for the bowl only for him to grab her wrists and pull her arms upwards so that she can’t get the icing.

“Asshole,” Emma repeats while he laughs, nudging her knee away from his so that they can move out of the kitchen. Or at least a little. He’s pretty sure that Emma has her knees locked so that she won’t move. “You can’t just put icing on my face and not give me the opportunity to do the same to you.”

The words “love isn’t fair” almost escape his lips, but he bites his tongue, one particular word in that sentence not something he can say unless he’s calling Emma “love.” Even that sometimes seems risky, but it’s as natural as saying her name.

“Maybe later,” he falsely sighs, dipping his head to brush his lips over her cheek so that he can taste the icing that resides there, a sweet taste of strawberry. “You’re sweet.”

“You’re cheesy.”

“I don’t think I’m covered in cheese.”

“Oh my gosh,” Emma groans, leaning forward so that her forehead presses into his chest, her laugh loud enough so that he can feel the vibrations of it. “I cannot believe that I’m actively choosing to date you.”

“Trust me, darling, I ask myself why you’re dating me every single day.”

“As you should.”

They eventually get back to actually baking, the two of them working in companionable silence even though he keeps having to tell Emma to keep going on mixing the batter. She wants to use a mixer, which is fine most of the time, but this is always better if it’s done by hand. Emma is not a baker in the slightest, and while he knew that, it does surprise him the slightest bit when she asks questions that he thinks most people know the answer to. Then again, she never had someone to teach her to cook or bake or any basic life skills, which is probably why she loves grilled cheese sandwiches and other simple foods like that. They were something she could teach herself.

Liam taught him how to cook. Brennan never cared enough to.

But then again, past the knowledge that Liam gave him and that he learned from watching the Cooking Channel, he’d know nothing about baking if it wasn’t for the accident and his broken arm and torn rotator cuff. Almost instinctively, he rolls his shoulders back and begins stretching his right arm to loosen it up. It’s felt fine the past few days, but he felt a slight pull in it late last night and is hoping that it’s not going to start acting up again. He knows that his injury is most likely going to have a permanent effect on him, but like always, some days are better than others. And he’s doing everything to prevent it. He honestly doesn’t know what he’d do if presented with another long injury lay-off. Would he even have the motivation to try to come back?

That’s not a thought that he wants to have.

So, he doesn’t. He goes back to telling Emma about his day yesterday and how well he thinks the team is going to do for the rest of the season. His confidence with his arm may fluctuate, but his confidence with the team does not. They’re playing damn well this season, better even than last season, and he can’t help but hope that they’re going to be standing on the field as winners at the last game of the season.

Getting ahead of himself. He’s got to stop doing that.

“Yeah, well, if that happens, you still can’t ask me out on air,” Emma teases, bumping her hip into his while she pours the batter into the pan.

“Swan, we’ve very much established that only you ask me out in this relationship.”

“Exactly. I’m obviously the person who always makes the big moves.”

Killian shakes his head before kissing to top of her head and turning around to put the tray into his oven, closing the door and setting a timer for thirty minutes on his phone. He and Emma settle down onto his couch, Emma throwing her legs over his lap and stretching her arm over his shoulder while his hand settles on her inner thigh. It’s comfortable, relaxed, and he could fall asleep with the way the sun is softly coming through his windows and the television is playing quietly in the background.

But he doesn’t. Mostly because Emma starts talking.

“So, we need to talk.”

His head twists toward her so that he can look in her eyes. “I feel like that’s something you’ve said before.”

“Funny,” Emma laughs, nibbling on her bottom lip, “because I have, and we’re about to have the same conversation.”

A sigh passes through his lips as his mind connects the dots. “Ah, well, what is it you want to say? I figure you have an itemized list in that head since you’re the one who brought it up.”

“It’s not itemized, per say. It’s just kind of there all mixed around.” Her free hand moves as she says this, and she sinks a little further into the couch, splaying her legs out over him even more. It’s the most comfortable and awkward he thinks she’s ever looked in his presence. “I’m…it’s hard, okay. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing,” he says even as he laughs, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip while Emma glares up at him. “Okay, okay. You’re just so flustered, and it’s adorable.”

“How do we ever have serious conversations?”

“Usually we’re in a hotel bed.”

“Damn, you’re right. I’d say we go back to your bed, but I feel like I’ll get distracted by how soft your sheets are.”

“Oh, and not by me?”

“Nope,” Emma chuckles, bopping his nose, “not at all.”

His hand taps at her hip, fingers curling up underneath her top so that he can pinch the skin on her stomach. “Share what’s on your mind, darling.”

She sighs, her lashes fluttering closed against cheeks.

“So, I really, really want to tell people about you and me. I want to be able to not have to lie to Ruby about where I’ve been or not be able to tell David and Mary Margaret what’s going on in my life. And I want you to be able to tell Liam and Elsa. I don’t want to go to any other parties where I just happen to be there and have to act like I don’t’ know all of this information about your family. But then it’s just so complicated because, like, what about your team? Obviously, we can’t tell everyone, but you probably want to tell Robin and Will, maybe even Eric. And telling Eric means telling Ariel, probably Belle too, and then it’s just this wide web of people who know and can’t say anything. And it really doesn’t change how we spend our time together except adding a few apartments for us to hang out in. By the way, there’s a dude with a camera hanging out outside the apartment building, and I had to wait for him to leave his spot to come inside. So, there’s that too.”

Emma just spewed a couple hundred words at him in what must have been a singular breath, and he feels like he’s whiplashed as he tries to work through them all and pick exactly where he needs to start.

Damn, okay. This is complicated. This is all so complicated, and it’s very much his fault for his actions of nearly a year ago. There are other factors and complications, and while yes, the two of them could very much say that they’re dating and be able to live their lives more freely, they both know that it’ll be easier to possibly share once the season is over. It’ll make Emma’s life and job less complicated and while things are obviously going well, those few extra months will make it easier for them to actually know what they’re doing here.

“Okay,” Killian finally sighs, figuring he might as well take it item by item, “so first of all, I can get you a key to the back entrance so you don’t have to deal with the occasional obnoxious paparazzi who obviously don’t know that I’m not that interesting. I should have already done that, but I felt like that would be a bit presumptuous.”

“Yeah, I would have freaked the fuck out.”

“You’re not doing that right now?”

She shrugs. “Only a little.”

“So that’s one problem solved,” he sighs, tapping one finger against her stomach for emphasis. “Next, when you go home tomorrow, I want you to tell Ruby and Graham, okay? That’s going to be step one, and I’d honestly really like to come over and see your apartment and meet them. The same goes with David and Mary Margaret and even Ruth. Those people are all your family, and if you want to share that you have the most handsome lover in all of New York, I want you to do that.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to tell Ruth and David. I’m going to call you my lover and see which one freaks out more. I bet David asks me for sex details.”

“Swan,” he groans as his head leans against the top of his couch, his lips curling into a smile, “that sounds like a good way for me to get murdered.”

“David is not that scary.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve found that no matter how progressive the world gets, older brothers tend to be far too protective, and no offense, but David is that type. I bet when we meet that he’ll squeeze my hand far too tightly in the handshake.”

“I hate that you’re right about that.”

“Exactly. But we’re clear on that. You tell your family, and I will tell mine. We’ll both make it clear that this doesn’t get out, and since we trust them, we know they’re going to respect that, yeah? And just so you know, I guarantee that Liam is going to insist on meeting you again and pull all of that older brother shit too.”

“Maybe we should just let he and David hash it out.”

“That’s exactly what we should do,” Killian chuckles as his phone starts to buzz, the timer for the oven going off. Emma’s legs slide off of him for him to stand from the couch and walk to the kitchen, grabbing two oven mitts to remove the hot pan and place it on the burners. “But seriously. We take this slow, okay? I know that I’m going to tell Liam and Elsa first, and you’ll likely tell Ruby first. And if it goes well, we take baby steps to move onto other people.”

“Are they going to totally hate us for keeping this a secret from them?”

“Maybe but not once they see how happy we are.”

Emma stands from the couch and walks over to him in the kitchen, leaning over his island to eye the cooling lemonade bars. “So, when are we going to be able to eat those?”

“In about an hour, so you have to be patient.”

“I’ve never been particularly good at that.”

-/-

Walking around the apartment, Killian starts opening up curtains to let the florescent lights of the city in, his bedroom painted in a soft glow of red and greens and yellows. The only light he has on in his bedroom is from the television, so he keeps seeing Emma’s features in flashes. It’s likely the laziest day he’s had in years, and while they did hash out details of letting their under-wraps relationship be a little more public, most of their day has been spent in bed exploring each other or watching Netflix and eating their baked goods and the pizza that he ordered. He knows that he and Emma teased each other about this being a sleepover when they’re both grown adults who are dating and not teenagers who are spending the night at their friend’s house, but they’re somehow falling into all of the stereotypes they teased each other about.

The glass of rum he’s had and the glass of wine Emma’s nursing surely help.

Maybe a little bit of boredom too.

“Truth,” Emma says flatly, pulling his comforter further up over her lap.

“Hmm,” he hums while he makes his way back to the bed, crawling under the covers and shifting to run his legs over Emma’s so that he can feel her smooth skin, “tell me the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“My boyfriend asked me out on TV.”

“Is that your serious answer?”

“Yep.” Emma twists in the bed and scoots down further under the covers, her blonde hair still twisted into a braid, but a lot of the front pieces have fallen out and are landing on her bare shoulders. “That’s what I’m sticking with for now. It’s your turn. Truth or dare.”

“I feel ridiculous playing this game.”

“But it’s fun.”

“Aye,” he laughs, reaching over to grab her hand and tangle their fingers together before resting their hands in the small space between them. “Truth.”

Emma’s eyes close as she thinks, her lips pursing, and he’s got absolutely no clue what’s about to come out of her mouth. “What is your least favorite thing about me?”

“Damn, Swan, that’s dirty.”

“Usually you like that.”

“Different kind of dirty. Um – ” Killian clicks his tongue as his mind runs through a short list of things that annoy him about Emma as he tries to think of something that won’t get Emma truly pissed at him. “I don’t like how difficult it is to get you to answer the phone.”

“That’s a copout.”

“So was your last answer.”

“Fine. I’ll accept it. Dare.”

“Kiss me.”

Emma rolls her eyes right after he says the words, but she still presses forward to briefly brush her lips over his, a soft, slow kiss that has his body aching for more. But Emma pulls back before he can deepen the kiss, and he’s left with the feel of her lips on his.

“That was also a copout,” she murmurs as her hands reach down to pull the covers all the way up over her shoulders, her breasts disappearing from sight. “Truth.”

“Tell me your absolute favorite movie.”

“The Princess Bride. Feel free to quote it with me any time, and I will quote it right back.”

“As you wish.”

Emma’s eyes widen and her lips part at his words, and earlier he should have said that his least favorite thing about Emma is how hard it is for him to read her even when she’s an open book to him. But an open book half printed in code where he partially knows what’s going on but can’t quite decipher the rest.

“Your turn,” Emma whispers, snuggling further into the pillow. If he doesn’t watch out, she’s going to take his pillow home with her like she did his Vandy sweatshirt.

“Truth.”

“If you could talk to your dad again, would you?”

It’s a question out of nowhere, one he wasn’t expecting, and as much as it makes his blood boil to even think of his dad, he doesn’t mind being open like this with Emma, not when she squeezes his hand to reassure him and looks at him with green eyes that might as well hold the stars for all the light overshadowing the darkness that he sees in them.

“No,” he answers immediately before biting his tongue. “Maybe, but only to tell him how much he’s screwed up my life. I don’t – I believe in forgiveness and learning from your mistakes. I would be nothing without all of that, but I – a dad should love his kids and be there for them no matter what, not on the condition of how well one of them is playing baseball. I know that if I ever have kids, I want them to feel everything that I didn’t at home. I want to be more like my mom in all of the love that she showed, you know?”

Emma doesn’t say anything then, but she does release his hand to reach forward and grab the chain around his neck, letting his mom’s ring fall into her palm. “You’re a good man, you know that, twenty-nine?”

“Eh.”

“You are. I promise.”

Emma moves across the bed so that she can wrap her arm around his waist, simply sitting still with him in the quietness of the room as sirens and car horns blare outside, the life outside the city continuously moving as they stay still, reveling in the silence of the cocoon of his bedroom and not letting the outside world get to them. This has been one of his favorite days this year, which is saying a lot when he’s had so many that have already meant the world to him. He doesn’t know how it could get better.

Lips brush across the muscles on his stomach, soft and gentle and everything that Emma can be. “Killian?”

“Yeah, love?” he mumbles, absentmindedly running his fingers up and down the smooth expanse of her back.

“Dare me to do something bold.”

He chuckles, not entirely sure where this is coming from, but he does what she says anyways. “Emma, love, do something bold.”

Her intake of breath is something that he feels against his chest before she says, “I love you.”

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

I Found - chapter 17

No warnings.

Well maybe some cute Tyler and Ovi ;)

Tagging: @alievans007, @hemmyworthy, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

A week later he waits across the street from Hargrave school. Leaning back against the driver's door of a rented SUV.; arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses covering his eyes, smoking a cigarette. He'd given up the habit months ago; being in the hospital for an extended period of time successfully cleanses your body and mind of all your vices. But with his desire to drink again returning at a furious and alarming pace and his med use just slightly above normal, he had figured having one awful habit wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

He remains expressionless yet his as eyes are continuously working. Observing the surroundings, scanning the sidewalks and the road for anything that seems suspicious. So far nothing seems out of the ordinary. Drivers behind the wheel of cars idling along the curbs, a lone maintenance worker watering the gardens out from. There didn't seem to be anyone...besides him....casing the place. No cars making multiple trips around the block. Just normal people going about their day: parents waiting to pick up their kids, a handful of early release students trickling through the front doors.

His cell phone vibrates against his leg and he fishes it from the side pocket of his cargo shorts. A smiling tugging at the corners of his mouth. A picture from his wife: a picture of their baby girl in a brightly coloured sundress and matching hat that one of the maids had gifted her with. And at that moment it seems so surreal; the realization that he was a dad again. Some days you're just going through the motions; moving from one moment to the next without even thinking about what you're doing. Other days you're sitting in a quiet room or lying in bed and out of nowhere you think 'wow'. This is one of those times. Where it actually hits him: how far he's come, the good things in his life that he has accomplished, how the guilt and the regret of the past aren't nearly as painful as they were even six months ago. A year ago he'd been hoping to catch a bullet. Now he was desperate to escape catching one.

A text message comes next. Asking him if everything is okay. It's a covert way of asking if he's seen anything troubling or if he's caught wind of any brewing. But he wants to tell her that everything is awesome. That she and their little girl are awesome. That he's sorry for getting them mixed up in his bullshit. That he can't wait to see them. Maybe it's the worry that something will happen to them if he's gone for too long; that he'll get back to the house and all hell would have broken loose and his wife and kid missing. Or maybe it's the reality that the only time he's truly happy is when he's with them. That they are the ones who are keeping him sane. From returning to old habits and old feelings and the desire to just end it all.

He messages back. Telling her that everything is fine. That he's just waiting for the kid to get out of school. That they're going to go somewhere and talk, just the two of them. That he'll be home before dinner is on the table. That he loves them.

The bell rings, signalling the end of the school day. And within minutes the doors are bursting open and students are flowing out; a tsunami of giggling girls talking in ridiculously high pitches, guys with too much swagger and not enough common sense to realize the ladies aren't falling for their fake macho bullshit, jocks picking on the weaker kids. His own high school experience had been normal enough; teetering the line between jock and serious student. But there'd been higher education or career that had appealed to him. He'd always been a tad reckless. Restless. And he needed something with action and adventure. That would keep his body and his mind busy. And he'd enrolled in the army only two days following graduation. He'd always been a naturally gifted athlete; tall, broad shouldered, strong. And passing basic training had remarkably easy.

Eighteen years seemed like a lifetime ago. A lifetime filled with more action and danger and risk of death than he could ever have managed. His own demons making a transition from full time solider to mercenary alarmingly seamless.

He slips his phone back into his pocket as he sees the kid coming down the stairs; alone, eyes downcast, his thumb hooked around the straps of his backpack. He's taller than most of his classmates now. And seems so much older than that kid he'd rescued out of that filthy apartment in Dhaka. He's been through a lot. Seeing and hearing things that no kid should ever have to. The terror of being kidnapped followed by a stranger busting you free, but not before they'd slaughtered an entire room of people. Tyler imagines that he would have been confused; his eyes wide as he stepped over bleeding and broken corpses, following a complete stranger into yet another unknown and terrifying situation. Everything had gone wrong after that. Tyler had never had a job go that bad. There had been injuries and death left behind, but his duties had been fulfilled quickly and successfully. Walking away with no injuries and permanent scars but nice healthy pay checks.

Everything that could go wrong did. A fucked up series of horrible events that came to an end on that bridge.

****

Ovi stops when he sees him; startled at first, his head moving from left to right as he looks for the usual drivers that pick him up. Then a broad smile brightens his entire face and he's practically skipping across the street. Once again throwing this arm around Tyler and embracing him tightly. A year ago he'd hesitated to even touch the kid. When Ovi had clung to him on the stairs at Gaspar's. And he remembers the initial shock of the moment, and how'd he cautiously brought his hand up to the kid's head. It had been a long time since he'd had to comfort someone. He didn't form personal relationships with the people he helped. He simply got shit done and went on with his life.

Unlike a year ago, he doesn't hesitate when returning the embrace. The kid is desperate for affection. He craves it. Needs it. And maybe somewhere deep down inside, Tyler does to.

“What are you doing here?” Ovi asks, as Tyler tousles his hair and the kid steps out of the hug.

“Thought you could use the change of pace. Thought maybe we could go somewhere and talk. Privately. I know it's not easy to get some things out when there's so many ears around.” The guards unnerved the kid instead of calming him. He was skittish when they were around; never able to fully relax.

“About what?”

“I don't know. Things,” he takes the final drag of his cigarette and tosses it to the ground, extinguishing it with the sole of his shoe.

An eyebrow hitches. “You smoke?

“Always have. Just had to quit for a while. Just don't tell my wife, okay? It wouldn't go over very well.”

Ovi nods, moving around to the other side of the SUV as Tyler pops open the driver's side door. Tossing his school bag into the back seat and ready to climb in when a soft, beautiful voice captures his attention.

“Hi Ovi.”

Tyler notices the way the kid's eyes widen, the way he looks both terrified and excited that the young woman has actually spoken to him. She's cute; tall and willowy with shimmering black hair pulled into two braided ponytails. And he grins as Ovi stutters and stumbles over his words, struggling to get out even a simple hello in return.

“I'll see you tomorrow right?” she inquires hopefully, and he nods in response and then holds his hand up in a small wave of farewell before climbing into the SUV.

“Is that her?” Tyler asks, watching through the rear view mirror as she bounces off with her friends, but not before she glances back over her shoulder, getting in one last look. “Is that her?” he asks. “The girl you talked about last night?”

Ovi nods.

“Well done, kid,” he grins, as he fires up the engine. “Well done.”

****

They slip into booth tucked into the back corner of a nearby deli. The flow of traffic is light; two customers sitting right at the corner and a third near the hallway the leads to the washroom, and while Ovi orders from the menu, Tyler opts for black coffee. He sits facing the entrance. Always cautious. Feeling that now familiar weight of the gun that rests on his hip.

Ovi chatters on about school and upcoming football tryouts; sipping a vanilla milkshake and nibbling from a heaping plate of french fries smothered in ketchup. The excitement and the hope for a calmer immediate feature drips from every word. He's optimistic. Enthusiastic. Tyler has provided him with a level of safety and security that he hasn't feel for weeks. Probably even months. Spending most of his days since the extraction nervous about possible retribution, constantly looking over his shoulder and wary of everyone and everything.

“Remember how you were telling me about looking into colleges away from home?” Tyler speaks now, as Ovi delves a little more eagerly into the french fries. “You said you wanted to get away from here once you got out of high school.”

Ovi nods, then his eyes narrow. “You're not going to try and talk me out of it, are you?”

“Naw, mate. I can totally understand wanting to get away. Wanting to escape. It's why I joined the army once I was old enough. I needed to get away from some bullshit too.”

“From your parents?”

“From my dad. My mom was already gone. She died when I was twelve. Car accident.”

Ovi gives a sad smile. “I'm sorry.”

“My old man and I never got along. Even when she was still alive. I don't think he ever really wanted kids, to be honest. He wanted my mom all to himself and then I came along and totally ruined that. He's resented me for a long time. I've always been a burden to him. Someone that cost him too much money and clothe and put a roof over his head. He hated that my mom and I were so close. Not because he wanted to be close with me. But because I took my mom away from him.”

The emotion chokes at him. Sitting heavily in his chest and tightening his throat. In the same way in at that night at Gaspar's when he'd told Ovi about his failed marriage and the death of his son. And he takes a swig of coffee to wash down the mixed feelings of bitterness, grief, and anger.

“So I totally get why you want to get away. I don't think anyone could blame you. Especially after everything that you've been through. Sometimes we have to leave everything behind. Can't have much of a future if you're spending your whole time living in the past, know what I mean?”

Ovi nods.

“You ever thought of Colorado?” Tyler asks.

“Like in the United States?”

“Unless there's another Colorado I don't know about.”

“Isn't it really cold there? Doesn't it snow all the time?”

“Not three hundred and sixty five days a year. It's supposed to be beautiful there. Mountains, lots of fresh air, tons of things to do. That's where Esme's from. A little place with about twenty five hundred people. Her family is still there. Mom and step dad, brothers, a sister. Tons of nieces and nephews.”

“So now you do have a family,” the kids says, and Tyler nods slowly.

“I suppose I do, mate. Would be nice to meet them, though. I've only ever seen them through video calls or talked to them on the phone.”

“So they haven't met the baby then?” Ovi's smile fades. “That's really sad.”

“Yeah, it is. They deserve to meet her. And she deserves to meet them,” he sips his coffee. “We're moving there. When all this is over.”

It isn't finalized; they haven't made any concrete plans. But the other night in bed he'd gone onto the 'net and

looked up houses and job prospects and Esme had seemed warmer to the idea. He can see himself settling down there; buying a fixer upper with a view of the mountains, enough land to have chickens and goats (her idea, he felt they'd shit everywhere even more than chickens) and room for their kids to play. They had just enough money between the two of them in savings that they could afford a decent down payment and still have a bit in the bank for a rainy day.

“You are?” Ovi's eyes widen. “You're going that far from home? Why?”

“It's time to move on, I guess. She gave up everything in her life to move to Australia and take care of me and get me back on my feet. She misses home. And I owe it to her to give her that piece of her life back.”

He also lays out the harsh truth. That he's made a lot of enemies along the way; stepped on a lot of toes. It's naive to think that the actions of the past don't have ramifications on your future. Now that whoever is behind the recent drama knows where he lives, it wouldn't be safe to go back. And he couldn't put his family through that. Instead when everything was over, they'd take their passports and leave. With nothing more than the clothes on their backs and a few personal items. It wouldn't take long to get on their feet; he wasn't worried about not being able to find work or support his family. And if that meant living out of cheap motels until they found a permanent place, it was what he was willing to do.

“But you guys will be even further away,” the kid laments. “What if I need you? You'll be even further away.”

“Not if you come with us.”

Ovi blinks. “Come with you?”

“We don't have a lot, mate. It won't be the life you have here. But at least you'd have a life. You won't have to be a prisoner in your own place. You won't constantly be looking over your shoulder or seeing something or hearing something that makes you think of what happened in Dhaka. It won't be easy. It's going to be hard for all of us. But that's better than what you've got going on here.”

“You really want me there? With you and your family?”

“We won't be able to put you in an expensive school like you're in now. There's no way we could ever afford something like that. And we definitely won't be getting a place like you have now. You're going to have to slum it.”

“I don't care about that. None of that matters to me.”

“You'd be safe there. Safe with us. Most importantly, you'd have people around you that actually care about you. Who worry about you and want what's best for you. You got a shit deal in this life, kid. You've got an old man that doesn't give a fuck about you and put you in all this bullshit to begin with. But you don't have to stay stuck in all of this. And we're worried what might happen to you if you do.”

Tears sparkle in his eyes, yet a broad grin spreads across his face. “You want me to come and live with you?”

“Like I said, we can't give you much. But we can give you a real home.”

“Like a family,” his voice is a near whisper.

“Now nothing's set in stone, mate, so don't get your hopes up yet. There's some things that need to get worked out before we can even start making arrangements to take you anywhere. I still have to go and talk to your old man.”

“My father?” he's perplexed. Maybe even a little scared. “Why?”

“Well I can't just take you out oh India. That's kidnapping. And kidnapping a drug lord's son? Didn't we just go through that a year ago? There's no need to repeat that. I need to go and see him. Have a man to man. He must have at least ounce of humanity left, right? There must be some part of him that cares about his own kid.”

“He thinks of me the same way you do. More like a thing than a person.”

Tyler can still hear those words. As clear as day.

“He doesn't care about anything,” Ovi says now. “Or anyone. It's why I'm in the mess I'm in. Why I was in the mess I was in last year.”

“Well we got you out of that mess and we'll get you out of this one too. I'll talk to your father. Try to reason with him.”

“And if that doesn't work?”

“Well, if that doesn't work, I've got other ways of convincing people to give me what I want.”

“You'd kill him?”

“What?” Tyler chuckles. “That isn't always my go to, you know. I don't always kill people. Sometimes I do other things.”

“Like rescue people.”

He nods. It's the exact opposite of the conversation that they'd had in that bedroom at Gaspar's house. When Ovi had asked if he'd always been this way. Brave.

Ovi sighs heavily. Helps himself to a french fry. Another sip of his shake. Then he smiles.

“You know, I think I could get used to Colorado.”

****

The grass is a stunning emerald green. Sparkling gloriously in the sunlight; plush and smooth against bare feet as she wanders into the courtyard, baby in her arms. Talking something yet animatedly about their new surroundings, about the trees that tower of them, the smell of the flowers in bloom, the way the grass smells and feels, the way the brilliant rays sun cause the ripples in the pool to sparkle and dance. It is a beautiful home with even more beautiful surroundings; modern, spacious, impeccably clean, But inside it was cold and uncomfortable. Sterile. As if no one had lived there for years. Not a spec of dust or a single dirty dish in the song. No sounds of laughter. No conversations around the dinner table.

And definitely no love.

She'd grown tired of staring at the walls; going stir crazy with nothing more than the wander the halls, take a nap, or read a book. She'd tried engaging the workers in conversation; English was their second language and for the most part, spoke it impeccably. But they'd just stared at her as if she'd grown another head. As if she'd broken some written that law that prohibited the help from fraternizing with those that inhabited the house. It was strange way to live; merely floating through your day, no real human contact as you just completed one chore after another. The job had been lonely at times; returning to an empty hotel room, never knowing when you'd step foot through your own front door again. But at least there had always been human contact.

Her heart breaks for Ovi. Being a teenager is hard enough. But being a teenager in his situation was unfathomable. A poor kid thrust into a life of chaos because of his father's poor choices. Left alone in an enormous house, surrounded by beautiful things, yet having nothing to truly cherish. With Saju he'd had least had someone that genuinely cared for his health and well being, even if it did take the threat against his own child to show as much. He'd had someone there to guide him. Protect him. And once he'd died, Ovi had truly been left with nothing.

She selects a spot near the pool, sinking down into the grass, back to the water, legs in the shade cast by a large tree. She places the her thighs, waiting until the cool breeze and the chirping of birds bring on the beginnings of a much needed nap before she leans back. Hands on the grass behind her, head tilted back, eyes closed as she lets the sun bathe her face in warm. Needing a moment of calm. An escape from those eerily quiet hallways and those sterile walls. From the staff always underfoot and watching to fill even her basic needs. From the thoughts of twelve months ago. When she'd met both Tyler Rake and Ovi Mahajan Junior for the first time and her life changed in the blink of an eye.

Nik had called a half an hour before. The news was good but not great. She had been able to track down a last name for Farhad but not an exactly location. With no registered place of address and no known associates, it was proving difficult to to pinpoint is exact location. Somewhere near the market was useless. Those areas were densely populated and the residents and shop keepers feared retribution if they spoke out against the criminals.

It had been the first time in a year that Esme had been the strong and assertive one. Telling her that she didn't want to hear excuses. The anniversary of the Dhaka job was four days away. And she wanted an address and a meeting time set up.

***

“You know, you shouldn't be out here alone.”

Opening her eyes, she places as a hand over them to shield them from the sun. “I'm not. There's two guards on the roof and three constantly patrolling. That is not being out alone.”

“Someone is supposed to be with you at all times. You know the rules.”

“Fuck the rules,” she grumbles. Actually missing the days she was the one on the job, watching out for someone else. “And you're in my sun.”

Jason steps to the side, and she closes her eyes and tilts her head back again.

“You don't need to be here,” she reminds him.

“Someone needs to be.”

“I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And if someone is able to get past two arm guards on the roof and the two out there, then we are well and truly fucked and might as well give up. Because they're obviously superhuman. So...”

“Well forgive me for saying so, but guns can do a lot of damage.”

“You've never heard a first hand account about how a human being can kill someone with a garden rake, have you?”

Jason frowns. “What?”

“It was two people actually. One with the handle and one with the...never mind. Let's just say, it wasn't pretty. Seriously, Jason. Go inside. I'm all out of patience and fucks today. And I like you, but...”

“Well at least one of you does.”

She sighs. “You're still not ass hurt about that are you? You crossed a line. You got called out on it. Live and learn.”

“Sounds like you've been spending the last year of your life making a lot of excuses for him.”

“Sounds like maybe you need stop before you cross another line. You're just here because this is where Nik sent you. We're not here to be friends. I'm just a job. In the same way other people were just the job when I got into the game. It is what it is.”

“What I'm curious about is how the two of you ended up forgetting that. That it you were there to do a job.”

Sighing, she sits up and runs her palms along the sides of her thighs to clear the grass away. “What is your obsession with Tyler? It's kind of creepy. First you kiss his ass royally the first day you meet him and now you're all up his ass for some reason. I don't know what you think you know about him. About us. And to be quite frank, I don't really give a shit. But he's my husband. The father of my child. And I'm not the type that will sit back and let you shit talk him. So if there's what you're here for...”

He holds his hands up in surrender, then unbuttons his suit jacket and sits down on the grass beside her.

“Really?” she asks. “Do you have no concept of personal space? And weren't you told to stay away from me?”

His eyes sparkle mischievously. “Are you going to tell on me?”

“Kid, you are walking a very thin line. You will not like what happens to you if I do rat you out. Remember the thing with the garden rake I just told you about that? That will look tame compared to what happens to you. Why are you like this? Why do you feel the need to be around me? It's just creepy as fuck.”

“Just trying to be friendly, I suppose.”

“Friendly is talking about shared interests and the weather. You're asking me questions about my personal life. That's not normal.”

“I was just curious, that's all. You and Tyler both go on and on about the importance of the job and not forming bonds with the people you help, but the two of you couldn't even follow that yourselves. It seems a little...I don't know...hypocritical.”

“It was a year ago. It happened. Maybe it wasn't the best decision either of us ever made and maybe we should have stopped it, but we didn't. Trust me, we aren't the only two that have done something like that. It happens more often than you think. We're just the ones that got caught doing it.”

Or maybe they just hadn't been very good at hiding it. G had figured it out. Asking about it when she'd met up with him in the woods, where they had hunkered down to wait for Tyler to bring Ovi to the extraction point. Anxious to just get the hell out of there. He'd been more curious than judgmental. After all, he'd met his own wife when he'd been hired to rescue someone. She hadn't been directly related to the job, but their paths had still crossed.

“Come on, you can't fool me,” he'd grinned, when she'd tried denying that there was anything going on between her and Tyler. They'd simply had to pretend they were married and be convincing about it. And she'd insisted that he gave her the bed while she slept on the floor.

Which had been true. Even if only lasted the first night.

“Who cares what people will think,” he'd said. “You're two consenting adults. You ended up getting the job done. Nothing got fucked up because Tyler couldn't keep it in his pants. Hopefully the two of you had some fun while doing that whole pretend marriage thing.”

:If only he'd known just how fun.

“I mean, if you weren't strong enough to stop it, you should have at least been careful about things.”

Esme smirks. “You're starting to sound like Nik.”

“Well, it's true. Don't you think?”

“I think you need to mind your own business kid. What happened between Tyler and I is none of your business. Maybe we should have. Maybe we shouldn't have let ourselves get out so out of control that the thought of being careful never crossed out minds. But it happened. It happened and she's here because of it...” she smiles at the baby sleeping on her thighs; dark eye lashes brushing against her cheeks, mouth moving as if suckling a bottle. And she gently runs her fingers through Amelia's hair, noticing the way the sun picks up the hint of red she'd inherited from her daddy. “..she's here and she's amazing and I'm lucky to have her. To have both of them. Tyler has his issues and his fault. He's not perfect. But he's perfect for me. For us.”

Finally silence. And she feels as if she can breathe again. Not stuck in a seemingly endless circle of having to explain and defend her choices twelve months ago to strangers and friends. Her family had been baffled enough. Not understanding how a simple business trip ended up with her never returning home, a marriage, and a baby. All in the span of less than a year. And if they ever found out the whole truth about the 'business trip'...

***

“Are you happy?” Jason asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you happy?” he repeats. “Like genuinely happy. Or are you just stuck?”

“Kid, you must really have a death wish. Asking me stuff like this. What is wrong with you?”

“It's a simple question.”

“It's a nosy ass question. And I don't know you enough to be talking about these things with you.”

“I don't know why it's so hard to answer.”

“I don't know what's so hard for you to understand that I'm not talking about these things with you. Why are you caught up on my marriage? Jesus.”

“You just don't seem happy is all,” he remarks.

��Well forgive me if this isn't exactly the place I want to be. Dealing with the same kind of bullshit that brought me last year in the first place. You have no idea what went down. How bad it went. So you can't even begin to understand why we are all a little fucked up because of it.”

“Like I said. Just trying to make conversation.”

“Well go and make conversation with someone else, somewhere else. This is not the idea of 'me time' I had when I first came out. So if you don't mind...”

He opens his mouth to continue, but changes his mind.

Several minutes pass by before Esme speaks:

“Are you really that into making yourself feel useful?”

“I like feeling useful.”

“And I can trust you? I need to be able to trust you.”

“You can. One hundred percent.”

“I need you to go to Dhaka and track somebody down. Don't ask me why. You don't need to know why. I just need you to do it.”

“I don't know if it's a good idea to leave. Nik said...”

“I'll take care of Nik,” Esme says. “I would do this myself, but I've been out of the game for a while now and I have no resources left in Dhaka. All of my people have moved on to other things. I need you to track this person down and make arrangements for me to meet them. Three days from now. On the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Nowhere else. It has to be that bridge. Can you do it for me?”

“I'd have to leave tonight. It might take a couple days to even get any info. Never mind actually arrange a meeting.”

“Leave now if you have to. But I need you to do this. Can you? Do this?”'

He sighs heavily. Raking a hand through his sandy hair. Then slowly nods in confirmation and asks:

“So what's the name?”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #i found

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angstymarshmallow · 5 years

Text

part two: breaking point (cal lowell x mc)

[a little note: i should come up with a name for this series. Two stories almost back to back - this is what happens when inspiration finally manages to cooperate. I wanted to get this out quickly, while I’m still very much invested. If you read it - than you! If you leave a comment, bless you!].

[part one]

[summary: when Wren (MC) is faced with the choice to either walk away or protect Donny, she chooses the latter. But tensions brew between her, Cal and the pack - because for an alpha, the pack must always come first.]

[words counted: 5189]

The pub is in full swing as Wren follows Donny past the double doors of the entrance. The two bouncers dressed in all black and they stiffen, their posture indifferent to her presence while paying no mind to Donny’s less imposing stature. Although they make no move to stop her, Wren still feels their eyes trained on her back as she pushes past them.

There’s a heavy scent of smoke that clings to the air the moment they’ve stepped inside. Her nose tickles, and Wren sneezes before she uses the collar of her shirt to shield herself from the worst of it. It isn’t until the smoke thins out as they delve deeper into the pub that her eyes are able to adjust to the view.

On first glance The Howlers is a good place to mingle and chat to strangers if you’ve got the time. The lightning is darker than she remembers – not that she makes it a priority to visit anymore, but the place seemed to always hold character. Maybe it’s the fact that they only play 80s rock music from the jukebox located in the corner of the room. Or maybe it’s the hustle and bustle from the typical Friday crowd. Still, it’s lively – with the sound of laughter as a common occurrence as people flag down waitresses for a round of more drinks. Predominantly, Wren spots the telltale signs of werewolves spread sporadically – donned in their familiar jackets that emphasizes their pack insignia. The rest are seemingly an innocent mix of humans and supernatural; coexisting all in one place. Most of those humans probably can’t even tell the difference.

If Wren hadn’t been on edge when she’d walked in, she certainly is now as several onlookers’ gazes halt in her general direction. Muttering stiff apologies, she wedges herself among smaller groups of people until the bar is nearly within plain sight. She makes a point to raise her chin high, despite the lingering glances that still haven’t looked elsewhere. Some of them she recognizes, some of them she doesn’t – most of them aren’t happy to see her.

“Hey wait a second –” She starts, but it’s too late to stop him; Donny has already scampered ahead of her. He’s almost half way across the room within the seconds it takes her to speak, heading in what appears to be one of the backrooms after a boy near his age waved him over.

Wren hesitates to call after him a second time.

So much for finally hanging out together.

Honestly, she shouldn’t be surprised. Donny’s antics of ignoring her is something she’s accustomed to. Feeling a little deflated by his distance, Wren stuffs her hands inside the pockets of her jeans and swaggers the rest of the way over the bar.

At least she’ll be able to drink and forget. That’s at the least the one plus side.

She orders a beer and almost reflexively remembers she’s the one in charge of getting Donny back home in one piece.

Ugh.

Changing her order at the last second and giving the older bartender an apologetic smile, she slouches a little inside her stool as her eyes skimmed the length of the room.

There are always a pair of eyes hovering in her direction – wolves mostly; she wonders irritably if they don’t have anything more to do with their time than send daggers at nearly every given opportunity. Still, she supposes it could be worse. They could have let her stay outside. The last time she’d been here hadn’t been pleasant and Wren rubs her eyes at the memory.

“Is everything okay Wren?”

She glances up at the bartender to find his brow creased with worry. She forces a smile. “I’m alright Bill,” she mumbles, “it’s just been one of those days.”

“Don’t I know it,” Bill snorts derisively, his dark eyes softening with sympathy when she doesn’t respond right away. Pausing, he scratches his bread, then hands her a drink of water. “But it’ll get better. You just gotta take every day one step at a time.”

“Even when every day is starting to look insufferable?” She eyes him critically before bringing the cup of water to her lips. “And in the form of a seventeen-year-old boy?”

“Even then. I’ve had to raise three, be lucky you only have one to deal with.” He clucks his tongue.

“Damn, I’ll cheers to that then.” She raises her class to him and he laughs before lifting an empty polished glass towards hers’.

They clink.

“Haven’t you ever heard of that sayin’? When life gives you lemons, you –”

“- make lemonade.” She finishes for him, “yeah, yeah – only about a hundred times.” She rolls her eyes, setting her drink slowly back on the counter.

“Thatta girl.” He seems satisfied with her answer and grins. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

At least she can always count on Bill not to great her like an outsider. He’s the only one that accepts her as one of his own, and she wonders if it has anything to do with him being half-demon. Although, he’s only half human – he’s treated her more humane than all the other bartenders here.

Frowning at the thought, Wren rifles through her jacket until she’s able to find her phone. She dials Cal’s number quickly before hooking the device by her ear.

It barely rings once before his warm baritone floats across the line. “Good evening beautiful.”

Hearing his voice does something funny to her heart. It skips a beat and some of the tension leaves her body. She’s able to sit a little straighter and relax her shoulders at the husky rumble in his tone. “Hey, I just wanted to check in.”

“How sweet,” his tone is light and teasing. “Good thing too, you’re just in time. I’m almost done over here.”

“Long day?”

“The longest.” He replies with a sigh, “I just can’t wait to get home and see you.”

“Sweet-talker,” she teases back. “You’re just saying that to get me alone again.”

“I need to get you alone. Maybe we’re finally due for a vacation.”

She smiles, “I’d like that.”

“Hmm, how do you feel about going up north – getting out of the city?”

“Mmm,” she closes her eyes briefly – picturing the two of them snuggling and getting cozy by a fireplace. “A weekend at a cottage sounds heavenly.” She sighs wistfully. “There has to be marshmallows and lots of blankets.”

“Sold.” He laughs. “I love that idea, it’s definitely a top-contender. It would be nice to have some alone time; I know we haven’t been able to lately.”

“I don’t mind stealing moments here and there.” Just thinking about this morning makes Wren’s stomach flutter. “Especially when they’re rough and fast.” She lowers her voice, “god you can make a girl scream Lowell.”

Cal utters a noise somewhere between a growl and a chuckle. “Be careful, I’m too far away for a repeat performance right now.”

“Don’t temp me to stop by your office.” She warns. She mumbles a short word of thanks to the bartender as he delivers a second glass in front of her.

“Where are you?” He pauses for a moment, “are you by the pub?”

“Mhm, just here with Donny – who’s left me alone the second we walked in by the way. Classic Donny.”

“You know he doesn’t mean anything by it.” But Cal sighs as he says it, and she can almost picture his brows forming a crease.

“I know – I just want to get through to him. I keep hoping that if we get a chance to bond, he won’t see so bad for you.”

His interjection is almost immediate. “He doesn’t think you’re bad for me.”

She shrugs, “not in so many words, I guess it just feels that way. I see the way you two are with each other when I’m not around. It’s…nice.” She ends her sentence shakily, clearing her throat that’s suddenly grown thick with emotion. She’s never grown up with that and in a lot of ways – she envies them for it. She’s always wanted a family – people to make her feel like a whole person and not the bits of herself she’s still trying to figure out.

“I think sometimes he just misses it being the two of us.”

Wren snorts. “I’ve gathered as much.”

“But,” he continues, his voice upbeat despite the flatness of Wren’s own tone, “he’ll see how amazing you are the more you two hang around each other – I know he will.”

“Mhm,” she’ll believe it when she sees it.

“Is that –” A pause. And then, “is that the only thing that’s troubling you?”

She’s almost surprised he’s able to tell so quickly that something is wrong. But then again, Cal has always been proven to be extremely considerate of her feelings – even when she tries to bury and hide them. He seems to have the uncanny ability to read her.

Wren bites her lower lip for a second, deliberating on how to answer. “I guess it’s a little awkward…being here without you.” There are still eyes watching, probably ears listening around her too. And the longer she sits, fiddling with her drink – the more she wishes he was here.

Somehow as though reading her thoughts, Cal’s tone turns soft and he mutters softly into the phone. “I’ll swing by as soon as I’m done.”

“Thanks,” she swallows thinly. “It’s not that I don’t like it here,” you’re a liar and you know it Wren. Ignoring the voice in her head, she continues “it’s just I prefer being here with you on my arm.” Suddenly smirking, she brings her drink to her lips and takes a long sip. “I mean you are pretty nice arm candy.”

Hearing him laugh across the other line, makes Wren to smile into her drink. She loves the sound of his laugh.

“Wren, you’re one of the most capable women I know. Down to when we just met – you were ready to tackle and beat the shit out of a guy for cheating during my cage match for Donny.”

Oh yeah, that did happen. Those days she’d never even realize how important Cal would be to her – not completely, but she’s always had an inkling they’d share something. It’s only her luck that something turned into something she never wants to let go of.

“There’s nothing anyone can say or do to you there that you can’t handle,” his words bring her back to the present, “– werewolf or otherwise.” He finishes and speaks with such alarming sincerity and pride in his voice that her heart swells with affection for him. “Most of all you’re my mate. As much as they don’t care for it, as long as you’re under my protection – you’ll be okay.”

“Not that I need the protection, but I’m still completely melting over what you said.” She props a hand up and tucks it underneath her chin. “I love it when you get all protective and sweet over me – it’s really a turn-on.”

“Good,” he laughs. “I intend to take care of you for a very long time Wren Howell.”

“Mmm, right back at you.”

“I’m getting ready to leave now; I’ll see you soon?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Exchanging goodbyes, Wren pockets her phone for a moment, still smiling over their conversation. He reassures her like there’s never anything to be afraid of – but he’s the one that makes her feel fearless.

Flagging Bill down for another drink, she points to her cup. “Could you bring me a beer this time? Heineken?” Hell, one drink won’t kill her. Probably.

Bill nods, before turning his back to her and quickly retrieving it.

While he’s busy opening the beer, Wren slides a twenty and turns her attention to behind the bar. She frowns at the sound of some kind of commotion – she can’t make out the words yet, but several people in the bar seems drawn in that direction too. Damn, sometimes she wishes she had a better sense of hearing. Almost half the supernaturals she knows of had ten times better hearing than she does.

“Is something going on back there?” She jerks her chin behind Bill.

Bill gets the top off of her drink effortlessly before giving her a nod. “Yeah, it’s just some kids giving trouble after losing a gamble.”

Oh no. Is that why she’s had a funny feeling since getting here? Did she dare think the worst? There’s no way Donny would - “Which kids?” She’s almost too afraid to ask for more, but it doesn’t seem like she has much of a choice.

Before Bill is able to answer, the flurry of activity turns into a scuffle as two familiar and young-looking werewolves leap past the crowd that’s started forming and abruptly whizzes past the bar.

“Hey! Get back here!”

There’s a third figure fumbling to get by, but a beefy man blocks his path, and Wren can’t see past him to get a good sense of going on. Grabbing her beer, she gives the bartender a parting smile before stalking over, her boots clicking quickly on the floor as she tries to get past the small crowd that’s formed.

The first thing she notices is how scuffed up Donny looks. His hair is askew, there’s an angry gnash across his cheek and blood dropping from his mouth as he spits on the floor. His fists are clenched and the beefy man a few feet away glares down at him with so much hostility that Wren’s terrified he’d beat the shit out of him right then and there.

“Woah, woah – woah.” She holds up a hand, pushing past the crowd that’s gathered to step in front of Donny protectively. “What the hell is going on here?”

“The little shit here owes me one grand.” The beefy man sneered, jerking his behind her. His arms are covered nearly from head to toe as he folds them.

“This little shit has a name,” Wren speaks up, holding the hand around her beer tighter while the other helps to keep a clear distance between Donny and the taller figure still glaring them.

He has a good five inches on her – but he isn’t too tall for her not to still deck him if she needed to. “It’s Donny, and he isn’t just any pup – he’s the alpha’s little brother.” She doesn’t like pulling rank, but she’s starting to realize that look in the man’s eyes – the blazing anger that’s reserved for someone who isn’t going to go anywhere unless they’re given what’s due.

“Well in that case, he can pay his and his friends share. Since Cal sits so fucking high on horse, I’m sure it’s no problem to pay off the debt he owes us.” At the sound of us, two other men stepped away from the crowd to stand behind him.

Shit.

“And what I’m looking at is two grand from all three of them. So pay up.”

Ah, shit.

“I don’t need your help.” Donny’s protest is weak and almost a soft whimper as he tries to step away from her.

At the slight movement, the two men flanking the beefier one steps towards them until Wren growls and their attention shifts back to her.

“Really not the time Donny.” Wren snaps back, shifting towards the side until she’s in front of him again. She doesn’t want to hear it from him not right now. She’s pretty sure if they get out of this alive, Cal is gonna beat the shit out of him when he finds out. Hell, maybe she’ll give him a piece of her mind too.

Truth is – she doubts Donny has that kind of money – she didn’t. Not right now. She’s blown past her last check to help pay for Donny’s school fee this year and the idea of giving the last of her savings to some assholes is the last thing she wants to do. “Look Donny’s a kid.” She starts, making cautionary steps back. She motions for Donny to do the same. “He didn’t know what he’s doing.”

“I heard it’s not the first time he’s gambled himself into a debt he can’t pay.” The beefy man sneered.

“And look where that got him?” Wren notices out of the corner of her eyes that a few people have started paying more attention to their circumstances. Several of them carrying Cal’s insignia. “You attack Cal Lowell’s brother,” she raises her chin higher, “you put a target on your back.”

The three men exchange glances and then laugh. They laugh so hard that the crowd uneasily starts to get bigger and Wren keeps edging her way towards the counter-tops of the bar – hoping that’ll give them enough cover to cause some sort of distraction to get out of here.

“Cal’s got nothing on me, ain’t that right boys?”

The two men nod, “that’s right Derek, he eats people like him for breakfast.”

Shit, she definitely doesn’t like the sound of that.

At this point, there’s a shuffle of movement behind her – and Wren nearly does a double-take at the line of four other men stepping up to her defense. She recognizes most of them and almost utters a sigh of relief that they’re from Cal’s pack.

“I’d get out of here if I were you man. That isn’t just any woman you’re talking.”

“Yeah,” one of the men growled. “She’s a real piece of work, huh?” His beady eyes give her once over that makes Wren’s skin crawl.

“It’s Cal’s mate.” One of the men behind her mutter, “and if I were you –”

“I’d back the fuck off.” Wren interjects, feigning more confidence than she actually feels. “You think Cal is the only person you shouldn’t piss off? I’m one of the best nighthunters this side of the state.” Okay, saying she’s one of the best is a stretch – but she can’t appear weak. They’ll jump at the chance to hurt Donny if she does.

Plus, she isn’t completely alone. She tries to tell herself they’ve at least got the numbers to take them on if they had to, but all the cocky attitude vanishes from her expression when three men from the crowd swagger over and fall in line behind Derek – wearing tattoos in a familiar fashion.

Maybe, this isn’t such a coincidence after all.

“Donny, you’re gonna have to run.” Wren whispers softly, behind her. Not taking her eyes off the men, she tries to step tentatively backwards. She tries to be subtle; shifting her half-empty beer to her dominant hand.

If looks could kill, the blind rage in Derek’s eyes would have had Wren rolling in her own grave right about now.

“No way.” Donny mutters back stubbornly.

Ah, fuck. “Come on kid, work with me here.”

Tension oozes between both sides – neither one of them making the first move, until Donny snarls and bares his teeth at them.

Suddenly all hell breaks loose.

Wren isn’t sure who moved first – if it’s Derek or a collection of wolves that move together as one once they ran full speed into them. The rest of the room erupts into chaos soon after – with bodies wrestling into each other the moment they make contact.

Wren shoves Donny out of the way just as Derek slams into her.

The force is strong enough to send her flying and Wren lands with a hard thud across the counter of the bar. Tears threaten to swim her eyes for a second until she’s able to recover and roll herself off the counter seconds before Derek’s punch can land – taking half of the granite counter tops with him.

Shit.

Wren flings the bottle from her hand and watches as it lands almost directly near the top of Derek’s balding head.

The man grunts, stumbling for a second before growling and throwing himself at her.

Wren utters a yelp of surprise – barely dodging the most of his blow before delivering one of her own. She punches him square in the jaw, hisses as her knuckles make contact and does it a second time before ducking away from his hands.

The stint of the blow makes her wince but adrenaline has already flooded her system and Wren knows if she doesn’t act quickly – he’ll catch her.

All around her, there’s tossing of glass despite Bill and the two bouncers trying desperately to maintain order – fists that find flushed and angry faces – plus a bellow of screams and growls that makes Wren think she belongs in some old Western instead of a dingy bar across the river in New Orleans. The situation is almost comical – if she hadn’t been knee-deep it; dodging Derek’s attempt to grab her as she makes her way towards the exit of the bar.

A blow to her stomach from another wolf makes her swear she’ll see stars as she sags against the wall. The pain is almost blinding, but Wren has adrenaline on her side. Taking a moment to breathe, her eyes searches for Donny and much to her relief he’s remained mostly unscathed – closer to one of the exits with a werewolf that had backed them up earlier. Good, she’d lost sight of him for a second and she hates the idea of anyone else hurting him except for her when they’re back home later.

Another punch sails by her head and Wren ducks at the last second to avoid it. Some of the cement from the wall give way and falls on top of her head. She drops low to swipe at the man’s knees in front of her.

He staggers and Wren twists upwards to strike an uppercut across his jaw – powerful enough for him to stumble and fall. Wincing, she takes a second to ensure she hasn’t broken her wrist before she twists away – not giving the man a chance to recover.

Now’s my chance.

Sprinting towards the door, Wren abandons all pretenses of fighting anyone else before a hand grabs onto her and yanks her back. “Fuck –” The world threatens to go black as her head hits the pavement.

Something twists There’s a moment she thinks her fear will win out before she tries unsteadily to get back on her feet. They buckle and she falls. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You fucking bitch!” Derek bellows, grabbing her by the ankle. He digs into her flesh and a flare of pain shoots up her leg. “You’ll pay me what you owe!”

Wren twists enough to peer down at the irrational rage inside the man’s eyes. He’s still holding on too tight – and if she isn’t careful, he’ll break her bones. Yelling, she uses the heel of her boots to kick him. “Let me go!”

The man grunts. The pressure decreases as she struggles against him. His grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go.

He kicks him harder this time, yanking her leg away despite the ache in her ankles at the sudden motion. She scrambles to her feet and barely moves three steps before he tries to grab her arm again.

“That’s enough!”

The entire bar nearly goes completely still.

Although Wren recognizes him – it’s always easy for her to tell because he takes so much space of the doorway; the dull-amber colors in his eyes alludes her into thinking he’s not just Cal anymore. He’s the alpha. And the alpha demands complete control.

Almost immediately, every wolf belonging to his pack lowers their head in a sort of reverence and subservient way. Only the remaining stragglers stay half unhinged by his appearance. They stare at him, blinking and unblinking as he steps further into the pub. “What the fuck is going on here?” His tone hasn’t changed, but the words are said with purpose as his eyes dart around the room.

They land on Donny first, who wipes blood from his lips before finding her.

Ah, shit.

The look of surprise turns into instant worry as his eyes look her over from head to toe. Something in her chest tightens until disappointment replaces his concern. Before she’s able to say anything – he has already turned his attention elsewhere. “Well?”

Most of the residents -notwithstanding the werewolves have began packing up as Bill half-orders them out.

Derek, bloodied and still holding onto Wren – drops his hand and jerks his chin at Donny. “Just collecting on a debt that’s all. He owes me.”

There’s a tumble of emotions inside of Cal’s eyes at his words. Then just as quickly, they disappear and he smoothens his face into a careful expression. “I suggest we take that matter outside, as the leader of my pack – I’ll deal with anything he owes you.” He starts, then inclining his head to Bill apologetically he adds. “I will take care of this, if you’ll allow me to come by tomorrow.”

Bill doesn’t protest, seemingly he nods in understanding as the rest of people began to clear out for the night. “It’s time I closed anyway.” Louder, he adds. “The Howlers is closed – get your asses out of here.”

There are murmurs and snorts all around, but no one disagrees with the man in charge. Slowly the crowds began to think out and disappear in threes and twos at a time. Most of them leaving have bruises here and there – the worst of it are probably the people clutching their arms and favoring one leg.

“We shouldn’t be fighting in someone else’s fine establishment; won’t you gentlemen follow me outside? Where we can discuss this properly?”

The men behind Derek hesitate, clearly taken aback by Cal’s decorum. Derek snorts, his nostrils flaring before he agrees surly. “As long as I get what’s owed to me.”

“Perfect, just give me a second to talk to the owner and I’ll meet you outside.”

“You better.” He said begrudgingly. Wordlessly, he walks past Wren and shoves Cal before pushing past the door’s entrance.

Wren swallows past the sudden lump in her throat. Cal’s barely looked at her since coming in, and she can tell by the way his jaw is clenched that he’s too angry to do much talking than he has to. Still, her concern for his feelings are louder than how considerate she knows she should be, and tries to reach for his arm as he steps past her. “Cal, I –”

He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t reach for her either. Although his eyes don’t glance back to meet her pleading gaze, she feels the change in the atmosphere between them – as tense as it had been moments ago, just before the fight had broken out. “Could you take Donny home? I need to take care of this before I talk to those guys out there.”

“Of course.” She hesitates, “if you need anything else –”

“What I need, is just a moment to convince the staff that this was all some kind of misunderstanding. The last thing I need is for them to think my pack is a danger to anyone coming in here.” He snaps, his voice raising an octave higher that makes her flinch in response.

Her own temper rises at the sound of his tone. “look, it’s not like any of us planned for any of this to happen –”

“No, because you never give a thought to what anyone else wants.”

“E-e-excuse me?!’ She sputters. Her heart has started beating louder than the sound of her own breath as she takes a giant inhale to settle her nerves – to stop herself from saying something she’ll regret later. Anger is easier to resist when it isn’t someone she cares about. “Look, I know tonight was a lot, but you don’t get to put that on me.” She can barely temper her own voice, although miraculously – she manages to ignore the urge to scream. “Things happened so fast,” she steps close enough to point a finger at his chest. “And I tried to stop it.”

“Did you?” His tone is almost mocking.

“I did!”

When Cal turns to her, his eyes are flashing with so much anger that for a moment – the rest of Wren’s sentence dies in her throat.

She’s seen him look at a lot of people like that over the year she’s known him. It’s the kind of fierceness and anger he channels, whenever he protects someone he loves – whenever he’s protected her. It’s the kind of raw anger whenever Donny’s safety is threatened that Wren often finds endearing. But she can’t find it endearing now, not when she’d never thought to see the day he’d look at her like that– like she’s the enemy. As though she’s made it her life mission to screw this all up.

“I’ve got half a dozen pissed off wolves, a couple others I’ve never met before and a staff to help to pay for all the fucking damages here.” He takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair as though it’ll take some of the frustration out of him. “If you want to help me Wren, I just need you to take Donny home because from where I’m standing that’s the only thing you can do for me.”

The stint of his words hit home. She barely manages some semblance of a nod before she turns to leave; her eyes stinging with tears she refuses to shed as she jerks her chin at Donny. Without waiting for him to respond, she pushes her way past the metal doors of the entrance and wastes no time to shove past the small crowd still left at the front of the bar.

By time she’s found her car, her fingers are shaking and it takes a couple attempts for her to fish the keys out of her pocket. Fuck. Keep it together, just keep it together. A sob escapes her throat, and Wren yanks the door quickly open as Donny’s footsteps finds the passenger seat of her truck. She turns on the ignition, and rubs her eyes hastily as he slips inside.

“I’m sorry.”

There’s a tremble in Donny’s voice.

Wren freezes, glancing up only to stare at him.

Sometimes, she forgets he’s still just a kid.

And much to her dismay, his eyes are glassy enough that she thinks he’ll cry. Although he isn’t bleeding anymore, he looks nearly as broken as she feels – from his torn shirt, down to the arm he’s currently clutching to his chest.

She doesn’t speak, not at first. Almost hesitantly, she leans across to his side of the car and squeezes his good hand for good measure. And for a moment, it’s enough.

His eyes are a little clearer as he stares unblinkingly back at her.

She offers him a shaky smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Me too, kid.”

Leaning back inside her seat, she winces at the dull ache in her sides at the motion. With the adrenaline rush nearly gone, she’ll be feeling a hell of a lot more before she even reaches the main road. Closing her eyes for a moment – she breathes deeply, searching until she’s able to find enough strength and willpower to move. Seconds later, her eyes fly open – Wren smoothly pulls the car out of reverse and drives home.

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